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They ride slowly at first, but the ground still trembles under their collective weight; the hooves leave behind the imprints and some dust clouds. As they pick up speed, the rhythmic pounding of their hooves echoes through the valley, creating a thunderous symphony of movement. The riders lean forward, urging their mounts to go faster, their destination looming in the distance.
Horns and trumpets are sounded as they accelerate; their lances are kept high for now, but all know what will come when they pass over the crest of the hill.
While the footmen are still engaged with the ever-hungry tug-of-war, they will approach. You watch all with sweat on your brow, partially because of the southern sun and partly because of the battle and party because of your impatience at their progress.
You wish you had some measure of keeping the time in minutes, because the sun can't hack it when it comes to measuring small units of time. No, you would like some kind of clock. But those things are fragile and cumbersome, not suited for the chaos of battle. So you continue to wait, keeping at directing and ordering around the men already present.
But then it happens.
As if from a play, the pride of the Greifwalder aristocracy barrels into the layer upon layer of already scared Mizarian archers. For a split second, there is no reaction, but then… They break, scattering like leaves in the wind as the cavalry charges through their ranks, leaving chaos and destruction in their wake. The battle is nearly at its end. For the ones on the left bank of the river.
Their archers were the first to break, but both the onslaught from your footman and now the threat of being truly encircled make them break soon after as well. The Greifwalder cavalry presses forward, their victory seeming imminent as the Mizarian forces disintegrate before them. The remaining soldiers over on the right bank of the river can only watch in horror as the defeat of their comrades becomes inevitable. In the distance, you can see that their sole unit of cavalry has begun their withdrawal. Their commander is most likely among them; whoever he was, you don't think you'll ever have to face him again if this is his performance.
Many of them are trying to rid themselves of their armour. Some make a break for the river to cross to their friends on the other bank. But most are cut down by your cavalry; what few stragglers remain are finished off by the advancing infantry.
The day is nearly yours, but a few more matters require your attention before you can claim victory.
>Find a ford across the river, our victory isn't compelte until we have broken them as well.
>Finish of the rest of the remaining enemy on this bank. I want to maximise their causulties.
>Write-in
