The Imperial Baron opened the iron mask of his helmet looking around after stopping his horse to check on how many men he still has. And it is indeed a grave sight for him, only approximately half of his men are left, with wounds all over them and looking like they have just gone through a shower of blood. And of the half surviving a portion of them even lost a part of their body making them maimed, losing the capabilities to fight, but still trying to stay balanced on their horse backs simply supported by nothing but their perseverance.
With a smirk on his face, the imperial baron looked up at the slightly slanting sun.
They have dragged these Ottomans for a lot of time here.
"How is the fight! Soldiers!" He shouted out asking his remaining soldiers.
"Outstanding! Sir!" The soldiers replied.
"Great! Charge! Magyar cavalries!"
"Deus Vult!"
