Unlike the Saracens' deep, guttural horns, the Crusaders' triumphant, high-pitched war horns blared.
Norn's eyes lit up as he looked northward. A massive golden cross came into view, surrounded by a hundred Templar Knights in white tunics emblazoned with red crosses. They rode forward at a slow, deliberate pace.
King Baldwin, standing on the golden cross carriage, seemed almost saintly as his armor reflected the light of the golden cross. He faced off against Saladin's royal banner from a distance.
Seeing that Saladin's elite Mamluk cavalry was pinned down, King Baldwin finally played his last and strongest card—the Templar Knights.
The Templars were composed of noble knights who had sworn to forsake everything for God. Unlike secular nobles who wasted time on worldly affairs, they dedicated themselves to rigorous combat training. Their discipline and skill were unmatched. Armed with the Templar Order's vast financial resources, their combat effectiveness was significantly enhanced. Moreover, their vow of chastity ensured that they remained undistracted by women, focusing solely on fighting for the Lord.
The Templars formed a neat, orderly formation, raised their lances high, and chanted hymns to the Lord as they launched a devastating charge against the infidels.
The Mamluk cavalry, already in motion, couldn't change direction. They could only watch helplessly as the Templars' fierce onslaught struck their flank like a battering ram.
In an instant, chaos erupted. The Templars expertly thrust their lances through the Mamluks' chests. When their lances snapped, they pulled out their signature weapon—the flail. Believing that Christ should not shed blood, they favored this mace-like weapon. To Norn, it seemed like just an excuse to find a weapon that could pierce armor.
The heavy flails swung in wide arcs through the air before smashing down on the Mamluk cavalry. Though their armor remained intact, the fragile bodies beneath were reduced to pulp.
The high-pitched war horns sounded again. The kingdom's knights, having completed their flanking maneuver, reformed their ranks. Some joined the Templars in attacking the Mamluk cavalry, while others charged toward Saladin's royal banner from the south.
Now the entire battlefield was filled with the cries of battle. The Mamluks and Templars were locked in a fierce, deadly struggle.
Norn watched the melee unfold. The Mamluks were pinned down by the Templars, and the royal guards around Saladin's banner were distracted by the kingdom's knights. The path to Saladin's banner was now clear of any significant enemy forces.
Norn knew his troops were exhausted, but Saladin himself was right there—the weakest link.
"Saladin is right ahead! Take him down, and we win!" Norn shouted hoarsely. "Saladin's head is worth 10,000 gold nominals!"
The mercenaries, who had been on the brink of collapse, were suddenly revitalized by the promise of riches. Those who could still move scrambled to pick up their weapons, abandoning any semblance of formation and rushing forward in a disorganized mob.
Norn let out a horse whistle, and his horse, Radish, trotted over from the rear. It seemed the big battle hadn't done too much damage to him. Norn mounted up and led his remaining guards and knights in a charge toward Saladin's banner.
Under Saladin's banner, Saladin's hawk-like gaze swept across the battlefield. His expression was grave. The situation was slipping out of his control. Most of his troops were still bottled up in the valley, and the few that were engaged were being held at bay. Worst of all, the knights and infantry led by Reynald were closing in.
"Sultan, I urge you to withdraw for now," Emir said solemnly to Saladin. "The outcome of this battle is no longer significant. Please endure this setback. We have the strength to raise another army in a few years."
"Sultan, grant me the honor," Emir added. "I will lead the Mamluk cavalry to cover your retreat."
Saladin looked around the battlefield once more. His infantry was in disarray, and the Mamluk cavalry was locked in a deadly struggle. Both sides were suffering heavy casualties, but he was effectively checkmated by the opposing knights.
Saladin's gaze fixed on the golden cross. He murmured calmly, "Baldwin, you win this round."
Then he turned his attention back to Emir, his eyes softening. He gently patted Emir on the shoulder. "Emir, your father would be proud of you."
Emir smiled, like a young man receiving praise from an elder, a bit shyly.
"Go."
Emir watched Saladin ride away, bowed his head respectfully, and when he looked up again, his face was set with determination. He solemnly put on Saladin's helmet and took out a horn from his satchel, blowing it rhythmically.
