Medieval: Kingdom Come: Deliverance

Chapter 208 Knight's Charge

Chapter 209 Knight's Charge

"Come back! You idiots!"

Zawish's roar was drowned out by the thunderous sound of horses' hooves.

He watched helplessly as nearly half of his cavalry were lured away, his heart sinking into an ice cellar.

Seeing this, Adel's mocking expression vanished instantly, replaced by a cold smile. He yanked the reins sharply, turned his horse around, and shouted, "Go!"

The group of seven immediately transformed, riding their warhorses nimbly and swiftly into the depths of the dense forest, a far cry from their previous clumsy demeanor.

Lured, the Polish cavalrymen frantically chased after the "vagrants" ahead, rushing into a relatively open clearing in the woods.

The ground was covered with a thick layer of fallen leaves, and the surrounding area was filled with dense tree trunks.

Suddenly, a deep and unsettling horn sound pierced the clamor of the forest!

"For the Silver Dawn! For justice that has been trampled upon!"

Like demons emerging from hell, twenty-eight heavily armored Silver Dawn Knights, led by Peter, suddenly appeared from behind the cover around the open space!

They were fully armored, their tall warhorses draped in cloaks, and the knights held their lances, each over three meters long, their tips gleaming with a deathly light in the sunlight filtering through the leaves. Chris's silver Dawn banner fluttered high in the wind.

The Polish cavalry were caught off guard; their speed was too great, and their formation had already broken during the pursuit. Faced with this sudden, imminent, and fierce charge, they had no time to adjust.

The torrent of steel crashed violently into the chaotic Polish cavalry ranks.

The sound of the spear breaking was like thunder, and wood chips and shards of armor flew everywhere.

The warhorses collided violently, the sound of bones shattering was sickening.

A Silver Dawn Knight's lance pierced precisely into the breastplate of a Polish cavalryman, the immense impact sending him flying off his horse like a rag doll.

Roars, screams, the mournful neighing of warhorses, the ear-piercing roar of clashing metal, the muffled thud of breaking bones—all these sounds intertwined to create a symphony of death, so loud it made one's eardrums ache.

The strong smell of blood instantly overwhelmed the scent of soil and vegetation, filling the nostrils with a rusty, sweet odor.

Peter could feel the resistance as the spear pierced the enemy's body, and the tactile sensation of the spear shaft vibrating in his hand. The cold metal gauntlets were now covered in warm liquid.

Peter pointed directly at the Polish cavalry captain who had led the charge.

In the instant the two crossed paths, Peter flicked his wrist, deflecting the hastily thrusting spear tip at a precise angle. Then, using the momentum of the horse, the spear tip slid down, like a venomous snake, into the gap between the opponent's helmet and breastplate.

"Pfft!"

A dull thud echoed as a sharp weapon pierced flesh. The Polish cavalry captain froze, staring incredulously at the spear piercing his neck, before collapsing limply from his horse.

Jerry, Adel, and the other seven who had feigned escape quickly returned, nocked their arrows, and relentlessly hunted down any cavalrymen attempting to flee.

The battle was almost entirely a one-sided massacre. The Knights of the Silver Dawn held an absolute advantage in terms of geography, timing, and psychology.

They were like a sharp butcher's knife, instantly tearing apart and scattering the Polish cavalry.

Muller, the guardian of hell, felt a long-lost sense of power and showed no mercy to the foreign invaders.

Swords and blades struck the plate armor, sparks flying, and when they found a gap, sprays of blood rained down.

In less than fifteen minutes, only the corpses of dead men and horses, dying groans, and an overwhelming stench of blood remained in the forest clearing.

Peter reined in his horse, surveyed the slaughterhouse he had created, and a complex emotion flickered in his eyes.

But he quickly composed himself and ordered in a deep voice, "Check the wounded, finish them off. Collect any usable arrows and weapons. Hurry, Zawish is still waiting for us."

His voice was calm and undisturbed, a stark contrast to the ferocity he displayed during the charge.

In the distance, Zawish listened to the brief but intense sounds of fighting coming from the dense forest, followed by a sudden deathly silence, and his face turned ashen.

He knew that those disobedient cavalrymen were likely doomed.

"Hold your ground! Tighten the circle! Spearmen, advance! Archers, prepare!"

He shouted himself hoarse as he tried to keep the remaining two hundred or so infantrymen in line.

The infantrymen stood close together, their spears pointing outwards like a forest, their shields stacked upon each other, truly resembling a steel hedgehog.

However, the panic was as real as a physical weight pressing on everyone's hearts.

Just then, the knights of the Silver Dawn reappeared.

They slowly rode out of the woods and lined up about a hundred paces in front of the infantry circle. Strangely, each knight had a bulging coarse cloth bag hanging beside his saddle.

Peter raised his hand to feel the wind direction—a weak southeasterly wind was blowing directly towards the Polish circular formation.

"They're going to charge head-on? Impossible—this small force of cavalry charging into an infantry line is suicide—what are those bags? Food? No—that's not right—archers, fire quickly, don't let them get close!"

Zawish sensed something was wrong and shouted loudly. But the crowded people were packed together and couldn't stretch out.

The archers were also unwilling to leave the crowd to shoot, and in that moment of hesitation, the hundred-meter distance was covered in an instant.

"Wave Charge!" Peter's voice clearly reached the ears of every Silver Dawn Knight. "Distribute the powder from the bags!"

""

The knight used his dagger to cut open the bag and began to accelerate, but instead of charging directly into the spear formation, he swept past the side and front of the formation in an arc.

When they reached a position about thirty paces from the circle, just downwind, the ten knights used all their strength to throw the sulfur powder in their hands at the Polish infantry circle!

Peter had casually collected hundreds of pounds of sulfur blocks in the mine, but since he didn't have time to make them into gunpowder, he simply ground them into powder so that everyone could have some.

After three waves of attacks, hundreds of pounds of sulfur powder, carried by a gentle breeze, formed a yellowish-green cloud that rushed toward the tightly packed Polish infantry.

Yellow smoke instantly enveloped the front half of the circular formation.

A pungent, hellish stench of sulfur filled the air.

The powder got into their eyes, and the soldiers immediately felt a burning pain. Tears welled up uncontrollably, and their vision blurred.

Those who inhaled the powder began to cough violently, feeling as if their throats and lungs were being burned by flames, and experiencing chest tightness that made it almost impossible to breathe.

"My eyes! I can't see!"

"Cough cough—panting—I can't breathe!"

"It's the devil! They used dark magic!"

The circular formation instantly descended into utter chaos. Soldiers rubbed their eyes in pain, coughing incessantly, and the formation began to crumble and deform.

Just as the chaos reached its peak, Peter raised his longsword, its blade still gleaming coldly in the dim light.

"Knights of the Silver Dawn!" His voice boomed like a bell, shaking the very core of humanity, "For the voiceless commoners! For the plundered villages! In the name of justice!"

He paused, then let out a thunderous roar: "Charge!!!"