Chapter 5: The Battle of the Litani
Kion felt a shiver down his spine despite the late morning's intense heat. He stroked the head of his destrier and looked around the fertile plains around the Litani river, revitalizing the arid landscape with a swathe of greenery.
Kion once visited this area with Grandmaster Talib as they scouted for the best location to build the new Hospitaller castle, allowing for adequate protection from Sonn raids and the expansion of new farming/fishing villages in the area.
However, Kion mourned for what should've been a lush and vibrant place of families, worship, and prosperity would now become a place of slaughter. For across the open field lay the vast invading army of Radcliffe and his Sonn.
Never in his life had the young King seen so many mounted warriors in a single army. The sounds of Turkomans drowned out the wind as it blew their vibrant banners. These sigils proved less colorful than Frankish ones, mainly containing green, yellow, black, or white with odd symbols and words in the Sonn language.
"How many?" Kion almost hesitated to ask Ono. The young chaplain turned pale in the face and crossed himself.
"Our father, whom art in heaven-" He started to pray. Kion took a deep breath and began praying with him, Beshte and Bunga soon joining in.
"Well?" Bunga asked.
"At least fifteen thousand mounted Sonn, and maybe another five-thousand infantry."
"God have mercy!" Beshte muttered.
"Ok, I'll admit, that's pretty daunting." Bunga muttered, his usual confidence shaken a bit. Kion gazed back at his own assembled army as they formed labored outside their encampment.
Despite issuing an Arrière-ban for the bulk of the Feudal army to assemble, Radcliffe's speed proved deadlier than all the arrows in his army's quivers. So far, Kion's army only numbered just over thirteen thousand, with most of these troops coming from Perdidit and the southern portion of Outremer.
"Take heart, Kion. Numbers don't mean everything." Kopa assured him. Seeing the Templar and Hospitaller contingents among their troops eased Kion slightly.
"Oui, we have nothing to fear. These heathen face the Lion of France!" Sir Petrus declared, followed shortly by many other Angevine Knights who'd joined Kion and his Lion Guard. Sir Petrus was, like Kopa, a former companion of his father, having spent years fighting alongside Simba even before he became King.
Hearing such words from the seasoned Knight gave Kion some heart, but it also put an odd sense of stress and expectation on the young King, something Kopa noticed with slight concern.
"Come, we still have work to do." Kion returned to his war tent, where he sat alongside Kopa, his Lion Guard, Talib, Baliyo, and every other noble lord who'd arrived.
"This is folly, meeting the Sonn here where their light cavalry can maneuver so effectively! Wasn't the point of your damned castle to prevent such things!" The Baron of Hebron snarled, turning his rage onto Talib. However, the Hospitaller Grandmaster stood his ground and showed only commitment in his expression.
"The castle isn't finished yet, and can't withstand an assault in its current state, and neither will the new settlements."
"I'm not leaving my people to fend for themselves." Baliyo growled at the Baron with a dedication that impressed Kion. They weren't wrong either. The half-constructed castle was indefensible, and because of Radcliffe's speed, he'd managed to place himself between the castle and surrounding countryside and Kion's army.
"Everyone, calm down! Have we heard anything about reinforcements?" The King growled in a stern but fair tone, silencing the various nobles. Azaad took a deep breath and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, your majesty, but my scouts report that the other contingents are still several days away at least, including Prince Rune and the Count of Tripoli." Azaad spoke with a heavy heart, and Fuli tried to ease him by placing a comforting hand on his.
"Damn it." Kion grunted, his hands balling into fists. He'd ordered Count Vegter to remain as a guardian of the north, but Rune and Count Beskerm of Tripoli made up a considerable portion of their feudal army.
"We should be patient then. If we wait for Prince Rune and Count Beskerm, we will outnumber them." The Baron of Ibelin suggested.
"We would, but it's unlikely Radcliffe will sit idle. As soon as he's reprovisioned his water supply, he'll move into Perdidit and ravage the countryside for miles before coming into range of another proper castle." Kopa reminded Ibelin.
"I'm with Kopa. We can't sit here like cowards as they pillage, burn, kill, and enslave!" Bunga cried.
"Easy, Bunga. I'm not suggesting we do anything rash either. They outnumber us and have an advantage in terrain."
"Perhaps, but we also have a large archer contingent. Foot archers can outshoot horse-archers." Kion interjected. Kopa nodded slightly but gave Kion a wary look, as did Baliyo.
