As the night wore to an end, the Emperor's Italian allies gathered their retinues and barons, and the drunken counts cursed and gave orders and roared like thunder, and their castle stewards and stables resounded like echoes, and continued to give high orders, piercing the noise and restraining their armies along the avenues of the northern plains of Zobala.

A new assault is about to begin, and the breeze blows through the chain links of chain mail, the golden braids and the shining banners, and it will be a day that will change the fate of many living beings, from the hereditary nobility to the low-ranking infantry. They will weave death and will be woven by death, when shields become prosthetic legs, spears become crutches, and the glory of war is forgotten by the years, and the survivors will still be grateful for the mercy of fate and lament the misfortune of the deceased.

The heavy chain mail of the heavy cavalry reflected a formidable glow, and the iron beasts were flanked by nothing more than a woman—the one who had held off their seven attacks.

That's all about to change.

Perhaps under the influence of the St. Peter's battle flag, the knights pulled down their steel shields, as if they couldn't bear to face the next scene: empire and faith, one will die today. The lords had already severed their vassal ties with the Tuscan Bianbo, but that wasn't enough, there was a Pope standing behind their old master, and they were Italians, and their soldiers were Italians, which meant that the Pope was much heavier than a Teutonic who claimed to be Emperor, and now they finally had a Pope behind them, and the Bianbo was isolated and had to kill the woman before she could erect another Pope!

The sky is like a dome of great stones, the earth is like an altar of blood, and the whole world is a temple, and the princes judge everything with steel, and life does not cease, and judgment does not cease. The sound of horses' hooves and trumpets flooded the battlefield, ancient battle flags hovered over the death dance, and the knights of Carinthia, Ferrara, and Lucca approached the Canossa array, and the warriors in the front row fell from their horses, spears out, and one by one they abandoned the array, single-handedly charging into the chained enemy formation.

They slammed into their sturdy shields, their horses raised their front hooves, spears pierced into the gaps of their breastplates and helmets, the chests and throats of the Nameless were nailed through, blood and fear reigned in the rouncing.

"Come on, fate is my bitch!" The Count of Reyna let out a merry battle cry, he had just called fate a maiden, but fate still favored him.

Sharp swords and axes poked out from behind the shield and slashed at the horses, the heavy horses that had fallen to the ground danced in vain, sharp crossbows and javelins whistling from the flanks and fronts, and the black rain unleashed blood flowers, taking several lives in one round.

Anselm smashed the front legs of two horses with a single hammer, causing the animals to crash to the ground, breaking the spine of the ironclad cavalryman on his back.

"Fuck, are you babies!"

Like an enraged grizzly bear, he roared and cracked the skulls on the ground, causing the approaching cavalrymen to turn sideways and slap the slenders of their swords against the slenders around them, the rampage of their horses hooked to their broken spears and their hooves to their knees, the steel warriors hanging from their harnesses, their mouths and noses dripping with thick blood.

The scene of the rout being trampled into meat sauce by their own people is extremely bloody, and the frightened people will not remember the dignity of the empire, but will only become a dead corpse with a fist clenched in the dirt or a frightened ant.

"Enough!" Count Alberto stuck his broadsword in the dirt, "Let them all pull back." ”

As the elite heavy cavalry stumbled back to camp, Alberto was thinking angrily how the widow of Canossa would mock herself under the ornate tent.

After noon, he approached the silk tent through the crowd of people who were brushing his clothes and dragging corpses, and pushed away an attendant who had stepped forward to untie his robe: "Ladies and gentlemen, no matter what, this war must end today!" ”

"The blood of the Luccas has been drained." A priest beside Count Hugo muttered, as if he was afraid that Alberto would hear.

"What do you say? If it weren't for your men fleeing like the plague, we would have stuck our spears into the hearts of the Canossas! A lord in a white horse-embellished robe shouted.

"No matter what, we Luccas will not participate in the afternoon battle!"

"Don't argue yet!" Lyutport, Duke of Carinthia, coughed, "I have good news. ”

As he spoke, he bowed his body and gave way to a gray-robed priest from behind him.

"Brother Dagobert, you're finally back." Count Alberto gave an insincere welcome with an almost sneer.

"Yes, my lord, I brought news from Bologna." Priest Dagobert saluted, knowing that the people of the Ortport family had always disliked Bishop Vizilo, and that he happened to be the one who had been ordained to the priesthood.

