It was not until about a month later that the Semites came upon the waiting Mongol army.
Unlike the past, this time the generals of Mongol were allowed to come out and fight as they pleased, and their spirits were greatly raised.
"The Semites, oh my!"
A soldier on guard duty spotted a cloud of dust rising out of the shadows of the dunes and shouted, "Is it too soon?
"There they are!
"Finally, you're here.
"Here he comes, here he comes, our friend."
"Well, it's a festival. The Fire of Odain."
Immediately, an uproarious shout went up in the camp.
"We mustn't make a fuss about this, or the monkeys of Shem might be tempted."
"You see, their hairy necks are flying off that little body before you can even taunt them. Hey!"
"Oh, yes-- avenging Little Earl Regan."
"Oh, avenge me, avenge me."
As the crossbow troops spread out and took up their crossbows, the dust on the other side of the dune gradually increased, and eventually it became a shape that surrounded the Mongol army.
"Well, it looks like Shem's getting serious this time. There's too many of them."
"No matter how many there are, there won't be three times as many as us. If one of us twisted off the heads of three little monkeys, that would be enough."
"Just watch out for their poisoned arrows."
The Mongol soldiers do not know that the total number of the Semitic army, which actually consists of a mixed force of Rak, Guro, Tubai and Rasa, is less than half of theirs. The Semitic army, which originally lacked the participation of the Karoi, the largest and strongest tribe along with the Rak, lost a small percentage of its numbers in several surprise attacks.
However, they hunted out women and children as decoys and made them smoke and avoided the disadvantage of knowing their real number, so that the Mongols believed that the Semites were at least as many as they were, and at most twice as many as they were.
That's why all the faces are red with determination to greet those infuriating monkeys and finish them off at once.
The messengers went around the camp one after another, conveying the commander's will. It was immediately carried out, and three huge creatures, blue, red and black, spread out gaily to the right and left, enveloping the smaller white one in the center.
The crossbowmen were in front and the infantry on each side to support them, and the knights, waiting for their turn, were lined up in rows behind them, trying to calm them down by hitting the heads of the thundering horses.
Eventually--
"Aye, aye, aye!"
"Eeeeeeeee,eee!"
"YEAHHHH!"
A loud and deafening barbarian cry rose from the dust, followed by the appearance of the Semites at last on the rolling dunes!
"There you are, monkey."
Count Malus glared at him. His cheeks were still raised, and his white hair, beard and eyebrows, sticking out of his helmet, fluttered in the wind in a surprisingly brilliant white against his blue armoured helmet and his sun-baked, reddish-bronze face.
"Sir, sir." "Sir, sir. Put your face down, sir."
Garance cautiously warned him that this would make him an ideal target for Shem's poisonous arrows. But just as he was about to be covered up by the blue-painted iron mask, Garance saw his eyes, with an unusually intense light, glare at the little barbarian who was coming down the dune.
"We can kick their asses with a single zang."
The old man, Garance, said in a gentle voice, trying to calm down his master's unusual energy. Count Mars turned to him with his face down.
"Garance."
"Yes, sir.
"Don't die."
In such a foreign land full of sand - Count Mars might have wanted to add that.
When Garance laughed and was about to say something back, the Semites, who had formed in single file on the sand dunes, were coming down on the Mongol army with no order or formation at all, but with their own loud cawing, ayeing, ayeing.
Thus, the Mongol Expeditionary Force and the Semitic mixed forces clashed head-on.
And the sun will burn them in the midst of the desert with a white heat.
It was, so to speak, a repetition of a battle that both armies had already become accustomed to.
Although the Montgolese army had the spirit of desperation this time, however, there was no change in the geographical situation or circumstances that should open a new phase in this clash which had been repeated many times.
One after another, the Mongol troops advanced with their crossbows, and the crossbows which they shot into the sand made a cloud of dust. Following them, the infantry advanced with their iron shields, hiding behind them to protect themselves against the poisonous arrows of Shem.
Shem and the others come running down the dune, kicking up the sand, shouting wildly. There seems to be no order or strategy there. Their faces are painted with poisonous colors and patterns of warriors, and they hold in their hands the blowpipes of poisoned arrows, which they hold to their mouths as they run.
