Rostislav was completely at a loss when faced with the sudden, large-scale surrender.
He had no idea what to do. He had expected the Bulgar soldiers' morale to drop, but he never imagined they would surrender en masse.
"Have the conscripted infantry manage the prisoners of war; everyone else, continue forward."
After a brief thought, the Prince gave a solution. Those conscripted soldiers were not very useful in such a battle, so it made little difference if they didn't participate.
Leaving the surrendered soldiers by the roadside, the cavalry continued their advance. Although the Bulgars were constantly surrendering, there were still those who stubbornly resisted, such as the group of noble private soldiers currently blocking the Prince's path.
This noble was one of the few loyalists to Akad. He led his subordinates in holding their ground, intending to deliver a fatal blow to the enemy.
Armed warriors formed a solid human wall, with the noble supervising from behind. Countless gleaming spearheads were aimed at Rostislav's cavalry, who were charging fiercely.
The Prince saw several nomadic cavalrymen charge directly into the wall, only to be easily stopped and then killed by randomly thrusting spears. Seeing this, everyone involuntarily reined in their warhorses.
As the Prince steadied his warhorse, an infantryman wearing a leather cap came at him, thrusting a spear with both hands towards his chest. He swung his long sword, parrying the spear, then brought the sword down, splattering blood everywhere.
"Charge through! Charge through! Our armor is thick! No need to worry."
Rostislav and his retainers were all fully armored, both man and horse, like steel monsters, designed precisely for such chaotic battles.
At the Prince's command, everyone mustered their courage, relying on their thick armor to charge directly into the fray.
The Bulgars' long spears thrust out continuously, but their lethality was clearly inferior to the long swords and maces wielded by Rostislav's retainers. Spears left at most a white mark on the armor, while a single sword strike resulted in gushing blood, and a single mace blow would completely pulp a skull.
Faced with such a disadvantage, the Bulgars were naturally unable to resist. More and more Bulgar warriors died under Rostislav's blades, and even the Bulgar noble supervising the battle was effortlessly beheaded by Rostislav.
The Bulgar noble's face still held an expression of disbelief. In his view, the war shouldn't be like this. How could his meticulously trained elites be defeated so easily?
What finally broke the Bulgar warriors was a rain of arrows from the sky. The arrows sought out flesh, then tore into it ferociously, and countless soldiers died in this manner.
They fled, fleeing from those armored monsters. No one could stop the Rostislavs' advance anymore!
— — — — — — — —
"Sir, what should we do now?"
Such a question came from Arel's side. Countless eyes looked at the commander of this great army, awaiting his orders.
The nomadic cavalry accompanying the army also watched him. These cunning grassland people were always good at escaping, and they had already decided that even if he chose not to run, they would still flee.
The temporary commander felt incredibly Tricky. The collapse of the entire army was unstoppable. Whatever he did would only be like a mantis trying to stop a chariot, and would also cost him his life.
"Where is the Emir? Is there any news of the Emir?"
Finally, Arel remembered the person who should have been in charge of all this, Akad Moskovich. He should have been the commander; why hadn't he appeared yet?
"Lord Akad has been forcibly pulled away by his barbarian guards, sir."
A timid voice spoke up. Arel saw the person; it was the one he had sent to notify the Emir, and his presence here undoubtedly confirmed the truth of his words.
"Damn it, Allah is great. If he ran, what am I doing staying here?"
Arel said, also letting out a sigh of relief. Since that guy ran, he was the primary person responsible for the army's defeat.
"Everyone! Prepare to retreat, and don't forget to shout that Akad has run away on the way."
No one questioned his order. Everyone here was a loyal subject of the Khan, and they were all delighted at the prospect of implicating Akad, the greatest traitor in the Khanate.
As for why he himself still had to run, it was because he wanted to be the first to report to the capital, lest that guy get a head start.
— — — — — — — —
"Akad ran away! The Emir ran away!"
While Rostislav was still fighting fiercely, he suddenly heard such shouts.
Then he looked closely and saw a group of well-equipped, orderly Bulgar cavalry shouting these words, and then they were retreating in an orderly fashion towards the other side of Kashin.
Their words became the final straw that broke the camel's back. All Bulgars who still had the will to resist either ran around like headless chickens or directly threw down their weapons and surrendered to Rostislavs.
"What in the world is going on..."
Watching these Bulgars cause the complete collapse of their entire army, Rostislav couldn't help but be dumbfounded. But as his emotions subsided, he gradually realized what was happening—he knew a lot about the internal situation of Bulgar.
"Ha, so that means I've won."
Rostislav looked at the surrendered Bulgar soldiers, at their submissive appearance before Rostislavs, and he couldn't help but feel a sense of unreality. This feeling was simply too, inexpressible.
However, Rostislav's expression did not relax because of this, as there was still something that needed to be explained—that was the flooded Kashin Silver Mine.
— — — — — — — —
Although the important figures still had many matters to resolve, the lowest-ranking soldiers were still immersed in the joy of victory.
Especially the conscripted farmers, many of whom were experiencing such a large-scale battle for the first time, and their first time on the battlefield resulted in such a great victory. How could they not be excited and incredibly happy?
Bulgar prisoners of war were, under their supervision, piling up weapons and armor. A small mountain had already accumulated, and what excited everyone was that the Prince announced that half of these armaments would be equally distributed among everyone.
The victory also made everyone more convinced of the Prince. Having such a Prince who brought victory and wealth was truly their good fortune.
"This feeling... perhaps, as my father said, I am suited for the battlefield."
Dier, a famous archer near Moscow, held his short bow, recalling how he had used this unassuming weapon to take down a full ten Bulgar warriors. This was his first time killing so many people, and this feeling intoxicated him.
Although he couldn't be on the front lines, he still truly felt the frenzy of battle, especially when he saw those who died from his arrows; that feeling would reach its peak.
Dier was contemplating. He was wondering if he should join the Prince's army, like his father, and embark on a career of war. But after much thought, he finally decided to talk it over with the old man first.