The rain of arrows bathes the battlefield of fighting. The arrows bite into flesh and blood and pierce steel. Both enemies and friends are treated equally and given an equal death.
Svyatoslav's body seemed to have been soaked in blood. The blood of his enemies and his own people were sprinkled on it. The once-shiny chainmail did not live up to its dazzling glory in the past. The noble prince was now nothing more.
A warrior wallowing in blood.
The second uncle of Prince Rus led the cavalry directly to the fiercest battlefield and tried his best to block the advance of the Porovets. As a prince, he took the lead and greatly inspired the soldiers on the battlefield. However, his mount was unfortunately hit by a spear and the rider was knocked off his horse.
The second uncle had no choice but to fight on foot.
Svyatoslav understood that everything he could do had been done, and now he only needed to fight with all his strength and cut off the heads of the intruders. He rushed back and forth in the formation, killing the Polovtsian wolf.
, and let the Polovets flee before them.
But by now he was numb and tired from the battle. His limbs were like lead and he couldn't lift his strength. What was coming over him was not only exhaustion, but also exhaustion. The sword in his hand was also curled by countless chops, and the chainmail armor didn't know.
It's a miracle that I can endure so many blows and persist until now.
The second uncle understood that if he continued like this, he would inevitably end up as a man in the battle formation. He began to think about whether he should retreat. Now that he had retreated to Kiev, he still had control over the city to deal with any possible situation.
And if he is lucky, he can also ingest the things he has longed for for a long time, the things Sviatoslav never dared to say...
But just as the second uncle was thinking, a loud noise came to his ears, and he saw the soldiers beside him who also looked like bloody men excitedly pointing at something in the distance.
Svyatoslav then looked around and saw that the flag of Marshal Polovtov had disappeared without a trace at some point. The flag of St. George was flying there, and next to the flag of St. George, it was raised.
A gorgeous helmet. He knew that this helmet belonged to the Polovts Khan.
"That boy Rostislav actually defeated the enemy's coach. I really underestimated him."
Subconsciously, the second uncle murmured, his face full of astonishment. In his subconscious mind, although this junior performed well, he would never have made such a great contribution. If he had known this...
But he soon put his thoughts aside. They were on the battlefield! The fight had to be over at some point! He realized that this was an excellent opportunity, a chance to make a comeback.
The Polovets were panicked by this scene. The disappearance of the commander's flag and the display of the commander's helmet as a trophy were a huge blow to them. The nomads who once had high morale shrank, and deserters kept appearing, and there was no one.
It can be contained because the commanders are all running away.
The second uncle raised the sword in his hand and shouted with all his strength:
"Forward! Rus! Their khan is dead! Victory is at hand!"
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"Forward! Rus! Their khan is dead! Victory is at hand!"
Just when Svyatoslav shouted loudly, the same shout also rang out from the central army. Of course, the wise man noticed the great changes that took place in the Polovtsian army formation and seized this opportunity.
The morale of the Russian soldiers exploded because their flag was flying behind the enemy. The hesitation and cowardice they had felt disappeared after seeing that scene.
On the other hand, the nomads were defeated. Those who attacked the right wing were mostly chiefs and warriors. Glory allowed many of them to persist, but ordinary herdsmen didn't care so much. Why did they fight when the Khan was dead? They ran away.
Escape is the right way, and they don't want to lose their lives because of it.
In this way, the herdsmen abandoned the enemies fighting in front of them, turned their horses and fled. No matter how hard the warriors tried to stop them, no one obeyed their orders. Instead, some were knocked off their horses and trampled to death.
The Polovets' escape was very chaotic. Some even took the initiative to injure their comrades or their horses in order to delay the pursuers. Some panicked nomadic cavalry even killed each other in a fight for the road.
Waves of Ross's arrows rained into these chaotic jobs, and countless Polovtians died under the flesh-biting arrows. The corpses of people and horses were piled up layer after layer, but then more and more people were killed.
Many corpses fell on it, forming an extremely huge mountain of corpses.
All the Polovets who saw that scene were terrified, and fear filled their hearts. No one could persist anymore. Glory and victory were like bubbles, disappearing in flight.
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"Look at these Polovtsians, how ridiculous they are on the run."
Rostislav saw a wave of arrows raining down on a group of cavalry who had not taken a look at them. He felt great pleasure when he saw those people and horses being shot into a sieve, and when he saw the survivors fleeing in all directions.
With the flag of St. George as the center, the Russians formed a circular shield wall to prevent nomadic cavalry that might attack from everywhere. Archers and crossbowmen stood behind the shields and fired arrows at all enemies within range.
After admiring the embarrassment of the Polovts, Rostislav looked up at the high-hanging helmet and couldn't help but feel a pity. The Khan's body had been completely trampled to pieces. In the end, they only found this helmet. There was nothing they could do.
, I had to just hang it, but fortunately the effect was almost the same.
"Congratulations on your victory, Your Highness Rostislav."
The captain of the soldiers with a bandage on his head still sent cautious words of congratulations as always. Gevalan was unfortunately hit by a tomahawk on his helmet during the battle. He only had some skin on his head, but his helmet was cracked.
The huge ruby also fell on the battlefield and was picked up by someone.
Although he said he was so calm, the captain of the personal soldiers secretly sighed in his heart, His Highness has made such military exploits at such a young age, his future must be extremely bright, and he really did the right thing back then.
"This is not my personal victory, but the result of the soldiers' lives. Gevalan, without your help, I would not have won this victory. Each of you should get the glory of victory. I will fight for it after the war."
I share the spoils I got with everyone."
The prince's answer made Gvalan a little surprised. Rostislav had achieved such a great victory at such a young age. I thought he should be proud, but the humility he showed was really... surprising.
The act of distributing the spoils of war makes people feel heart-warming. Soldiers' lives must be exchanged for gold, silver and affection. Only by constantly extending favors and treating each other sincerely in daily life can we have today's warriors who fight to the death. Fighting to the death is a tribute to daily kindness.
In return, now that Prince Ross has to distribute the spoils to everyone, why can't he make the captain of the soldiers warm his heart?
"Your Highness Rostislav! Your Highness Rostislav!"
At this moment, the flag-bearer of Rostislav, Jan, arrived with his cavalry. Just then Jan was sent by him to lead the army to raid the camp of the Polovets. The most important thing was to make sure that the enemy did not gather again.
Rostislav himself did not go out because he needed to sit here, supervise the army to hold off the incoming deserters, and guard this key strategic node. The cavalry returned earlier than he expected, which made Prince Rus realize that Yang was afraid
He found something important, so he rushed to meet it.