As dawn turned crimson, I gave the order I had long awaited. The game of shadows and petty raids was over. Now the true battle would begin.
My army of eight thousand was divided into three:
- Right flank: light infantry, armed with spears and shields. Their task was to drag the enemy cavalry into the mud and slow them down.
- Left flank: archers and crossbowmen. They would thin out the enemy ranks with relentless fire, breaking their formation.
- Center: My well-trained, heaviest-armed men. I kept them still, for they had to endure until it was time to deliver the fatal blow.
Ronald's army was starving and exhausted, yet still vast. Stumbling through the mud, they advanced toward us. The first clash erupted at the edge of the eastern marshes. My spearmen feigned retreat, luring them deeper. When their cavalry sank up to their knees in the mire, our archers rained down arrows like a storm. The shrieks of horses flailing in panic, the screams of crushed men, filled the valley.
