To people of this era, the war between the Gabella Empire and the Light Church was unprecedented. The armies they each dispatched were like two rolling iron torrents. Wherever they passed, local lords, commoners, and slaves were all awed by the sheer force of the armies. The lords flattered the soldiers by sending large amounts of supplies to support them, while the commoners hid away and prayed day and night that the war would not affect them.
In the eyes of many observers, this war will determine who will dominate the fate of the continent in the foreseeable future. After all, compared to other nations, the Gabella Empire and the Light Church are colossal behemoths. The Kingdom of Aldor was once among the great powers capable of influencing the continent's situation, but since suffering successive rebellions by Giles and orcish invasions, Aldor has been seen by many as having declined and fallen out of the ranks of top-tier powers.
The two armies eventually clashed head-on on Ursula Plain.
By the time they could see each other's armies, it was nearly evening. The setting sun painted Ursula Plain orange-red. The banner of the Gabella Empire featured a golden lion, which faced the flame symbol of light on the Papacy's banner. The metal armor of the knights on both sides gleamed coldly in the twilight, and the rustling sound of their chainmail rings echoed in the air.
Before the Gabella army's phalanx, five thousand heavily armored knights marched out in neat formation. The knights in the front row held nearly four-meter-long linden lances pointing diagonally at the ground, with colorful banners embroidered with their family crests hanging from the lance shafts. These knights, from ancient noble families of the empire, adopted the classic wedge formation. Their warhorses were clad in ornately patterned horse armor, snorting and kicking up loose dirt on the ground again and again, appearing as spirited as their masters.
From the opposing Papal army came the sound of unified chants, as the accompanying bishops anointed the breastplates of their knights with holy oil, praying for the omnipotent God to bless the warriors who defended the faith.
These knights, loyal to the Papacy and commonly known as paladins, wore cloaks embroidered with the same flame emblem as the Papacy's battle banners, beneath which lay heavy and fine armor. The Papacy's warhorses appeared slightly smaller than their enemies', but were better suited for quickly turning around after a charge.
As the warhorses on both sides began to foam restlessly, Gabella's heavy infantry suddenly banged their iron-clad oak shields in unison, cheering on the Imperial knights who were about to launch their attack. A resounding horn blast echoed across Ursula Plain, the signal to attack. The Imperial knights immediately lowered their helmets, laid their lances flat, spurred their mounts, and charged towards the other side like a flood unleashed.
The archers on both flanks of the Papacy's army immediately opened fire, but their rain of arrows did not stop the advance of the Golden Lion Banner.
The earth trembled under the trampling of five thousand warhorses. The Imperial Knights maintained a perfect wedge-shaped charge formation. The knights at the front of the column precisely thrust their lances into the weak points of the paladins' armor, such as the throat and other vital areas. The knights behind them used the momentum of the charge to leap into the enemy ranks. Instantly, splinters of broken wood and blood-stained horse manes flew together. At the first contact, many of the Papacy's paladins were killed or wounded, and were felled from their horses one by one. The Imperial Knights suffered far fewer losses than the enemy.
These Gabella knights, who were the first to go into battle, all came from military noble families who had inherited their military merits for generations. Perhaps due to the Empire's tradition of prioritizing military achievements, unlike other countries where the nobility had become complacent after a long period of peace, the military nobles of Gabella had better maintained the martial spirit of their ancestors, regarding battlefield glory as their life, and each of them was highly skilled in martial arts. When Emperor Antonio declared the start of war with the Papacy, the sons of nobles eagerly joined the army. This was their duty and their privilege—but their privilege was not only reflected in this, but also in their significant influence on all matters of state and military affairs. When they united, even the Emperor had to give way.
The Gabella knights were clearly of superior combat skill, but fueled by their fanatical faith, the paladins also displayed astonishing fighting prowess. They decisively discarded their broken lances and drew their Morningstar maces from their waists. These blunt weapons with chains were excellent tools for dealing with heavily armored enemies in close combat. The Imperial knights, on the other hand, switched to two-handed greatswords, using their height advantage to slash downwards. The knights of both sides immediately clashed, with wounded warhorses, having lost their masters, galloping wildly across the battlefield, their hooves crushing knights who had fallen and were unable to dodge into a bloody pulp.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, horns suddenly sounded from the left flank of the Papal army. Gabella's heavy infantry had outflanked them, and the Papal infantry immediately engaged them in close combat. The infantry of both sides were then embroiled in a melee, but the Imperial army's coordination was superior. They gradually encircled the Papal army in an arc, and the balance of victory began to tip for the first time.
At this critical moment, the horizon trembled.
At first, it was just a low rumble, like distant thunder. The Gabella army's horns stopped abruptly, and the knights and soldiers who had a brief respite from the battle all turned to look westward.
Dust rose like thick smoke, almost obscuring half the sky.
As the roar grew closer, the earth began to tremble violently, and the warhorses neighed anxiously, pawing the ground with their front hooves, as if sensing the approach of something deadly.
Among the imperial army, some knowledgeable generals suddenly changed their expressions, and they worriedly guessed—could it be that the War Elephant Legion of the Papacy has arrived?
Some people comforted themselves by thinking: the War Elephant Legion was difficult and costly to move, and it never appeared in a place far from the Papacy's homeland.
But reality quickly shattered their hopes.
From the dust, enormous silhouettes gradually emerged—war elephants taller than many city walls. They were clad in metal armor inlaid with holy symbols, and on their backs were arrow towers with archers already drawing their bows and ready to fire at any enemy that entered their range.
The elephants moved with their thick, pillar-like legs, raising clouds of dust that blotted out the sky. The sharp blades still attached to their tusks gleamed coldly in the setting sun.
Most terrifying of all were the war elephants' eyes, blood-red, as if burning with a mad flame. Rumor had it that this was due to a secret potion concocted by the Vatican, those mysterious drugs that had driven these behemoths into a frenzied state.
As the war elephants ran, they raised their thick trunks high and roared deafeningly into the sky, sending chills down one's spine.
The latest novels are first published on 69shuba!
Gabella's army formation began to crumble. Faced with the approach of such a behemoth, the ordinary soldiers could not resist their fear and began to retreat unconsciously.