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Book 4: Chapter 4 (3)

Farangis, riding on her horse, fired a series of arrows at the incoming Lusitanian soldiers. It was a series of shots from a rather close range. When the bow string played its death tune for the fifth time, the fifth Lusitanian soldier was shot through his right armpit and fell off his horse with his feet kicking in mid-air.

"One of you hurry and inform Lord Daryun and Lord Narsus!"

Farangis shouted, and when the shouting stopped, the sixth man was partially shot through the right upper wrist and could no longer fight. The Lusitanian soldier who was clinging to his horse's neck and barely managed not to hit the ground had galloped off. Suddenly, from the woods ahead, a hundred or so horsemen leapt out and knocked the unfortunate man off his horse. It was certainly not the cavalry of the Lusitanians, but a group of Kishward's men who were close by and heard the clash of swords and the sound of men running quickly. The whirlwind of chaos immediately grew and the smell of blood got stronger.

Kishward, the "Twin Blade General", feared by the generals of Misr to Sindhura, showed the Lusitanians his skill for the first time on this day.

Kishward's hands flashed with the light of his swords, and blood was immediately splattered wherever he struck. The two Lusitanian soldiers whose necks had been severed simultaneously tumbled from their saddles, spurts of blood blotting out the sunlight, and fell to the ground.

At this time, Elam, who had hurried his horse, crossed the meadow and ran to Narsus' side.

Narsus had been going over maps in his tent. They were not his own maps, but the topography and roads around Shahristan accurately drawn by a professional painter. As he lifted his cup of green tea, Elam arrived to report the emergency, and the future court painter was then unable to drink his tea.

As far as Narsus was concerned, there was nothing more unbearable than bloodshed caused by such "less than refined" encounters, but the crown prince could not be left alone because of this.

"Elam, you have done well, but you should go to Daryun’s camp and tell them the news. I will also rush to Shahristan immediately."

Narsus dropped the map in his hands and ran towards where his horse was tied. He instructed one of the knights to block the road to the fortress of Saint Emmanuel, then jumped on his horse and galloped off. When he looked back over his shoulder, there was only one other following him. It was the young girl with red hair wrapped in a blue scarf.

"You're fast, Alfreed."

"That's all I’m good for!"

"Did you bring your bow and arrows?"

"Of course! I can take down ten enemies and five allies."

"Shooting down your own comrades isn’t ideal."

"I don't intend to do that, but sometimes my arrows get nearsighted!"

Talking to this young girl can make you forget the seriousness of the situation! Narsus thought as he galloped his horse.

However, this situation was indeed quite serious.

Arslan also seemed to be in trouble. His men had asked him to flee in the midst of the battle, and he had done so, but he had unwittingly been separated from Farangis and Kishward, and had run into a huge Lusitanian horseman in the shadows of the forest.

In Arslan’s mind, he at least had to be able to protect his own life. If the other party was as brave as Silver Mask, that is, Prince Hilmes, then of course, one had to leave it to Daryun or Kishward to deal with. But this enemy was just an ordinary cavalryman.

The Lusitanian cavalryman didn't seem to be afraid, and came straight at Arslan with his sword. Although Arslan was nearly overwhelmed by his strength, he still skillfully maneuvered his reins and avoided the blow. The armor and saddle made a heavy clang as they swept past Arslan. The rider let out a roar, turned his horse's head, and closed in again.

Arslan made a feint, the knight dodged, and then turned to counterattack. The force was strong, but it was an attack that went in a circle, so Arslan blocked it with ease. With a sharp clang of the blade, Arslan's wrist felt an impact. His opponent was a man of great strength, not only was the sword heavy, but the force of the blow was also heavy. If he continued to fight him head-on, he might lose his sword because his hand was paralyzed.

Fortunately, Arslan's horsemanship was more advanced than his opponent. Although he was not yet fifteen years old, Parsians were, after all, known for their expert command of horses.

The Lusitanian cavalryman kept launching deadly attacks, but almost all of them fell short, and let his huge body dangle in mid-air.

