Miguel watched the horizon intently, the silhouette of the person blowing the trumpet beginning to take shape. The loud, clear sound continued to echo across the battlefield, bringing a new sense of tension and anticipation. As the vision became clearer, he noticed that the mercenaries were now practically ignoring him, focusing on the figures emerging from the nearby horizon.
Peterson and other mercenaries, who seemed to be the leaders, began shouting orders, urging their men to form up. The initial confusion among the mercenaries was dissipating, and they quickly organized to face this new threat.
John, next to Miguel, suggested, "We should retreat inside what's left of the walls. We need to take advantage of this distraction."
Miguel didn't want to miss this opportunity. He saw that the mercenaries were focused on reorganizing, giving them a chance to regroup. "Alright, let's fall back," he ordered. "Everyone inside the walls!"
As they began the retreat, Arthur approached Miguel. "Let me retrieve Ricardo," he said firmly. "He's not far, and the mercenaries are moving away to form a line near the fields."
John, hearing this, spoke up, "I'll go with him. We can't leave Ricardo behind."
Miguel looked at the two, feeling the urgency and courage in their words. "Go," he said, nodding in agreement. "Bring Ricardo back."
Arthur and John nodded, preparing for the dangerous mission to rescue Ricardo. Miguel watched as they quickly moved away, running towards his uncle's fallen body. Concern for Ricardo and the hope of seeing him rescued filled his thoughts.
As Arthur and John approached Ricardo, the rest of Miguel's troops began to retreat into what remained of the city's wooden walls. The soldiers, wounded and weary, moved with determination, knowing that every second was crucial. They understood that the relative safety of the walls would give them a chance to reorganize and perhaps resist a little longer.
Miguel kept his eyes on the horizon, the silhouettes of the figures now clearer. The identity of the newcomers was still a mystery, but he hoped they were allies. With a heavy heart worrying for Ricardo and a mind focused on survival strategy, he led his men to the relative safety of the city.
Arthur and John moved quickly, finding Ricardo's body among the battle's debris. They checked that he was still alive, though gravely injured. With effort, they lifted Ricardo, supporting him between them, and began to move back towards the walls.
Miguel watched his friends anxiously, hoping they would make it back unscathed. The sound of trumpets continued, and the mercenaries were clearly more concerned with the new threat than with the withdrawal of Miguel's forces.
As Arthur and John neared the walls with Ricardo, Miguel felt a wave of relief. They had succeeded. Now, within the city, they needed to prepare for what would come next. The trumpets still echoed, and Miguel knew the battle was far from over.
---
Peterson observed the battlefield with a mix of frustration and apprehension. He decided that, for now, he would set up a defensive line until he knew who was on the horizon. He saw the bastard Miguel retreating back to the city again, but that didn't concern him much. He could still kill him once he discovered the origin of the trumpet.
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"Defensive formation!" shouted Peterson, his voice laden with authority. The mercenaries, though confused, began to organize, forming a defensive line while Peterson kept his eyes fixed on the horizon.
The mercenaries were on high alert, their weapons ready. The tension was palpable, the sound of the trumpets continued to echo, creating a climate of expectation and fear. Finally, the figures on the horizon began to become clearer. Peterson squinted, trying to understand who they were.
When the figures fully revealed themselves, Peterson felt a chill run down his spine. They were beast-men. In a line formation, and worst of all, they were mounted on red horses. These horses were huge, much larger than common horses, about two meters taller, and extremely fast.
The sight was terrifying. Peterson knew how formidable these beast-men could be in combat. The trumpet sounded again, and this time, the cavalry charge advanced against them. If Peterson had to estimate, he would say there were between 60 and 70 riders.
"Damn," Peterson muttered, fear growing inside him.
One of his mercenaries, with a face pale with fear, asked, "What will we do, chief?"
Peterson thought quickly, but no viable solution came to mind. The only option that seemed to make sense was to flee. He could order them to hold the line, but he knew it would be useless. The strength and speed of the beast-men riders were overwhelming.