"Under the right circumstances." Baliyo corrected.
Kion took another deep breath and tried to fight growing anxiety. A King couldn't be indecisive, and his charge was protecting Outremer, as well as its people.
"I won't allow ruin to fall upon the people of Perdidit. Baliyo, how many of the villages are still inhabbited?" Baliyo nodded again, appreciating his brother-in-law's fierce devotion, but soon looked almost sick.
"The Sonn came too fast. My turcopoles are evacuating them as fast as they can, but the fertility of this land and the prospect of it having proper protection proved too alluring, and many settlers came here ahead of schedule."
A grim silence fell over the various noblemen as the thought of Radcliffe reaching these helpless peasants filled them with unrelenting terror. Despite this, Kion hardened his gaze and stood up.
"That settles it then. Azaad, I want your scouts up at the crack of dawn. If Radcliffe tries to move his army into Perdidit, we attack! Pour le Christ et ses enfants!"
"Pour le Christ et ses enfants!" The nobles cried, Kion's companions, including Ono, joining in.
"The Lion of France will lead us to victory! These heathen will see the Vikingslayer firsthand!" The Baron of Hebron cried, followed soon by most of the council, including the Lion Guard. However, Kopa gave the King another cautious look, particularly as he saw the particularly subtle angst from earlier growing.
As Kion walked through the camp, Knight and common soldier alike cried out to him with utmost confidence and surety, chanting, "Lion of France! Vikingslayer!"
"And to think you feared the locals wouldn't accept you." Fuli teased.
"Why would they? We've spent the last few months proving ourselves on and off the field of battle." Anga added.
"Skirmishes to be precise, this will be our first-" Beshte started.
"We've been in plenty of pitched battles before!" Bunga countered, waving his hand in a dismissive tone as his earlier angst vanished.
"These aren't vikings." Ono said.
"You're right. They're much smaller." Anga chuckled, earning a slight smirk from Kion.
"We've beaten them in every skirmish, and we'll beat them again tomorrow." Bunga said.
Beshte and Ono remained cautiously optimistic and crossed themselves before Kion noticed Baliyo's tent nearby.
"I'll see you guys in the morning. There's something I want to take care of first."
"Alright, just don't stay up too late." Ono said.
"He's right. We'll need our Lion at full-strength." Bunga chuckled as he put his hand on Kion's shoulder. He took a deep breath and approached the Prince of Perdidit's tent with sir Petrus and sir Gilet, a local Frankish knight who'd served under King Sahashi beside him. A pair of cataphracts stood guard and bowed respectfully before Kion.
"Sire." They said in adequate French, though heavily accented.
"His Majesty wishes to see Prince Baliyo." Sir Gilet said in Perdidit. The cataphracts moved aside, and Kion entered the tent alone. There he saw his brother-by-law kneeling in prayer before a piece of iconography artwork depicting Mary holding a young Jesus in her arms.
Without speaking a word, Kion crossed himself and knelt down beside Baliyo before joining him in prayer.
"Blessed are though amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus." Baliyo started.
"Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death Amen." Kion finished in Perdidit. Baliyo glanced over at the King with a genuine look of surprise, not at his presence, though.
"My Perdidit?"
Baliyo glanced away for a moment.
"It's reasonable enough for a new arrival." Kion laughed.
"Rani says I speak it like a native. I can't take too much credit, though. She's an effective teacher." Baliyo turned back to Kion with interest.
"Effective." He smiled slightly, noting Kion's choice of words. The King looked somewhat flustered.
"If I wasn't speaking it well enough, she'd stop speaking French and only use Perdidit until I improved." Baliyo bellowed out in laughter, showing Kion a side of him the Plantagenet was yet to see, and it warmed his heart.
"That's Rani. I'm glad she hasn't changed for you." Kion surprised Baliyo by smiling back.
"Me too, a lion need's a lioness, and she's fiercer than most knights in Europe."
"That she is, just like our mother." Baliyo sighed.
"What was she like?"
"Brave, fiercely loyal, devoted, everything a Queen should be. Sahashi was blessed to have her, just like you're blessed to have Rani."
"I am, but she's not the only one who became family with our marriage." Baliyo's face hardened slightly, but he looked upon Kion regardless.
"When my father died, I watched my mother marry another man. For the longest time, I resented Sahashi until Rani was born." The pain and iron in Baliyo's face eased into sincerity.