All the Mamluk cavalry, after hearing the horn, launched a desperate charge. They didn't care if they were facing a forest of infantry spears or the knights' flails. They charged straight ahead, undeterred by being surrounded. Only death could stop them.
"Saladin, you cowardly son of a bitch!" Reynald shouted, watching the royal banner slowly retreat. He was furious and wished he could just fly over and fight Saladin to the death. But the Mamluk cavalry's counterattack was giving him plenty of trouble, and he couldn't spare any attention.
"Baron Godfrey! Take your knights and stop Saladin at all costs!" Count Reynald, staring at the banner with a fierce expression, barked out the order.
The same thing was happening with the Templars. No matter how intense the battle was, a small detachment of Templars was sent to pursue Saladin's banner.
For some reason, it seemed like Norn's troops were being underestimated. Not many Mamluk cavalry were blocking his path. Norn left the mercenaries to keep the Mamluks engaged and led his limited cavalry straight toward the banner.
After shaking off the infantry that tried to stop him, Norn finally saw Saladin's banner. The Mamluk cavalry guarding it were locked in combat with a small group of kingdom knights and Templars.
Norn took a closer look. Under the banner was a bearded man in opulent attire, wearing a golden helmet adorned with a huge ruby.
"Saladin! Kill him, and the war is over."
Norn spurred his horse, charging forward despite having only a handful of cavalry with him.
Under the banner, the golden-armored general also led his last remaining guards in a charge toward Norn.
Blood rushing to his head, Norn held his longsword out straight, pointing at his opponent. The other side responded with a scimitar. Both had reasons to fight, and only death would end this battle.
This time, Norn wasn't lucky. The golden-armored general was a master swordsman. In the blink of an eye, he parried Norn's sword and countered with a backhand slash that struck Norn's back.
Norn was knocked off his horse. Fortunately, the ground was soft. After rolling a few times, he managed to avoid serious injury.
Dizzy and seeing stars, Norn shook his head vigorously. Blood from a forehead wound blurred his vision. He could vaguely see the chaos around him. His few knights were heavily outnumbered and locked in fierce combat. William and Patrick were too busy fighting to help him.
Norn leaned on his sword to get back on his feet. His whole body ached from the fall, but the golden-armored general was already riding back, charging straight at him.
As the general and his two riders bore down on him, Norn tried to react, but his body was riddled with wounds and wouldn't respond.
"Is this where it all ends for me?" Norn's mind suddenly went calm, as if the fighting around him no longer mattered.
An arrow whizzed past Norn's ear and lodged itself in the eye socket of one of the riders. Then a dark figure darted out from behind Norn.
Facing the remaining two charging riders, the dark figure moved with incredible speed, slipping between the two warhorses. He dodged the riders' slashing scimitars and, at the last moment, slashed at the horses' front legs with his blade.
The horses let out a mournful neigh and collapsed, taking their riders down with them. Before the fallen rider could get back up, the dark figure was already behind him, slicing a bloody line across his throat. Hot blood sprayed from the wound.
Now, the dark figure was face-to-face with the golden-armored general.
Norn could faintly hear the general questioning the dark figure in Saracen, but the only response was the flash of the dark figure's scimitar.
As the dark figure closed in, the general raised his scimitar with both hands and swung down with all his might. But the dark figure accelerated again, and the scimitar barely grazed his body.
The dark figure slipped under the general's arm, and with a reverse slash, his scimitar cut through the most vulnerable part of the general's armpit armor, leaving a deep wound that almost severed the general's right arm.
Before the general could even scream, the dark figure spun around and reappeared behind him, the black scimitar gently resting on the general's neck.
"Ssssh!" Blood gushed out, and the general's scream turned into an inarticulate gurgle.
Norn stared, dumbfounded, at the dark figure now stained with blood. In the blink of an eye, three heavily-armored riders with exceptional skills had been slaughtered like livestock. He was too shocked to speak.
"Milord, is there anything else you need?"
The familiar, cold voice rang out. The dark figure turned around to reveal Sassan's pretty face, now smeared with a bit of blood but looking even more enchanting, like a succubus from hell.
"Whoa!! This little girl is seriously badass!!"