As soon as Shem and his men had closed the distance so far that they did not have time to hold up their blowguns, they inserted them at once between the cords on their backs and pulled out stone machetes instead. As soon as they collided head-on with the intercepting infantry rushing forward with their shields, Shem and his men lightly stepped on their shields as if they were steps, climbed up, and jumped inward at once, hitting the stone axe.
Of course, some of the Shemites are overwhelmed by the onrushing shields, and others are stabbed by the spears which they thrust through the gaps in the shields, or are thrown off. But they clasp their hands together, and springing up with their hands as a springboard, they leap one after another to the rear of the line of soldiers. Immediately, a deadly white-knuckle fight broke out everywhere inside the lines.
The infantrymen take their hands off their shields and turn to fight back, drawing their swords. Then Shem and his men come crashing down behind them.
And seeing this, here and there in the center of the main camp, which was painted in three different colors, the leaders of each color waved their hands violently.
With a single cry, the horse reels. All at once, the knights' whips are raised and applied to the horse's rump.
"Kick those monkeys to the curb!"
"Avenge Captain Regan!"
"Mongol! Mongol!"
With a fierce cry of time, the Knights of Mongol began to move.
The Black Knights, led by Irum and Thangard, the Red Knights, led by Astrias, and the Blue Knights, led by Old Count Mars.
Leaving the White Knights guarding the banner of the Lady in the center, the three great knightly orders plunged into the confusion of the Mongol infantry and the barbarian Shem in a blinding torrent of three colors.
It was dazzling in its intensity. On the backs of horses wearing horse armor matching the color of the armor of their respective knightly orders, the knights drew their shining long swords, brandished them, and beheaded Shem and his men.
"Aye-aye, aye-aye!"
"Ayeee!"
Although the Semites are inferior in strength, they are far more agile than the knights in heavy armor. They dodge swords with ease, dodge the hooves of horses, and leap at their enemies with a strange squeal. Shem and his men would either use one of them as a stepping stone in front of an oncoming horse, and the other would step on the horse's back and jump high, or they would hit the horse from above with a stone axe and jump to the left or right, or they would use a short spear of poisoned stone from below to poke the horse in the belly and make it stand still, or else they would dodge the sword and jump at the enemy. If not, he would dodge the sword and jump into the enemy's inner cloak, cling to it like a tick, and swiftly launch his poisoned spear at the face or throat of the enemy, which appeared from his cloak.
The Semites seemed to be overwhelmingly disadvantageous to the Mongols in numbers, strength and even weapons, but in fact, the Mongols did not have such a big advantage.
They are warriors of the kingdoms of the green midlands. Their horses were not beasts fit to run about on the sand that sank their feet into the desert, and the heavy armour and headgear they wore both protected them and limited their movements. The Mongols could only respond slowly to the swift movements of Shem and his men, and when they let down their stout cheeks, it considerably hindered the vision of their wearers and made them defenceless in the throats and under the horses, where Shem was aiming.
The mode of warfare to which they were accustomed, and which was their own, was to ride their horses round and round on the firm and stable ground and streets of the city, with the infantry cutting them down from horseback, and with the same horsemen crossing each other with spears and swords, and cutting each other to pieces.
To them, who had been accustomed to such battles, this small, swift opponent, who ran about at a rapid pace, was as difficult to handle and different from them as a cow trying to kill a fly that is swishing its tail.
Of course, if they fought each other, the big physique of the Mongols could easily overcome the Semites, and if their big swords hit the Semites squarely, their small skulls would be crushed and blood and brain plasma would splash out, and if they hit them sideways, the Semites' bodies would be cut in two, and they would fall or soar in the air, separated from the waist up and down. .
However, Shem and his men rarely stayed still long enough to take a hit from the sword, so it was almost an even, five-minute white-knuckle battle.
"AIIAH!"
"Queer! EEAH!"
The strange voices of the Semites and the incomprehensible curses of the Mongol knights mix violently.
