The fact that the Southern flank lasted as long as it did was nothing short of a miracle. The infantry was completely surrounded, with no hope of getting away, fighting till their last breath. Most soldiers would have surrendered a long time ago, so their bravery in sticking to the plan was very commendable.

  Their sacrifice was heavy, but it paid off. The reinforcements had arrived.

  Heavy cavalry picked up speed, pushing their tired mounts further to save their trapped allies. The thundering beat of the hooves filled the air as hundreds of knights prepared to slam into the rebels.

  This attack was impossible to hide. Clement had kept a small contingent of a couple dozen horsemen in reserve. They noticed the sudden new threat and sounded the alarm. Trumpets filled the air, and the soldiers locked in battle began to turn around, repositioning to receive the coming charge.

  It was a hopeless gesture.

  Just as it had happened on the Western flank before, the knights slammed into the narrow ranks of enemy soldiers and gouged out their lines. With the way the army positioned itself, splitting into a thin line that enveloped the loyalist square, the cavalry was able to cut all the way through it. Others, simply picked off stragglers at the side, sliding along the formation.

  And this was just the beginning. About a minute after Baron Gregory’s force arrived from the West, Count Jan’s knights charged in from the East, causing even more casualties, before continuing onwards to reposition and prepare for yet another devastating attack.

  It wouldn’t be necessary. Before they had the time to turn their horses around, the infantry reached the enemy the enemy formation and threw themselves into battle, eager to avenge their fallen comrades.

  That was the end of the battle. There was no more turning this around for the rebels. The only thing left to do now was to slowly mop up enemy survivors and count everyone’s losses, but a quick assessment suggested that Varre’s side came out well ahead of the enemy.

  It looked like Clement agreed, as he decided to throw everything he had into a last hurrah.

  He held a couple dozens knights in reserve, probably his own personal honor guard and as soon as he realized the inevitability of his defeat, decided to throw them forward. Since Varre’s entire army was busy finishing off the remains of his last thousand soldiers, the commander himself was left alone. Surrounded by his honor guard, but reachable.

  Of course, the Royal Guardsmen weren’t blind. They noticed this attempt at their liege’s life and formed up their ranks to block it, well ahead of the monarch. They held the advantage in both numbers and skill, but the rebels, out of options, decided to try their luck anyway.

  They had one last trick hidden up their sleeves. Tobias heard the trumpets and realized the catastrophic situation. Just like in Elstercross, where he’d been forced to flee and abandon his duel with Elvira, he had to run if he wanted to survive this. He jumped onto his horse and prepared to leave the battlefield. Then, the trumpets changed their tune once more.

  -*-*-*-

  The former Court Mage kept blocking Elvira’s projectiles as she attempted to dismount him and looked towards his general. Clement had picked a new target and his last remaining heralds sounded a command to throw every last resource behind their leader.

  He quickly glanced over his shoulder to deflect another explosion and smirked. The battle was lost, but if Clement was too proud and foolish to escape, preferring to waste his life on this pathetic tantrum, Tobias saw nothing wrong with helping him.

  If Varre died tonight, the realm would slip into further chaos. And in that chaos, a powerful mage might just survive. Perhaps even thrive and return to a position of power. Especially an ambitious wizard like Tobias.

  The mage jerked, as another powerful spell glanced off his magical shields and spurred his horse onwards, joining the count’s desperate charge.

  It was hopeless. Thirty or so knights, even if they were the cream of the crop drawn from the best lineages throughout the Western province, or East Aubin, as Clement kept repeating for the last two months, couldn’t match fifty elite Royal Guards brought straight from the capital. Very few forces in the kingdom could, at least not without overwhelming numbers. Not even a senior mage like Tobias.

  The former Court Mage managed to defeat two Royal Guards during his flight from Westbridge all those months ago, though that was from a distance. Technically, he had even more room to work with now, and if he was still fresh and full of energy, he probably could have picked off a couple more. Of course, the duel with Elvira had exhausted him, and even if it hadn’t, four less guards wouldn’t make a difference in the end. But Varre’s last line of defense had another weakness. And he was going to exploit it.

