John Ducasse the Younger saw a perfect cavalry charge on the banks of the Ishka, and from his point of view, the Magyar knights were clearly superior in numbers, skillfully drawing arrows and firing with fierce fire, while the Latins approached the enemy in echelons with agile steps, which minimized the coverage of the fire. As the distance between the two sides approached, a loud command sounded, led by the Latins, all the cavalry began to accelerate to a large stride, and then it was a charge at a uniform speed, and the Magyars, who had stopped archery, finally drew their broad-edged swords and prepared to meet the enemy, and the Latin cavalry kicked their spurs, relaxed their reins, and rushed forward with their horses.

At the moment of the collision, the Latins leaned back and naturally rammed into the spear, no one stood up from the stirrups or bent down close to the horse's neck as they did when attacking the infantry, and the somewhat scattered formation, disturbed by the rain of arrows, still rushed forward in a more or less orderly manner, and the Magyars remained in place, passively responding, without the fearless momentum of the Latins. Blind confidence in their own strength made these horseback elites who had been attacked by surprise a target on the training ground, and the Latins used a captured head as a military flag, and under the guidance of the head, one by one the horses were steadily facing the front, with long shields and wings, and the heads of the horses were high, and no one disrupted the overall front because of their individual performance. The echelons of different waves were like long whips, and they were pumped up fiercely, and the Magyars suffered a devastating blow, and in an instant, the number of string control knights left on horseback was reduced by a small half, and most of the rest began to collapse before contact, and the overall effect was comparable to a shotgun covering in later generations.

"Who's that guy?" John asked with a horsewhip pointing at the Latin knight in a black steel helmet.

"Our sir, Lord Angus." It was the Cumans who answered, and his alien tones were as cold as iron through a layer of iron.

After hearing the answer from the interpreter, the eyes of the commander of the Dillakim Military District, John Ducasse, lit up.

"Looks like we don't need us here."

By the time John admired, the Latins had stopped their pursuit, and a hurried shout rang out in the middle of the scattered ranks, and after the Latins had collectively turned, the reinforcements quickly realized what had happened.

"Raise my banner and let the other side know who we are."

After saying that, a striped military flag belonging to the Roman general was unfurled like a waterfall, and this flag meant the highest authority for the entire military district.

The caution of the Latins was not unreasonable, the forces in the land were intricate, the Norman War had actually ended completely in the summer of the previous year, and there were some castles in the vicinity that were controlled by the remnants of Bohemond, and it was impossible to be too careful with an army that suddenly appeared on the borders of the Western Military District.

Angus finally met John Ducasse Jr., his armor and robes stained with blood, his bare blackened steel-bladed sword that had even forgotten to dry and sheath, and his standard-bearer did not seem to realize what a serious offense it was to continue to erect that ridiculous black head in front of the chief nobles of the Empire.

"Lord Angus, you've really impressed us!"

"This is the Duke of Dillageum." The Greek translator in charge of greeting him whispered a reminder.

Angus was still tasting the taste of victory, and the muscles of his body felt the sweet and sour of exhaustion, until he was secretly poked by Gillick, and he gave birth to the consciousness of a noble man in person.

"Your Excellency...... I...... Please forgive my faux pas. ”

John stepped forward, untied his magnificent purple-rimmed black robe, snatched the black sword, wiped the blood from the blade of the young knight, who was still in a daze, and inserted it into the scabbard at the side of his saddle.

"Don't be so restrained, Lord Angus, this is not Brachna Palace. At the front, a lion is a lion, a sheep is a sheep, and there is no point in any performance. ”

The age of the chief nobleman may have played a role, but Angus's habit of contempt for authority at his adoptive father's side was the main factor, and in any case, Angus recovered quickly and was as calm as well water.

In front of the big guys, attitude is not everything, and the weight occupied by value is often higher.

Dagobert's words sounded in his mind in time: "Everything has a price, flattery and flattery are the most worthless kinds, climbing up is not a problem, the key is, what price are you willing to pay?" ”

He knew very well that the respect in front of him was what he had just exchanged for his life, not just his own life, he gambled on everyone's lives, including Gilic's, Maeve's......

The number of prisoners was not large, and many were mortally wounded and thrown on the battlefield by their comrades or mounts. But the Greeks naturally had a way of getting what they wanted to know from the mouths of the remaining captives.

"The affairs of the North are imminent, my Lord Angus, the front needs every man who can fight, and now I order you to follow me to Sedika, and then join the main force of Your Majesty."

"Yes."

In the green Balkan valleys, the small Imperial legion slowly marched back to its division, and along the way, John Jr., who was very interested in Angus's victory, asked him why he had sent away half of his troops in advance, and only used a small number of troops to fight the Magyars.

Angus immediately told him that the Hungarian knights were very skilled at archery on horseback, and although their accuracy and rate of fire were reduced, they were more mobile than foot archery.

"If I don't let them think that they have absolute superiority, then my men may be constantly harassed from the flanks by the enemy on fast horses, and when they think that any maneuver is superfluous, I, though I have fewer troops and slower horses, in turn take the initiative in the battle."

Angus thought of his defeat in Italy, and despite his fortified position and superiority on the high ground, he was captured by the more flexible and proactive Normans, and even lost the flag that Madame Matilda had made for herself. The Normans taught him a lesson written in blood, far more vivid than the military principles written in ink in the manual given to him by Robert Mallett.

The battlefield was not cleaned up because of the haste he had, and John Jr. very thoughtfully offered that his men should take care of the cleanup, and the rewards of Angus's men would be left entirely to him.

Even fighting for the Pope could not be fought in vain, and Angus was a little worried about how to ensure the remuneration of these people, but now he was relieved to have the support of a Ducasse - Dukas, as we all know, was richer than the king of Lydia.

John certainly didn't care about such a trifle, for the tribute the Emperor himself paid to the Sultan of Baghdad was much higher than the reward for eighty Latin mercenaries, and as Emperor Leo had said, a small bribe could buy a Frankish prince - a barbarian had always been very narrow-minded.

However, this is a barbarian who knows how to do things, and he may be able to help him realize his ambitions, and besides, the emperor has always liked to promote such a foreigner, and with the appearance and talent of this young man, it is not too difficult to get ahead in Constantinople at the moment, and when the time comes, his price will naturally be more than that.

"You don't look like an Italian, you don't look like a Frank." John tempted the young man with a chattering attitude.

"I'm from the North." Angus's Greek could only go so far.

"Ah, Celtic." The chief nobleman was obviously no stranger to the races of the North.

Angus nodded, his origin was meaningless here, this noble man obviously wouldn't look down on him because he was Molay's heir, and the way out for an illegitimate child was on the battlefield, not on the genealogy.

"I have a hunch that it won't be long before you're going to be famous in the capital." The compliment of the high-ranking and powerful, though cheap, is enough to make the frivolous float float.

John himself did not expect this irresponsible prophecy to come true so quickly.