A eunuch with a smooth chin said to the Saracen chieftain: "Prince Zahir, we have gone too far into enemy territory, is it time to retreat?" ”

"Withdraw?"

"Harry, are you scared out of these Frankish brutes? Losing that thing has ruined all your guts! ”

The leader of this group of Saracen cavalry was none other than Saladin's third son, Zahir al-Ghazi, the titular lord of Aleppo and governor of northern Syria.

The eunuch said calmly: "Prince Zahir, my king has ordered me to take care of you, this is my duty!" ”

Zahir glanced at the eunuch contemptuously: "Enough, I must make enough merits, otherwise when will Adil Savoddin return my Aleppo to me?" ”

Speaking of his uncle, the Syrian governor Savoddin, Zahir called him by his first name without respect.

"I will prove that I am still the most worthy son of my father."

Zahir drew his sword and shouted: "The flame burns forever, supreme and great!" Let these Franks see the strength of my most elite Mamluk guards! ”

"The flame is forever burning, supreme and great!"

The Saracen cavalry screamed and galloped out like a black hurricane.

These elite cavalry, who were selected from the best of the Ghulam slaves, equipped with fine scale armor and chain mail, and rode on the Mawari war horses purchased from Tianzhu, were far from being comparable to the Ghulam cavalry who had been beaten to the ground by the Crusader cavalry in the past.

They had been trained in martial arts since childhood, and were one of the most elite troops under Zahir's command, and he believed that even if they were not as good as his father Saladin's Mamluk guards, they were by no means comparable to the Frankish cavalry.

Lothar took the lead and rushed to the front, Hans clutching the riding spear with the Black Eagle swallowtail flag, and under the helmet, a pair of pupils had turned into the vertical pupils of a beast.

Behind, knights with swallowtailed flags and square flags roared loudly.

"Charge."

"In the name of the Royal Knights!"

"In the name of the Father!"

"In the name of Jerusalem!"

"Kill all these Saracen pups."

The cavalry shouted different slogans and accents, and even they didn't know what they were shouting, but subconsciously roared like wild beasts to vent the tension in their hearts.

The black cavalry and the red cavalry were like two waves, surging relative to each other on the ground, as if they were going to shoot together in the next moment, setting off a blood-colored stormy wave.

Lothar felt the crackling sound incessantly.

He didn't know what had hit his helmet, whether it was an arrow or a stone mixed in the sand, and under the mask, his breathing became extremely heavy, like a bellows.

It's close.

It's closer.

Lothar could even clearly see the oncoming cavalry, their hideous faces, their rough skin blown by the wind and sand, and their swarthy and messy beards.

Bang –

The cavalry spear in Lothar's hand knocked the Mamluk cavalry holding a round shield on the opposite side into the air.

His feet were still on the stirrups, his body fell backwards, and he fell to the ground, and he was met by the trampling of countless horses' hooves, and he died in an instant.

Lothar slowly summoned the magic in her body, nourishing the soreness in her arm.

Immediately after that, is the next enemy.

The sharp Saracen stabbed straight at a sharp angle, aimed right at Lothar's neck.

Hmmm-

The black shield was like a sharp axe, directly cutting off the arm of the Mamluk cavalry who stabbed this straight sword.

Dressed in iron armor, Pranya rode a war horse, like a shadow behind Lothar, attacking from all directions, and few could break through her defenses.

Whoosh –

Lothar suddenly raised his shield, and a powerful arrow cluster "snatched" and nailed to it, and the sharp arrow pressed against his finger holding the shield, and there was a sharp pain.

If he hadn't been wearing a pair of chainmail gloves, his fingers would have been severed by arrows.

With his keen beastly instincts, he immediately locked onto the Saracen cavalryman who was shooting cold arrows at him.

His armor was obviously different from the others, and he was surrounded by him, and there were no guards who charged together, which showed the other party's extraordinary identity.

He shouted, "Hans, Prajna, cover me!" ”

Immediately, he discarded his cracked cavalry spear, drew his armed sword, which Marles had made himself, and charged at the cavalryman.

Bang –

A hammer broke through Prajna's defenses and smashed directly on top of Lothar's head.

Lothar felt the pressure on her neck rise sharply, and the lower edge of her iron helmet slammed into her sunken skin.

The sound of iron objects colliding made his entire brain go dark.

Lothar raised her shield, and the hammer slammed into it again.

The shield in Lothar's hand and the arm holding the shield slammed back on him, and he couldn't feel the pain anymore, and as soon as he calmed down, he drew his sword and tried to fight back.

But then, a spear pierced the man's chest, knocking him to the ground.

Lothar could see Ulm's back, and the feathers were unfolding backwards due to the high-speed gallop.

More and more hussars rushed forward.

As hussars, they charged faster than Lothar's armored mount, which had not had time to change.

Zahir put down the horn bow in his hand in amazement and said, "This Frankish leader and his guards are truly brave! If you take those feathered cavalrymen, don't kill them, let them join me in the Mamluks. ”

The eunuch beside him advised again: "My lord, let's withdraw, with your honorable status, you should not be involved in such a sinister battle!" ”

Zahir proudly rejected the slave's admonition: "No, I am the son of Saladin, the eagle in the desert, the master of Syria, and I am not afraid to fight!" ”

"He wants to fight me, so come on!"

He raised his straight sword, roared, and with a group of guards protecting him, he rushed towards Lothar, who was cutting through the Mamluk cavalry like a sharp arrow.

Looking down from the sky, you can clearly see the black waves, which are showing a kind of encirclement, enveloping the red and white waves.

The light horsemen on both wings of the Saracens were charging towards the village.

These light cavalry were responsible for delaying the support of the Crusader infantry, otherwise the Mamluk cavalry, which had lost its striking power after the two cavalry had been fed, was likely to be surrounded by the Crusader sergeants.

In this state, perhaps the Mamluk cavalry could still play a one-to-one exchange ratio, but to exchange the well-trained cavalry with the infantry who had the shortest or even a week from the training ground to the battlefield, even if it was a one-to-ten exchange ratio, it was an unacceptable loss for Zahir.

In the rear, the light infantry of the Knights also opened fire.

Lothar did not train archers or crossbowmen, but a significant number of the new sergeants recruited by the Order were mountain people from Armenia who believed in the Apostolic Church.

In addition to their main weapons, spears and shields, they also carried the ancestral sling, an ancient but practical weapon that could reach a range of up to 200 meters.

They leapt out of their cover and dashed forward a few quick steps, throwing fist-sized pieces of gravel at the enemy's light horsemen with a flick of sling.

Caught off guard, several of the Saracen light horsemen who were only equipped with leather armor were smashed to the point of bleeding and fell off their horses.

Heavily armoured Ryan and Moder, armed with battle axes in their hands, each led a group of Varangian guards, shouting, "Charge with me and kill all the damned infidels!" ”

The next moment, the crusader sergeants, who were still in cover, rushed up like a tide at the light cavalry that had been sluggish in front of the enemy.