  Each Royal Guard wore powerful, enchanted, plate armor. It could resist many magical attacks. On top of that, their enhanced stats were high enough to survive blows that could kill rip a peasant into pieces. But no matter how strong they managed to make themselves, their mounts were still just regular animals. Even armored, they weren’t indestructible.

  Tobias glanced over his shoulder, making sure that he was safely out of Elvira’s range. He wanted to take Varre down if possible, but he wasn’t going to sacrifice his own life to do it. That was Clement’s job. Fortunately, the witch was on foot, hidden amongst the square of infantry and couldn’t follow after her opponent. At least, not immediately.

  He smirked, thanking the gods for this chance at retribution and started focusing. He was going to put everything he had into this attack, opening the path forward to Clement. Timing was crucial. He needed to cause the maximum amount of chaos, before the guards could recover. Even on foot, they were powerful enough to stop this charge.

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  After about ten or so seconds, Tobias finally opened his eyes and released the ball of energy. He kept his eyes peeled, as it flew through the air, straight into the enemy formation.

  He recognized Varre in the distance, by his magnificent armor, and saw him surrounded by two other mages. They cast a protective shield, ready to defend their liege, but the guards didn’t have that luxury. The ball flew into the middle of their formation and exploded in a brilliant flash of light.

  At least a dozen, those closest to the epicenter, fell off their horses and slid against the ground. Those on the sides, struggled to control their animals as they panicked and attempted to flee. The guards must have realized what the plan was by now, but it was too late to stop it.

  Clement’s knights slammed into the remains of the formation, breaking through the hastily reformed line and embroiling themselves in a close range duel. They were still going to die of course, the numbers were simply too far against them, but they had a fighting chance now. Tobias smirked, and turned his horse away from the charge. His job was done. Now, it was time to flee.

  -*-*-*-

  Varre covered his eyes with his arm, as the light from the explosion blinded him. The twins saw the attack coming and cast their protective shields in front of him, unsure of the target. Even if they hadn’t, his own armor, and the amulet he carried from Elvira should have been enough to save his life, but the girls had no way of knowing about the artifact. Even if they had, they weren’t going to risk it

  The king watched the unbreakable wall of Royal Guards collapse onto itself, as Captain Hakon, who remained by his side, cursed loudly. “Those bastards! Form up! Fo-o-orm up!”

  It was too late. With the center of the formation gone, the rebels were only blocked by the first row of horsemen. They slammed into them, easily breaking through.

  The whole scene turned to chaos, as knights started dueling with the guardsmen, fighting for their lives. Varre’s side was surprisingly effective. The fallen men recovered almost instantly, jumping back to their feet and rushing to plug the gaps in the formation. Even without their horses, they fought effectively, tying down the closest rebels and even killing a few as he watched.

  But a small group kept going. Four knights ignored the commotion and kept sprinting straight at Varre and his entourage.

  “Damn it!” Hakon yelled out, “with me! With me! Guards!”

  A few of the Royal Guards, those on the furthest wings of the formation managed to hear him over the clamor of battle and rushed to help, but they wouldn’t get there immediately.

  Varre was going to need to fight again.

  The captain charged forward, protective his monarch with his own body, but he was quickly intercepted by one of the knights. Clearly, the man knew what he was doing, as he managed to block the first few powerful blows from the elite captain.

  Kerryn may have been the king’s personal trainer, but his skill with the blade was just as useful on the battlefield. He too stayed behind, as yet another bodyguard, and now raced forward to meet another of the enemies.

  The twins were invited here by Varre. They were no melee fighters, but they managed to occupy another enemy, who chased after them as they distracted him with spells and occasionally threw in an offensive attack.

  But that left one last threat for Varre to deal with personally. Count Clement.

