Before night fell, the infidels had lost the desire to attack, and they shouted loudly to line up, but before the English could react, Edgar quickly lost interest in such a performance, and he continued to wait for a signal from the other direction.

The fireworks finally emerged from the woods in the direction of the lake, out of sight of the enemy. Edgar then gathered the knights, and they gave their positions to the squires as planned, and the king gave the care of Hereward to the Danish priests.

In the rosy twilight, the English quietly left the rear of the village, where enemy sentinels were extinct by daylight, with only a few corpses lying in the shadows of the trees.

In order to deceive the enemy, some knights gave their armor to the squires who stayed behind, making the walls of the village look almost unchanged, while Edgar himself wrapped the iron armor in thick felt and covered the shield, and he even controlled his breathing and did not let his steps be too heavy, like a hunter afraid of alarming the deer.

When the warriors reached the shore of the lake, they happened to hear the faint sound of killing in the direction of the village, maybe it was just their own people bluffing, maybe there was a real enemy attack, but they did not hesitate, and continued to approach the woods, the air of this cold night became more and more unpleasant, but Edgar breathed a sigh of relief - the Saxons were ahead.

Along with all the horses of the Saxons, Edgar realized that this was a great threat to his knights' mounts, so he decided to have Count Otto take all the horses and hide them among the southern hills.

"God forbid!" A voice appeared in his ears, Edgar looked up, and Otto's bearded face emerged from the darkness, almost startling him.

The English and Saxons who had joined together did not stop and turned straight to the northeast, the sentry on this road had been cleared earlier, and for the Slavic king, these sporadic clashes on the periphery were not a big deal, and he was concerned with the direction in which the flag of England was located.

As Edgar marched, he pondered: the enemy did not seem to have any idea of besieging them, and their main forces were concentrated in one place, and only a few stragglers were sent to harass them on all sides, but there was no real threat. In a sense, he hoped that the Slavs would be more cunning and choose a wide encirclement, which would mean that their forces would be scattered everywhere, so that he could choose a direction to make a fierce assault, and use the advantage of combat power to carry out internal movement and break through such a "gorgeous" net.

But now he could only fight the enemy's main force with a small number of troops, hoping that the Slavic barbarians would retreat as easily as during the day, and he couldn't help but think of the Russian soldiers he had seen in Sevastopol in his previous life.

There were really no sentries along the way, and it seemed that the Saxons were very clean during the day, and Edgar was thinking so, when he suddenly heard a strange noise from the direction of the riverbank, and a black figure like a water demon jumped out of the water, which frightened everyone.

The "water demon" had long hair and no strands, and the contours of his muscles were very scary, and Edgar couldn't help but pull out the "crushed ice" silver sword, he wasn't sure if he should fight the other party.

However, the monster began to run in the direction of the enemy camp. The Englishman realized that he was a sentry, and when the Earl of Otto approached from the shore, he hatefully held up a pen-shaped object to Edgar.

"Goddamn straw stalk, that bastard breathes, he's been lurking underwater for so long!"

"We must speed up and attack before the enemy can react!" Edgar put away his sword and rode his horse forward, no longer hiding the sound of his hooves.

The knights immediately whipped and kicked the thorns, and rushed forward, like dragons, and Count Otto, seeing that he was once again left behind, threw away the straw pole, jumped on the black horse, and began to give chase.

The fur of the English war horses was carefully brushed like a dark brocade, and when it crossed the dense forest at night, it seemed to emit a dark green glow, like a ghost. Edgar was the first to reach the front of the enemy camp, his eyes flying all sorts of strange flags, and he felt like he was in hell.

"All behind me!" He eventually identified a triangular banner with a four-faced idol looming over it, one holding a bow and an ox's horn in the other, the Perren flag of the Wagli that the Danish priest had told him before, the tribal emblem of King Kruto himself.

The best tactic is to deal with the enemy's large, loosely organized coalition forces, and to disconnect them by surprise attack, which is the result of Edgar's consultation with Count Otto during the day. In order to weaken the threat of the enemy's bow and arrow attack, they decided to divide the Saxons to hide their horses and clear the way; Edgar, on the other hand, took the opportunity of sunset, and took the squire's baggage as a suspicious soldier, and gathered his troops south at night, and then killed the enemy after meeting the Saxons.

This plan was not at all easy, and if it weren't for a veteran like Otto, who knew the local area well, Edgar wouldn't dare to try it anyway, and if the opponent was a well-trained elite with strong walls, it would be tantamount to suicide. Fortunately, for the time being, everything went well, except for the spy who escaped from under his nose, nothing irreparable happened, but after all, this was an attack ten times the enemy with two hundred horses, and the result was either a great victory or a tragic death. Edgar didn't have time to think about superfluous things, he just swung his sword into battle and opened a passage for the cavalry behind him, which was what he did best, in fact, no one in the entire army of England could do it better than him, and when he killed the Wagri camp, the whole person was covered in blood, and all the enemies who saw this appearance began to involuntarily move away from his direction.

"Edwin, is that you?"

"Your Majesty, the enemy has been completely dispersed by us!" The young Mercian knight hissed excitedly.

"No, this is not their main force, we only have a maximum of four formations, less than three hundred people." Edgar's voice was soft, and Edwin's knight's enthusiasm was extinguished quite a bit.

The villages below the battlefield were desolate, but the sound of fighting came intermittently from the middle.

"Edwin, give me the order, let's go back to the army to rescue." Edgar was able to taste the blood from his mouth, and he realized that his toil had not yet paid off in the final balance.

After King Kruto killed the last of his English attendants, he glanced around, but failed to find any war lords: "Where the hell are those rats hiding?" ”

When entering a room full of priests, the Slavic king seemed somewhat dissatisfied: "Who told you to do it?" ”

No one answered the question, no one cared, a group of pagan sorcerers were killed, what could their crucified god do?

Something suddenly squirmed in the middle of the corpse, and the Slavs began to be on alert, and they watched as a tall lord in black robes "came to life" from the ground, and a Saxon dagger flashed in the other's hand, and the throat of one of the guards was cut.

The ghost of the War Lord then limped in the direction of King Kruto, his expression hideous as that of a creature from another world. In the midst of the shock, no one dared to approach, not even touch the enemy with a spear, but only to protect the king behind.

At this time, there seemed to be a trumpet in the distance, and the sound of horses' hooves like a tide, which sounded like thousands of horses were approaching. When King Kruto heard this, he gave up the idea of killing the black-robed "ghost" with his own hands, and the pair of eyes that emerged from under the horsemane helmet and chain shield also shot a hateful light: "We retreat!" So the Slavs fled from the ghost's room with their king in their arms.

After the enemy left, with a crisp metallic sound, the black ghost collapsed to the ground like a hill, the wound on his face cracked open again, and he fell silently in the middle of a pool of blood, unable to hear any breath.