1453: Revival of Byzantium

Chapter 188: Aut Cum Scuto Aut in Scuto

"Sir! The Ottoman cavalries will be here in around ten minutes time!" A scout came galloping to the imperial baron reporting the signs of a nearer Ottoman calvary presence. 

"Alright lads! There is no run away now, I just hope that there are such a beautiful place up there in heaven." 

The riders readied their gears and went back to their formations, waiting for their enemy to show up. Happy and casual times always passes fast, but the time spent beside this lake, shall be a memory that surpasses all others in their life time. Not every one can enjoy the last bit of their time knowing that they are going to die eventually in a day's time, and by miracle no one even wanted to run despite the fact that even if they choose to escape, the imperial baron would not mind at all. 

Before the imperial baron put on his helmet, he called out to the soldiers he chatted with just now stopping them in the path and recalled all of their names. "Asztrik, Cseke, Peterke, Szemere." 

"I hope that there is no regret of you dying with me today." He grinned shaking his head sending those wet blonde hairs waving everywhere against the wind shaking the water off. 

"We have no regret, sir, it is a privilege." The four men looked at each other and replied. 

The imperial baron laughed, but before they could continue chatting, they are abruptly stopped by the trembling of the Earth and the impending sounds of hooves. Without any reminders, they know that it is their enemies, they are coming. 

"Aut cum scuto aut in scuto." The imperial baron murmured drawing a cross by his chest and climbed onto his horse donning his bascinet. 

The crusader cavalries lined up in a straight formation before the Bulgarian mountain ranges, with blades in their hands holding their breathe eyeing the horizon waiting for their 'guests' today to arrive. And their 'guests' did no disappoint them, arriving only after five minutes after they have gotten ready all looking like they are going to collapse blazed by the flaming noon soon. The sheer amount of them coming from two directions makes it looks like they are coming from every single corner occupying the entire greeneries on the plain, looking like they are every where, closing their encircling grip on the Crusaders ready to eat them all up. 

The imperial baron's horse panicked by a little bit feeling that pressure stepping backwards and giving a few neighs, but is soon comforted by its master massaging and kissing is manes. 

The Ottomans too noticed that their preys looks like they have given up all attempts to continue running. And thus its commander Radu Drculeti ordered all of his troops to lower down their bows and place back their arrows into their quivers, facing the foes with nothing but knives according to the rules set in Chivalry.

Time freezed in this place as the two largest calvary force in the region confronts each other. And suddenly, the Hungarian Crusaders violently broke the silence as their captain Emeric Zpolya roared at the top of his voice tearing his vocal cord. "Magyar Cavalries! Charge! Deus Vult!"

The Hungarians bellowed out following their commander shaking the sky. "In God's Will!"

Then, under the lead of the imperial baron, the Crusaders whipped their horses accelerating to the maximum speed charging downwards. While the Ottomans, as if they wanted to have a contest with the Crusaders or something, also started shouting following after their commander, who shouted. "For Sultan Mehmed and Sultan Beyezid!" With the rest of the Ottomans screaming. "Allah! Hu Akbar!"

The riders on both sides, with their faithful war horses, galloped onwards despite of the impending danger and shining blades, their four hooves pounding against the Earth in full valor and courage, their bravery, together with their epic battle tales shall make up perfectly in the verses of melodies and ballad by orchestras and bards for the seasons, or even centuries to come.

Or maybe it will be written into kids text books one day required to be memorized. 

"Long Live the King!" The cavalries of the crusaders, fully equipped with traditional leather armour waving war hammers, mounted spears or long sword, clashed violently with the Ottomans. Within their first encounter, it looks like blood has splatted and blasted out from the battle line like a splitting lotus flower when looking down from a bird's eye view. 

In the middle of chaotic show off of blade and horses, the imperial baron dodges, blocks and slashes fluently with the round shield embedded on his arm and the sword gifted to him by his king. With each slash onto the enemies he gives a deafening roar shout boosting his esteem and releasing that fury trapped in his chest from being chased for  so long an hour ago. 

Among the chaotic battle field where no one can really care for each other when they when every one is struggling for their life and death, the imperial baron took a peek at his surrounding in the spare time after chopping down the head of a Siphai calvary. 

And he found himself alone.

It is totally unlike the last battles he has fought in his life where he is wearing beautifully decorated clothes reading together and fighting together with his fellow companions never leaving the pal by one side, this time, he is fighting by himself. 

A bitter smirk appeared on his face, he stopped looking back, and focused on the front, with a roar he accelerated squeezing both of his legs on the horse's abdomen and charged further in front, breaking through multiple blades coming for him getting a few more wounds, cuts, and of course, head counts in the process. 

After a while that looks like an eternity, the imperial baron finally managed to make it out of the encirclement, and when he looked left and right, of a thousand men that accompanied him charging into the Ottomans, only half of them are left now, some even with a dangling arm.