Chapter 8: Battle of Sepphoris
Author's note at xxx recommended soundtrack: Halo 2 OST Remix - "Follow (Moa Remix)" [By: UncookedMoa]
Kion splashed water into his face to ease the intense heat afflicting him. Fortunately for the young King and his army, they did not want for water. The great springs of Sepphoris lay before them, a massive oasis nearly the size of a lake blessed the otherwise arid countryside of the northeastern portion of the County of Edessa.
The rich-blue water glittered like a gemstone and blessed the desert with an island of greenery. Just beyond the vegetation lay miles of rock and sand, including red mountains.
Despite this, Kion felt his nerves tighten up as he gazed out at the barren expanse and pictures the Army of Outremer struggling to escape through it. At least until he nearly jumped when more icy-cold water crashed into the side of his face.
"Gaah! Really, Bunga?" Kion growled. However, to his disbelief, it wasn't Bunga who splashed him, but Kopa. The Templar grandmaster chuckled alongside a few of his knights and the Lion Guard, particularly Bunga.
"Who says Templars can't have any fun?" Bunga laughed.
"You have, on multiple occasions." Kopa corrected, nearly making Bunga look nervous before the Templar turned back to Kion, who didn't look amused.
"Lighten up, Kion. It doesn't do your army well to see their King so anxious."
"He's right, Kion. We got the drop on Radcliffe this time!" Beshte proclaimed as he emphasized their army's camp resting around the Springs. So far, the Arrière-ban was going much better than last time. Over twenty-five thousand men arrived to form the feudal army, including their new Genoese Crossbowmen. However, three thousand of these fighting men came from King William's crusader forces.
Kopa placed a hand on Kion's shoulder and gave him a more serious look.
"You're thinking about the Litani again. Get that out of your mind. You've more than repented for it by now. Focus on this battle, now one that's already happened."
Kion tightened his fist and nodded.
"Oui, come on, let's inspect the troops." Kion said with a much greater sense of motivation.
"Allons-y!" Bunga declared. Kopa's smile returned as he and his Senechal, Dakari, walked beside the King and his Lion Guard throughout the camp. However, whatever confidence Kion gained from the Templar grandmaster faded when he saw most of the common soldiers and knights seemed more interested in the King of Sicily, who similarly moved about.
"Fear not. God is with us! We'll crush these Sonn like my brave knights, and I crushed the Lombards just this year!" Kion saw the awe and wonder in his soldiers' eyes as they listened to William.
Fuli and the others saw doubt and self-consciousness in Kion's expression, but William beat them to the punch and noticed his cousin's son as he walked by.
"Ahh, there he is! The Lion of France!" William made his way through the crowd and seized Kion before almost lifting him up with his immense Norman strength.
"Here's the man who'll lead us to victory!" Kion received a less than enthusiastic response, as many knights, turcopoles, and soldiers before him fought at Litani or heard what happened. Kopa and the others' expressions hardened slightly. They knew what kind of leader their King was, and if only they could show the others.
Later that day, Kion stood with William, Kopa, the highest-ranked nobles in the army, and his Guard as they looked out from beyond their encampment to the Sonn's across the desert plains.
"Well, Ono?" Kion asked, trying incredibly hard not to sound nervous. The chaplain took a deep breath and turned to the others with a look of dismay.
"I county roughly forty-thousand, half mounted and half foot."
"Forty thousand! Dieu ait pitié, that's half of the Sonn's military strength!" Prince Rune muttered, crossing himself as he did so.
"Forty-thousand, that's uh, well it could be worse." Even Bunga had difficulty not sounding scared when he saw the sheer number of Sonn and Persian levees opposing them.
"That just means we have our work cut out for us. Come on, we've got work to do." Kion led the army's leadership inside his tent, where they spent the next few hours planning their order of battle and having supper.
"So it's agreed then, we fight defensively." Kion said, earning nods from the others.
"Christ does smile on us that we arrived here first." Vegter said as he looked at the map. Radcliffe chose his route well, at least in theory. He'd picked a path that would take him into the heartland of Edessa, including its rich countryside, without encountering any major castles or fortifications.
However, there was a reason why the people of Outremer didn't place any castles in this area. Aside from the Springs of Sepphoris, there was no source of water for miles. Any army that intended to traverse this path needed Sepphoris to replenish their water supply or perish.
