As we stood in the reserve lines, the tension around us was like a thick fog, pressing against each breath we took. The scorching sun bore down relentlessly on both armies, casting long shadows across the sandy field. In the far distance, two massive forces were arrayed against each other in a calm yet charged standoff, both sides painfully aware that a single wrong move could spell disaster. Our own forces of the Aserai had the advantage of numbers, their golden armor and desert-tanned faces gleaming under the sun, while the Valandians stood proud and stoic, fewer in number but formidable in formation.
From my vantage point in the reserve, I could see the layout of our own forces and the Valandian ranks across the field. The Aserai had stationed themselves in wide formations, stretching across the battlefield, with Dhiyul, Sultan’s son, leading his 100 elite soldiers and Jawwal camel riders on the left flank, prepared to counter any maneuver from Valandian cavalry. Meanwhile, our center was bolstered with mercenaries—Imperial, Valandian, and Aserai infantry standing side by side—and additional reserve forces kept on standby to break the Valandian center. At the far right, Jawwal Riders and Khuzait mercenaries held firm, looking eager to join the fray.
The Valandian troops had assembled in a slightly curved formation, with 200 elite sharpshooters—Pavise crossbowmen—stationed in the center, alongside the Golden Boar mercenaries, who were famed for their resilience in battle. Behind them, the bulk of the infantry—Bilmen, Voulgiers, and Pikemen—stood ready, with the most elite of the Valandian cavalry positioned on their right and left flanks. The Valandians had chosen to meet us on an open plain, their sturdy pikes ready to face our cavalry’s charges. It was a bold move, but it would take more than courage to turn the tides in their favor.
As the battle began, the Valandian right flank took the first move. I watched as a section of their cavalry, about 200 riders, peeled away to the far right, advancing slowly without drawing too close. The intent was clear: they were attempting to outmaneuver our left flank, possibly to encircle our forces and strike from the side. Dhiyul, sharp-eyed and decisive, responded swiftly. He signaled to his own forces, and our left flank began moving to mirror the Valandians. Our forces shifted smoothly, following the Valandians’ movement across the field. The symmetry of the movements was almost entrancing; both sides were dancing, maneuvering for advantage, yet neither dared to strike first.
But tension mounted as the two flanks continued to drift farther from the main battle lines. The Aserai left flank and the Valandian right were moving dangerously close to the edge of the battlefield, stretching their ranks thin as they fought to maintain formation. Dhiyul, the Sultan’s son, kept a close eye on the Valandian cavalry, refusing to let them outflank him. His forces remained vigilant, their focus unyielding, ready to intercept any potential assault.
Despite this caution, the desert sun, the ceaseless shifting of positions, and the prolonged tension were beginning to take a toll. The strain on the faces of the men in the left flank—jawwal riders and elite guards alike. Dhiyul, though young, was eager, perhaps too eager, and after a while, his patience wore thin. With a flash of determination, he gave the signal to charge.
The left flank surged forward, closing the gap in an instant. The thunder of hooves reverberated across the desert as Dhiyul and his men rushed headlong toward the Valandian right flank. Their timing was precise, their charge aimed at the heart of the Valandian cavalry, whose numbers were far fewer. Yet, the Valandians did not falter. They tightened their formation and braced for impact, shields and pikes angled forward like a wall of steel.
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Meanwhile, the Sultan, watching from the center, saw that the Valandian right flank was now engaged. It was the moment he had been waiting for. With a decisive command, he ordered the center and the right flank to advance. Our forces surged forward, sweeping toward the Valandian left flank and center with a renewed sense of purpose. The battle was now fully underway.
The initial volley from the Valandian sharpshooters struck hard, cutting through the first lines of Valandian mercenary infantry. I watched, heart pounding, as men dropped under the deadly rain of bolts, each one striking with unerring accuracy. The Pavise crossbowmen, with their large shields and precise marksmanship, were carving a path through our ranks. A chorus of screams and groans filled the air as soldiers fell, clutching wounds that bled freely onto the desert sands.
But the Aserai forces pushed forward, undeterred. Jawwal riders, skilled in hit-and-run tactics, began to harry the Valandian infantry from the sides, launching volleys of javelins and arrows that rained down upon the enemy with deadly precision. The Jawwals moved in a fluid dance, darting in and out, keeping just out of reach of the Valandian pikes. Yet the Valandians, disciplined and steadfast, held their ground, their shields raised and their spears bristling like the spines of a beast.
On the far Aserai-left flank, the Valandian cavalry clashed with Dhiyul’s forces. The two sides met in a violent collision of steel and flesh, a chaotic blend of charging horses, swinging swords, and desperate cries. The Valandians fought with a ferocity born of experience, their armored knights pressing forward with sheer brute strength. Dhiyul’s men, however, were agile and quick, darting around the heavy cavalry, landing precise blows where they could. Yet, the elite Valandian cavalry was relentless, their strength pushing our left flank to its limits.
Back in the center, the Golden Boar mercenaries had joined the fight, shifting slightly to the right to encircle our forces. They fought with a savage determination, their crossbows cutting down Aserai soldiers with ruthless efficiency. The Golden Boars were a formidable force, their reputation well-earned, and they pressed the Aserai center hard, threatening to break through. But the Aserai center held, bolstered by the sheer number of troops at our disposal.
Our right flank, a mix of Jawwal riders and Khuzait mercenaries, launched a relentless assault on the Valandian left. Arrows and javelins rained down upon the Valandian cavalry, forcing them to retreat under the relentless onslaught. The Valandian cavalry tried to regroup, but the nimble Jawwals and Khuzait archers were everywhere, their swift movements and deadly accuracy leaving the Valandians no room to breathe. The Valandian left was beginning to crumble, unable to withstand the constant barrage.
From my position in the reserves, I could see the exhaustion etched on the faces of the Aserai soldiers. The march had drained them, and the relentless heat of the desert sun only compounded their fatigue. Despite their fatigue, our men fought on, driven by a fierce determination to protect their lands and uphold the honor of their Sultan. The Sultan’s retinue, the Mamluke Palace Guards and Veteran Farris, stood firm on the left flank supporting the Sultan’s Son, their presence a symbol of unwavering loyalty and strength.
As the battle raged on, Sultan Unquid issued a final command: to send in the reserves to the center. Our numbers would overwhelm the Valandian center, breaking their lines and securing victory. We moved forward, our spirits lifted by the knowledge that victory was within reach.