Count Mars was in the middle of the battle himself, leading the spearhead Blue Knight Corps. His tall body, with the blue tassel of a captain flowing from the top of his helmet, stood out conspicuously, and although he was already past his prime, his performance was not inferior to that of the younger heroes. In the band of bannermen who guarded the Count, the faithful old Garance protected the Count, never straying a step.
"mm..."
The Earl retreated to the rear of the bannermen's line to take a breather and wipe off his beloved sword, which was stained with the blood of the Semites, and looked out over the fiercely contested battlefield.
It was a scene of blood spray and dust, a jumble of horses, people and barbarians, and a scream of anger that could not even be seen.
The hairy heads of the Shemites, with their red threads and resentful faces, flew up into the air in the air. The sad whinnying and screaming of the horse is heard, and the horse, pierced by Shem's spear, falls to the sand as Shem tramples it underfoot.
"Um--Muu..."
Putting the canteen offered by the farmer to his mouth, Count Mars looked out over the battlefield as he soothed his burning dampness.
His men, too, were fighting with their cheeks lowered and their lances tilted to keep out the poisonous tips of Shem's spears, their blue armour splattered with blood. The ear of the Count, staring at the scene, could no longer tell who was who,
"Yes, you monkeys - ishtar me, you stinking bastards!"
There came a familiar, young, cheerful rant. It was uttered by a tall horseman just in front of the Earl, who was wielding his sword fiercely and cutting down one Shem after another, and whose fighting spirit was particularly remarkable.
Hearing this, the Count's stern eyes softened involuntarily.
"It's Elle. Are you okay?"
He muttered lowly. Perhaps Garance was the only one who heard it, but without saying a word, he too raised his cheeks and put a bottle of water to his mouth.
"For Mongol, for Mongol -- how many young men have died under this banner, last year in the city of Paro during the Black Dragon War, and now in the desert of Nosferus, in the blood of Mongol? --"
Count Mars lowered his voice and murmured something that even Garance could not hear. In his eyes there was an infinite sadness and a wretched gleam.
"For the sake of Mongol . I know that. But I don't want even one more young man to die--even one ..."
He shook his head and gently looked ahead again. The Erl of Argon, who had been in the area earlier, seemed to have already slipped into the fray, and it was hard to see any of them.
I'm getting old.
Count Mars muttered and turned to Garance, his voice booming,
"All right. Let's go, Garance."
"Shall we go, sir?
Garance slaps his chest and lowers his cheeks, as if to say, "You are not yet defeated by the young. Wait for it,
"Mongol!"
With a loud shout, the Count rushed into the fray again with his sword at his side.
"For the sake of Mongol!"
"Mongol, Mongol, Mongol!"
Immediately, a huge shout was answered by Hak.
Asturias, on the other hand, was in the rear guard, protected by his second-in-command, Pollack.
The princess's anger seemed to have not yet dissipated, and with this arrangement, Asturias was easily sent to the rear.
The Shinshin is an honorable role when retreating or advancing while watching for the enemy in the rear, but in today's warfare, where the enemy is to be thoroughly met and pursued, the rearguard is, so to speak, useless.
With this in mind, Asturias was rotting in his own mind as he watched his friend's brave battle.
Secretly, he is in love with Amneris, the commander of this expeditionary force, the princess of Mongol, the general of the Right, the goddess of ice with shining golden hair and cool emerald eyes. Although he is not yet aware of it, even he himself is not aware of it, he is in the presence of his goddess, and he is thinking only of taking credit for it, and of winning her praise and, if possible, a smile of gentle satisfaction.
However, this was the case from the very beginning - from the time he led a chase party into Nosferus in pursuit of Guin and the other five fugitives, and furthermore, he was so eager to make up for his mistake at that time that he ran after Shem without waiting for the order of the Lady and fell into the trap of Ido. Although he himself managed to escape, it resulted in the death of his colleague Regan - all of which ended in the disgraceful exposure of Asturias.
If I'd been allowed to take the lead, I would have soaked up the shame and done whatever it took to get rid of this humiliation. ...
But Amneris, instead of giving Asturias an opportunity for humiliation, drove him back with severe reproof and contempt.