As such, Kion and the army of Outremer now had the advantage, as they only needed to hold the springs to stop Radcliffe's invasion. Kion exhaled deeply as he moved the final piece into place on the map in front of them.
"Alright, we have our order of battle. Are there any disagreements?" The tent went silent.
"No, your majesty." Stratēgos Surak said. Kion stared at the Perdidit nobleman and sighed. Three days earlier, he arrived with the Perdidit contingent, claiming that Prince Baliyo had other pressing matters in the south to deal with and that he'd send him in his stead. However, Kion suspected his brother-in-law hadn't come for other reasons. Even so, the King fought back such emotions and put on a solid demeanor before the others.
"Good, let's end in prayer." The leaders crossed themselves before Ono led them in prayer.
"For yours is the kingdom yours is the power yours is the glory forever amen." Ono said as leaders crossed themselves.
"Alright, I suggest we get some rest." Kion stood up with the others but heard more murmuring as a few left.
"At least he wants to go defense this time."
"Hmp, he'll probably recklessly charge out again, maybe get himself captured or killed this time."
"Enough, that kind of talk doesn't help anyone." Baron Balian de Ibelin growled at the murmuring nobles.
"At least we have one capable king here."
Kion watched William leave the tent with a few of his nobles, laughing as they did so.
"Kion, come on, you should get some rest too." Anga said, putting her hand on his shoulder.
"Huh? Oh right, I just need to take care of something first. Kopa narrowed his eyes as he watched Kion carefully as he left. The young King carefully made his way towards William's tent and took another deep breath as he stared at it for another few moments. However, before he could take a step forward, Kion felt a strong hand on his shoulder.
"I thought we'd finished planning." Kopa's voice nearly jumped Kion, and he turned to see the Templar Grandmaster standing over him with a tenuous look.
"Kopa! I, I just needed to talk to King William is all."
"About what?"
Kion clenched his eyes shut before he gazed back at William's tent with a longing gaze.
"I'm going to ask him to lead the army tomorrow." Kopa exhaled, having already expected the answer.
"Kion, that's not a good idea."
The King shook his head with a defeated expression.
"My nobles don't respect me, and they have more confidence in William than their own King. Maybe they're right, maybe he is the better King-"
"Kion, you're forgetting one thing, he may be the King of Sicily, but you're the King of Outremer! He's not going to be here indefinitely, but you are! If you want your people to respect you, then this is your chance to do it!"
"...I failed once before..."
"Everyone fails at some point, Kion! None of us are perfect! Only Christ was perfect, but he loves us despite our inperfections! You made a mistake at the Litani, but if you let it rule the rest of your life, then more people are going to suffer! You're the King of Outremer. You don't have the luxury of this self-doubt and pity, not anymore!"
Kion almost trembled but then heard the sincerity in Kopa's voice.
"Kion, I know what you're truly capable of, so does your Guard, and most importantly, God knows. Who are you?"
"I'm Kion."
"Who are you!?"
"I'm Kion of the House of Plantagenet." Kion spoke louder and with more confidence.
"Who are you!?"
"I'm the King of Outremer!"
Kopa finally smiled again.
"Yes, you are."
The following morning, Kion joined his army in confessions, a mass, and the eucharist before arranging the various contingents into the agreed-upon order of battle.
However, as Kion did so, Ono spotted a small party of Sonn riding towards them with a flag of truce.
"What do you suppose this about?" Fuli asked suspiciously.
"Hmp, I'll bet they're coming to beg for water." Bunga chuckled, trying to ease some of the tension from seeing so many adversaries opposing them.
"Sonn don't beg." Surak growled, narrowing his eyes at the horsemen as they drew closer.
"You think too highly of them." William chuckled.
"He's not wrong. You don't know the Sonn." Count Vegter similarly grunted.
"I know they're just men like us. Cut a man off from water long enough, and he'll beg, no matter who he is." The King of Sicily declared, earning smirks from the others. Yesterday this might've worried Kion, but now he merely joined them, though with a hint of caution.
"Come on, let's find out what they want." Kion rode ahead with his Guard, Kopa, William, Vegter, and Surak while the other leaders remained behind. Beshte tightened the grip on his reigns when he saw Kuzimu's banner.
"The slaver." He huffed.
