The soldiers of the Supervision Team began to waver as well. They hesitated, knowing full well that a collapse of the formation would set off a chain reaction.
It was just as the proverb from the empire's Northern Lands said: in an avalanche, only the first snowflake falls by choice...
At that point, they would have no chance of escaping the pursuit of Henry's army.
The officers' voices grew hoarse, their commands lost in the battlefield's clamor.
Some soldiers began to lay down their weapons and look for a chance to flee. If they kept fighting, there was no hope of survival.
But why not surrender?
They had seen with their own eyes men kneeling with their hands held high, only to have their throats casually slit by blood-crazed enemies.
Who the fuck would dare to surrender?
What was the difference between surrendering and committing suicide?
Henry's army pressed forward relentlessly. Henry himself was a god of death on the battlefield, his battle-axe reaping countless lives.