"Did they say yes?" Count Alberto also had a look of anticipation on his face, the hardships of the battle had worn away the little pride that everyone had left, and knowing that reinforcements were about to arrive would at least boost the morale of the battalion.

Dagobert shook his head: "They refused to send troops. ”

"So what are you doing here? Want to try the whip? ”

"No, Bologna refused to send troops, but my friends in the city persuaded others to cut off their support for Matilda, and from now on, not a single truckload of supplies would reach her camp."

"Do you understand? Matilda's men and Milanese don't have to wait long, and in the meantime we just have to cut off the road to Modena. ”

"But, in that case, where is the glory?" The protest was by Reina of Tuscany, one of the vassals who betrayed Madame Matilda.

"him to glory!" Another Tuscan, Count Hugo, suddenly burst out, "As long as the woman is dead, it is enough." ”

At this time, a young warrior in iron armor opened the curtain and entered the tent, and he came to Dagobert: "My lord, those Bolognese want to see you......"

The priest glanced at the Duke of Carinthia, nodded before picking up the edge of his robe, dusting off the dust and stepping out of the tent, the young warrior following closely behind, his ice-blue eyes scanning the surroundings.

"Let's do it." Dagobert's faint voice was like a spell, triggering a strange reaction in the samurai.

With a bang, the sword was unsheathed, and the young highland warrior slashed down one of the guards outside the tent, and kicked the brass fire frame down on the tent, and a faint blue flame appeared on the silk drapery, and he blew a long whistle.

The bandaged soldiers were tossed to the ground by the sudden rush of Bolognese soldiers, and the lords and knights full of tents were not aware of the massacre that had taken place outside, and the flames had begun to spread to the top of the tent.

Dozens of Bolognese mercenaries surrounded the burning tent, and their leader blocked the gate with a long sword, the highland warrior suddenly took a few steps back, a spear point piercing out of the curtain, and he swung sideways to release a burning lord from the tent.

The orange flames made the tall Earl of Otport look like a dragon burning on his chest, and the discoloration on the young Highland warrior's face was fleeting.

The familiar smell, compared to the cruelty that my father showed, what is this?

He caught the slightest opportunity in the frantic movements of his enemies, and the next moment, his sword struck the shadow of the flame, piercing through the cracks in his armor and shredding the nearby cloak.

"Ah...... Ah......h

"Who ......" The sizzling burning obliterated the man's remaining doubts, and the angry doubts accompanied the charred corpse.

"My name is Angus......" the Highland warrior sighed softly, and the real battle ensued: a hundred of them had to hold off the six thousand troops in the barracks!

"If I die, who will avenge my father?" Angus remembered his mission and clenched the sword in his hand, no, his ultimate enemies were the king, not these people.

As the ancient proverb goes, if one is against a hundred on the battlefield, the sin in hell is also against ten thousand. Angus was already showing signs of sin, and his blade struck all enemies at incredible angles, extinguishing a dozen hearts before returning to its original position. Behind him, Dagobert had never seen such swordsmanship—the supreme skill of the Gaelics—and the priest had forgotten about the battle around him, and just watched his magnificent performance with bated breath.

The vast barracks were like an ocean, and the sea was constantly rushing past them, but the enemy who had lost their command could not attack at the same time, they crashed into it like a wave, and fell to pieces.

Tearing through the boundless darkness was a white light, and Angus quickly realized that it was his own reinforcements.

Gorgeous and blazing like a vapor light, it was a work of steel in full bloom, and Angus recognized the leader, the white-armored winged helmeted knight, he had seen this kind of equipment.

Two hundred knights in full armor poured in, their steel armor shining like a dome lens, and the unique full-body plate armor of the English knights not only shocked the emperor's allies, but also intimidated the army under the command of Bishop Odo, and Robert Mallet, wearing a winged helmet, stabbed his sword into the eye socket of an enemy and roared loudly in Norman language.

The Capuans, Flemish, and Canossa had finally entered a state of war frenzy, white pennants with golden crosses flying in the middle of the camp on the plains, crossbow arrows spilling down like tears of the gods, and the stench of corpses filling the killing field.

"What did we do?" Dagobert shuddered suddenly, he looked at the smoking corpses in the ashes, and at the large round blood-stained armor on the English knight's body, and he couldn't help but urinate quickly soaked his entire lower body.