Finally, Arslan's sword struck the Lusitanian cavalryman's bare neck, and the winner was decided. In the very short journey from his horse to the ground, the rider was forever relieved of his pain. Then, another scream came from behind Arslan. A Lusitanian who was about to thrust his lance at the prince was attacked by a shadow descending from the air.

"Azrael!"

Arslan called out and raised his left hand, and the brave hawk flapped its wings and stopped to land on the wrist of its wingless friend.

As Arslan heaved a breath out of his lungs, another horse came running closer. Azrael made a menacing sound. However, the man with a white turban curled around his head was not a Lusitanian.

"Ah, Your Highness, you’re alright? That's great. If anything had happened to Your Highness, I would have been hanged by Lord Daryun, Lord Narsus, and Lady Farangis."

As the young Sindhuran finished his clumsy speech, several more horses' hooves sounded, and more Lusitanian soldiers broke into Arslan and Jaswant’s sight. The two men and a hawk were immediately surrounded by light reflecting off the enemy’s blades.

Jaswant, who had evaded decapitation by a Lusitanian knight and knocked him to the ground after a brief but intense exchange of blades, turned his head and uttered a joyful sound.

"Lord Daryun!"

Only the inside of the black cloak appeared to flap like a blood-stained banner. The Lusitanian soldier rushed toward the newcomer wielding his sword.

However, the black-clad knight seemed to turn into a wind of steel and passed by the Lusitanian. The Parsian’s longsword struck down like a thunderbolt of death, piercing the Lusitanian's armor and shattering the skull that the armor was protecting.

The blood of the Lusitanians turned into red rain and fell on the land of Pars, as if the inside of Daryun’s cape had broken into pieces and scattered.

The black-clad knight drew bright red arcs in mid-air with his silver blade. An amature bard would probably describe the scene as "death, death, death, and more death". Screams in Lusitanian rang out around him, each one accompanied by the sweat of the living and the blood of the dead.

As the deadly fight unfolded, dust and smoke flew up and into the mouths, noses and lungs of the warriors. The living, the dead, and the half-dead struggled, tangled, and rushed on horses and on the ground, as if there were no end in sight.

The Parsians and the Lusitanians were now neck-and-neck in numbers. On the side of the Parsians there were two Marzban, slashing and slashing with three swords, and continually sending their enemies into the hell of the Parsians and the heaven of the Lusitanians.

Jaswant wielded his sword on Arslan's left, while Farangis, who ran to Arslan's right, shot the Lusitanians at close range with her bow and arrow.

The Lusitanian army was continuously cut down. They had come to hunt the type beasts without weapons, however, now they themselves became the prey.

Turning their backs on infidels was forbidden by the code of warriors of Yaldabaoth. However, they had become outnumbered, and they had to inform their other troops of the matter. A determined soldier, in order to inform everyone of the retreat, raised the horn in his left hand and was about to blow the signal.

Farangis shot an arrow.

The Lusitanian soldier did not blow the horn, and it reflected the sunlight as it fell to the ground, hitting the ground and rolling aside. The holder of the horn was shot through the throat by an arrow and fell from his horse.

Since the retreat signal was not heard, the Lusitanian army’s retreat was more chaotic than orderly. In this melee, Daryun's skill overwhelmed the whole field, and his black clothes became a symbol of Lusitanian death. His lance rested across his saddle, but so far it had not been used, and he was seen swinging his longsword across the field, building bridges of blood in the air and on the ground.

Suddenly, the shadow of an arrow flew toward Daryun.

The arrow hit its mark. It made a sharp ringing sound as it hit Daryun's black breastplate. However, the arrow’s power was not as good as its accuracy. It did not penetrate the armor, and landed in the sand and dust.

Daryun looked down at his armor, then looked towards the opponent who had tried to shoot him. It was a Lusitanian soldier riding a horse. He could see that he was notching another arrow and was about to draw the bowstring again.

