Chapter 8: The Widow and The Empress
Chapter 8: The Widow and the Empress
In the blink of an eye, Lothar had closed the distance to the enemy to fifty meters. He could even clearly see the man’s face: filthy, covered in grime, with a beard as wild and unkempt as tangled grass.
Dark eyes, dark hair, and a dark beard. ’Are these Hungarians?’
He squeezed his mount’s flanks hard, and the warhorse transitioned from a trot to a furious gallop. The wind howled in his ears, and an honor guard of thundering hooves accompanied him.
The instant he was about to pass the enemy, his lance shot out. The sharp tip pierced straight through the chest of the rider to his left, sending him flying violently from his horse. The tremendous impact sent a numbing shock up Lothar’s arm.
But inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief. This light cavalryman, clad only in a padded jacket, was not only far worse equipped than him, but his combat skills were also quite mediocre. It seemed they weren’t formidable opponents.
Blood streamed down the shaft of his lance. Lothar casually discarded it, letting it fall to the ground with the dead rider’s body, and drew the arming sword from his saddle, swinging it at the other cavalryman.
’Clang!’
The enemy’s saber struck his shield, leaving only a shallow scratch. The two riders galloped past each other.
Lothar wheeled his horse around and charged at the cavalryman again. But the man, having seen his companion die in an instant, had a look of terror on his face. He only dared to skirmish from the side, not brave enough to charge in and engage in close combat.