"I didn't see Sahashi's daughter. I saw my sister. From that day, I swore to God I'd protect her. When her father and our mother died, that sense of duty became paramount. Then I find out she's marrying someone from across the Mediterranean. Someone I've never met or even heard of. I just have others' words that he's a good man who can probably protect our Kingdom. But even more so, I have to pray he's going to treat my sister well."
Kion felt an intense understanding burn through him. He remembered learning about Kiara's betrothal to Kovu and fearing for her well-being. He knew little about the young King of Bohemia other than his reputation as a skilled monarch. He thanked God that Kovu turned out to be a good husband, treating Kiara just like their father did their mother, and Kopa did Vitani.
"Baliyo, I-"
"I know you treat her well... She's made that much crystal clear." Overwhelming guilt flooded Baliyo's face, and he exhaled deeply.
"I'm sorry I've been so cold towards you, Kion. You've been here less than a year and have reigned as well as King Sahashi ever did."
"Thank you." At this the two men stood up, with Baliyo smiling towards Kion.
"I don't think we should have anything to worry about tomorrow. We've got the Lion of France leading us! You'll smash Radcliffe just like your grandfather destroyed the Sonn."
"...Of course." Kion said, working hard to conceal his angst.
After a long night, Kion awoke to a morning mass led by Ono and two priests, one Catholic and one Orthodox. After receiving the Eucharist, Kion got word from Azaad that the Sonn broke camp.
"This is it, our first real battle against the Sonn. Let's show them how we do things in the Angevine Empire!" Bunga cried, raising his lance.
Kion was about to join his retinue when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder.
"Kion." Kopa's warm voice eased the young King's pre-battle nerves, at least until he saw the wary look on the Templar's face.
"Kopa?"
"I just need a moment with the King."
"Sure thing, just don't keep us waiting too long." Bunga said, leaving Kion with his uncle.
"Is something wrong?" Kopa took a deep breath.
"Just remember everything I've taught you about the Sonn. Do not under any circumstances try to charge their cavalry unless you're absolutely certain they can't get away. No matter how tempting it may seem-"
"I know, Kopa. You've gone over this a hundred times. They feign retreat, they're faster than our Knights, and they want me to chase after them." Kion grunted, sounding slightly impatient, especially as passing men cried out to him.
Despite this, Kopa placed both hands over Kion's shoulder pauldrons with a look of deep sincerity.
"Just remember that you have nothing to prove."
"Nothing to prove?" Kion almost pulled away, unsure of what the Templar meant by that.
"I'll be fine. I've got you and the others beside me."
Kopa nodded.
"Always." At that, the two parted. Kopa, taking his place at the head of the Templars while Kion rejoined his retinue. From there, he had a good view of his army, now arrayed in the order of battle agreed upon the previous night.
Most of the secular mounted Knights, Cataphracts, and Sergeants formed up in three lines, with the Templars and Hospitallers making two smaller lines behind them. In front of the heavy cavalry, Kion placed their heavy infantry in a single line, heavily armored warriors wielding axes, hammers, maces, and swords flanked by a formation of spearmen on either side.
The heavy infantry was a mix of Frankish or native Outremer warriors, with the spearmen on the left flank having similar composition but with more natives. The right flank was made up entirely of perdidit footmen, adorned in quilted tunics or scale armor. Additionally, their helmets differed from the franks and native Outremer infantry, who all wore kettle helms, while the Perdidit wore rounder versions with scale aventails.
Kion placed all of their turcopoles and foot archers along both flanks as a screen. The young King hoped his contingents of crossbowmen would've arrived by then, but most came from further north. Still, he was confident they'd repel the Sonn horse-archers, especially with so many turcopoles backing them up. Azaad led on the left, with Fuli glancing over in his direction more than once.
"Don't worry. He'll be fine." Anga assured her.
"Uhhg, do we have to wear all this? I barely feel like a knight in all this stuff?" Bunga muttered as he emphasized the cloth wrapped around his great helm and plate portions of his armor.
"You want to cook alive in your armor?" Beshte retorted sternly, emphasizing the native Frankish knights and armored footmen around them. The Franks who settled in Outremer learned quickly that their armor didn't do well in such hot places and adopted local methods of keeping themselves cooled in battle.
"Guys, keep it down. We need to focus." Ono said as he and Kion examined the Sonn army before them carefully.
The sheer number of horse-archers made it challenging to discern what other forces Radcliffe brought with him. However, Ono did see that most of their infantry stood near the rear.
