Light cavalry.
Duncan, from a divine perspective, saw the heavily injured leader of the guards, with several arrows protruding from his back. Fortunately, his armor blocked most of the damage. Another caravan guard had an arrow in his shoulder, clearly affecting his ability to ride. Their horses couldn't match the speed of the light cavalry's grassland horses and were now being quickly overtaken by the enemy.
One dead, two wounded.
The chasing light cavalry drew their composite bows, skillfully nocking arrows while on horseback, unleashing a rain of arrows. One arrow struck a horse's leg, causing the mount to buck, throwing the caravan guard off.
Falling from a horse in such circumstances, the caravan guard was essentially doomed.
As expected, the fallen caravan guard struggled to stand, but one of the light cavalry had already raised a light lance.
Lance charge!
The enemy's lance was made of hardwood, about 2.2 meters long, with a slotted tip fixed by nails. To prevent it from getting stuck in a body, a wing was added behind the tip.
Thud.
Blood splattered!
The caravan guard died on the spot, the powerful thrust from the charging warhorse rendering his armor as fragile as paper. The blue units marked on the edge of the map were instantly reduced to one.
"Such strong combat power."
The enemy's mounted archers continued their pursuit, while the leader of the guards was already leaning over the horse's back, seemingly unable to hold on due to his injuries.
What is happening in the battles at the empire's border?
Why does it feel like a total defeat?
Duncan immediately grabbed the Northern Land war bow and mounted his horse. The original owner didn't know any riding skills, and neither did he in his past life. He chose a nag, gentle in nature, suitable for a regular person to ride, but it had low combat prowess as it couldn't run fast, being a hybrid of a nag and a mule horse.
The other caravan guards quickly reacted. Seeing Duncan's sudden movement, they immediately rode to follow.
After several battles along the way, the others had already regarded him as the backbone of the team.
Over by the wagons, the witch also stopped, her expression growing more serious.
Her lips moved slightly.
The next moment, a pitch-black crow perched on a tree branch by the roadside flew up, heading straight for the direction of the battle.
But at this moment, Duncan's attention was entirely on the battlefield, oblivious to the witch's subtle actions.
"Rangers."
"They should be elite among the light cavalry. Judging by their appearance, they're not ordinary mounted archers; they possess considerable close combat ability."
At this time, from several hundred meters away, they could already see the figure of the guard leader. His body was tilted to one side, relying entirely on the stirrup to maintain his posture, as if he could fall off the horse at any moment.
As soon as the other caravan guards saw this, they immediately rode forward to assist, leaving Duncan far behind.
Riding a small and slow nag, he couldn't hope to keep up, and didn't dare to gallop recklessly; without riding skills to support, he could very well fall off and injure himself badly.
The distance was closing bit by bit.
The pursuing light cavalry also spotted the enemy, gradually slowing down to wait for reinforcements from behind. Someone drew a bow to aim, sending a long-range arrow in an arc, but it didn't hit the mark. The hit rate of mounted archery was rather disheartening. Nations without a tradition of horseback archery from an early age rarely produced top-mounted archers.
From a divine perspective, Duncan's aiming cross trembled like an earthquake, and even his skills couldn't compensate or correct it while riding at speed.
He simply dismounted, drawing and nocking an arrow, locking onto the target while stationary.
Whoosh!
An arrow whistled through the air, directly hitting the horse's head.
The demise of the barbarian deserters yesterday had significantly improved his archery skills. With stationary shooting, his aim was now steady.
Shoot the horse before the rider.
The enemy's warhorse let out a mournful cry after being hit, and the light cavalryman fell off, getting trampled, severely injured despite not dying on the spot. When he struggled to his feet, his right leg was already lame.
Whoosh!
Duncan calmly prepared another arrow, sending the second shot into the enemy's left shoulder. The opponent fell to the ground in pain, seemingly awaiting rescue from companions.
Thud.
But by then, Duncan's third arrow had already been released. With divine perspective aid, he hit the opponent's collarbone, the arrowhead cutting through the neck, pushing the enemy to a near-death state.
"Can you still fight?"
Duncan's expression was slightly tense as he abandoned his horse and slipped into the small woods beside the road. With his riding skills, he'd be as good as dead in a cavalry skirmish. He couldn't outrun them, nor outshoot them; with no foundation in mounted archery, he didn't believe he could defeat even a small squad of light mounted archers.
It was better to hide in the small woods and snipe from there.
As long as the caravan guards could pin down the enemy, with Duncan's current archery, there's a chance he might turn the tides.
By now, the caravan guards had assisted the heavily injured guard leader.
A bearded guard retrieved a short crossbow from his waist, quickly loading a bolt and aiming, but did not pull the trigger, as the short crossbow's range was not far enough. The other guards raised their shields, the small round shields covering only vital areas.
Their combat skills were on par with the empire's light cavalry, with the only difference from infantry being they could ride.
The enemies had pulled back to shoot another volley of arrows.
A typical light cavalry "kite" tactic, although their archery was quite advanced, employing a technique similar to the "Resting Horse Arrow". They could shoot facing or turning away from the enemy, allowing their riding to remain unaffected, maneuvering as if their mounts were extensions of their bodies.