Several columns away…406Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpjvV7YDbb4
The colonel and a daring corporal revolved around each other with their sabres pressed against each other in a duel amidst mayhem. From his stance to his expression, the corporal seemed to hold better chances of victory, yet he did not make his advance, testing his opponent’s range attentively. They moved on their heels and kept the other at bay, but suddenly, fearing that he would be defeated if he did not act, the colonel lunged forward. The corporal reeled back and lost his balance in a misstep. The edge of Florian’s sabre slashed into his shoulder and he stumbled back as the blade carried on into his collar. Blood spat from the gorge, and his eyes whitened when the force of the strike shattered his bones and brought the lifeless corporal to the ground. The victorious colonel pulled his sabre from its sheath of flesh, somewhat lacking the strength to do so, and planned to retreat to let his soul have some rest, but more battles lay ahead of him. The comrades of his fallen foe gathered around him, hounding for revenge. However, they were less studied in the martial arts and blindly charged at the colonel, who dropped to his knees and dashed forward. In an arc, his sabre swept at them, gashing the stomachs of half a dozen men who fell, but Florian’s legs began to waver. His knees trembled, for fatigue had finally reached him. He swept his hair back, wet and red, and stood up before being spotted by his troops hurriedly encircling their commander, withdrawing from the frontlines together as their reserves filled their thinning ranks.
Deflecting the blow of a sword, a veteran soldier came beside Florian, his prowess staving off any more attempts on their lives. “Colonel, please, fall back. We cannot afford your loss.” As his fellow patriots also retreated, he beseeched his commander to return to the safety of their walls.
Reinforcements streamed over the river mindlessly, driven solely by their trust in him and his presence as Florian surveyed his army when he regained his senses, the voices of his lieutenants making little difference to his decision. “Retreat and hold the bridge!” Glancing to his flanks where his soldiers awaited his command, the colonel wiped his brows and began his withdrawal. “Riflemen, archers, form along the southern bank and hold against the foot of the walls!” Florian cried, pointing his sabre at the skies as he manoeuvred around his men and signalled those nearest to rally around him.
His troops moved as a swarm, steadily retreating across the bridge, their formation compacted against the crossing as they trickled across the river. The spearmen held the bridgehead and entrenched themselves at the chokepoint, which the enemy would have to attack to minimise their losses. However, many Confederates, believing their numbers outweighed any tactics, began wading into the waters, only to be caught by the currents and massacred by showers of lead and arrows. The colone’s contingent’s flanks narrowed further, but their retreat prompted a realisation he had overlooked. He noticed that a specific number of troops had vanished from his ranks, including a corporal he was supposed to have kept safe throughout the battle. He looked over his retinue, but there was no sign of the Commonwealth’s distinctively bright colours. Florian escaped his guards’ cage and searched his column, which had bent from to the gravity of the Rus army, but the chances of ever finding them in the violent seas that swallowed every ripple dwindled.
Florian panicked as the words of his oath to the general grew louder in his head. “By the mother of gods, where is Károly Lienz?” The colonel continued his futile search, but the wind was unresponsive.
“I last saw them in the left van.” A soldier whose height greatly surpassed those around him informed his colonel. “Uniformed, weren’t they?” He recalled.
The fear of his mistake ticked like a stopwatch that counted down in his head as his eyes widened upon learning of the squad’s position. Saying not a word in return, Florian dashed off for the left flank, parallel to the frontlines, which began to close off his gap of opportunity. His feet could not have been lighter or quicker than then, forgetting his fatigue as his limbs were being charged by an energy overriding even his adrenaline. His retinue wondered whatever it was that caused him to react so suddenly, but at the same time, they could not allow his recklessness to end their commander.
His faithful soldiers called for his return, but Florian was far beyond reason. “Colonel!” The retinue chased him through danger but their attempts at diverting his attention was to no avail.
Florian had muted everything except the repeated oath he swore, chastising himself for failing to protect his general’s grandson, the prince and heir to his liege lord. His soldiers, knowing he would not slow down for them, continued to pursue him across the treacherous land, facing a surging tide of enemies who posed less of a tragedy than the thought of failure, which circulated the colonel like whispers.406Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEnwCotn0Lv
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