"Engage! Engage!"

In the rush, the Mamluk leader shouted while raising his riding spear: "Their retreat has been blocked, they're heading towards their own doom!"

"Holy Fire Everlasting, Supreme and Mighty, the time has come to wash away the shame!"

The Mamluks donned pitch-black scale armor, lifted their riding spears, and assumed the flank charge stance they learned from the Franks, suddenly accelerating.

In the sky, a large black falcon was overlooking the ground.

Silver-gray waves clashed fiercely with black tides within the canyon.

Otto panted heavily, his full-face helmet only revealing his eyes, leaving him no time to observe the surroundings.

As he passed by the first enemy, there was a crunching sound as his riding spear broke.

The spearhead likely snapped inside the opponent's ribcage.

Without a hint of hesitation, he smoothly took the armor-piercing hammer strapped to his saddle, dodged the enemy's thrown short javelin, and propped up the kite shield to block the enemy's attack.

Upon encounter with the second enemy, he reversed grip and slammed the armor-piercing hammer onto the head of the opposing Mamluk.

Blood immediately spurted from the opponent's mouth and nose, and he toppled off his warhorse.

"A bunch of Saracen bastards, if I can't beat Losa, can I not handle you?"

In Otto's heart, a sense of exhilaration welled up. Growing up, he was constantly beaten down by Losa in knight training, but it did not mean he was just a clerk who only wielded a quill.

Clang—

The enormous force from the opposing iron spear nearly knocked Otto off his horse. He could even hear the sound of metal bending, with the spearhead snapping and wedged into his abdomen armor.

Bam—

Ulm, wielding a warhammer, passed in front of him, easily knocking an enemy to the ground.

Though Zane's Mamluks were considered elite, they stood no chance against Saladin's, or even Zahir's Mamluks, being completely overwhelmed in personal combat skills.

Bam—

Something slammed into the back of Otto's head, the sound from the iron helmet reverberating, making his head buzz. Yet, his mount continued its charge, carrying him onward.

Finally, his path cleared.

The number of enemies was not many, and he successfully pierced through their formation.

Otto's chest heaved with gasps, his silk undershirt thoroughly soaked with sweat. He dared not remove his helmet, fearing an enemy arrow could penetrate his skull.

Ran far.

He halted his steps.

Looking back, the Winged Cavalry was awkwardly trailing behind him, some with only the feather views on their backs severed, everyone's armor battered and dented throughout.

One Winged Cavalry even had a short-handled axe embedded in the shoulder armor seam.

That Winged Cavalry removed the axe, blood instantly gushing out, causing a grimace of pain.

Ulm reined his horse, shouted: "Who didn't make it out?"

"Quick-footed Robert, little John, and Jackson."

The Winged Cavalry spoke in chaotic voices, looking somewhat forlorn.

With so many enemies, they could not go back to rescue their comrades.

Ulm breathed a slight sigh of relief.

Losing only three men was the best possible outcome.

If they faced these Mamluks wielding riding bows in open terrain, being volleyed, with their mounts shot dead, they would surely suffer a crushing defeat.

"They died for righteousness and justice; Heavenly Father shall bless them to ascend to the Celestial Kingdom."

Ulm stated resolutely: "Now, we've held back the enemy's advance; immediately retreat and return to the nearest fortress!"

A group of Winged Cavalry continued to run towards the other end of the canyon.

...

The Mamluk leader looked at the wounded and corpses lying on the ground with rage.

Some only had broken legs or were thrown off their warhorses, trampled by mounts, and were enduring immense pain, letting out wails.

He gazed hatefully at the distant Winged Cavalry, knowing that pursuing them further was impossible now.

He ordered: "See how many bodies they left behind."

Moments later, a Mamluk came forward, whispered: "Faris, they only lost one, while the other two were knocked unconscious from their horses."

"So, we lost ten-some men for just one from the other side?"

The leader's face grew even darker, as if slapped hard in the face.

"Don't harm them; they are our spoils."

At that moment, the dense sound of hooves resonated.

The other corralled Mamluk cavalry finally arrived at the scene, seeing the chaos, and fell silent.

Chasing fifty against ten enemies, not only failing to capture them but being significantly battered by the enemy.

This was a disgrace.

…

On the hillside.

Zane listened to the leader's embarrassed report, yet showed little sign of dissatisfaction on his face.

He even thought the outcome somewhat expected.

After all, that day in Alandler, the Winged Cavalry led by Jeanne enjoyed her aura's boost, far stronger than those led by Ulm.

He helped the kneeling Mamluk leader up: "It's not your fault; I hear that some Bedouin tribes can acquire greater power through tattoos on their bodies."

"These Frankish barbarians possess evil wizards; naturally, their cavalry is infused with evil power. Capturing two alive is already a significant achievement."

"Take them back, have the doctor treat their wounds, entertain them thoroughly. If we can learn the secret training methods from them, it would be ideal."

The Mamluk leader hesitated, respectfully complying.

He was surprised at his lord's change, from greedy and short-sighted, temperamental, to now approachable and magnanimous, almost like a different person.

If the lord could remain this way, even if not reclaiming lost lands, surely they could establish a new dominion.

The leader thought.

...

Eira Port.

Jeanne, with her sword on her hip, briskly walked into the room.

Seeing Losa sleeping soundly in bed, she raised an eyebrow: "Still sleeping?"

Prajna spoke calmly: "Master said to appoint you as Eira Port's Chief Knight; all military affairs are entrusted to you alone, without need for his consultation."

Jeanne rolled her eyes: "I know, but today's circumstances are different, now the master wields the mightiest group attack magic among us."

"If the enemy forms dense phalanxes, one Dragon's Breath can sweep through, more terrifying in power than even our era's cannon."

Prajna asked: "How many enemies came? If it's an invading army, with supplies, siege weaponry, light and heavy infantry ready, they'd spend a long time on the road, not minding some delay."

"If it's a small enemy group, you handling it yourself suffices, no need to wake the master."

Jeanne momentarily found herself agreeing.

The Ghost Race girl's words seemed to make sense.

Kurs respectfully suggested: "Ms. Jeanne, I recall the master always expected that neighbor to initiate conflict voluntarily."

Jeanne furrowed her heroic brows: "So, to present weakness to the enemy?

But are the civilians on the border to be sacrificed?"

Kurs quietly responded: "It's our duty as subjects to alleviate the master's concerns."

"Ha, Vampire, truly just a Vampire."

Jeanne scoffed coldly.

Kurs faced her expressionlessly, saying no more.

Furinjira felt slightedly: "Kurs meant well."

Jeanne coldly replied: "But his goodwill defies my creed."

"Issue my order, immediately summon all Winged Cavalry to gather and depart with me. The Black Eagle Banner Team and Count's Guard should prepare for siege defense; if summoned, leave a hundred-man team at Siegfried High Tower for wall defense, the rest should follow Knight Hans out."

Hans frowned: "Is leaving only a hundred Farmer Soldiers too few?"

"At least leave the Count's Personal Guard at Eira Port?"

"Eira Port has Militia; if large enemy forces attack, summon them to defend the city. If it's only a small enemy group, having you here is enough."

Jeanne's expression was solemn, her black dragon scale armor followed by a flying gray cloak. She nodded slightly at Prajna and Furinjira: "The master's safety is entrusted to you both."

Then, she left without looking back.

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