Most of the men around Kuzimu were Ghulams, whose armor gleamed in the morning sun. The two parties stopped when they were a few yards apart and stood there in a tense silence.
Kion gazed into Kuzimu's scarred face and exposed bone that unsettled many of the King's men. William, however, showed no fear and gazed at the smaller man with interest.
"If you want to stand here in the hot sun all day, that's fine." Anga said, finally breaking the silence while taking out her full waterskin and drinking from it before offering some to her horse.
"We've got all the water we'll ever need." She added with a smirk, which soon spread to the others. Despite this, Kuzimu showed no visible reaction, at least at first,
"You let a woman speak for you, Frank?" The Emir spoke in his low and unsettling voice.
"What kind of man lets a woman speak for him, no man." One of the Ghulams laughed before the others joined in. Even with such comments, the two French noblewomen didn't lose their confident demeanors.
"Big talk coming from such little men." Fuli retorted, sitting up straighter in the saddle to emphasize that even though she and Anga were smaller than the Frankish men around them, they were still bigger than any of the Sonn.
Such an observation made William burst out in thunderous laughter as he too emphasized his titanic size compared to the steppe men, looking like he could pick one up in each hand. Azaad, in particular, appreciated Fuli's wit and winked at her, earning a slight blush.
Several of the Ghulams scowled, but Kuzimu remained cold and indifferent, staring at Kion.
"Why have you come to meet us?" Kion growled.
"My King, Radcliffe, requests access to the springs for our army. We're on our way to Edessa, and this is the only source of water for miles."
Count Vegter looked ready to draw his sword when he heard the request, but Kopa eased him with a restraining hand. Kion, however, remained calm.
"Tell King Radcliffe he can have access to the springs." Kion's Guard turned to him with interest.
"All he needs to do is hand over all your horses and bows." Kuzimu narrowed his one eye and rode closer. Beshte and Bunga reached for their swords, but Ono eased them while Kion came closer to meet the Emir.
Neither spoke for another few moments as the Guard expected Kuzimu to make some threats or promises. However, the Sonn merely reached into a pocket under his armor and tossed something small into the air. Kion caught it out of reflex.
Kion's eyes widened when he looked into his hand and saw a silver ring with dried bloodstains still on it. William, Surak, and Vegter seemed slightly confused, but the Lion Guard and other Royal Knights from France went pale when they saw Sir Petrus's family ring.
For a brief moment, Kopa almost saw doubt and dismay return to Kion, but he powered through it, clasping his hand around the ring and boring into Kuzimu with the force of a lance.
"I have a question for you and your King. Why have you boldly and haughtily entered the land of the Christians? Have you come to become Christians yourselves or to harass the Christians in every way?" Kion's question caught both groups off-guard, even Kuzimu.
"I ask that you leave the land of God and the Christians, which the blessed apostle, Peter, by his preaching converted long ago to the worship of Christ." There wasn't a hint of sarcasm in Kion's voice, only pure sincerity, earning proud smiles from Kopa and Ono.
Kuzimu finally scoffed and looked almost reviled by the Frankish King's words.
"Your God and your Christianity we neither seek nor desire. We come because we wonder why you Franks call this land yours, the land we took from an effeminate people." Kuzimu retorted while turning to Surak, who looked ready to maul the Sonn Emir.
"If you wish to become Sonn, now is your chance. Deny your God, and we shall make you master in Persia of all you could ever desire, down to your common footsoldier. But if not, you will suffer a capital fate or be led in chains alongside your children as you watch your women become our playthings." Kuzimu turned to Fuli and Anga when he spoke the last bit.
It took everything the Franks had not to draw swords. Even Ono turned red in the face and nearly rode forward to knock Kuzimu off his Turkoman. Kion, however, kept his cool alongside Kopa.
"Come closer and say that, little man." William growled.
"It's alright, cousin. For as you said, even the mightiest man will come begging if he lacks water. Fortunately for us, we have the springs and the water that I will never make us thirst again." Kuzimu and his Ghulams looked confused when Kion said that last bit, but the Christians did and smiled wider.
"Tell Radcliffe he's welcome to come to the springs and accept baptism, along with any other man in his army. Christ accepts all." At that, Kion's party returned to their army to finish arraying themselves for battle. By midday, both armies stood ready.