"Some kind of strategy?" Kion asked. Ono peered closer and saw it.
"Those aren't Sonn. They're Persians!"
Kion now understood, these were levies, undoubtedly there against their will. Thus they couldn't be relied upon in the center. This would work well for Kion's order of battle. He'd move his army forward slowly but steadily, keeping good order and unity.
When the Sonn tried to harass his front, the infantry would form a shield wall and protect their heavy cavalry. If they came for the flanks, his missile troops would overwhelm them. Inch by inch, they'd drive the Sonnback to the river, forcing them to abandon their incursion or fight close-quarters. All Kion had to do was carry it out as he'd done so many times before.
"Advance!" At Kion's command, dozens of horns blew across his side of the field, signaling the march. By the sounds of beating drums, the feudal army advanced in good order towards their foes. Kion felt his nerves tighten up, for this was always the worst part, the prelude.
Across the field, Sonn horns challenged theirs, and the vast cavalry army began moving. However, to Kion's surprise, the center thinned out immensely as they did so, leaving perhaps only a fourth of their mounted archers in the center with another group of horsemen and the infantry there.
The rest of the horsemen swarmed like locusts towards their flanks.
"Ha! Look at them. They're feeding right into our plan!" Bunga almost laughed. Kion slowly nodded. Thinning their center would make it that much easier for his forces to break through, and unlike his battle against Ivar, there couldn't be more troops waiting in reserve with the river to their back and no boats. All he had to do was let them beat against his flanks.
The horse-archers began at a slow trot, but at the sound of another horn blow, both forces surged ahead at full speed. Azaad and his turcopoles almost lost track of the approaching Sonn as their Turkomans kicked up an artificial sandstorm with their hooves.
"Make ready!" He snarled to turcopole and foot-archer alike. Azaad drew back his own bow but gritted his teeth when he saw the inevitable happen.
Kion fell silent and lost his breath, for a tidal wave of arrows loosed from the mass of Sonn. The turcopoles fired more accurately, but this volley came with incredible order and cohesion. It created a significant psychological impact upon the turcopoles and foot-archers who desperately tried to open up their ranks to avoid the arrows.
"Dieu ait pitié!" Ono cried while looking at the right flank, which suffered from a nearly identical attack. Volley after volley hit the sides with ruthless efficiency, preventing any effective counter barrages. A few lines further away managed to loose an organized blow of arrows, but by then, the Sonn broke off into individual squadrons with incredible agility, maneuvering themselves across the plains like a fish in the sea.
Azaad frantically tried to reorganize his turcopoles to race out and counter the Sonn, but their sheer numbers and the chaos among his ranks made this nearly impossible.
Instead, he could only watch as turcopoles, horses, and foot archers suffered arrows, burying themselves into flesh and bone. Even though the turcopoles wore gambeson, the tunics had their limits and, after taking multiple hits, began to break apart in areas, exposing skin to arrows.
Others suffered a much worse fate, getting crushed by their own mounts as they collapsed from arrows in their bodies.
Kopa tightened the grips on his reins as Dakari rode up to him.
"Grandmaster, what are your orders?"
"We have to save them! Send word to Kion. I want to go out and drive them off, get word to Talib and have the Hospitallers do the same on the right!"
"Oui, sir!"
Usually, charging Sonn was a bad idea, but the Templars and Hospitallers had enough training and discipline to break off the charge before they went too far, and even if they couldn't reach the Sonn, they could save their archers.
"This is bad!" Beshte muttered while Kion's heart raced.
"We have to do something!" Fuli cried.
"Right, we need to help them. The Templars and Hospitallers could probably do it, send word too-" Kion started only to see Seneschal Dakari ride over. Even with his great-helm on, the King felt the Templar's intense iron gaze.
"Sire, we-"
"Tell Kopa and Talib to go out and rescue the archers!"
"Right away!" Dakari almost sighed in relief and rode off to fulfill the order.
"It's ok. We can still do this." Kion told those around him, though perhaps he intended it for himself.
"Kion, let me go too." Fuli cried as she looked out at Azaad with horror in her eyes.
"Go. Anga, help her."
"No problem!" Anga said with a fervent nod before riding out with Fuli. However, just when they got out of range, Kion felt the ground tremble slightly.
"Here they come!" Kion slowly turned to his front and saw the terror coming for them. The remaining horse-archers charged straight for them, bows raised.
"This is it! Shield wall!" Kion roared.
