Norn noticed that many eyes were on him. At this moment, he could not afford to show any negative emotions.
"Close the ranks, defensive posture," Norn issued his first command on the battlefield. The attendants by Norn's side immediately waved their banners and sounded the horns, and the entire unit quickly shifted. The spearmen moved to the outermost line, crouching down and planting their shields upright in front of them, with their spears angled towards the enemy. The limited number of bowmen and crossbowmen also began to prepare their arrows behind the spearmen.
The opposing commander simultaneously ordered his archers to step forward, forming a loose battle line in front of the dense phalanx and beginning to unleash a rain of arrows towards Norn's formation.
The arrows, whistling with the sound of death, fell from the sky. The soldiers hastily raised their shields. Thud, thud, thud—the sound of arrows hitting shields was constant, occasionally punctuated by the cries of soldiers as arrows pierced flesh.
Norn's archers and crossbowmen also began to return fire, but their small numbers meant they could only take down a few unlucky targets before being suppressed and unable to raise their heads.
Soldiers continued to fall, killed by arrows that slipped through the gaps in the shields. Norn could sense some of the ranks beginning to waver.
"Hold your ground! Running now means certain death," Norn shouted at his men, while also ordering his attendants to act as an execution squad.
"Anyone who runs will be killed!" After the execution squad chopped off two heads, the ranks stabilized once more.
Perhaps deciding it was unnecessary to waste so many arrows, the opposing commander ceased the barrage and began to order the infantry to advance.
Norn watched as the soldiers began to slowly press in from the front and sides, his breathing becoming unconsciously rapid, but he silently calculated the distance in his mind.
150 meters... 100 meters.
Finally, at 75 meters, Norn shouted to William, "William! Bring out the wagon!"
William spurred his horse and galloped towards the rear of Norn's formation. In a moment, he dragged out a special elongated wagon. The wagon's bed was secured with more than a dozen large wooden barrels, all doused in foul-smelling liquid, and the draft horses pulling it were covered with thick cloths.
As the enemy troops drew closer, Norn ordered the ranks to open a passage and nodded heavily at William.
Understanding, William slashed the draft horses' rears twice with his sword. The wagon sped out through the gap, charging straight towards the center of the enemy formation.
Not knowing what was inside, the enemy soldiers still raised their spears to prevent the wagon from breaking through their ranks.
The draft horses, facing a forest of spears, reared up and screeched to a halt, stopping the wagon right in front of the enemy's ranks.
After observing for a moment and confirming there was no immediate danger, the enemy soldiers began to move around the wagon and continued their advance.
"Crouch down, crouch down! Cover your ears," Norn shouted at his men while dismounting, and then turned his head, "Patrick!!!"
Patrick responded with a smile, his longbow drawn into a full moon. An arrow, tipped with fire, disappeared from sight and then embedded itself into the wagon.
Boom!!!
The hundreds of pounds of black powder on the wagon detonated, sending a massive flower of flame skyward. The immense shockwave filled Norn's eardrums, and a powerful blast almost knocked him off his feet.
Norn felt as if his brain was being trampled by 500 knights. His vision was filled with gold coins sprouting wings, and a warm stream flowed from his nostrils.
After a long while, Norn's sight finally returned. He looked around and saw that his soldiers were either lying on the ground or kneeling, muttering to themselves.
Just as Norn was about to order his men to get back on their feet, William's exclamation, "My God," interrupted him.
Following William's gaze, Norn almost vomited at the sight, even though he had seen his fair share of death.
The entire wagon and the enemy soldiers within a 30-meter radius were unrecognizable. Those closer to the explosion were torn into pieces, while those farther away were riddled with iron sand that Norn had mixed with the powder, turning them into sieves. Limbs and body parts were scattered everywhere.
Norn had also added several barrels of specially treated kerosene, and the viscous flames clung to the soldiers like leeches, turning many into human torches.
The entire battlefield was momentarily stunned, leaving only the screams of the burning men.
Faced with this hellish scene, Norn, who was the most mentally prepared, was the first to regain his senses. He kicked William, who was still in shock, on the rear.
"The enemy has been punished by the gods! Follow me in the charge!"
Norn's roar finally brought many people back to their senses.
"The enemy has been punished by the gods! Follow me in the charge!" Norn remounted his horse and shouted again.
"Charge!" Norn spurred his horse forward, with William and Patrick closely following behind, as a line of cavalry charged into motion.
"Charge!" Norn's guard followed suit, their levelled spears stabbing enemies from behind one after another.
"Charge!" All the mercenaries, inspired by Norn, brandished their various weapons and shouted their battle cries as they charged towards the enemy.
The explosive wagon had cleared a large area, and Norn's army seized the gap, thrusting into the enemy's center like a wedge.
The enemy troops, still in shock, suddenly realized that Norn's forces had already flanked them from both sides. They cursed their lack of extra legs to run away.
Norn looked at the fleeing soldiers in front of him, and the pressure of the past few days dissipated. He swung his longsword high, and with the momentum of his horse, he created a spray of blood, cutting down an infantryman in one stroke.
"Don't stop! We only need victory!" The enemy troops, who had initially tried to flank Norn's wings, now faced the risk of being attacked from the sides by Norn's forces. Combined with the impact of the fleeing soldiers, the wings that had attempted to encircle Norn began to waver, and many started to retreat stealthily.
Norn and his army relentlessly drove the fleeing soldiers forward, and the gap widened like a breached dam.
As the mercenaries saw the advantage shifting in their favor, their combat effectiveness soared. The spearmen began to firmly hold back the opposing phalanx, while the Danish mercenaries, wielding great axes, charged from the flanks, slaughtering and spreading fear through the ranks. The Turkoman light cavalry, brandishing their sabers, drove the fleeing soldiers like a herd of sheep, occasionally cutting down those who lagged behind. The fleeing soldiers, who had wanted to stop, immediately resumed their frantic sprint.
Suddenly, the fleeing soldiers seemed to hit a wall, and their speed slowed down abruptly.
Norn looked ahead and saw a group of splendidly dressed cavalry slaughtering the fleeing soldiers. The leader, resplendent in his attire, was shouting furiously, seemingly trying to reorganize his troops.
Norn's heart raced in anxiety. If the enemy managed to reconsolidate their forces, his small group would inevitably be overwhelmed by sheer numbers.
Norn took a deep breath, calming his rapid breathing, and looked at William and Patrick by his side, as well as the remaining dozen or so cavalrymen. His resolve grew stronger.
Taking a spare lance from a knight's squire, Norn spurred his horse, gradually increasing his speed.
The sturdy horse plowed through the fleeing soldiers, its powerful hooves crushing those who failed to dodge, and Norn ignored the corpses with their internal organs exposed, keeping his eyes fixed on the officer ahead.
The cavalry group seemed to have noticed Norn's intention and began to slowly accelerate towards him as well.
Inside his sweat-soaked helmet, Norn's heavy breathing echoed, and the enemy in front of him grew larger.
"I can do this!" Norn told himself, holding his lance steady.
The opposing cavalry also charged in a line, a row of gleaming lances aimed straight at Norn's chest.
"Giddy up!" The horse's speed increased once more, and Norn tried his best to keep his lance steady.
The chestnut steed leaped forward, and Norn, with a stroke of luck, thrust out his lance. The resistance he felt in his hand told him he had succeeded.
However, the searing pain in his chest also told him that he had failed.