Chapter 102 Disheveled Alonso
102 Disheveled Alonso
Another barrage of arrows covered the grey skies, dealing another devastating attack on Aritreia's army, especially the archers in the front lines, who lacked time and tools to protect themselves.
"Raise your shields!" – Alonso's voice resonated through the battlefield as he sat on top of his white horse.
The king then forcefully seized the shield from a blonde-haired man standing beside him. The man could only watch helplessly as Alonso took away his last line of defense against the incoming arrows. The king raised the shield to protect himself while the blonde-haired man could only curl himself, trying to avoid the attacks.
Following the king's orders, the soldiers quickly raised a shield wall to defend against the arrows raining from above, threatening to reap their souls out of them. Unfortunately, the arrows managed to sneak through the openings of the wall and deal damage to the foundation of the wall. The screaming of the enemies of Stahl soon covered the battlefield again, like a hellish ground. Hundreds of Aritreia's soldiers dropped helplessly to the ground, shouting painfully with arrows lodged deep into their flesh. In a matter of a few minutes, at least six hundred enemies had died or had been seriously injuried under Stahl's arrows. Nôv(el)B\\jnn
Amidst this chaos, one arrow pierced through the freezing air like a comet on a mission to destroy a vicious planet. In the blink of an eye, it was already in front of King Alonso Snowcrest. He reacted swiftly, experiencedly raising the shield to protect himself, but the arrow seemed to ignore gravity and all logic. In a surprising twist, it changed direction, bouncing off with a metallic ting.
This tingling sound seemed to echo throughout the whole White Merchant Road, robbing all the noise from the chaotic environment. All eyes briefly turned to Alonso's direction, even those soldiers holding up their shields. They couldn't see the majestic appearance of their king anymore, only the figure of a disheveled king without his crown. The whole battle seemed to stop in time for a brief moment.
After that metallic clash, all noise seemed to have vanished before Alonso. The sound of his own heartbeat and the sound of his own breathing were the only things he could hear and feel right now. The king raised his trembling hand to his forehead, trying to wipe away the warm liquid streaming down to his cheeks, only to find his hands completely smeared with deep red blood.
The world around the king only regained life when Duke Latrel's shout reached his ears – "Protect the king!" – His voice also brought everyone back to reality, awakening them to the dire situation at hand.
The Duke quickly drew his sword and guided his horse forward until he was beside the king. A cold gleam flashed in his eyes for a moment as he tightened his grip on the sword when he got closer to the king, threatening to backstab him, but ultimately, he refrained from taking any action. Reassuring himself that it wasn't time and cursing the arrow for being such an inefficient tool.
"Are you okay, my king?" – Duke Latrel asked, his eyes feigning empathy as he watched the dazed king, whose face was covered by blood. Although the crown protected him, it was still not enough to get him away without an injure, leaving him with a small cut on his forehead.
The king remained silent for a few seconds as the arrows fell again on top of his army, still in disbelief at almost losing his life due to a brief second of carelessness. Alonso dumbfoundedly scanned his surroundings, until he spotted Marcus offering his bloody golden crown back to him. He had sent this man to negotiate with Stahl's king for the Cold Iron Mines, but he came back missing an arm and his honor. Alonso understood that this man was trying to curry his favor by picking up his crown. However, a strange anger welled up in the king's chest. He felt hate while looking at the dog green eyes of this man.
Without warning or responding to Latrel's question, Alonso's hand shot up with lightning speed, delivering a powerful slap to Marcus's face. The strength behind it was enough to send the handicapped messenger flying until he collided with another soldier, who managed to balance himself and protect against the onslaught of the arrows raining from above.
On the ground, Marcus's world spun for a fleeting moment. Albeit the danger of the arrows, the handicapped messenger only dared to stand up when the king's attention shifted toward the approaching cavalry. He understood the risks of staying on the ground and even though the nearby soldiers covered for him against the arrows, he chose not to risk it. Getting to his feet, Marcus could feel the heavy taste of iron in his mouth, giving him no other option but to stain the pristine snow in read and leave behind white pieces of his teeth.
The handicapped messenger paid no mind to the blood and hurriedly sought refuge behind the shielded soldier, which he had just bumped. He used his remaining hand to help the man create a sturdy position against the hazard arrows.
"Get lost!" – The soldier shouted, furious that this useless man almost cost his life when he bumped into him.
The soldier only had time to take a brief look behind him and the figure's image left him speechless. The person behind him was covered in blood and his face was swollen all over, making it impossible for even his parents to recognize him at a first glance. The soldier chose to say nothing, even though he wanted him to leave out of fear of being transformed into a meat shield.
After venting his anger on Marcus, Alonso swiftly placed his golden crown atop his head, not bothering to tidy his hair or completely clean the blood dripping on his cheek, even partially blocking his sight. He shifted his attention back to Stahl's army charging towards him with a mighty cavalry. The king couldn't help but wonder where Stahl managed to discover and tame so many creatures like those. In this Northern region, horses were extremely rare and on Aritreia's lands, only a few noble bloodlines possessed them.
"I don't care where they found those horses!" - Alonso screamed to himself, his green eyes ablaze with fury. The memory of the arrow and the blood gushing out of his forehead served as a fuel to his rage – "I will kill that damn sack of bones!" – His gaze fixed on Luther's old frame with unwavering determination and fury.
The old general was nocking another arrow as he forced his Snowfire Horse to dash toward Alonso's army. The king of Aritreia understood that shooting down this swift enemies was impossible, even more so with a significant part of the archers dead. He also understood that a direct confrontation against a horseman wasn't a great idea, but he couldn't retreat, not with such a fast enemy coming for them.
Alonso decided to use his superficial knowledge on warfare to counterattack, understanding his mistake of sending the archers ahead – "Spearmen! Ahead!" – Alonso shouted, trying his best to control the anger burning inside him. He didn't want to be controlled by it. – "Form a wall!"
He would impale those horses.
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