"Retreat! Run!" Peterson shouted, his voice filled with despair. He quickly ran to one of the horses on the battlefield, mounting it with agility. Some of his comrades did the same, but for most, it was already too late.
The beast-men cavalry charge hit the mercenaries head-on. The red horses, with their enormous stature and speed, were unstoppable. One of the fire mages tried to cast a spell, but a spear thrown by a lion-man flew in his direction, impaling him against a tree. The mage let out a scream of pain before falling dead, his body pinned to the tree by the spear.
The other mages, seeing this, panicked and began to flee. Peterson, already mounted on his horse, watched the disorder around him. The mercenaries were being massacred, and the defensive line had completely disintegrated.
Peterson looked towards the city walls, where he saw Miguel watching everything. Peterson's eyes filled with hatred as he shouted, "This isn't over yet, you bastard! We will return!"
He pointed to the beast-men, now dominating the battlefield. "The church will want to get involved," he continued, his voice full of venom. "And not just the church, but the king too. Now they have a reason to call you a traitor."
Peterson turned his horse and sped away, disappearing with some of his men into the trees. The sounds of the battle began to diminish, and the victory of the beast-men seemed certain. The mercenaries who couldn't flee were quickly being defeated.
***
Miguel watched as the beast-men advanced against the mercenaries' lines. It was an impressive and frightening sight. The enormous red horses, imposing and fast, charged with overwhelming force. Miguel had never seen animals so large. They were giants, taller and stronger than any common horse.
The mercenaries tried to flee desperately, but the beast-men's onslaught was relentless. The riders, with their spears and swords, cut through the enemy lines with ease. The mercenaries' defensive formation disintegrated before the brute force and speed of the beast-men riders.
Miguel watched the mercenaries being knocked down, their cries of desperation mixing with the sound of weapons clashing. Some mercenaries shouted orders, desperately trying to maintain control, but it was clear they were losing the battle. The battlefield was in chaos, with mercenaries running in all directions, trying to escape the fierce attack.
Beside him, Arthur watched the whole situation with a mix of surprise and relief. "This is amazing," he murmured, eyes wide as he watched the enemy lines' destruction.
John, next to Miguel, looked at him with an expression of hope. "If they're here, does that mean they brought food?"
Miguel smiled, feeling a huge weight lifted from his shoulders. He placed a hand on John's shoulder, trying to convey some reassurance. "Yes, John. They brought the food."
Relief washed over Miguel, but before he could do anything else, his vision began to blur. He felt the world around him spinning, his strength finally abandoning him after the long and exhausting battle. The last thing he heard was John's muffled voice calling him, "My lord!" before he fainted and fell to the ground.
The beast-men's onslaught continued, relentless and devastating. Their red horses trampled the mercenaries who couldn't flee in time. The riders' strength and skill were evident, each strike delivered with deadly precision. The mercenaries who tried to resist were quickly knocked down, their attempts at defense crushed by the beast-men's superiority.
The riders maintained an organized formation, advancing like an unstoppable tide. The spears pierced through armor and bodies with ease, while the riders wielded their swords with skill. The battle, though brief, was brutal and bloody. The mercenaries who managed to escape were few and scattered, their lines collapsing under the overwhelming attack.
Miguel, now unconscious, was safe within the walls, his men attending to him while the battle outside unfolded. The victory of the beast-men was clear, and the mercenaries' threat was being swiftly eliminated. Arthur and John, still beside Miguel, took care of him, ensuring he was safe while the battlefield calmed down.
The battle was nearing its end, and the beast-men's victory brought new relief to the barony's defenders. Their presence not only saved the day but also brought hope that tough times could be overcome with unexpected allies. Miguel, even unconscious, had managed to lead his men through one of the most difficult battles of their lives, and now, with the help of the beast-men, they could begin to rebuild and prepare for the future.