Rain still fell from the sky, soaking the heavy armor and seeping through the gaps in the mail. It was the season of gentle spring rain, yet it sent shivers through them, as though icy snowmelt were running into their armor.
But the colder his body grew, the hotter his heart burned. Searing rage almost boiled his blood dry. He had suddenly appeared here without any explanation. Without understanding why, he had led a band of men into a fight for their lives. Then, just as inexplicably, he had been betrayed and caught in a death trap...
All of it had happened within the space of just two hours... He had hardly even been given time to think.
And now he stood at the brink of life and death. He was like a piece of burning ice. Even as his blood surged, his heart was as cold as ice. He knew he had to do something, or he would die here today.
The cavalrymen began to stir uneasily. Although their faces were hidden behind heavy mail, Xu Ning could sense the fear and panic in their hearts. No one could remain calm after being abandoned on a battlefield, not even these cataphracts, who had trained since childhood and fought a hundred battles.
Fear would make their spears hesitate. Panic would blunt their blades and keep them from swinging their flails and iron maces at the enemy.
Though they still held their formation, they had begun whispering to one another about what they had just seen. They asked their comrades whether they were the only ones whose eyes had deceived them. As the news spread, they began to waver despite themselves. Some kept looking toward him, wanting their commander to make the final decision for them.
And now, he would make that decision.
* * *
His mail gauntlets had grown icy in the soaking rain. Even the spear in his hand seemed to have become heavier. He panted hard. After an hour of uninterrupted fighting, his strength was badly drained. The excellent stamina he had built through training since childhood would still sustain him for a long time. What truly frightened him now, however, was the enormous army that had vanished from the plain...
"Marcus, have I gone blind? Why isn't our army out there on the plain?!!"
The rider on his left suddenly reached out with a mail-gloved hand and seized his left hand. Though he could not see the other man's face, he knew it was his close friend Publius. They came from the same town and had been through the same training and wars. Each could entrust his life to the other.
"...I don't know, Publius. I really don't know... Perhaps we've..."
"Perhaps we've been abandoned!! That accursed Arius!! I should rip his tongue out!"
His friend immediately cut him off. Clearly, he had already reached his own conclusion and was only looking to Marcus to confirm it. Marcus's response was undoubtedly the best confirmation he could have had.
They had been abandoned. Abandoned in the middle of the enemy formations... Nothing in the world could have left them more discouraged or hopeless. Marcus did not even feel much anger, only sorrow at his own fate... Perhaps he was destined to die here, and at the hands of the Hols.
Complaints and furious curses were also pouring from the other ranks around them. Everyone felt dejected and enraged. If that consul appeared before them now, every last man would ride him down without hesitation and trample him into pulp, avenging the humiliation and deceit they had suffered.
Their own ranks also began to stir. Even their horses seemed to sense their riders' moods, stamping their hooves restlessly.
A rhythmic sound suddenly reached them, the sound of a trotting warhorse's hooves striking the grass. Marcus's eyes widened in surprise, and he hurriedly looked ahead. No one dared move on their own without their general's command. The only explanation was that someone was running away.
Then he saw their commander, Tesolys, holding his standard high as he rode all the way from left to right. As he went, his gaze passed over every man's face...
He was so silent and composed. The hand controlling his horse's reins never trembled amid the disorder. He merely swept eyes as sharp as blades across their faces, observing every man's movements.
Within moments, everyone stopped what they were doing. They no longer wavered or allowed their horses to disrupt the formation. The panicked men shut their mouths. The fearful stopped brooding. The hot-tempered began to quiet down.
Ultimately, they were elites with years of training, not farmers who had picked up pitchforks and marched onto a battlefield...
"My cavalrymen! I know what you're worried about... And I can give you an answer. Yes, what you fear has indeed happened. That shameless villain has abandoned us here! What a vile, despicable act. They have abandoned their comrades and put our lives entirely at the enemy's mercy..."
Marcus tightened his grip on his spear. He did not know why he felt so discouraged. Perhaps he had still been clinging to a sliver of hope. Only when their general said it himself was his last illusion utterly torn apart, making him truly understand the situation he was in.
"We are trapped in a hopeless situation. That is an undeniable fact... But!! My cavalrymen, tell me this. Even in such desperate straits, do you intend to stay here and wait to die? Will you sit here helplessly and let those Hols run their spears through you?!!"
"If any of you truly thinks that way, then let me tell you this. Once you die here, the enemy who has brought about our deaths will only clap his hands in delight. He will still be a consul on high, while we are nothing but a heap of corpses left to rot on the battlefield!!
"I refuse to accept that. I refuse to die and still have to watch my enemy revel in wealth and glory. Even if I must die, I will die in front of that bastard! I will bite off his fingers and tear out his eyes!!"
Marcus's breathing grew heavy. Bloodshot streaks began to spread across his eyes, and his face flushed red. Hot breaths rasped inside his helmet, as though he had just drunk a large bowl of strong liquor.
Heavy breathing began to sound from every helmet. Perhaps it was anger. Perhaps it was hope. Every cavalryman took a firm grip on his weapon.
"So take hold of your spears and keep your warhorses in hand. We will make one final charge!! If you still acknowledge me as your commander, then, soldier, obey my orders! Let us break out together.
"This time, we fight for nothing else but our own survival, for this right that every one of us should possess, for our sacred vengeance, and for our loved ones at home! I demand that you find your courage. I will ride in the front rank. If I fall in battle, do not stop your horses. Even if we die, we will die in the charge!! They cannot stop us!"
Tesolys's eyes were stretched so wide with fury they seemed about to split at the corners. Turning, he gently guided his horse's head around and took his place at the very tip of the wedge. When he reached back, several spears were offered to him. He took only the one farthest from him, then hung his iron mace at his waist and leveled the fine-steel spearhead at the opposing formation.
Iron armor scraped and clattered. Just as they had in countless drills and battles, the cataphracts began putting their formation in order. Rain washed their armor to a brilliant gleam. Brass fittings shone softly like gold, and sharp spears rose in rows like bamboo shoots after spring rain.
There was no more wavering or doubt. Once again, they would launch the charge they did best and smash their way through the enemy formation.
On this hillside heaped with corpses, a forest of steel had risen.
"Cavalry!! ...Charge!"
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