Based on training and accumulated combat experience, the Prince's cavalry formed neat ranks at the command, the entire process very natural, with an aesthetic order that was quite pleasing to behold.
The Rostislav cavalry formed three battle lines, all of them skilled in archery and horsemanship, constantly nocking arrows and firing volleys, and the Polovtsy on the opposite side were no different; the people of the felt tents were naturally adept at mounted archery and would not show fear in this regard.
For a time, arrows flew back and forth in the air, and beneath the arrows were screams and wails.
Archery and horsemanship were the forte of the felt tent people, but they were hampered by their own weak defenses; compared to the average iron armor of the Rostislav cavalry, they could only rely on their fur clothing.
The Polovtsy continuously screamed and fell from their horses, while the Rostislav horsemen, even with many arrows stuck in them, continued to fight spiritedly; after all, those arrows were truly nothing to iron armor. As for arrows landing on the warhorses, that was bad luck; they could only fall off, and if they were lucky, they only took a big tumble. If they were unlucky, they might even be trampled by their comrades' horses. Fortunately, there were only a few such unlucky individuals, otherwise the Prince's heart would not be able to bear it.
Prince Rostislav bent his bow and nocked an arrow, shooting down the lead chieftain in the Polovtsy ranks. The silver iron mask was directly pierced by the Prince's armor-piercing arrow, but then another chieftain took over the command, and the chaos Prince Rostislav had hoped for did not arrive.
The Prince did not continue shooting, as they had entered the distance for a charge. He placed his cavalry bow on the saddle, drew out his suspended cavalry spear, and leveled it at the Nomads' formation. Everyone behind him did the same, and for a moment, cavalry spears bristled, facing the enemy directly.
The Polovtsy on the opposite side showed no fear at this; they actually either drew their scimitars or raised their cavalry spears and charged forward like that. Although their formation was chaotic, their ferocity could not be ignored.
This greatly surprised Prince Rostislav. After so many skirmishes, Nomads cavalry basically collapsed upon impact when facing a cavalry charge, unable to even gather to resist for a moment. Yet, these Polovtsy before him actually mustered the courage to charge them head-on.
"Maintain formation! It seems we're in for a true cavalry battle this time!"
Prince Rostislav roared, a loud voice being a basic quality a battlefield commander should possess. He also raised his cavalry spear and waved it several times, signaling to his retainers to take this seriously; these enemies were not the bow cavalry who scattered with a single charge.
The two cavalry units quickly approached each other, and the horsemen on both sides bore immense pressure. After all, nothing tested a horseman's psychology more than a cavalry charge. When thinking about the possibility of a brutal collision with cavalry charging at the same speed from the opposite side, even the most seasoned warrior would feel fear.
This was not about being elite; it was purely a psychological test. Unless one was accustomed to such impact cavalry battles, anyone would feel fear.
Prince Rostislav himself felt immense pressure looking at the enemy formation. On the battlefield, swords and spears had no eyes; even with his status, he might perish there, but he could not retreat. If he retreated here, how could he win a better future with sword and blade?
Facing the charge, the Prince's battle-hardened cavalry inevitably began to waver. Some newly recruited soldiers, out of cowardice, tried to turn their horses away from the enemy formation, as a head-on charge against an enemy cluster was simply too much pressure, too terrifying.
But crossing long spears blocked them; those were the discipline officers arranged by Prince Rostislav. They held three-meter-long spears and moved along both sides of the formation, precisely to drive back any cavalry who feared battle into the ranks.
Under the discipline officers' shouts and the whipping of their long spears, the military formation was maintained, though it was more uneven than usual, but at least the formation was still there.
The situation of the Nomads cavalry on the opposite side was much worse than that of the Rostislav. They had no one to maintain their formation or urge on deserters. Although they initially bravely chose to charge the Rostislav head-on with brute courage, under the pressure of the Rostislav's neat formation, more and more Nomads cavalry broke away from the ranks, and the Nomads army's battle line became increasingly sparse.
The Polovtsy had not expected the other side to be so reckless. In their view, when their Khan's direct subordinates displayed a charging posture, those cavalry supported by farmers would surely automatically collapse, and then they would harvest the enemy's sparse line and easily defeat them. But now, the situation was completely reversed.
As they drew closer, the pressure faced by both sides reached its peak. The Rostislav battle line, through constant reorganization and shouts, had become ragged, losing all its former neatness, but the Nomads' battle line had completely become a scattered, short line.
Prince Rostislav noticed that the equipment of the enemies before him was much better than what he usually saw; at least their fur clothing had several pieces of leather. He thought these people's fighting strength was not bad, and perhaps this was their confidence to charge. But unfortunately, they encountered his army.
Innumerable cavalry thus intertwined, two cavalry units charging at their fastest speed collided.
Screams, war cries, and the clash of warhorses, swords, and blades instantly resounded through heaven and earth. Horsemen continuously fell, then were trampled by hooves, blood and shattered limbs constantly flew, and death was everywhere.
Prince Rostislav's cavalry spear directly pierced the head of a Nomad who appeared in his narrow field of vision due to the rapid charge; that iron helmet could not withstand this blow with immense horse power. Watching the Nomad fall from his horse behind him, the Prince used his cavalry spear to stab an enemy who came swinging a scimitar, bringing him down from his horse.
The Prince looked around. He was very happy that no one around him had fallen; the dead were basically all Polovtsy. The Rostislav battle line and armor protected them, saving them from death, with at most only wounded appearing.
Undoubtedly, the Nomads army suffered a massacre. Their battle line was already severely broken, and while the Rostislav line was not neat, they were numerous and powerful, and everyone was full of fighting spirit and had sturdy armor, far superior to the Polovtsy.
Each Nomads horseman basically faced the encirclement of three or more Rostislav horsemen. Long spears pierced them, turning the Nomads into sieves, and some unlucky ones were directly cut into human sticks by swords and blades.
The Nomads' battle line was completely crushed. Their corpses lay all over the ground, while the Rostislav side suffered no losses at all, except for the unluckiest ones who directly collided with enemy horsemen.
Prince Rostislav roughly surveyed the battlefield; about 20 Polovtsy horsemen had been cut down. The others, seeing this scene, directly fled. Their battle line had been completely shattered. With them being scattered soldiers, was there still any possibility of resistance?
So they ran, running without looking back. As for the Khan's warhorses, no one cared about them anymore; anyway, there were so many teams transporting horses, so one team less didn't matter.
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