Kion's arrangement was different from that he employed at the Litani, this time taking a more defensive, reverse-crescent shape around the water but allowing the enemy access to some of the flora.
Kion gazed at his center, which was made up of a tense line of his heavy infantry, including his Saxon huscarls and the Sicilian Crusader infantry. Norman and Lombard Axmen just as tenacious as the Saxon Huscarls. Flanking them stood the native Frankish heavy-infantry and native spearmen, including the Perdidit contingent.
Unlike last time, however, Kion placed all of his foot archers behind his infantry. Unfortunately, his heaviest losses at Litani were among the archers, and he only had fifteen hundred or so with him.
Behind the archers and infantry stood his secular knights and mounted sergeants, roughly sixteen-hundred in all, split up into two squadrons with Kion leading the left-wing and Prince Rune on the right alongside Count Vegter.
"We've got this, Kion, don't worry." Bunga assured Kion as they looked over their center before turning to the left flank.
Azaad stood before his horse alongside thousands of other turcopoles, Fuli and Anga.
"This is different." Azaad muttered almost nervously as he and his horse-archers looked unsure of their positioning. Kion ordered all of the turcopoles to dismount and act as two lines of foot-archers on both flanks.
"That's a good thing, darling." Fuli chuckled, kissing his cheek while Anga nodded reassuringly.
"Kion knows what he's doing, this is a great idea." She said while walking towards the fifteen-hundred Genoese mercenary crossbowmen and five-hundred local crossbowmen who'd formed up in front of the dismounted turcopoles.
Azaad took a deep breath and nodded while also glancing back at the thousand or so Templar, and Hospitaller Knights/Sergeants formed up behind them. It was a bold plan, to say the least, and certainly one they'd never tried before, but it was sound if pulled off right. On the other flank, two similar formations of dismounted turcopoles stood behind roughly two-thousand local and Sicilian crossbowmen with King William and his Norman Knights and the Perdidit Cataphracts behind them.
Anga reached the Genoese crossbowmen and took in the elite mercenaries. The Italians weren't large people, standing roughly the same height as the Sonn. Despite this, they looked no less terrifying with their large crossbows, thick padded gambesons, kettle, helms, and brown cloths covering their mouths. Additionally, each Genoese crossbowman also carried a large pavise shield which they sat in front of them before loading their first bolts.
"Nervous?" Anga asked, trying to relieve some of the tension. However, one turned to her, and she only saw his eyes, cold and focused with an almost ruthless gaze.
"No." The mercenary's voice almost chilled the entire desert around them.
"Good to know." Anga almost jumped when she heard the blasting of Sonn horns and the beating of drums. The Genoese showed no visible reaction even as the ground nearly shook from the sheer number of horses moving across the plains. Twenty-thousand mounted warriors almost kicked up an artificial sandstorm as they took their position.
Ono observed with his keen eyes and saw their enemies maneuvered as they'd anticipated. Just like before, most of the Sonn horse-archers moved in on the flanks, roughly seven thousand or on each end.
However, Ono trusted Kion's plan and remained focused on the center. There, twenty-thousand levy Persian spearmen and bowmen lurched forward like a mob of prisoners. Though Ono knew in many ways, they were captives.
Even from a distance, Ono saw the look of dread and fear in their eyes, trembling as they approached the Franks. Ono didn't doubt that Persia had mighty warriors, but those arrayed before them were but farmers and other peasants with weapons shoved into their hands.
The chaplain prayed for them and begged God that they wouldn't have to kill many of them. Sighing, he turned his attention to the remaining Sonn driving the Persian conscripts forward. Three-thousand Ghulams and another three-thousand horse-archers.
"We can do this." Bunga growled while donning his great-helm.
"We will do this!" Beshte huffed before doing the same.
Kion took a deep breath and slowly placed his great-helm on before riding out in front of his infantry so they and the knights could see.
"Take heart, soldiers of Christ! Fear not the loss of your mortal flesh, but remember Christ's promise, life everlasting! Fight for your homes, for your families, for everything Christ died for! Gloire à Dieu!" Kion roared like a thunderous lion.
"Gloire à Dieu!" The army roared back with such enthusiasm that they forgot the Litani ever happened. Kion rode back to his Guard, who smiled beneath their helmets.