"Shield wall!" The thunderous voice of his housecarl captain roared, and within moments, the entire infantry line halted, then locked their shields together like a fortified wall. Even if the horse-archers had been Frankish knights, they'd break upon this shield wall like a wave against rocks.
However, the Sonn didn't, nor did they even attempt to loose a volley into the heavily-armored men. Instead, they maneuvered around them and unleashed their arrows into the knights/cataphracts.
"Incoming!" Kion roared, but too late as it were. The King grunted when he felt an arrow strike his chest, tearing the surcoat slightly and bouncing off his mail.
"Gaah!" Bunga grunted when an arrow tip dented the temple of his great-helm. Beshte, Ono, and several other knights/sergeants managed to raise their shields, but others endured the blows via their armor. Unfortunately, many of the horses lacked proper armor outside of quilted cloth.
Kion's destrier had the covering, which saved him from an arrow, but the cries of agony from struck horses sent a chilling sense of horror down the knights and cataphracts' backs.
Before the infantry could even try to help, another horn blast drew their attention. Just then, the mass of Persian levies advanced on their Christian counterparts, though at the behest of Sonn slave drivers. Once in positions, these troops attacked the shield wall, but not vigorously. They'd come in, exchange a few blows, then pull back before any severe counter-attack came.
This effectively bogged the Christian infantry in place. They couldn't press forward without risking a flanking attack from the horsemen, but nor could they pull back quickly enough to support their knights.
For Kion and his heavy cavalry, the situation was unbearable. The horse-archers seemed so close, yet just far enough away to evade a charge yet close enough to pelt them with arrows in a nearly continuous stream. Some of the Sonn even rode in circles around one of the knight squadrons.
Horses and men alike grunted in agony when arrows struck them. Even in their heavy armor, the kinetic impact from the missiles still proved immensely painful for the knights.
"Kion, what do we do!?" Beshte cried.
"Sire, your orders!" Sir Gilet echoed. The King grit his teeth feeling incredibly stupid. He'd left no missile troops in the center to prevent such a skirmish, and now they effectively couldn't fight back. Every moment seemed to get hotter, more intense, and stressful as his knights and lords cried out for direction.
"En avant les gars!" The Baron of Hebron cried as he led his retinue of knights in a charge against a nearby Sonn squadron, and before long, several other lords began doing the same.
"Stop! Don't give pursuit!" Kion cried alongside several others barons, such as Ibelin. However, at that moment, the King lost his breath when he saw a banner among the horse-archers. Even through the eye slints in his great helm, he saw a great flag of desolate tan, and on it rested a black and red lion with fiery eyes.
Beneath the banner rested its bearer to the left, the right Emir Shetani, and the third rider in the middle. Unlike the others, he wore a suit of brass-colored scale armor with a visored helm adorned with a gleaming crown of gold.
"Radcliffe." Kion muttered. Ono, Beshte, and Bunga all turned to Kion upon making the same realization.
"There he is!" Bunga cried.
"Kion, remember what Kopa said!" Ono pleaded. However, just as the young King prepared to pull back and lead his knights away, his eyes and Radcliffe's met even with their faces covered.
The tense standoff lasted less than a moment but dragged on for an eternity. Radcliffe aimed his bow directly at Kion and loosed an arrow, striking one of the lions on his banner straight in the eye.
"If we kill or capture him, his empire falls apart! Gloire à Dieu!"
"Allons-y!"
"Kion, no!" Ono shrieked but to no avail. Kion led his retinue straight for Radcliffe, lances at the ready. Had they struck, the knights would've flattened the light cavalry, but they didn't strike. Instead, like a masterful orchestra, the Sonn moved in unison and opened up their ranks, allowing the knights to pass harmlessly through.
Within moments Kion and his men found themselves pelted with arrows from every direction, as did the other knights/cataphracts who followed their king.
"Gaah!" Baliyo snarled in frustration as three arrows bounced off his mail and helmet. Back on the flanks, Azaad desperately rode alongside his turcopoles, loosing arrow after arrow. But despite his best efforts, the situation continued to deteriorate.
Just then, the turcopole captain felt his horse rear as three arrows struck his side. Azaad leaped free of his saddle but crashed hard, narrowly avoiding the corpse of his steed. For a brief moment, Azaad caressed the horse with a look of sorrow, only to jump back when an arrow nearly struck him.
Gazing up, the world slowed around him as he saw Makucha riding straight for him alongside three other Sonn.
