Under the blare of the horn, the Rus' charge seemed even more imposing, their immense momentum drawing the Chud's attention to the cavalry behind them, but their notice was useless; everything was already too late.
The Rus' fighting noticed the scene before them and let out a cheer; they saw Rostislav's figure, and nothing was more morale-boosting than the commander-in-chief personally entering the battlefield and even ambushing the enemy.
Rostislav's young retainers displayed their unrivaled horsemanship, firing arrows as they advanced, several unfortunate souls taking arrows to the face; most Chud were facing horse archery for the first time, inevitably causing some confusion, which further favored the Rus' charge.
When they reached charging distance, they skillfully hung their composite bows on their saddles, drew their lances, and leveled them, aiming at the enemies before them.
In contrast, the forty men Rostislav found among the soldiers were merely there to make up the numbers; they were not skilled in mounted combat, only knowing how to hack at people while on horseback, but they were originally just for atmosphere, to boost morale, and nothing else mattered.
Rostislav's heart was incredibly excited, his heartbeat so fast he could hear it himself; as he entered the charge, his vision suddenly narrowed, immediately shrinking to the few people in front of him.
In his hand was a steel-gleaming lance, and in his eyes were the increasingly clear, terrified faces of the Chud as he approached them.
When the lance pierced the Chud's body, the iron rings also shattered; this tribal warrior's armor could not help him withstand this thunderous blow.
The prince used the momentum to hurl the dead man away, and the lance shaft broke, the corpse smashing into his kinsmen and causing a panic.
The charge of this cavalry unit inflicted a devastating blow on the Chud; the moment the lances descended, dozens of dead appeared, either pierced by lances, cut down by swords, or trampled by the galloping warhorses.
This impactful scene caused the Chud to immediately rout, soldiers in twos and threes abandoning their comrades and weapons, fleeing the battlefield without looking back.
Rostislav dropped the broken spear shaft, drew his sword, and brought it down on the head of a spearman who tried to cut his horse's reins; the fool who didn't know death had a bloody mark left on his head by him, then fell over.
Beside him, the cavalrymen hacked around them at their fastest speed, driving away enemies and protecting themselves.
The retainers' skilled tactics were fully displayed at this moment; though these youths were young, their swordsmanship was ruthless and seasoned, and the enemies around them either fell or fled with their heads in their hands.
To make things even better, Rostislav's infantry seized this opportunity and decisively launched a counterattack.
The personal guards were like a spearhead, fiercely plunging into the enemy ranks, relying on their thick armor to fight with broad, sweeping movements, the warriors quickly creating a swath of severed limbs and dead men, blood staining the earth. They skillfully used their shields to ram opponents, followed by hacking with swords and axes; the demoralized tribesmen were utterly unable to resist them, the Chud's swords and spears simply no match for the Rus' swords and axes, those filthy fur garments now gaining a new color—blood red.
Just as Rostislav personally cut down the Chud standard-bearer, causing the great banner to fall, the Chud completely collapsed.
Everyone, whether tribal chiefs or the most common tribesmen, abandoned their warrior's honor, throwing everything away to flee for their lives, with the Rus' cavalry in hot pursuit behind them.
However, Rostislav immediately ordered his retainers back, and the soldiers' pursuit was also blocked by his personal guards, because the battle was not yet over, and he still needed to control his troops.
— — — — — — — —
After the battle on the left flank ended, Rostislav ascended a high ground to observe the entire battle situation, and then he suddenly realized that, in fact, the battles in other directions had already entered their final stages.
In the center, the Chud's boar's head formation had been completely dismantled, and they were now retreating steadily under the Rus' counterattack, leaving only large numbers of corpses on the original front line, with no living souls remaining; impatient crows had already landed on the ground to peck at the flesh and blood.
He saw the personal guards on the right flank advancing across the battlefield, crushing the last of the Chud's fighting groups; those barbarians were now fleeing like a surging flood when a dam breaks.
"It seems we have completely won. Sound the horn and let the soldiers pursue them."
Seeing that the enemy no longer had the capacity to resist, Rostislav also released the restrained soldiers, letting them go capture slaves and such; wasn't fighting for spoils and plunder the reason ordinary soldiers went to war? He had to satisfy them.
Upon hearing the order, the Rus' surged out like beasts, pouncing on the fleeing Chud.
However, not everyone charged out like that; some were busy scavenging corpses, looking for wounded, killing enemies, and carrying away their own.
Rostislav's mind also relaxed involuntarily; at this moment, he felt a dull ache in his wrist, having overused his hand with constant hacking earlier, so it seemed he needed a good rest for a while.
"We won just like that?"
Yang, the standard-bearer, was somewhat incredulous, because only half an hour had passed from the start of the battle until now, and they had won just like that, which made him feel a sense of unreality.
Yang was covered in blood, all of it from the enemy; in the battle just now, Yang had killed at least three people, killing so many in his first battle, his future was truly limitless.
"This victory was indeed a bit too easy."
Rostislav couldn't help but recall the battles his father had told him about; in comparison, the duration of this battle, with a total force of nearly ten thousand, was truly negligible.
"Gvaran, the task of collecting the bodies is entrusted to you."
The tall Gvaran stood silently behind Rostislav, his double-bladed battle-axe covered in crimson, even mixed with some white liquid, like a berserker, and he responded to the order with a silent nod.
After entrusting the living with the care of the dead, Rostislav rode his horse to the rear; he now had to see his grandfather.
On a small hill, Rostislav found him; his grandfather was chatting with Vishata, and their words reached Rostislav's ears.
"Are the Chud too weak? The will to fight they showed this time was truly…"
Vishata clearly thought something was amiss with this battle.
"Like they're putting on a show for us? Vishata, you are very perceptive, but right now we lack information, and we don't know what Alar is planning, so we can only take it one step at a time and see what kind of tricks these pagans will come up with."
"And I am already prepared, you don't need to worry."
Since the Grand Prince had said so, Vishata naturally had nothing more to say; at this moment, the two saw Rostislav approaching.
— — — — — — — —