"That's the Lion of France." Bunga said.
xxx
Back on the left flank, Anga's heart raced faster than a Turkoman when she saw seven thousand of the horse and their riders move towards them in a steady trot and then break out into a sprint at the sound of a horn.
The noblewoman literally felt the ground beneath her tremble as they raced across the sand, kicking up great clouds of it around them like a tidal wave. The Genoese crossbowmen stood their ground with pure focus and discipline like a stone despite all of this.
"Shields!" The Captain cried. Anga's mouth dropped when she saw the cloud of arrows descending upon them from the Sonn riders, many of whom nearly stood up in their saddles.
Each crossbowman stood behind his pavise shield, and Anga quickly did the same, yelping as she felt it thrash about while splinters of wood flew everywhere. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she felt the impacts end and looked out.
To Anga's disbelief, no crossbowmen suffered even the slightest injury despite thousands of arrows descending upon them. A few had the missiles stuck in their gambesons but appeared unphased.
When Anga looked back at the approaching Sonn, she realized they'd reached the edge of the foliage. Their trap was truly sprung there, for the plants hindered the Turkomans' movement and maneuverability, with many rearing or grinding to a halt in a desperate attempt to avoid tripping over vines or roots.
"Take aim!" At this, the crossbowmen raised their weapons, including Anga, who felt the world slow as she squeezed the trigger.
"Loose!" Anga nearly lost her breath when she saw their volley make contact with the hindered Sonn. Blood and human entrails flew in every direction as two-thousand bolts tore into the barely-armored Sonn riders, with no missiles hitting the horses.
Anga couldn't help but almost feel sympathy for them as their terrible screams mixed with terrified cries of confusion. Even so, no respite came, for, within moments, another volley struck the horse-archers, this one coming from the first line of dismounted turcopoles.
The horse-archers tried to loose another volley of their own, but their typical order and discipline broke down as the foliage prevented any maneuvering and more arrows culled their ranks.
Azaad almost shook in anticipation until finally, he saw the horse-archers begin a hasty retreat.
"Now!" The turcopole captain and his second line raced to their horses. Mounting and riding through the greenery as fast as it allowed until they got in range.
"Loose!" The turcopoles arrows flew like birds of death, embedding themselves into hundreds of Sonn riders. The hostile horse-archers had just begun an organized retreat when this harassment began, and many turned to fight back.
However, the turcopoles managed to fall back behind their line, dismounting and replacing their first line. At the same time, those in the first line raced back and formed the second line.
Anga nearly trembled when she saw that in following their turcopoles, the Sonn unwittingly came back into range of their crossbowmen. The Genoese loosed with unmatched accuracy and precision, taking hundreds of Sonn like the grim reaper.
Just like before, the first line of turcopoles pelted Sonn with arrows while the second mounted and pursued, all the while Fuli directed groomsmen in providing water for the horses who'd just charged.
This process continued on both flanks, killing hundreds of Sonn in each go. Kion heard an exuberant cheer fill his army's center as they watched the Sonn horse-archers suffer such horrific losses. Part of him wanted to enjoy it too, but even the Lion of France had to look away when the crossbowmen loosed.
Instead, he turned to his front, where the other three-thousand Sonn Sonn horse-archers tried to harass the Frankish knights. Luckily, Kion employed his heavy infantry far enough away to act as a shield but close enough to support if necessary.
Persian foot-archers and Sonn mounted archers poured volley after volley into the Outremer and Crusader infantry, but their shield wall and armor held, minimizing their effects. At the same time, the Perdidit and Outremer archers loosed return volley's unto the horse-archers, taking a few dozen with each go.
"Oh yeah! Allons-y!" Bunga cheered alongside hundreds of other knights as they watched the Sonn suffer as they did at the Litani. Eventually, Kion, too, felt his heart racing with anticipation. If they could just keep this up, victory would be theirs.
However, Kion had a feeling that Radcliffe wasn't done just yet, particularly as he hadn't committed his infantry and Ghulams yet. However, Kion had an answer for that, yet doing so would mean taking the offensive. Gritting his teeth, the King roared.
"Infantry, forward!" A flood of enthusiasm raged through Bunga and countless other knights when they heard a distinct horn blow signaling their infantry to advance.
Abandoning the shield wall formation, the Christian infantry surged forward like a tsunami wave. Screaming and pounding their weapons on shields as they did so.
