Michael jumped into the fray, quickly arriving at the lee. He quickly blended in with one of the many soldiers, taking his place by their side. Yet it was clear he was in a league of his own. Avoiding the spike wall, he knocked a spear to the side with his sword, ducked and stabbed forward. Pulling the blade out, he saw the crimson blood coating it.
A couple of templars blocked him with their shields, but Michael ignored them, moving forward once more. His eyes scanned around. The spike walls were hardly a threat; they were just an annoyance now. "PULL THEM OUT!" Calling to the n behind who had yet to join the battle, he refocused on the enemy in front.
Knocking another spear away, he stepped back, avoiding a second attack. Hitting the spearhead down with his gauntlet, he stepped atop it, holding it down for an easy kill. His sword stabbed forward, but bounced off a shield that moved quickly to protect the man.
Clicking his tongue, Michael stepped back again. Looking around, he couldn’t help but notice the balance of power. Slowly, his n were losing. They just didn’t have the numbers to encircle all the Ammary forces. If they did, it would be fine. It was now a race against ti. Would they be able to encircle first, or would they get support in ti?
Michael didn’t like it. He gambled using the cavalry to trick William, and whilst he felt the first battle would be lost, he at least wanted to inflict so damage. Yet seeing the Templars next to him, he wondered if that was optimistic. The best of the church, the Templars, a force that instilled fear into nations, was being held back.
Michael didn’t let his surprise get the best of him. If pure skill couldn’t break the Ammary troops, he would just have to force it. He alone was enough. Michael knew he was sold, out of his pri. But even now, he was still one of the best on the whole continent. Closing and opening his eyes, the coldness in them hardened as he grabbed his sword with two hands.
The aura around Michael seed to change, a sense of inevitable victory oozing from his body. His n around him saw the change in Michael, and their spirits instantly lifted. "SOL’S WARRIOR HAS ARRIVED! PRAISE THE LORD! PRAISE SOL!" One of the Templars called out that his n were spreading it.
The shift in morale was sudden, surprising the Ammary troops with a surge in pressure. Every man knew what it ant when Michael was getting serious. He was a legend of the church for a reason. A man who never lost a duel, the stable sword of Sol that had seen generations of clergy co and go. He was the sword that trained everyone of them.
Michael moved forward with a speed not expected in a man his age. The battle had long turned into a disorganised ss as the Templar only wished to surround the organised Ammary square, but it worked in Michael’s favour, giving him more room to move.
Swinging his sword with grace, he deflected a blow aid at him, and using the montum from that, he struck down the man before him. A barrage of attacks ca his way, but Michael gracefully blocked and dodged, only picking up small wounds as his armour was cared for once again. A sword fell and he would block it, only to quickly side step, letting another cut across his chest piece.
Stepping forward, he pushed it away and blocked another attack before countering with his own, drawing blood once again. A whistle blew from within the Ammary square, the n rotating and bringing a fresh soldier. Michael was prepared for this, having seen the tactic nurous tis already.
In the seconds they switched around, he and many of the templars stabbed forward at one of the few gaps the Ammary n allowed, killing nurous of them before they could even retake their new positions. The Ammary n didn’t falter, and quickly replaced those who were killed, countering and willing Templar n in their own counterattack.
Michael deflected the blow toward him and stepped back, taking a few breaths. He knew his limits, and whilst he wanted to continue fighting, his body wasn’t what it used to be. He needed a break, or risk dying. If that happened, forget breaking the Ammary n, his own would falter.
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William looked around. The cavalry was long gone, but its threat lingered. He needed to leave before they ca back. It was unclear, but he could see so of his n starting to break. It was sothing he couldn’t risk. Michael may have believed he would hold the point, but that wasn’t the case.
Falling back into the centre of the square, he reached for his waist and grabbed the horn. Blowing hard four tis, a few more erupted from his other commanders. The counter started. The Ammary n who had been on the defensive pushed out against their attackers. It was unexpected, and many Templar and Commonwealth n died in an instant, giving the Ammary troops room to breathe. Those in the centre of the square refocused their attention on the back, pushing against those who encircled them.
They slowly stepped back like one being, pushing against those who encircled them. William looked around. He could see the enemy force hadn’t expected a sudden retreat and smiled. The feint with the cavalry was a good feint. He had to admit it. But he understood why Michael did it. It was all a mind ga. The only way to beat it was to play his own, and a sudden retreat was one of the best ways.
William pushed forward and took to the back to help break the encirclent. Lowering his posture, he grabbed the spear in his hands with both hands and stabbed out, piercing a man through the face. It shot out the back of the man’s skull, splashing blood on his comrade behind, making the man jump in fright.
"N!" Willai called out, "THINK OF YOUR FAMILIES, YOUR BROTHERS IN ARMS! THINK OF OUR GLORIOUS EMPIRE! DO YOU WISH TO SEE IT ALL AGAIN!"
"YES, GENERAL!" The n with William called out with a strange enthusiasm as they fought hard, hearing that William was still with them.
A smirk spread on the old man’s face, contrasting with his sharp eyes that watched his enemy, "GOOD! THEN FIGHT HARDER! FREE YOURSELVES, BECAUSE NO GOD WILL! UNLIKE THE TEMPTER’S WE KNOW GOD DOES NOT EXIST ON THE BATTLEFIELD, ONLY OURSELVES AND OUR BROTHERS!" William stepped forward and pierced his spear forward again, stabbing through a man’s heart. Pulling it out quickly, he stepped back and scanned all around.
His senses heightened as he tried not to miss a single detail, and just as he was about to attack, he stopped, hearing the ground rumble. William knew it could only be one thing. "BRACE! ENEMY CAVALRY!" His n acted quickly, hearing the order and stopping moving, hunkering down. Spears shot up from around the square, and William watched, seeing the steel armour in the distance, which reflected the sunlight, blinding him.
The horse charged forward without regard, passing his lot and targeting one of the forces that managed to break their encirclent. n were crushed instantly, as only a few riders were stopped. n yelled in panic as they tried to trap the rider within the square, failing miserably as they broke free, moving onto their next target.
The retreat he had called stopped, and William clicked his tongue. If the cavalry was back then, all he had to do was wait it out. Horses could last for a long ti on their own, but when forced to wear full tal armour and carry a rider, they were slow and tired easily.
William grabbed the horn again and blew thrice, signalling to slow the retreat. His eyes hardened once more, knowing his n’s endurance was what it ca to. If they could hold until the threat passed, they would be fine. The infantry was not a problem, even when encircled. They had already proven they could hold and push out whenever they wanted.
It caused his enemy to lose morale. His n never stopped moving, just making sure not to move too quickly to break their formation. His eyes watched the cavalry break away and circle back to target regint after regint. ’Don’t break. Rember your training. Trust it. Rember, I fight with you.’ He trusted his n, but he knew the chaos a battlefield brought. He could only hope they weren’t swept up into it.
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