On the vast meadow, two massive armies were arrayed, ready for battle.
The meadow battlefield was very wide, perfect for a large army to The decisive battle begins, and only at the edge of the meadow were there some forests.
On that battlefield, many people couldn't help but call out the name of God, hoping that God would grant them great victory and merciless death to their enemies.
However, as always, God would only silently watch this conflict between Christians, witnessing it silently without helping either side.
"Heh-ha!"
With a unified roar, Duke Bela's army began to advance; the warriors directly under the Duke, holding long spears and triangular shields, moved at a steady pace, slowly approaching the enemy's lines opposite them.
Noblemen, adorned with lavish and intricate equipment, surrounded Duke Bela, many of whose ancestors had galloped across battlefields when the Magyars first migrated to this land, and that equestrian legacy had been passed down to this day.
Further back were the Duke's confidants, recruited by him from various parts of Hungary; they were his personal guards, his Knights, willing to die for him.
Centered around the Duke's forces, the uneven armies of the various lords spread out; although the soldiers' armor and weapons varied, they could generally be divided into three types:
One type consisted of soldiers with cotton padded armor and iron helmets, typically wealthy urban or rural residents, whose ancestors were either among the first to transition to farming or had achieved merit in the wars and raids of those years.
Their enthusiasm for combat was quite high, as war was never unfamiliar to these people.
Another type were Nomads wearing hard leather and fur armor, their faces obscured by leather helmets, their weapons ranging from long spears to short axes, and their warhorses were also of varying quality.
Although their equipment and horses varied, the fighting spirit of this group was extremely strong; for them, war was a no-cost business—win and get rich, die and just die, nothing to dwell on.
They occasionally let out various sharp, strange cries; these sounds, a hundred years ago, were the most feared by Western farmers, because when these sounds rang out, it meant the arrival of those terrifying pagan cavalry.
The last type were commoners who simply could not afford weapons or armor, carrying farm tools or ancient weapons from who-knows-when; they constituted the largest group in Magyar society, driven onto the battlefield merely because cannon fodder was needed.
These people were also the most passive towards war, but they also longed for victory, because victory meant spoils, which was the only reason that attracted them to the battlefield; at the same time, they were constantly mindful of defeat, ready to flee immediately if defeated.
The Magyar nobles surrounding the lords wore chainmail or scale armor; some had flamboyant feathers on their helmets and carried recurve bows at their waists, while others were dressed entirely like heavy cavalry of the Eastern Roman Empire, like iron puppets.
They all carried themselves with great pride; for them, war was a ritual, a place to display their martial prowess and demeanor.
The Duke himself wore a simple long-sleeved chainmail, the core around whom all revolved, and those in the enemy formation could clearly see this vast, dense mass of iron-clad horses and riders.
The King's army opposite them had a similar setup, also with the King's elite forces positioned in the center, followed by various unevenly equipped soldiers spreading out.
The King's attire was far more lavish than Duke Bela's; the Holy Crown rested on the King's head, a precious sword hung at his waist, and luxurious robes concealed the King's weakness; he looked like a god of war, surrounded by nobles and generals like stars orbiting the moon.
Behind the King was also the heavy cavalry of the Árpád Dynasty, a force composed of the elite of the entire Magyar, whose leader was David, who had met Edward once before.
This force was also King Andrew's strongest card, and the one Duke Bela feared the most.
This was the most spirited unit in the King's army; these warriors eagerly desired to wash away the shame of their monarch leaning towards the Roman Empire with the blood of the rebels.
It was a red-clad force, everyone wearing red surcoats; their fighting spirit was as terrifying as a blazing fire.
However, to reiterate, the main colors of both armies were originally red, as both sides were descendants of Arpad and both claimed to be the legitimate monarchs of Hungary.
But within these two reds, there were some different colors, truly different ones.
On Duke Bela's side, the Knights from Poland, either mounted or on foot, were positioned on the left flank; some were dressed no differently from Roman Empire Knights, while others still wore ancient Norse or Slavic attire.
