"Gentlemen! The barbarian chieftain's head is right before us! As long as we take him down, we can achieve an unparalleled feat."
Prince Rostislav pointed his sword at the Estonia barbarian chieftain, who was protected by armored soldiers. That was military merit, that was glory, that was a reward.
"Follow me! We must take his head!"
"For victory!"
Accompanying their battle cries was the crisp clang of swords clashing. Everyone knew that victory was at hand!
Alar's personal guards also noticed their arrival. They adopted a stern formation to confront the approaching enemies. A group of personal guards shouted and formed a battle array against Prince Rostislav.
However, what arrived first were the Norsemen's arrows.
Prince Rostislav strung an arrow with a long, pointed arrowhead. This was a specially made armor-piercing arrowhead, meticulously crafted by the arrow smiths of Novgorod over a long period.
And its power proved it was worth the effort; neither chainmail nor scale armor could withstand its fierce strike.
The Prince chose an armored soldier who was in the midst of the crowd. This man was clearly their leader, shouting at everyone while holding a short axe.
The arrow, released from the string, shot with fierce momentum towards the personal guard who was yelling at the top of his lungs, accurately piercing his chest. The iron rings were powerless to resist this powerful blow, shattering and tearing under the arrow's force.
All of this happened in a flash. Just as the Chud personal guards were stunned by their leader's fall, Prince Rostislav's cavalry trampled in.
Prince Rostislav, from atop his warhorse, drew his bow and aimed an arrow at the enemy before him, piercing the man's eye socket. The warhorse itself knocked over the Chud who had raised their shields, trampling them under its hooves.
The personal guards, some with swords, some with lances, and some using cavalry bows like their Prince, all had one thing in common: they charged into the enemy formation on their warhorses, trampling indiscriminately.
The Chud line subsequently collapsed. They were unable to fight the mounted enemies, dissolving into disarray under the Norsemen's onslaught. Even though they were Alar's chosen Chud personal guards, their warrior's honor had vanished at this moment, and their courage had dissipated like fine sand in the wind.
"Reform the ranks! Reform the ranks!"
Prince Rostislav, having torn through the enemy's lines, was not carried away by victory. He knew very well that this was only a partial rout of the Chud personal guards; Alar's main force was still standing by in full battle array.
At the Prince's loud command, everyone ceased their pursuit. Prince Rostislav's series of combat performances had earned him everyone's trust, even from the most unruly of the older personal guards.
On the other side, Alar, protected by his armor and guards, felt incredibly bad. A few days ago, he had besieged the Norsemen's Grand Duke here, and now, tonight, he was forced into such a predicament by the raiding Norsemen.
When the attack began, the Estonia Vikings, whom he had relied on, immediately betrayed him as soon as the battle started. The traitors set fires in the camp, and the flames spread like wildfire.
After the entire Chud army's order was disrupted, the attackers charged in with extreme ferocity. These heavily armored Norsemen, showing no regard for their lives, tore through their lines, followed by a continuous retreat. The flames of war had reached his very presence.
Alar was now under immense pressure to make a decision. There was a large Norse army pressing from the front, and Norsemen cavalry on the flank. He was certainly doomed unless he fled.
But if he fled, the situation he would face afterward would be little better than death. The siege of Yuryev was already an all-or-nothing gamble, and it would be incredibly difficult to turn the tide if that gamble failed.
However, his thoughts did not last long, because directly in front of him, the wild Norsemen broke through his battle formation.
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The moment the Chud's shield wall was completely shattered, Prince Rostislav was able to see the leader of these attackers, who was the first to break through the enemy lines.
He was a strong man, two meters tall, completely enveloped in chainmail. His head was protected by a winged iron helmet. He was bathed in blood, but the blood was clearly from those foolish enough to stand in his way.
The leader held an axe in one hand and a shield in the other. The shield was an oak shield, a sturdy type of shield, but prone to bursting into large splinters and fragments from heavy blows, thus easily damaged—but oak was plentiful in the North, so it didn't matter.
After breaking through the battle formation, the man continued his slaughter. Next, cold light vanished, and blood splattered.
The first Chud who came forward was cut down.
The battle axe did not hesitate, avoiding the personal guard's chainmail bracers. As the man wailed, another blow went from his shoulder all the way to his heart.
Seeing this, the personal guards who were engaging the enemy couldn't help but hesitate, but with the arrow on the string, whether due to duty or position, they could only brace themselves and push forward.
The leader wielded his battle axe, freely slashing and cutting through the enemy crowd. The strength this man displayed made Prince Rostislav look on in surprise; neither linked iron rings nor overlapping steel plates seemed any more fragile than parchment to him.
The leader's guards also surged forward, all heavily armored and fighting the enemy. They charged, collided, and clashed swords with the enemy, fighting with courage and determination.
Warriors from both sides continuously fell, bodies piling up one after another. The Chud's casualties were noticeably higher; the Norsemen's morale and combat power overwhelmed them.
The Norse leader suddenly rushed towards the enemies in front of him, knocking down two men who were trying to surround him, then swung his axe into their helmets.
At this moment, a personal guard tried to sneak up and attack, but in the next instant, the leader stood up and delivered a blow, leaving a horrifying wound on the man's chest.
The Chud could not endure such a brutal battle for long. The personal guards collapsed like a breached dam. Their morale had already been declining due to the disadvantageous battle situation, and this fight delivered the final blow.
Undoubtedly, the Norsemen achieved a complete victory. The Chud were now desperately trying to flee the battlefield, as if their lives depended on it. No one wanted to resist, no one wanted to regroup. Their morale had completely collapsed, and the will to resist had vanished.
Even the large banner was trampled by the fleeing soldiers, falling to the dust like trash.
Behind the fleeing Chud were the pursuing Norsemen, but they were not immersed in slaughter. Instead, they skillfully pulled out ropes and tied up the unfortunate ones who had been knocked down.
Thus, in such a short time, the Chud were completely routed, which greatly surprised Prince Rostislav, who had observed the entire process from the side.
The Nuo City Prince ordered his subordinates to join the pursuit, while he himself rode his horse into the battlefield, seeing the leader standing among the corpses, and he also noticed himself.
The man removed his helmet, revealing a very northern-looking face and a standard Norse beard and long hair.
"I am Harald, King of Norway."
Thus spoke Northern Thunder, renowned across the seas.
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