Thinking of this, Matthew could not help but sigh. He shook his head and stopped thinking about these things that were too far away from him. The only thing he had to think about was how to take down the Tónigel's line of defense. The nobles had already taken down three or four villages, but they did not gain much. The Tónigel had retreated to the south bank of the Ord River to build a line of defense. Among them, Baron Gorham from Blackwater Bay was the fastest. According to the previous news, he had already taken down Emden, which was not far to the west of here. It was estimated that he would soon join forces with the attack from Orta.
"Hurry up!" Matthew rubbed his frozen hands and shouted to his men, "Take down the manor in front of us. You can do whatever you want. The women and the property are all yours. But hurry up and don't let anyone else get to them first!"
The Knight roared in agreement, but the footmen were still numb. Those things would not fall on their heads anyway. They dragged their feet forward in this weather, or fell down somewhere and could not get up again. It was all because of the Knight's sword hanging over their heads.
In this mood, the stiff soldiers finally reached the beach. The Knight first ordered the archers to shoot a wave of fire arrows into the forest, but it was not ideal in such weather. The low temperature made the bows brittle, and the fire was not easy to ignite. A round of volley broke many bowstrings, and the rain of arrows could only be said to be an empty shell.
But Matthew did not care about this. He immediately ordered the footmen to get into battle formation and advance into the forest. The Tónigel's line of defense loomed outside the manor. The opponent had well-maintained magic crossbows, which could still be lethal from 200 steps away in such a climate. Matthew could not help but curse the Tónigel's extravagance.
Sure enough, the sound of bowstrings was soon heard from the front. Several footmen in the front row fell to the ground, and a commotion immediately broke out in the ranks. Matthew cursed when he saw this. However, he was familiar with such a situation. He immediately ordered the supervisors to step forward and kill a few soldiers who were hesitating. After that, the team was reorganized.
Matthew knew very well that the enemy's number was not large, which was their biggest disadvantage. As long as his side remained stable, the enemy would not be able to resist. This was how they had won the previous battles.
As expected, the Tónigel army began to retreat. Now, they still had some defensive depth, but their military strength was far from enough. When the other party had no space to retreat, it would be the time for the real showdown.
Matthew was full of confidence. He saw that the tattered Abies collar emblem in the forest kept retreating. He did not know what happened in the end. Perhaps the flag bearer was killed, but the flag shook and fell down.
"Tónigel's rats are retreating again!" The rebel army finally cheered, or rather, rejoiced. "They don't dare to be our enemy. Chase after them and kill them!"
Similar scenes were playing out on the battlefield in Macsen Hill.
The sudden appearance of the rebel army had almost defeated the local defenders of Macsen, who were caught off guard. Apart from the sporadic resistance, the Trentheim people were constantly retreating, retreating, or even being annihilated in most places.
Matthew turned his head and saw that the southern nobles' flags had also been erected in Welland's direction. Flags representing their occupation were being erected south of the Ord River Beach. The progress of the nobles' army had begun to accelerate, or rather, the Tónigel's resistance was getting weaker and weaker.
"It seems that we're going to win."
Matthew thought to himself.
But at that moment, the noble flag that had just been erected on the hill in the direction of Welland's ferry suddenly collapsed.
Matthew happened to see this scene. He saw a Knight rushing up the hill from the other side and cutting down the flag bearer with his sword.
Matthew looked at all of this in horror. It must be the Tónigel cavalry, but why did they still have a fighting force here at this time? Not only did they not retreat, but they also attacked the allied army's front line?
Were these people crazy?
He watched as one knight after another appeared on the mountaintop. The pitiful nobles' private soldiers that had occupied the mountaintop were all killed. The knights disdainfully threw the nobles' flags that had been chopped off on the ground.
Then, another flag appeared on the mountain top.
The first thing that appeared was a spear tip engraved with the silver motif of the Erouine Sacred Lily. Then, the whole flag jumped up from the back of the hill.
Matthew narrowed his eyes.
It was not the battle flag of the White Lion Guards.
Nor was it the heraldic flag of the Abies.