Although their equipment styles differed so much, they were all Polish Knights; after all, Poland at this time was still undergoing reforms from personal guards to Knights, so such a mix-and-match was natural.
Despite the mixed equipment, their combat effectiveness was not mixed; these were all warriors tested by the Poland Great Uprising, and in terms of combat power, they were no worse than any warrior!
Siczech commanded them; this noble was currently dressed as an ordinary warrior, merely wearing a simple chainmail and surcoat, surrounded by a group of similarly dressed individuals.
They were commoner warriors promoted by Siczech; this noble did not consider their background when selecting talents, employing anyone with ability.
This recognition made this group willing to die for him, and they were also Siczech's sharpest sword.
For this, Siczech had even been accused of not practicing nepotism, only using people of low status, and even rebellious farmers; however, Siczech never cared about such rumors.
Siczech was a trusted noble of King Bolesław and a powerful figure within Poland; he had no need to care about such gossip.
This time, he was entrusted with such a heavy responsibility by the King, to execute the King's important strategic deployment; for this, he brought all his forces and had to fulfill the King's command!
And on King Andrew's side, opposite the Polish Knights, the Roman Empire army was positioned on his right flank, facing the Polish, with Turin Border Count standing beneath the banner of Archangel Michael, which was the Roman Empire's military standard.
Most of the Roman Empire army were warriors carrying spears and shields; their equipment was much better than that of the cannon fodder soldiers; these men came from the Emperor's direct territories and were troops reinforced by the Empress to Turin Border Count.
Within the Roman Empire army, there was also a group of soldiers wielding large scimitars; they wore dome-shaped helmets, and beneath their black surcoats was chainmail; these men were excellent at breaking formations, easily accomplishing any melee or breakthrough.
As for the Knights, they stood beside Turin Border Count; these iron puppets formed the powerful charging force of the Roman Empire army, with Knights from several Roman Empire border regions forming their mainstream, always ready to enter the battlefield.
To aid the newly subjugated vassal, the Roman Empire was quite willing to expend some resources.
The current Regent Empress still remembered her deceased husband's ambition; he had single-mindedly desired to rebuild the glory of the Roman Empire, but had struggled for it his entire life with almost nothing to show for it, finally passing away with regret.
Therefore, for her husband's ambition, the Empress was willing to invest resources and troops; Hungary was the Roman Empire's greatest expansion success in recent years, and she had to secure this region.
Thus, the two armies stood face to face on the designated battlefield; battle could commence at any moment, and both armies claimed their ruler was the true King of Hungary, but ultimately, who was King would have to be decided by the sword.
However, the subsequent development was somewhat awkward; no one was willing to launch an attack—both sides knew that with their uneven armies, whoever attacked would suffer losses.
On the King's side, although Edward's victory boosted morale, issues with soldier morale and coordination with the Roman Empire army still persisted; launching an active attack would definitely put them at a disadvantage.
And on the Duke's side, Duke Bela knew that his army was, after all, a mixed force of various provincial governor armies; in terms of organization and coordination, it was probably worse than the enemy's, and while the Polish and his direct subordinates were reliable, their numbers were simply too limited.
Therefore, everyone wanted to be on the defensive, but this led to a situation where no one was willing to take the initiative to attack; thus, the two armies could stand off, and both Andrew and Bela were very patient, they could afford to wait, at worst, they would withdraw their troops at night.
However, what no one expected was that the opportunity to break this awkward stalemate on the battlefield would soon arrive.
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Time kept passing; as the cool morning passed, the temperature immediately rose, and today was a rare sunny day for this season, which made the soldiers of both armies restless.
After all, in such weather, wearing a full suit of armor under such a blazing sun, although the physical exertion was negligible compared to fighting and slaughter, it was extremely tormenting to the spirit.
Those below were not as aware of the overall situation as those above; for them, the sooner the battle began, the better, as waiting here was truly agonizing.
As the feeling of torment grew more severe, their words towards the important figures became increasingly disrespectful; what were those important figures doing? Was it fun to make them stand in the sun here?
