The Mamluk cavalry before Mike Bai were no ordinary soldiers. These men had once been captured as children from conquered lands, abducted by the Saracens and subjected to the harshest of training under the royal court's watchful eye. The process was brutal—only the fittest survived. Those who failed were left to die. Once they reached adulthood and underwent the Saracen ritual of "circumcision," they were officially inducted as Mamluks.
Their armor was formidable: pointed helmets, full-body chainmail, and reinforced padded vests. Armed with lances, scimitars, and bows, the Mamluks could wreak havoc like Mongol horsemen, launching a deadly hail of arrows before closing in for a brutal charge, shredding enemy lines with ruthless efficiency.
And now, Mike Bai found himself facing them—a cavalry force as deadly as knights.
"Quickly! Reform the ranks! Shield wall!" Mike Bai shouted urgently. His men had been through hell in the earlier skirmishes, and their formation had devolved into chaos. But his manor guard, well-trained and disciplined, swiftly moved to restore order. Within moments, they reformed into a solid 10-row tight formation.
The mercenaries, too, rallied under their commanders' orders, forming their own dense ranks.
"Raise your spears!" Mike Bai called. Many of the spears had been broken or discarded in the melee, so soldiers hurriedly grabbed abandoned weapons from the fallen.
As his forces scrambled to reorganize, the Mamluk cavalry began to move. Their hooves struck the earth like the thunder before a storm, resonating with an ominous power. The sun glinted off their armor, creating a dazzling display of light. Mike Bai sighed in resignation—having just witnessed the might of his own knights' charge, now it was his turn to face the cavalry charge.
The first wave of Mamluk cavalry, skilled horsemen all, thundered forward, unleashing a storm of arrows from 30 meters away.
For the Kingdom's foot soldiers, these arrows were a death sentence. Despite their best efforts to shield themselves with their shields, the dark arrows found their marks, piercing through gaps in the armor and sinking deep into flesh, destroying muscle and internal organs.
The soldiers' composure shattered, panic spread.
"Where are our archers? Fight back!" Mike Bai shouted, his voice cutting through the turmoil. The Kingdom's archers finally responded, taking position behind the shield wall to return fire. However, the Mamluks' armor was expertly crafted, and only a few arrows found their mark—most glancing harmlessly off their iron plates. Crossbows, though slower to reload, managed to make a dent, piercing through the Mamluks' chainmail, but they could not dominate the fight.
The sight of arrows having little effect helped the foot soldiers regain their focus. They began to regroup, collecting broken spears and shields, preparing for the impending clash.
Seeing that the arrows had failed to break the enemy's line, the Mamluk cavalry's first wave, now bolstered by another 200 riders, increased speed. With curved scimitars and spiked maces raised, they began shouting war cries in their native tongue, closing in fast on the shield wall.
The Kingdom's formation trembled. Many soldiers instinctively crouched, edging backward, their nerves starting to get the better of them.
Mike Bai, his own heart racing, stepped forward into the fray, shouting, "Steady, men! I'm with you!" His presence, though reassuring, did little to stem the rising panic. His commanders, William and Padric, moved close to him, standing guard.
The Mamluks' charge came like an unstoppable force, a tidal wave of steel crashing into the spear wall. While Mike Bai's elite guards managed to hold their ground, many soldiers in the Kingdom's ranks dropped their weapons and fled, desperate to escape.
The few remaining spears stood strong against the Mamluks' charge, but the momentum of the riders—mounted on powerful steeds—snapped many in half, driving their way into the heart of the formation and shattering the Kingdom's defense. The once neat ranks were now a chaotic mess.
The Mamluks, expert swordsmen, hacked at the soldiers with their scimitars, cutting down any who stood in their path. Some were pierced through, while others were trampled underfoot, but a few Mamluk riders were dragged from their horses and disappeared into the struggling mass of infantry.
"Boom!" The deep sound of a horn sounded again—the second wave of Mamluks had already started their charge.
Mike Bai's heart sank. His forces were too disorganized to mount a proper defense in time. The Mamluks' power was overwhelming.
With the first wave of cavalry already tearing through his ranks, the second wave hit just as Mike Bai's men were struggling to regain their positions.
This time, those whose spears had been shattered were forced to form a living barrier, using their bodies to try and stop the cavalry's charge. But the force of the Mamluks—each rider and horse a half-ton of weight and raw energy—smashed through their defenses, trampling everything in their path. The Mamluks' momentum finally began to slow only when they reached the heart of the formation, but by then, the damage had been done.
Though the Mamluks were deadly skilled with their curved swords, the thick crowd of foot soldiers began to overwhelm them. Some Mamluks were pulled from their horses and lost to the surge of men, disappearing into the crushing mob.
Yet Mike Bai's formation was in utter chaos now. The first few ranks had been decimated, and the remaining spearmen were few in number.
"Boom!" The third wave of Mamluks thundered toward the broken ranks, and the panic was palpable. Some mercenaries, their morale shattered, dropped their weapons and ran.
"Sasan! Kill them!" A figure in black leather, Sasan, moved like a shadow through the chaos, her daggers flashing as she struck down fleeing soldiers.
The mercenaries, too terrified to keep running, began to face the Mamluk cavalry once more, rallying under Mike Bai's leadership and Sasan's unrelenting presence.
"Boom!" The third wave of Mamluks was upon them.
Mike Bai, his throat dry and his heart pounding, gripped his spear tightly, feeling the ground beneath him, as if its solid presence was the only thing keeping him steady. The first Mamluk rider came charging toward him, and with a swift motion, Mike Bai thrust his spear forward. The point pierced the horse's chest, bending the spear in a wide arc before it snapped.
The rider fell from his steed, but he quickly got to his feet, a snarl on his lips. He raised his scimitar and moved toward Mike Bai.
Mike Bai drew his longsword and raised his shield, meeting the Mamluk with a powerful clash. The scimitar struck his shield with a force that nearly knocked it from his grip.
With his back against the wall, Mike Bai pushed forward, lifting his sword and charging the rider.
But before he could land a blow, the Mamluk's scimitar swerved like a serpent, slashing through the air and striking Mike Bai in the ribs.
The force of the blow sent Mike Bai sprawling, but his armor had held—barely. His ribs were likely broken, but his life was spared.
"Mike Bai!" William, having finished off his opponent, rushed to his side, tackling the Mamluk who had just wounded him.
The two tumbled to the ground, grappling fiercely. Without weapons, they fought hand-to-hand in the dirt, each struggling for dominance.
With a desperate lunge, Mike Bai drove his sword deep into the Mamluk's back, but the sword barely made it through the armor.
Sensing the rider's weakening strength, Mike Bai pressed the attack, slamming his fist onto the sword hilt. The blade sank deeper.
The Mamluk bucked violently but was held fast by William's iron grip.
"Not enough! Not enough!" Mike Bai grunted as he twisted the sword, pushing it deeper.
As the rider fell silent, Mike Bai and William quickly looked around. The battlefield was in complete chaos. William and Padric were still fighting off fallen Mamluks, while Sasan was now providing covering fire with a crossbow.
Mike Bai looked toward the fourth wave of Mamluks, his heart sinking into despair. The situation was growing desperate, and even the strongest of wills could not halt the tide of bloodshed approaching.