"Too bad, Isai!" The Emir laughed with horrible satisfaction. Azaad looked around and watched his turcopoles and foot archers running about in complete disorder, many strung up or cut down by the Sonn who rode through them or unleashed arrows. He knew running would be pointless, and in a final act of defiance, grabbed his bow. Yet, at that moment, he heard the sound of a horn.
All eyes turned to behind him, where Kopa and his Templars charged the Sonn horse-archers, shaking the ground as they did so. Despite their advantage in numbers, the Sonn squadrons were spread out and quickly began retreating in the face of the charging knights, especially as groups of scattered turcopoles and archers rallied behind them.
Before Makucha could respond, he saw the rider to his immediate left nearly lose his head from a crossbow bolt.
"Azaad!" Fuli rode straight for the turcopole with Anga close behind, her crossbow raised. Makucha could only watch as the french noblewoman reached down and pulled Azaad up and onto her horse in a flash before racing off.
"Essayez de m'attraper!" She cried, with Anga following. Makucha swore in Sonn before falling back in the face of the approaching Templars. Azaad breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at Fuli.
"Thank you."
"Hmp, try to be more careful. We won't always be around to save you." She said with a smirk. Anga, however, couldn't smile as she looked around at their deteriorating position. Back in the center, Kion felt his horse slowing after multiple failed charges. He placed a hand on the destrier's head and tried to ease him.
But all around them, the horses and their riders felt their energy drain from the heat, fruitless charges, and barrages of arrows. Finally, the horses stopped, desperately panting for breath.
Kion himself fought for air in his now soaked helmet, but the worst was yet to come.
"Dieu ait pitié!" Ono cried, and soon even Bunga and Beshte yelped. Kion felt the ground tremble beneath him and watched in terror as a mass of heavily armored Sonn cavalry charged them.
"Ghulams." Kion muttered. At their head came Kuzima, now covered in mail and an aventail. While these Ghulams had less armor and poorer mail than the knights, they charged an exhausted and bloodied foe and hit them with tremendous impact.
"Rally to me!" Kion roared, furiously fending off the storm of spears, swords, and maces swung in every direction. However, the knights and their horses ran on fumes, and many collapsed under the sheer pressure. Even Kion's Lion Guard barely held on, giving everything they had with each blow.
Kion felt the world collapse around him. This was it, this was how he'd die, but not just him, the army of Outremer. Rani and the Kingdom would be defenseless. He'd failed her, his family, his Kingdom, God.
The King felt tears swell into his eyes and opened his mouth, but the dryness prevented him from muttering a word. Yet in Kion's mind he could only beg "Christ forgive me."
"Not for us, My Lord, not for us, but to your Name give the glory!" The ground shook again, and looking back, Kion saw them.
Kopa charged in with the Templars and Hospitallers, scattering the mounted archers. The Ghulams, however, stood their ground and closed in to crush the knights within their grasp.
"Gaaaah!" Kion roared, forgetting his sorrow and throwing himself at the nearest Ghulam. With a thunderous murder-stroke, he smashed through the Sonn's helm using the pommel of his sword. Ignoring all sense of Fatigue, Kion brought down three more Ghulams before four strong arms seized his.
"We need to go, now!" Beshte cried.
Kion frantically looked back and saw groups of Knights/Cataphracts retreating with the help of the Templars and Hospitallers. However, his retinue couldn't get away, at least not all of them.
"Go! We'll hold them off!" Sir Petrus roared.
"No! Sir Petrus!" Eighty or so of Kion's Knights from France lost their fear of death and threw themselves at the Ghulams like lions, allowing the others to pull back.
"No! Let me go! That's an order! Sir Petrus!" Kion teared up again as he was pulled away from his knights, who fell one by one. Eventually, the royal army fell back into the passes, leaving behind just under three thousand dead or wounded men to the Sonn.
The steppe warriors cried out in victory and immediately began plundering the dead and living.
"Ha! So much for the Lion of France! Filthy Isami!" Shetani laughed.
"What are we waiting for!? We should finish them off!" Makucha snarled impatiently.
"No." Radcliffe spoke, silencing those around him for almost a mile.
"...Your majesty." Shetani muttered in a trembling tone.
"Those passes are too narrow for our horse-archers. If we follow, they'll regroup and defeat us in detail. No, we press on to Perdidit." Evil smiles returned to his Emirs' faces as they gazed upon the roar to Perdidit, which now lay undefended.