This phenomenon was particularly severe in Duke Bela's army; his army was filled with rebellious Magyar nobles, and for these people, only the King's death could bring them peace of mind, so they eagerly desired battle, and the sun further agitated them, thus strengthening their desire for combat.
Moreover, due to their numerical advantage and the impact of the Duke of Bohemia's withdrawal, their morale was currently high, and they were eager to fight the King's army immediately.
Therefore, in such a situation, some nobles in Bela's army began to harbor ulterior motives; if a battle was to start, why not just make it happen on the battlefield, and making it happen on the battlefield was simply too easy…
"This is your son's first battle, isn't it?"
On the flank of Bela's army, a provincial governor suddenly placed a hand on the shoulder of a noble under his command, a smile on his face, and his eyes conveying a message.
"Yes, my lord, it is his first battle."
The noble glanced at his son, who was irritable due to the sun, then looked at the provincial governor's face, as if he understood something, but he remained calm.
"I believe he must be very curious about the front lines; take him to see, young people sometimes get too excited, you must control him and not let him get lost."
Next, the noble merely glanced at the provincial governor, then at the stalemated battlefield, and nodded knowingly; the provincial governor had hinted so clearly, he already knew what to do.
"I understand."
The noble said obediently.
Soon after, the noble's son led a troop of horse archers across the forest on the left side of the battlefield, and then they naturally "got lost."
Then they encountered King Andrew's scouts, and they instinctively pursued the King's scouts, arriving before the King's main army.
The entire process was extremely natural, everything seemed to happen normally, no one could find fault, and no one was willing to find fault; those horse archers knew exactly what they were doing, but they all cooperated silently.
Soon, the "lost" army clashed with King Andrew's army; the sounds of battle spread quickly, and before long, the entire battlefield was filled with such sounds.
The sound of battle made everyone restless; this was the moment they had long awaited, and even the most sluggish soldiers became fully alert.
"Tell His Majesty the King that my men have engaged the enemy; I must advance the front line, and I ask him to immediately send reinforcements."
The provincial governor who orchestrated all of this gave orders without changing his expression, and as he spoke, his troops began to advance.
As his troops advanced, others also followed suit; who cared about orders or no orders, someone taking the lead meant battle had begun, just follow the army, or continue to wait here?
——————
"Bastards! What's wrong with those people? Didn't I tell them to hold their positions before! What are they doing?!"
Watching his troops disobey his orders, and seeing the provincial governors' armies advance one after another towards the enemy under the broken window effect, Duke Bela roared in fury; these people actually openly defied his commands.
Facing the Duke's wrath, everyone remained silent, fearing they would become the target of his anger.
"That was an order! How could he do this?!"
When the messenger of the instigating provincial governor informed the Duke of the provincial governor's decision, the Duke's anger reached its peak.
Bela had intended to wear down his brother's army over time, waiting until his brother could no longer endure, but now that was impossible.
"There's nothing we can do now."
Just when everyone thought the Duke would continue to rage, his words suddenly shifted, followed by repeated sighs, and then he returned to his usual calm.
He had just realized what was happening; these matters didn't even require investigation, Bela could automatically deduce them logically; it could only be said that everything was irreversible now.
He should have anticipated things would come to this; then he wouldn't be so passive now, but now it was too late to say anything, so next, only swords could prove who was more suitable for the throne.
"Advance, the front line must not be broken."
The situation now forced the Duke to commit his entire army; if he allowed the provincial governors' armies to fight there, they were bound to be defeated, and the outcome if these men were defeated was obvious.
Under the Duke's command, horns sounded one after another, and these horns signified only one thing—attack.
Under the sound of these horns, unit after unit of Magyar troops began to move.
"Brother, it's time to end this."
Watching the movement of his troops, Duke Bela said, his eyes then hardening with determination.
And watching the movement of Bela's army, King Andrew, surrounded by nobles like stars around the moon, smiled, then he spoke the same words as Bela, his eyes also hardening with determination.
"Brother, it's time to end this."
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