Rostislav's army surged out of the city gates, countless cavalry following the Wise Grand Duke, their momentum so great that for a moment, it seemed as if the heavens and earth trembled with them.
Marching in the dead of night was an extremely difficult task, but the flames of the Chud main camp undoubtedly pointed the way forward, and countless armed warriors charged towards the area engulfed in battle.
The advancing Rostislavs quickly encountered the enemy; these were tribesmen who had just escaped from the chaotic camp. Now they had just escaped from the fire and entered a wolf's den, colliding with Rostislav's blades.
Upon seeing Rostislav's forces, the Chud let out panicked shouts, but the brave among them still stood defiantly before everyone. These old warriors clearly understood that only by defeating the Rostislavs in front of them could they win a glimmer of hope, so they would fight to the end!
And Rostislav's cavalry trampled over them without hesitation. These Chud were thus knocked down, trampled, and killed. Their blood was Rostislav's first victory of the day.
Rostislav thrust his cavalry spear upwards with force, and the frantically fleeing enemy was thus pinned to the ground, the Prince's cavalry spear also slipping from his grasp.
The next moment, the Prince drew his longsword and, with the momentum, stabbed the enemy who tried to counterattack. The sword tip bit into the body beneath the cloth, and blood gushed out.
When Rostislav had consecutively slain two people, he looked up and found that the battle had already ended.
With just one charge, they had routed these hundreds of Chud. The battlefield was littered with the barbarians' corpses, and further away, routed soldiers were fleeing for their lives. The air was filled with the pungent smell of rust and painful cries.
"Vishata, Rostislav, take your men and continue forward."
The Grand Duke, covered in blood, walked over to make the next arrangements, his eyes fixed on the chaotic Chud main camp.
"Grand Duke, why don't you charge with us?"
Such voices came from among the soldiers. Everyone was eager for the Grand Duke to lead them to continue fighting.
"Because I am the commander, not a cavalry general. Alright, quickly go and carry out your orders!"
The Grand Duke's authority was fully evident; the master of the Kiev throne spoke with an undeniable tone, and everyone immediately had no further opinions, rushing to the chaotic battlefield according to the Grand Duke's command.
And Rostislav narrowed his eyes. His grandfather performed very well, but there were some things he, a man from later generations, could not hide from him—although the Wise was skilled in stratagem and adept at management, he was never a good battlefield general.
The Grand Duke's performance today allowed Rostislav to confirm this point, but now none of that mattered. The most important thing next was to lead the army to kill into the enemy's formation and take the head of the enemy chief!
The Rostislavs' attack plunged the Chud directly into a pincer movement. Rostislav's cavalry broke through the fortifications painstakingly built by the Chud, charging towards their undefended rear.
The Chud's siege fortifications were well-built, complete with chevaux de frise and trenches. It was only a pity that no one was guarding such good fortifications now, so they were easily dismantled by the Rostislavs. The cavalry put lariats over the chevaux de frise, then drove their horses to pull them away.
"Forward! Rostislavs! Kill them all!"
Rostislav had changed to a new cavalry spear. He was galloping through the Chud camp, stabbing one howling, panicked enemy after another.
The Nuo City Prince was the first Rostislav to break into the camp. He and his attendants passed through the fortifications dismantled by his personal guards, directly crushing over the gate, which was crammed with fleeing soldiers, creating paths of blood and flesh.
Facing Rostislav's charge, the enemies, who were originally proud, retreated one after another, not daring to fight the Rostislavs at all. The night attack had completely shattered their morale, and this new attack naturally left them without the courage to respond.
Both sides of Rostislav's path forward were burning shelters. This was how the barbarians' disorganized and cluttered camps were; once a fire started, it would spread very quickly, like a galloping beast covering the entire camp.
From time to time, one could see unfortunate burning individuals screaming as they ran past, then being impaled by Rostislavs or thrown back into the fire. The screams of the burned were so painful that even seasoned warriors did not wish to hear them.
The brave among the Chud also tried to gather warriors to fight the new enemies, but when Rostislav and his attendants shot round after round of arrows with their cavalry bows, these already wavering enemies immediately scattered.
The Nuo City Prince no longer remembered any plans or overall strategies. One battle after another had his adrenaline almost exploding. He remembered his father once talking about this feeling, the so-called "thrill of battle," right? He was experiencing it now and was immersed in it; he only wanted to slay more enemies.
His mind was already occupied by the desire for battle, and wave after wave of weak enemies continuously came, satisfying his needs. As long as the cavalry charged up and killed or knocked over one or two people, the rest would immediately collapse, and what followed was a satisfying slaughter.
The Chud's counterattack seemed so feeble to him. Rostislav was stabbed in the chest several times by spearmen, but the tightly overlapping steel plates blocked the attacks, and the foolish person would be slain under his horse the next moment. He also took several arrows to his body, but the steel plates easily deflected them.
Just like herding ducks, the Rostislavs drove the routed soldiers forward. The routed soldiers broke through the Chud's rear line and swept them along. Rostislav thus advanced without losing a single soldier.
"My lord, look over there!"
As Rostislav, using the momentum of his horse, pierced the scale armor of the Chud warrior in front of him with a spare cavalry spear handed to him by Yang, and pulled out the dripping spear, Yang's voice came, waking him from the battle.
Looking in the direction of the voice, Rostislav saw a group of fully armed Chud warriors forming a battle circle in the center of the camp, protecting Alar, the joint leader of the Estonia tribes. Next to Alar was the main banner commanding the entire army.
In front of them, the tribesmen were desperately resisting the attackers.
If Alar was panicking now, at least he did not show it on his face. The joint leader of the tribes looked as usual, still calmly commanding the warriors around him, and calling more Chud to rally.
This clearly changed the wavering situation. Those in a panic, seeing this scene, regained some confidence and reassembled under the battle banner.
Rostislav's mind, which had been controlled by the killing, suddenly cleared. Had he, without realizing it, already killed his way into the enemy's center?
Calming down, Rostislav surveyed the entire battlefield and then breathed a sigh of relief. Although they were constantly advancing, because the Chud collapsed at the slightest touch in front of the cavalry, the infantry had kept up with the Prince's pace. His cavalry troop was not isolated deep in enemy territory.
His personal guards, panting, caught up with the Prince's cavalry, their armor covered in blood. However, battle intent burned in everyone's eyes, as if they wanted to incinerate all enemies. In the previous battle, they had only picked up the cavalry's leftovers, which must have made these veteran warriors very unhappy; they had been upstaged by a group of youths.
Rostislav was now also able to see the identity of the reinforcements his grandfather had kept silent about. All he saw were armored warriors, speaking Norse, with battle cries about Odin and Jehovah constantly ringing out.
Norsemen? Had his grandfather called upon a band of Viking pirates?
Rostislav thought this, but he immediately pushed these matters to the back of his mind, because he had a more important task to do—to take Alar's head!