Daryun sped towards the man. Arrows flew around him, and the blade of the longsword cut them down. As the archer desperately tried to avoid his opponent's attack, Daryun's longsword made a roaring sound. There was a bursting sound as the bow snapped in two, flew in mid-air, and the sword struck the Lusitanian's armor.

The echo was surprisingly loud. It turned out that a small body was buried in the oversized armor, so perhaps the impact on the body was softened. The Lusitanian knight swayed on his horse and lost his balance, but he avoided the fall by clinging to the reins. The helmet on his head, however, was flung to the ground.

The Lusitanian's head was exposed, and his hair tossed in the wind. Light brown, long hair that reached below the shoulders covered a fair face.

"A woman?"

Brave as he was, Daryun could not help but be surprised. At this instant, the other party drew a sword and stabbed harshly.

This strike was like a flash of lightning. Even though Daryun was shocked, he was not careless. He blocked with his longsword, flipped his wrist, and the Lusitanian woman's sword bounced away with a high-pitched sound and fell to the ground.

Losing her helmet and her weapon, the Lusitanian woman warrior remained undaunted, her deep honey-colored pupils holding sparks of excitement.

"Kill the infidels!"

The woman shouted, her face fair though it was, she was still a child. At best, she was probably only fifteen years old, the same age as Arslan, perhaps? Daryun had no intention of killing her.

"I won’t say anything, you can run away!"

Daryun dropped these words briefly and turned his horse around, but the young girl did not appreciate the opportunity.

"Coward! How dare you turn your back on a woman! Turn around and let's fight it out! Are the Parsians really such cowards? Or…"

The woman's screaming voice suddenly changed to Lusitanian language, and Daryun could not understand it. He rode his horse with a bitter smile and was about to leave the place.

Suddenly, Daryun changed his mind, because he thought this young girl stubbornly running around on the battlefield was likely to be killed by a merciless blade. Without a word, he turned his black horse towards the Lusitanian maiden and took up his lance from the saddle.

Seeing this action of his, the Lusitanian maiden quickly had a response. She was not trying to escape, but to pick up the sword that had fallen to the ground. Daryun could not help but admire her courage, and he raised his lance.

The lance passed under the chainmail on the front of the maiden's armor with amazing accuracy. Daryun poured his strength into both wrists, braced the lance, and the maiden's body floated up from the saddle. The maiden's fair face was tinged with red, and her two feet kicked in mid-air.

"Let go of me! Insolent fellow! What do you want?"

The horse, whose body became lighter all of a sudden, let out a neigh and fled the battlefield. Although she was in mid-air, the young girl still let out a voice of anger and protest.

“Detain her. She is just a child, don’t be too rough."

He gave this order to three or four of his men who ran over to him. Daryun then lowered his spear at an angle, and the girl slipped to the ground and was apprehended.

At this time, a familiar voice came from behind. It turned out to be the tactician Narsus running through the smoke of the melee.

"Daryun! Daryun!"

"Ah! Narsus, His Highness is safe. But I have caught a rather interesting prisoner."

"We’ll talk later, right now it's time to attack the fortress of Saint Emmanuel, Daryun."

"What, really?"

Astonished at the words, Daryun immediately understood his friend's intention. Today's clash between the two armies was a sudden event that the Lusitanian army did not expect. The home camp of the Parsian army already knew about it, but the rest of the Lusitsanian army probably had not yet received word. If the Parsian army attacked Saint Emmanuel at this time, the Lusitanian army would be taken by surprise. They would open the gates to rescue their returning companions, and the Parsians would be able to take advantage of the opportunity to attack the fortress. If the fortress’s defenders could bear to see their companions killed and did not open the gates, then there would be no choice but to attack again later. This situation would have been like the original plan.

"Alright, but Narsus, when did you give up your far-sighted approach to act off the cuff?"

"Saying that I act off the cuff will ruin my reputation, please call it ‘adapting to the changing circumstances’."

The strongest and the wisest generals under Arslan's command talked and laughed while directing their companions to speed up their horses and charge straight ahead.

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