Even though the Persian levies outnumbered them, the approaching heavy-infantry, clad in mail or gambesons, proved a terrifying sight that made the conscripts quiver in their boots. Finally, the shock-infantry hit their foes like a battering ram, scattering more than they killed.
"Stand and fight, filthy Persians!" Sonn Ghulams and horse-archers roared as they watched their lightly armed and unarmored infantry waver within minutes of the clash.
Kuzimu rode across the Persian archers who'd stopped loosing and aimed his sword at the nearest one.
"Loose your volleys!"
"We'll hit our own men!" One cried. Without hesitation, Kuzimu decapitated the Persian before Sonn horse-archers began loosing arrows into the melee. Just as the dead-man predicted, these missiles ended up killing more Persians than Christians, whose armor protected them.
"You don't want to fight with arrows, fine, go join them!" Kuzimu roared. His Ghulams tried to force the archers forward as makeshift melee infantry, but it proved no help for the mass of levies now fled in entire groups.
Kuzimu grit his teeth before turning back to the black-lion banner.
"So be it." The Emir drew his short lance and led the Ghulams in a charge towards the Christian infantry's flanks.
Kion's almost jumped out of his saddle when he saw this.
"Come on, Kion." Beshte said.
Tightening the grip on his lance, Kion roared.
"Gloire à Dieu!"
Kion felt the wind flow through the breathing holes in his helmet as his destrier joined sixteen hundred others in a booming charge sounding like a lion's roar. The King's lance snapped upon impact with the first Ghulam, piercing his mail shirt and impaling him. Nearby, Bunga and Beshte similarly claimed a Ghulam with their lances before drawing swords alongside Kion.
At the Battle of the Litani, Kion's knights had been exhausted, bloodied, and charged. This time, they were fresh, eager, and performed the charge. This drastic change proved decisive, as the Knights, larger and superior-armored, and better trained in anti-armor tactics, began overcoming the Ghulams in individual duals with brutal efficiency.
"Continuez, braves chevaliers!" Beshte huffed while cracking the skull of a Ghulam with his shield.
"Allons-y!" Bunga added, grabbing his sword by the blade and thrusting it through the head of another. Kion managed to down three Ghulams within fifteen minutes but soon saw a new threat approach.
Drawing swords and maces, the remaining horse-archers surged in to try and back up their Ghulams. However, doing so proved a fatal mistake. Within minutes, the Persian levies saw this and seized their chance.
"Run!" Whatever Persiasn's hadn't abandoned the battle now did so in mass, not a single one remaining to fight. The Christian infantry, now freed up, turned and swarmed the stationary Sonn cavalry upon seeing this.
Cavalry, even heavy cavalry, rarely did well in a static fight against heavy infantry and spearmen. Yet this was the precise circumstance the Sonn center now found themselves in, abandoned by their levies and overrun by determined infantry. Kion and his Knights watched in awe as spearmen skewered riders and Ghulams were pulled from their saddles or cleaved apart by two-handed axes.
Kion panted heavily with sweat dripping down his brow. That was until he saw Kuzimu just ahead of him. Tightening the grips on his reigns, the King spurred his destrier on and to the Emir.
Kuzimu saw Kion just in time and barely managed to parry his broadsword. Even so, the King didn't relent and unleashed a near-feral assault onto the slaver, at one point bashing his shield across the man's face and breaking his nose.
Kion heard a wet cracking noise followed by blood flying into his surcoat. Kuzimu grunted hard and struggled to stay upright.
"Surrender!" In response to Kion's offer of mercy, the Emir lashed out again. Without hesitation, the Lion of France grabbed his sword by the blade and crashed it into Kuzimu's head with a murder stroke. The Sonn's body fell from his saddle and hit the ground, going limp as it did so.
Back on the flanks, Kopa watched the battle unfold like a hawk, waiting for the right moment until, at last, he saw it. The Turkomans began stopping and collapsing from exhaustion.
"Now!" A horn blast on each flank signaled the charge. The Templars and Hospitallers surged forward on the left while the Sicilians and Perdidit did the same on the right.
"Forward men!" William roared, his lance lowered. As the knights and cataphracts charged, Azaad and his turcopoles quickly mounted to join them. Normally, Sonn horse-archers could easily outrun charging knights, but now they and their horses were exhausted.
