"One big issue with the whole idea of chivalry: commanders leading from the front. More often than not, unless your commander is *really* good at fighting, this just results in a dead commander and his troops running around like a headless chicken." - Earenvel Ulthian, veteran elvish mercenary.
After only a brief moment's rest, a situation at the edge of the right flank - not far from their current location - made Reinhardt mobilize the Free Lances once more. They made best speed as they rushed to where they could make a difference.
One of the enemy's commanders amongst the mob of the zealot militia had managed to bring a detachment - probably a thousand five hundred strong or thereabouts - and looped around the dwarven lines, where they now threatened to hit the far end of the dwarven flank from the rear.
The dwarves attempted to redeploy to meet the threat, but by then the infantry there was spread thin already due to the earlier cavalry strike, and were already pressed hard by the zealots besides, so they had not made it in time.
Reinhardt's three hundred or so men filled that gap for them, and allowed the dwarves to focus on the zealots rushing them. They stood against five times their number, but in an open battle, they were not afraid to match their mettle to the enemy's.
"What would you do?" Reinhardt asked Lars in the midst of their formation just as they reached the area the zealots rushed towards. It was a test from him, to see how useful the young tactician could make himself.
While Lars was not that good a fighter, he had learned how to fight at least, and besides the Lances had no room for someone to sit in comfort in the back while the rest risked their lives anyway. Lars commanded his own small unit, the eighteen retainers of his who chose to follow him.
"Stand our ground," replied the young tactician after a glance at the onrushing enemy. "We could break through them, but it would serve little purpose given their numbers. Better to hold the line until reinforcements arrive. I have a feeling the Crown Prince might make his move soon."
"We think alike," said Reinhardt with a nod. His hand already signaled for his troops to form a defensive line by gestures, with all their shieldbearers forming the front of the defense line.
When the zealots slammed into their shieldwall, the center held steady as the shieldbearers from Mischka's unit anchored themselves and braced for impact. Those at the sides buckled somewhat, but managed to push them back and maintained the line.
Reinhardt noticed a man in fine armor atop a fine horse commanding the mob, his words relayed by priests who helped incite the mob further. He also noticed how Elfriede had stopped Salicia when she was about to take a shot at the obvious commander.
"That one's mine," he heard her say, with a tone that brooked no argument. For her own part, Salicia just nodded and lowered her bow, as she instead took potshots at the priests.
The line held strong, even when one of the zealots had the bright idea to have several of his compatriots toss him over the shield wall. He made a mistake, however, and attempted the stunt just where the shield wall changed from oversized shields the size of doors to more normal shields on the left side.
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Right next to where Yuri was.
The massive elephant-therian saw the man come, and nonchalantly swatted him out of the air like he would a fly with the flanged mace he wielded using his trunk, sending him back where he came from.
Reinhardt and his Free Lances held the line for a while, before they felt the vibration from heavy footsteps on the soil, coming from their right. A glance to the right told Reinhardt the source of the vibration, as well as the heavy footfalls that started to reach their ears.
It was the Crown Prince, with what seemed like half of the chariots and heavy cavalry he had held back from the battle. A quick look suggested that the other half raced towards the other side of the battlefield.
Their path brought them right against the backlines of the spread-out zealots. Neither the chariots nor the cavalrymen paused, and just went straight through the zealot lines instead.
Some zealots were hurled into the air. Others were trampled by rhinos or ran over by chariots. Some unlucky ones were directly gored by the horns of the heavy beasts. The riders were not idle either. Long polearms scythed through the zealot ranks and mowed them down like wheat, while the marksmen on board rained crossbow bolts towards the back of the zealot formation.
Reinhardt had not missed the opening the assault gave them. He whistled twice, loudly and in quick succession. Salicia reacted first and shot an arrow right into the forehead of the enemy commander's horse, sending the man to the ground as his steed buckled under him.
The shieldbearers at the frontlines followed, as they split into two groups. Yuri and Niko led half their numbers as they struck and pushed to the left. Varilya and her husband Bjørn - a white-furred bear therian who rivaled Mischka in size - led the other half towards the right.
Reinhardt and the rest of the Free Lances struck from the gap they opened, as they cut a path through the enemy formation towards where their commander was. When they reached the location, they quickly cleared out the zealots from the area, and left an open circle as Elfriede confronted the man.
Duels might have little use for mercenaries, but they were aware of the impact on morale losing a "fair" duel could bring to the soldiers on the opposing side. Also, Elfriede had claimed the man for herself, and nobody was keen to challenge her for that.
The young man - more a boy, really, now that Reinhardt got a closer look, probably no older than sixteen - had just extricated himself from under his fallen steed with some difficulties, his well-made plate armor scuffed and dirtied.
He seemed to grasp the unspoken challenge, and wielded his sword and shield at the ready, as he warily eyed Elfriede who was walking towards him. Elfriede herself had an emotionless look on her face.
The boy was good with his sword, and well trained. He managed to keep himself alive for a whole minute or so against Elfriede's flurry of blows. It was not long before he made a mistake she capitalized on, however.
When one of his sword strikes was a little wide, Elfriede pushed inside his range, even as the blade of the boy's sword cut a deep gash on her left cheek. In turn, she slammed the pommel-blade of her left hand weapon into the boy's wide open elbow joint.
The boy's hand went slack and lost power as Elfriede's strike severed muscles and nerves, but to his credit, he tried to fight on, and made an effort to bash her with the shield in his left hand.
Elfriede rammed the shield with her shoulder before it could gather enough momentum, which threw the boy's hand aside and left him vulnerable. Mercilessly, she drove the blade of her weapon into the boy's left armpit, all the way to the hilt, into his torso cavity and organs within.
The boy collapsed on his knees like a puppet with a string cut. His eyes teared up even as he tried to speak, only to manage a bloody gurgle instead. His dimming eyes looked at Elfriede with a look that was part despair and part questioning.
"This is the only mercy I can and am willing to offer you," Reinhardt heard Elfriede murmur as she drew her blade out from the boy's armpit and used it to sever his head from his body. She then picked up the head from the ground by the hair.
"You'll want to cash this in later," Elfriede said as she tossed the severed head over. Reinhardt caught it in mid-air, and as he got a proper look up close at the dead boy's face, he realized where the odd feeling he had when he first saw the boy came from.
He had thought the noble from Norouz they caught in Zefirous before somewhat resembled his wife. This dead boy however, would have easily passed for a younger, male version of Elfriede. The resemblance between them was just that uncanny.
"Was he...?" he asked tentatively, unsure of what to think at the moment. He recalled the story Elfriede told of her past, and had a suspicion as parts of the story linked together.
"You guessed it," admitted his wife all too nonchalantly, her cheek still bleeding from the deep cut that almost reached her jawbone. "The bastard who raped my mother and got her pregnant with me, and later killed her... Was also his father. He'd be my younger half-brother by that reckoning I guess."