"How the hell did those Franks get here!"

"What about our falcons?"

The voice of the Governor of Mahri, out of tune in terror, rang out: "Damned, derelict falconers, I will hang them all at the gates of Semanud!" ”

The staff member Kommer urged in a hurried tone, "Your Excellency, now is the time for you to make a decision. Are we going to retreat, or are we going to meet the enemy? ”

"Idiots, bunch of idiots, you guys screwed everything."

Governor Mahri roared angrily.

His eyes were red, and he pointed to the Crusader knights who swept in like the flood of the Nile: "The banner of the double-headed eagle, the cavalry with wings on their backs, that is the army of the demon Lothar, and now is not the time to withdraw if you want to." ”

At this time, he could no longer care about the foolish idea of preserving his strength, and shouted to his henchmen and guards: "My Praetorian Guard, for the sake of the Holy Fire, for the sake of your master, go, kill those who do not believe." ”

"Whew!"

The Mamluks roared in unison.

They are not those mercenary ownerless Mamluks, as the private army cultivated by the Governor of Mahri, their status is like the personal guards of the family in the late Ming Dynasty, and they are the most loyal and powerful combat force under the command of the Governor of Mahri.

Hundreds of heavily armored horses took the lead in instigating war horses and launched a counter-charge against the enemy behind them, while the rest of the ordinary Mamluks who received orders followed and rushed forward as two wings.

However.

In the face of their counter-charge.

The knights of the enemy were still calmly lined up, there was no battle cry, no rush of rage, only a palpitating sense of indifference and oppression.

Especially the tall knight wearing a golden mask at the head, the dragon head cloak behind his back, seemed to really turn into a lifelike black demon dragon in the wind and sand, entrenched in the dark abyss and looked at them coldly.

Perhaps because of too much fear, each of the Saracen cavalrymen felt a deep sense of exhaustion, and even the weapons in their hands seemed to become several times heavier than usual.

They let out hoarse cries of exhaustion, trying to hide the fear in their hearts.

"Devils of the Cross, the Holy Fire will cleanse all sin."

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

The elite Mamluks, who were screaming for a fierce battle, collided with the vanguard of the Crusaders, the heavy cavalrymen who were also armed with horses and horses, and even their mounts were armed to the teeth.

Forthwith.

It's like butter cut by a hot knife.

It seems like it's just a blink of an eye.

The Saracen forwards, the horsemen in brown, black, and white scarves and hoods, vanished like sand thrown into the sea.

Then, the wind swept away the rout like falling leaves.

The flanks, the rearguard, and the cavalry and infantry of their own formation, together may not have lasted enough for a quarter of an hour, and they turned into routs fleeing in all directions, throwing away their armor, and they could no longer raise the slightest will to resist.

Governor Mahri watched the army he had built so much money disappear like snowflakes, and he couldn't even delay enough time to escape from the battlefield.

His eyes were split, and his face was full of disbelief.

"It can't be!"

"It's absolutely impossible!"

He poured countless efforts and wealth, and the Praetorian Mamluks he cultivated since he was a child asked himself to be an elite army of the same size, even the Casaji guard of King Saladin was not inferior to it.

How can it be like a cannon fodder, which is destroyed and washed away by just one face?

Could it be that his years of obscurity, his suppressed ambitions, his desire and plan for a higher position, and his investment at all these years are simply the wishful thinking of stupid and ignorant people like himself?

"Hahahaha."

He burst out laughing maniacally, tears welling up in his eyes, as if he were a laughing stock in the truest sense of the word.

"But Maier, I am a self-righteous fool, and upon returning to Semanud without a face, the Governor's seal is now entrusted to you, whether you intend to give the city to the Franks, or whether you want to hold on."

The staff looked anxious, he knew that the master to whom he was loyal was stupid, conceited, greedy, and stingy, but loyalty had long been engraved in his mind, and he clung to the arm of Governor Mahri.

"My lord, we still have a chance, Lord Adil is about to arrive in Buhaila Province, as long as we close our doors and guard the city gates, we will definitely be able to hold out until the moment when Lord Adil leads the army to help."

Mahri looked at his loyal servant in a daze, and shook his head expressionlessly: "No, but Mar, I have lost my glory and my most elite army, and the city of Semanoud cannot be defended in any way, and even if I could—Adil would never allow an incompetent man like me to steal a high position again, he would execute me to assert his authority, and if I die in battle, I will barely have a shred of dignity." ”

He raised his whip fiercely and whipped it on the staff member's mount: "Go, Kemer, live as you wish, and tell the people that Mahri died at the hands of the Franks, the demon king of the Crucifixes, Lothar." ”

…

The old mage, who was as shriveled as a dead tree, was clutching the staff in his hand with a nervous face, and he had no way to cast a spell to summon hundreds of headless cavalry.

"Damn it!"

"Damn it!"

"How could it be such a coincidence."

"Are all these Saracen falcons blind?"

He didn't want to be an enemy of Lothar's level at all, but the bad thing was that he didn't seem to have any room to escape at the moment, the enemy came too suddenly, and he wasn't one of those guys who had a lot of money and could pull out a portable teleportation array at every turn.

"They must be stopped!"

"While there are still more corpses available at the moment, the dead air is the most abundant."

"Damn, I've been collecting materials for so long, am they all going to be wasted today?"

"Can't you just sit down and have a good talk?"

He muttered a language that the Saracen guards on the side couldn't understand at all, and the black mist around him quickly expanded.

A moment later.

Out of the black fog came out of the dense army of the undead again, some of them were only white bones, some of them were still hanging rotten and shriveled rotten flesh, some cavalry on mounts, and some skeletons with no rags or weapons.

They weren't just the Saracen army that had just been killed, and they had come back from the dead.

Instead, the mage Alam used the dead qi on the body of the dead to sacrifice their souls, and briefly manifested the ghosts who had died in this land for thousands of years, which were originally not physical at all, and could not cause harm to others, as if separated from the material world by a deep barrier.

But now, they're coming from behind the ramparts.

This moment.

Rao is cavalry team under Lothar's command with high morale and extraordinary strength can't help but feel a little frightened.

The horses stopped uneasily, went around, and even threw the knights behind them off their horses.

The eclipse let out a high-pitched, disdainful hiss.

Lothar grabbed the reins and said in a relaxed tone, "It's not just you who has an army of the dead." ”

"Pranya, Wild Hunt!"

As Lothar's voice fell.

The temperature that had already plummeted due to the army of dead called by Alam dropped a lot again.

A shocking amount of frost floated in the air.

The black ink turned into the black armor of the wearer out of thin air, riding skeleton war horses, and surrounded the cold cavalry, and under their helmets, two cold fires burned with the cold fire, which passed down with the silent command.

The Wild Hunters all urged their mounts and charged towards the enemy.

Compared to the Black Cavalry of Niffergard, these Wild Hunt Troopers are clearly more terrifying.

Because they already exist in the mythological system of this world, the Norsemen regard them as Odin's hounds, the Germans regard them as the minions of the god of death, and in the mythology of Albion and Celtic, King Arthur, the demigod Gwen and other legendary characters are regarded as posthumous members of the hunt.

(End of chapter)