CHAPTER 64: CHAPTER 57: RABBLE

The sound of hoofbeats was like thunder.

Although there were only five cavalrymen, they gave a terrifying illusion of facing an overwhelming army.

Hans, wearing a winged helmet, silently raised his lance, forming the double tail of a small wedge formation with three Winged Cavalry.

The distance to the enemy was getting shorter.

At this critical moment, a thought suddenly sprouted in his mind: If his instructor knew he became a cavalry captain of the Winged Cavalry, that old stubborn guy’s expression would definitely be spectacular.

No, it would be even more interesting if the Lord brought his instructor over to personally train these Winged Cavalry and have them wear the Cross Badge!

Meanwhile, Leonard had just ascended the hill.

He hesitated for only a moment before hastily began to dismantle the hitch harness from the packhorse.

"Poor old Leonard, today you are surely going to die here, but you can’t just watch the Holy Son chosen by the Heavenly Father perishing right in front of you."

"Only Judas could do such a thing. Old Leonard wants to be the Saint James (the first martyr among the twelve apostles) for the Lord."

Mumbling to himself, he arduously pulled a lance from the back of the carriage and hoisted it onto his shoulder.

"Holy Son, here I come!"

Nobody paid attention to him.

In the chaotic battlefield, no one could hear his scream intermingled with fear.

These Steel Knights wielding lances slashed through the Nomadic Cavalry’s formation like a hot knife through butter.

At such close range, the riding bows could only fire a single volley.

And even a single volley with limited accuracy couldn’t pierce through the cavalry’s armor.

Perhaps in desert terrain utilizing guerrilla tactics, the Crusader Knights indeed were never the opponents of the elite slave cavalry who evolved from Gulams to Mamluks due to tactical innovation.

But the Winged Cavalry, transformed from Cuirassiers, were more lightly equipped and faster.

The opponents were just a group of Bedouin Nomadic Cavalry, not Mamluk Cavalry, who were rigorously trained from a young age and developed entirely as war machines.

The outcome was already predetermined from the start.

Losa’s strong heart was pounding vigorously at this moment.

Blood roared through his veins.

The Beneficial Spell called Bloodfall doubled Losa’s strength in a short time.

The lance pierced through a Bedouin cavalryman’s shield and broke within it.

Losa immediately switched to pulling out the Armed Sword and slashed at the enemy beside him.

Utilizing the momentum of the warhorse’s charge.

The enemy’s shield, along with the arm behind it, was effortlessly severed by the Armed Sword.

Blood splashed, along with screams, painting a hellish scene on his cloak.

Prajna’s Black Shield spun rapidly in her hand like a sharp chainsaw.

The enemies blocking her path were immediately shredded into a storm of flesh and blood, the ghost face relief that hadn’t feasted in a while displayed a satisfied wicked grin.

Invisible souls were devoured by it.

Furinjira murmured the magic spell softly.

The blood spilling on the battlefield transformed into sharp blades, slicing through the bodies of the enemies in waves.

Piercing through the iron armor plates.

This was evil sorcery!

The terrifying evil sorcery from the Franks!

Fear betrayed itself in the eyes of the bandit leader, Abud, who was supervising the battle: "No wonder I felt fear from them, no wonder he was so confidently promising forgiveness, it turned out to be true!"

As a Hawk Trainer, he also possessed extraordinary power.

But precisely because he also possessed extraordinary power, Abud realized more clearly that the terrifying power on the other side was undoubtedly like the difference between a boa constrictor and a worm compared to his own.

"Retreat, retreat!"

He shouted at the top of his lungs.

Yet in the chaotic battlefield, no one could hear what he was saying.

A man wearing a brown headscarf and black scale armor let out an ear-piercing roar: "Holy Fire Everlasting, Supreme and Great, people favored by the flame, charge with me!"

Advancing wave upon wave.

More and more people died under the enemy’s lance, broadsword, and peculiar magic.

Bodies fell on the sandy ground, while untended pack animals stopped confusedly in place.