Anga and Fuli both watched the clash turn into carnage, culminating in the entire Sonn army collapsing. Within the hour, Kion stood over the sea of corpses rotting before them.
The King almost wanted to put his helmet back on to avoid their foul stench and the sight of vultures swarming them. Avian beasts ripping off their flesh and soldiers relieving them of anything valuable.
"Ono, how many?" He hesitated to ask. The chaplain crossed himself while surveying the mass slaughter.
"Only a few hundred dead Persians. As for the Sonn, I'd say just over ten thousand dead, and another two-thousand prisoner."
Kion struggled to catch his breath and almost trembled as he took in the sheer magnitude of their victory, particularly Kuzimu's now torn-up banner which lay before him.
William didn't wait for Kion to act, and with his almost inhuman strength, he lifted the young man up and into the air.
"Behold, the Lion of France!"
"Lion of France! Lion of France! Lion of France!" The army echoed loud enough to be heard for miles. Fuli, Anga, Bunga, Vegter, Rune, Beshte, Talib, Ono, Azaad, and Surak joined in this chant, leaving Kion overwhelmed by sheer emotion.
The King teared up and clutched the cross hanging around his neck.
"Thank you."
Nearby, Kopa and his Templars knelt down as they looked upon the mass of Sonn bodies. The Templars showed no exuberance or excitement, only sorrow. A tear fell down the Grandmaster's eye when he saw how many men died that day, not just the three-hundred men from their army, but the ten thousand Sonn.
Eventually, he finished his prayer for the dead and turned to see Kion being carried around by his army. This at least gave the Templar comfort and let him smile.
Miles away in the city of Edessa, Rani struggled to stay awake in the hot sun. The Queen's fatigue hit her particularly hard that day, but she powered through.
"My Queen, are you alright?" Countess Jane asked.
"Huh? Oh yes, I'm fine." Rani tried not to pant despite her weariness. She, Binga, Countess Jane, and the Royal Guard stood in a hospital run by the Knights Hospitaller. Several lay brothers and sisters attended to the sick and injured, while Rani did everything she could to help.
Although she wasn't a trained physician, her presence and company lifted the spirits of those being treated. This, along with heavy patronage she provided, of course.
"Take heart. You're going to be ok." Rani said as she placed her hand on the shoulder of a wounded Edessan man-at-arms.
"Thank you, your majesty." He sighed while a lay sister changed his bandages. Rani looked at the injured soldier with a longing gaze. Kion lingered on her mind ever since he left. He'd insisted that she not be in Edessa should something go wrong, but her presence helped put the people at ease.
However, just that morning, Rani went to a physician to check on her ever-increasing spells of fatigue, and upon receiving the diagnosis, she'd wished she'd listened to Kion.
"Kion." She muttered, clasping both hands together in prayer for her King. Rani snapped out of the trance upon hearing the city bells ring.
"The King has returned!"
Rani's fatigue instantly vanished as she sprung up and raced into the streets with the others, her heart racing faster than ever as she heard cries.
However, the Queen quickly realized these were shouts of joy and glee.
"Praise God!" Binga shouted. Rani's mouth dropped as she saw the army of Outremer march through Edessa's streets. However, this wasn't the lowly return of a defeated army but the grand parade of a victorious one.
Soldiers and knights loaded down with loot, and thousands of prisoners marched past cheering crowds who threw flower petals and gave thanks to God.
"Lion of France! Lion of France! Lion of France!"
Finally, she saw him. Kion rode at the head of his knights and Guard, King William, Prince Rune, Count Vegter, and Grandmaster Kopa, all surrounding him.
"He vanquished the Sonn!"
"The King slew Emir Kuzimu!"
"The Lion slew the Slaver!"
Kion struggled to take it all in, though the looks of support from his close friends helped. However, this all changed when he saw Rani down the road. Their eyes met, and Kion spurred his destrier on, riding past the others until finally reaching her.
Without a word, the King dismounted, lifted his wife up, and passionately kissed her. Rani felt so overcome with joy that she didn't even notice Kion's foul smell and thick sweat. Instead, she simply melted away into the Lion of France's arms.
"We won." Kion muttered tears in his eyes.
"Good, because I got some pretty big news this morning too." Rani leaned in closer, then whispered.
"Kion, I'm pregnant."