"Follow me! Warriors! Let us crush the weak Ross people!"
Saru's call was met with a battle cry belonging to the prairie wolves. The Ross lines were already broken, and the nobles and warriors of the great prairie had long yearned for slaughter.
The cavalry followed closely behind the Khan's son's yellow banner. At a glance, it was a vast expanse of silver light; armor and sharp blades glittered in the sunlight, now free of mist, like a heavenly army marching to slay the Ross army's red shields.
"God, these people are coming for us. Damn it, what should we do?"
Prince Rostislav's uncle, Izyaslav, spoke with a grim expression. The movement of the prairie heavy cavalry was very obvious; he had seen it long ago, and now he only felt immense pressure.
Moreover, he had witnessed the chaos in the central army, which made Izyaslav even more flustered. He was not a good general to begin with, and his battlefield aptitude could only be described as mediocre. Faced with such a sight, he immediately panicked.
Now, the command of these four thousand troops on the right flank had fallen into his hands, but he didn't know what to do. And it wasn't just him who was anxious; everyone was anxious, waiting for orders.
However, the option of retreating did not appear in his uncle's mind, because he saw his father resolutely commit his elite troops into the collapsing front. Even the commander-in-chief had not flinched, so how could he run away? How could he face his father's struggle if he ran?
"Big brother, please hold off the Polovtsy. I will hand over all my subordinates to you. Just for a moment, I will then lead the cavalry to raid from the flank. Those Black Hat Army actually tried to run. Fortunately, someone inside told me about this, letting me keep an eye on them. Otherwise, without these cavalry for a counterattack, it would be difficult to handle."
His second uncle, Sviatoslav, said to his elder brother while putting on his pointed war helmet, which indicated his status. His Bodyguard Unit was also holding a warhorse by his side, waiting.
"Good, good, we'll do that, Sviatoslav, you must not get into trouble."
His uncle spoke as if he had found his backbone, busily, not forgetting to show concern. Meanwhile, his second uncle had already mounted his warhorse, made a cross sign to his brother as a blessing, and then headed towards his heavy armored cavalry, preparing to lead them in a thrilling flank attack against the Nomads.
---
As the right flank prepared to counter the Nomads' heavy cavalry assault, in the central army, with the Great Duke Rostislav's Bodyguard Unit committed to the battlefield, the situation, which was heading towards collapse, finally gained some control.
When Great Duke Rostislav's elite Bodyguard Unit formed a solid shield wall and advanced, the disheveled warriors who were being chased by the Nomad army actively rallied, instinctively forming lines on both sides of the shield wall.
The Nomad army's offensive was finally temporarily halted. The mounted warriors suddenly found themselves crashing into the Ross people's shield wall, only to be cut down from their horses by long spears and battle axes.
However, this also ignited their savage courage. Many Nomads directly charged their horses at full speed into the Ross shield wall, even if it meant their own death, hoping to take several Ross lives with them.
For a time, several gaps appeared in the shield wall due to these reckless individuals. The Polovtsy did not waste the opportunity their kin had bought with their lives; the Nomad cavalry poured into these gaps frantically, engaging in fierce close-quarters combat within them.
The battle gradually turned into a melee, which was precisely what the Ross people did not want to see. Melee combat was disadvantageous to the Ross people, but the situation was already like this, so what else could be done? The battlefield is always out of control.
"Advance! Ross people!"
Jika, the Captain of the Guard for the Great Duke Rostislav, cut down the Polovtsian chieftain in front of him with a single stroke. The cheap iron armor on the chieftain's body did not save his life; he was directly split open by the Ross Warriors' blade.
After he killed this man, the Polovtsy following him immediately turned and ran. Their chieftain was dead, so what was there to fight for? However, one slow runner was still impaled through the heart by a spear Jika picked up and threw. The rider fell from his warhorse, one foot still caught in the saddle, and his corpse was dragged away by the warhorse.
A squad of soldiers with long spears charged past the Captain of the Guard, frantically thrusting at the unfortunate Nomad riders who blocked their path, skewering them one by one from their horses.
"These bastards, they got what they wanted..."
Jika raised his shield to block a cleaving scimitar, then kicked over the Polovtsian who had lost his warhorse. Several spearmen immediately rushed forward to stab him.
The Captain of the Guard said this because he knew that under the Polovtsy's furious counterattack, he was well aware that the Great Duke Rostislav's plan had failed. The Great Duke Rostislav had originally intended to use a shield wall to push back the front line, but was dragged into the melee he least wanted to see.
Suddenly, Jika felt a sharp jolt within him. He instinctively raised his shield behind him, then felt the impact of falling arrows. The spearmen were not so lucky; they fell one after another under the arrows.
The Captain of the Guard cut off the arrows on his shield with his sword and looked in the direction from which the arrows had come. It was a group of archer cavalry flaunting their power; it seemed some Polovtsy had outflanked them.
The Captain did not hesitate, picked up the horn in his hand, and blew it. This was the signal for the Black Hat Army to attack, but unfortunately, the Captain did not receive a responding horn call.
"Damn it! Those bastards ran!"
The battle-hardened Captain of the Guard immediately guessed what had happened—those Nomad cavalry had fled!
---
As the fighting in the central and right flanks grew more intense, on the left flank, the Ross people had just recovered from the chaos, but compared to before the chaos, there were far, far fewer people on the battlefield.
Now, only Prince Rostislav's unit remained, but it had already retreated several hundred meters from its original position. For this, Prince Rostislav expended a great deal of effort, frantically running back and forth among his subordinates to pacify them, finally managing to stabilize the main body and gather some soldiers who had not yet fled.
The guard units also helped a great deal; their chanting of biblical psalms calmed many soldiers, who returned to their ranks.
Fortunately, the Polovtsy did not launch an attack on his side, otherwise, it would have truly been over. However, it was likely that the enemy had seen the Ross people's chaos just now, as the Ross people were almost on the verge of self-collapse at that time, which is why they did not attack.
And now, the Polovtsy failed to notice the Ross people's regrouping. After all, their location was originally at the top of this flat slope, and retreating a few hundred meters placed them exactly on the other side of the slope, so the Polovtsy could not see the movements of the Ross army at all.
"Prince Rostislav, what should we do now? Should we retreat or attack?"
Gvaran asked with a solemn expression. The Prince Rostislav's next choice would determine their fate.
"We attack."
After observing the battlefield situation for a while, Rostislav Vladimirovich said decisively, and what he didn't know at that moment was that this decision would turn the tide of the entire battle.
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