It was a silver square flag that fluttered in the wind. The flag was painted with tassels, and a red ribbon surrounded by a silver star and a white moon. Under the star and moon was the sacred emblem of the Royal Family of Covardo.
It was the flag of the Erouine Sacred Lily.
Matthew's heart skipped a beat.
He quickly bit off the grass root in his mouth and spat it on the ground. He turned around and shouted to his Knight, "Line up! Line up! Let the spearmen move forward!"
A row of Knight appeared on the hill, followed by a second row and a third row. They lined up neatly and rushed down the hill.
Their silver armor shone under the bright sunlight, like a silver wave, and they directly swallowed the nobles' private soldiers who were fleeing down the hill in panic.
In fact, there was another noble's army between them and the hill, but when Matthew saw the actions of the unlucky bastard, he knew that they could not save themselves or help him in any way. He could only pray that those damn idiots would not do him more harm than good.
"These Tónigel people must be crazy …"
Matthew's mind was in a mess. He finally realized who his opponent was. It was the Tónigel White Lion Knight. They must have come from Orta.
But they dared to attack the front line of the Ord River.
The noble knight not far away from him finally reacted. He hurriedly ordered his spearmen to turn around and regroup, but it was already too late. The riverbank began to tremble, and a silver wave had already appeared in the distance.
Some people began to scream as they retreated. The remaining pikemen formed a thin line that could not stop the terrifying army. They were defeated in a single charge. Matthew saw with his own eyes that the noble Knight was stabbed off his horse with a spear, and then his skull was crushed. His eyeballs splattered out with white brain matter and fell into a pile of snow.
Their opponents showed no mercy. They did not show mercy because they were nobles. This was completely against the rules of Erouine War. Even the undead of Madara would try their best to keep the noble Knight alive in exchange for a large ransom later.
These people must be demons.
Matthew could not help but tremble. For the first time, he felt that his courage was not enough on the battlefield. He almost subconsciously retreated at that moment, but years of experience on the battlefield made him sober up.
At this moment, he must not retreat. Retreat meant death.
Several sorcerers suddenly appeared in the sky. These blue-robed Sarsard sorcerers flew across the sky above his head and went straight for the White Lion Knights that had suddenly appeared. It was the Bugas! Matthew rejoiced that he was saved, but he had some doubts in his heart. Since when were there Buga wizards monitoring the battlefield in his direction? The Silver Folks reacted too quickly, and there were four of them at once.
He had never seen so many Bugas wizards appear on the battlefield together since the battle in Randner. The most time they were deployed was when they fought the Valkyrie Knight. It was said that the battle was earth-shattering. Unfortunately, he just missed that battle.
The scene of four Silver Wizards joining forces made Matthew's blood boil. Although he knew that the other party did not care about a worthless noble Knight like him in Erouine, he still felt that it was worthwhile to be able to fight side by side with these powerful existences.
The White Lion Knight had completely torn apart the scattered formation of the noble lord's spearmen in front of them, like a hot knife cutting through butter, without any hindrance. They continued to move forward and then swallowed up those who turned and fled, leaving almost no one alive. The river bank was covered in blood in an instant.
The remaining Knights of the noble lord roared and greeted them, but what awaited them was a similar fate. The legendary Knights were more terrible than they imagined, and they were almost torn to pieces in an instant.
Matthew had never seen such a bloody battle. It was said that only in a few battlefields in the Second Holy War, when the two sides were entangled in a frenzy, could there be a loss of 70 to 80 percent. As for the kind of battle where only one out of ten survived, every soldier who had experienced such a nightmare was known as the survivor of a long war.
His heart almost trembled with the sound of the other party's hooves, but the wizards above him finally gave him some courage and forced him to order his men to stand firm. Perhaps the miserable fate of the deserters in front of them had stimulated these numb noble private soldiers a little. No one in Matthew's team turned and retreated. Although the footmen were trembling and their formation was crooked, the triple spear formation at least gave them some psychological comfort.
Matthew gasped for breath, trying to calm his nervous mind. Fortunately, his experience in the War of the Black Rose finally calmed him down a little.
…
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