"The enemy's formation is in disarray; follow me and charge!"
Lance swung his saber, beheading an enemy, then charged forward on his steed.
Behind him, the armored Knights also galloped after him.
This was not a random dash but a coordinated charge.
Lance, leading the charge, cut down another hapless foe, then led the Cavalry through the ranks of the bandits.
By the time the Cavalry stopped, not a single enemy stood on the battlefield; they either lay dying, emitting pitiful groans, or had been trampled into pulp by the horse hooves.
"Damn it, where's that arrogance you had when you were slaughtering the village? How come you're so easily defeated!"
Lance reined in his warhorse and looked coldly at the corpses scattered around, his spear, almost dyed with blood, still dripping.
He rode towards the bandits' leader, who had sustained a blow to the shoulder and several broken bones from being trampled by horses, and was already dead.