  Unwilling to give his opponent the advantage of speed, the king spurred his horse and turned to the left, forcing the enemy commander to chase after him. After a few moments, once Varre got used to the motion, he brought his mount closer and attempted to strike the enemy with his sword.

  Neither commander carried a lance, as neither had intended to charge into dense enemy formations today. But each had similar longswords. The blades met and they exchanged a few blows as sparks flew in the air.

  Varre quickly realized his opponent’s skill level. Clement was clearly enhanced, but neither his stats nor experience matched the Langognean knight that threatened Varre’s life earlier today. This time, the king had a real chance of beating his rival personally.

  “Give it up!” the former student yelled out as he blocked an overhead swing, “the battle’s already lost! It’s over!”

  “You destroyed everything!” the count yelled as he frantically swung his sword, “years of planning down the drain! My dream! My country! My independence!” he emphasized each word with another crazed overhead strike, “I’m taking you down if it’s the last thing I do!”

  Varre quickly turned his horse around and attempted a surprise blow as he did so, but Clement blocked it with his forearm. Metal clanged, the plate too strong to be cut by a steel blade. Even when used by an enhanced human, dealing a deadly blow wasn’t going to be an easy task with the heavy protection used by both warriors.

  The king spurred his mount onwards, turning the duel into another chase. He could see the Royal Guards racing after the dueling commanders, but they still had quite a distance to cover. He wasn’t safe just yet.

  He grit his teeth as he felt a strike against his back. Clement’s blade reached him, though the armor easily blocked it. The former student had to focus. He couldn’t afford distractions like this.

  To throw his enemy off, Varre pulled on the reins with his left hand, slowing the horse down to a sudden stop. At the same time, with his right hand, he swung in a wide arc to his side, hoping that his enemy would drive himself into the blade. With any luck, this could just be enough to dismount Clement and this duel for good.

  However, he didn’t foresee that the count would be in the middle of his own attack. Focused on chasing after the king, he raised his hands up high, attempting a powerful overhead swing to clobber Varre over the head with. If it worked, it might have caused a concussion, even through the thick plate. But it also left Clement exposed.

  Unlike Varre, who owned the best equipment money could buy, the count wore more common plate gauntlets and vambraces. Those that only defended the outside of arm from attacks. It made sense, as that’s what the vast majority of attacks would target. It was an excellent compromise, offering good defense and mobility. But it left the underside of his arms exposed.

  As the king swung his blade, using his enhanced strength, he struck right into the exposed area. The only protection Clement had there was the chain shirt he wore underneath the plate. It would have been enough to stop a regular sword, from a regular human. But not an enhanced one. Especially not, as the speed of his own mount pushed his arm deeper into the cutting blade.

  Varre was even more surprised than Clement was at this unexpected development. He heard a scream of pain and watched with widened eyes, as the count raced forward, unable to stop his horse without full control of his left arm. The force of the hit was enough to dislodge him from the saddle, and the enemy commander slid off the horse.

  His body hit the floor, even as the mount kept going. Clement’s foot remained stuck in the stirrup, bouncing him off the ground as he horse tried to throw him off. It managed eventually, the successive blows dragging the boot off his foot. The count kept tumbling, rolling at least a dozen times over as his arm eventually separated from his torso after taking so much damage. He finally came to a stop and remained still, lying face down on the ground.

  Varre watched, slack jawed. This wasn’t the plan. He was simply trying to defend himself, and ended up killing his enemy. Nilo’s father. “I… I wasn’t trying to…” he said out loud, even though no one could hear him, as he was starting to realize what he had just done. He turned to his right, to see the approaching group of Royal Guards ready to defend their liege. Unfortunately, they were late.

  “Medic! Someone find a medic!” he yelled, even though deep inside he knew it was already too late. Clement was dead. And the rebellion died with him.

  But he faced a former Earthling. And that was his mistake.

  It still wasn't enough.