Fortunately, the morale of the bandit corps was soon crushed.

The reason this desert raiders group could roam the Jordan River Basin for so many years was not because they were especially formidable.

Their success was due to their leader, Abud’s hawk, and the connections they had cultivated over many years in the area.

It’s challenging for large, organized troops to catch sight of them.

In truth, when it comes to direct combat power, the knights under Count Reynard’s command could annihilate this ragtag band in the desert with just one charge.

Losa, covered in blood, shouted fiercely during the battle, and after killing an enemy, led the Winged Cavalry in yet another charge against the foe.

At this point, the desert raiders were in a full rout, spreading like wildfire.

All resistance was quashed, and Abud, the leader of the bandit corps, had already withdrawn from the battlefield shortly after the fight began.

Losa reined in his horse and looked at Furinjira, who gave a slight nod before calling out: "No need to pursue them. Gather the enemy’s mounts and rest here."

He approached Furinjira and asked: "Do you know the location of their lair?"

Furinjira nodded and said: "I’ve placed tracking marks on a few of the bandits. There’s no need for me to use a charm spell again."

With peace of mind, Losa began to clean up the battlefield.

Broken shields and scale armor, shattered lances, and arrows... all manner of useful or useless scraps were sold off by Losa.

The final tally amounted to 165 Sulaides.

He raised his head and saw Leonard staring at him in amazement, breaking into a slight smile.

"This is a miracle!"

Leonard mumbled: "Only the Holy Son could turn a group of inexperienced recruits into battle-hardened elite cavalry; only the Holy Son could summon messengers from the Celestial Kingdom overnight to build magnificent palaces; and only the Holy Son could make these deadly weapons vanish without a trace."

Perhaps influenced by the statue of the Archangel, Leonard remained timid by nature, but his loyalty to Losa was unquestionable.

Losa approached Leonard, who hadn’t contributed much in the recent battle.

The short packhorse Leonard rode hadn’t even started charging before Losa had effortlessly routed the rampant desert raiders.

Leonard was startled by the murderous aura emanating from Losa and reflexively knelt on the ground, pleading: "Master, my lord, please forgive my cowardice."

Losa shouted: "Leonard, stand up."

Trembling, Leonard climbed to his feet.

Losa pointed at his nose and said: "You’ve passed my test, Leonard, and your faults are forgiven, but I hope you won’t repeat similar mistakes in the future. Heavenly Father favors the brave, not cowards who fear battle."

Leonard nodded repeatedly: "I won’t make the same mistake again in the future."

"Rise, come back to Jorgelisburg with me, gather all my soldiers, tonight we shall uproot this malignant tumor in the Jordan River Basin."

...

Kock Castle.

The Lord’s Hall was brightly lit.

Wearing a high-waisted gown with a gem golden crown on her head, the Countess sat on her throne.

She was far taller than ordinary women, even robust, with a sharp treasure sword at her waist. She was Count Reynard’s wife.

The family had held sway over the Jordan Territory for generations.

She generously provided for every knight and noble seeking her aid, often hosting lavish banquets and knight tournaments, earning her the title of "the female knight in a skirt."

At that moment, she sat high on her throne, listening to her subordinates’ reports.

"Oh? Our new neighbor wants to pay me a visit?"

She couldn’t help but sneer: "Finally, he can’t hold back anymore. It appears that sum of money is a fortune difficult for this young baron to part with."

"Yet, these country lords don’t understand etiquette, not even knowing to prepare gifts before visiting someone esteemed?"

Her subordinate praised: "Madam, the Count sent word suggesting we show him a lesson. Should we seize this opportunity to shut out this rural baron, letting him lose face completely?"

Lady Stephanie snorted coldly: "Certainly not. Let him come. I will give him the treatment befitting a baron. I’ve heard some rumors about Baron Losa; he reportedly killed a werewolf with his own hands. I’m eager to see what sort of gallant knight he is, to have battled a demon like a werewolf."