(That and this--think of it, think of everything, think of ...)
Just thinking about it makes Asturias' heart boil.
It's all his fault. It's his--
(GUNN--)
Even the mention of his name made his heart tremble with hatred and humiliation, and he was seized with a violent madness. Guin, the leopard-headed monster, had not only humiliated him and made the cold goddess he adored look at him with cold scorn, but had also made him spit out the harsh words, "If you make three blunders, you may think that your position as captain is gone.
Most of all, Asturias's heart tingled with the agony of being burned with a shame that would not be healed, and he knew that Guin would not even take him seriously when he came at her, screaming, "Fight me!
Come back in 20 years, kid. Then I'll play you.
The color of the laugh on the leopard's head - that it was not a cold, cruel one, but rather a calm, compassionate one - upset Asturias more than anything else.
And yet... here we are, preparing for an enemy force in the rear that has not even arrived yet, and we can't even take the enemy's head off.
Asturias desperately hoped that he would be able to pull off a surprise attack from behind, and that Guin would come at him from behind.
Then I'll show you what I'm made of.
He had been thinking of this for some time, and he had been stretching himself, looking for Guin's conspicuous leopard's head in the battle, distrusting that he could not find it, and hoping that his hopes might be fulfilled.
Guin, come out. Then I'll show you what a little boy I am. Guin, come out.
and then,
"Captain."
As if he had seen through his thoughts, Pollack called out to him.
"What's the matter with him? I don't see that leopard head today."
Asturias cringed.
"Isn't it your intention to draw reinforcements and bypass them to get behind us?"
"Well, I hope so. We can defeat that monster ourselves."
Pollack knew exactly what was on Astorias' mind.
"Hey, captain."
"What?"
"What the hell are you, my dear?"
"Oh, come on."
"If I take off that leopard head, what kind of face will I find?"
"You might be surprised how familiar you look."
Astorias said, recalling the talk at the military council the day before.
"Where on earth did he come from? If such a great warrior was in Zhongyuan, how could he not reach our ears?"
"Yeah."
"And what was he thinking, siding with a bunch of monkeys like Shem while he was still human? It's hard for someone like me who's seen the beautiful Crystal City with his own eyes to believe that the surviving members of Paro's royal family have made a pact with Shem. The Crystal was a beautiful city. The people of Paro were every one of them slender, beautiful, and fair-skinned."
"..."
"The royal family of Paro and Shem-- that's not possible. --but, well, we'll know that when we catch that Leopard and make him spit mud. Captain, what are you waiting for?"
"Oh-- oh. What?"
"Anyway, this is the best place, no matter what, we Asturias troops want to grab that leopard man and drag him to the front of the princess - if not, I don't mind the leopard's head."
"That's what I'm talking about. Oh, Polack!"
Hearing Asturias' voice change, Pollack jumped up to see what was going on.
"Oh, no. And you, Shem, are going to retreat."
Then they thumped their saddles and groaned. Shem and his men were just about to pull away, satisfied that their raid had been effective, without trying to settle the matter again.
The drums beat rapidly with a thump, thump, thump, thump.
"Aiyah!"
"Hyah!"
Shem and the others, ranting and raving, without warning or order, turned their backs on themselves and began to run in the direction of the dunes that had appeared.
"Wait, you coward."
"I'm not going to let you get away with this again, you monkeys!
"This time, this time, we'll annihilate them. After them, after them!"
"Commence pursuit!"
"Message! Dispatch! Begin pursuit!"
But for today, the Mongol army was an arrow in the quiver.
There's nothing to hold them back now. It's the opportunity they've been waiting for.
"Garance!"
"Ha!"
"I'm going after him!"
"Ha!"
The leadership of Count Mars was wielded by his hand, and immediately, the Blue Knights of the Two Leads showed their training and became five columns of rapids.
"After them!"
"Marsupial, follow me! After them!"
In an instant, the desert became a riverbed of four-colored avalanches.
"Damn it."
The blue knight, the black knight, the white knight, and Astorias's red knight squad - the battle of Nosferus seemed to have reached its final moment.