The bandits fell one after the other, pierced by spears and then finished by swords. There was no resistance to be had. Their insufficient training, despite their superior numbers, plus Oliver's assault from the side, and it was all over from them.
They died without feeling the slightest shred of fear.
The soldiers joining in Oliver's envelopment managed to move beyond the flank all the way to the rear. Now the enemy was attacked by spears from two sides. Already there were less than a hundred men left, and with the help of Oliver, that number was dropping by the second.
"FINISH THEM!" Cormrant called, thick in the bloodshed, his sword going wild.
"GIVE THEM NO QUARTER!" Northman echoed.
The soldiers that had been so nervous before were invigorated by a morale that even seemed to rival that of the bandits, though theirs was of a far purer sort, for they were still themselves – they were merely the best selves that they could be.
