The routed Palatine army had no morale to speak of. Without the protection of battle formations, the army of over a hundred thousand was nothing but lambs to the slaughter before the steppe iron cavalry.
But even at this point, the cavalry still wouldn't directly charge the infantry.
Force is reciprocal; this is the most fundamental law of physics.
When a one-ton warhorse crashes into a human body at dozens of kilometers per hour, what flies apart isn't just the enemy's flesh and shattered organs; there is also a very real chance that the horse's shinbones will snap, triggering a cascade of unnecessary risks.
Once a warhorse breaks a leg on the battlefield, death is usually its only fate.
The steppe warriors continued to employ their mounted archery tactics, relentlessly harassing and slicing through the Palatine ranks with constant raids and flanking maneuvers. Their killing efficiency far surpassed that of the previous seven days.
"I surrender, surrender, don't kill me."
Even stripped of armor and weapons, Palatine soldiers could never outrun cavalry.
Their wails echoed across the grasslands. From time to time, someone would collapse into the mud, blood-smeared hands trembling as they raised them high overhead, hoarsely begging for mercy.
Yet the steppe riders felt no pity within their hearts; their cold faces showed not the slightest flicker of emotion.
Because the Great Khan's order was clear: no survivors.
"Ya!"
The Palatine army collapsed across the entire front. Only five hundred elite armored knights remained, swearing to the death to protect Emperor Sorgon and the assembled princes and nobles as they fled in panic toward the Ulaav Mountains.
Jaghatai Khan personally led five thousand steppe iron cavalry in relentless pursuit. Despite an absolute numerical advantage of ten to one, the Khan never ordered a direct confrontation with this force of heavy cavalry.
Even though victory seemed within easy reach, rashly charging these knights clad from head to toe in steel would still cause unnecessary casualties.
The steppe iron cavalry continued to exploit their mounted-archery prowess, patiently wearing down the enemy's stamina and will like a wolf pack hunting exhausted prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike a fatal blow.
The Palatine armored knights suffered greatly under the dense rain of arrows.
Knight and mount alike were encased in heavy armor. Though the thick plating deflected most arrows, vulnerabilities still existed, such as the horses' legs and eyes being exposed, and occasionally, arrows would punch straight through armor gaps.
Knights fell constantly as either they or their mounts were struck in vital areas. Their heavy armor, once a badge of pride, became a death sentence, pinning fallen riders helplessly into the mud.
Though casualties mounted slowly, the psychological toll was devastating.
These proud Palatine knights gnashed their teeth, yearning to engage the enemy head-on.
But their horses, carrying several hundred pounds of man and armor, couldn't even reach a third of the speed of the steppe light cavalry.
Whenever they attempted to charge, the enemy would loose a volley of arrows and retreat like a receding tide.
Even when they managed to close the distance, the steppe riders would suddenly scatter, like wolves toying with a trapped beast, firing vicious arrows from all directions.
The steppe cavalry's mobility was higher, and the strategic initiative remained firmly in their hands. Worse still, the horses' stamina was rapidly depleting.
These heavily burdened mounts were never suited for long-distance flight, and in their desperation to escape, the knights gave no thought to the horses' limits.
They were caught in a dilemma.
If they discarded their armor, lightly equipped cavalry would be annihilated instantly under the overwhelming arrow fire.
If they kept marching under full load, their exhausted horses would inevitably collapse.
They were forced to halt frequently, forming circular defensive formations with their armored horses to withstand the arrow storms.
Although this tactic gave the horses some relief from their burden, it was a nearly desperate struggle that further worsened their already sluggish speed.
"Duke Charles, can you advise me on a way out?" The pale-faced Sorgon still clung to a final shred of hope.
Duke Charles slowly shook his head: "Your Majesty, surrender."
When the Palatine army routed, Charles knew it was all over.
Sorgon couldn't possibly escape back to the Palatine Empire. This wasn't a retreat; it was a death march destined to fail.
They could still struggle because the steppe warriors were unwilling to pay a higher price for them.
The Palatine Empire still lay ten days ahead. At the stop-and-go fleeing pace of the armored knights, three days was the fastest.
But they had no supply. Armored knights were still knights, semi-nobles.
They did not carry provisions themselves; that was the duty of their squires.
Almost no one fleeing for their lives brought squires along. And even if they had, unarmored squires had already fallen beneath arrow fire.
Now they had no food, no water, nothing for either men or horses.
It wouldn't take three days; within a single day, hunger alone would leave them dizzy and weak. They wouldn't even be able to bear the weight of their armor, let alone fight the steppe warriors.
Moreover, the Ulaav Mountains almost certainly held an ambush. Otherwise, how could their supply lines have been cut?
Supply lines weren't guarded only by farmers; thousands of soldiers protected them.
To raid supply lines, there had to be at least several thousand cavalry in the Ulaav Mountains.
Even if they reached the mountain, they would be caught in a pincer. Where would they run then?
The steppe warriors hadn't killed Sorgon because they wanted him alive.
Not just him, other princes and nobles were also valuable captives.
Whether for ransom or forced submission, the decision rested entirely with the steppe.
Surrendering now might preserve some dignity.
A roar erupted from behind Sorgon's golden faceplate. "I am the supreme emperor of the Palatine Empire! How dare you tell me to surrender to those blood-drinking barbarians?"
Duke Charles fell silent. He was used to it.
Every time the emperor asked, Charles gave advice. And every time, the emperor ignored it.
He had done his best.
Taking advantage of the chaos, Duke Charles quietly gathered a dozen knights toward the edge of the formation and lowered his voice.
"Later, during the march, intentionally fall to the rear. Understand?"
The knights' eyes sharpened as they exchanged knowing glances.
Knighthood was not hereditary, and all of them had been personally dubbed by Duke Charles. Their land charters bore the duke's seal, their fiefs were granted by him, naturally, their loyalty lay with him.
'My lord's lord is not my lord.'
'As for the Emperor? Who cares if he dies?'
Under another wave of arrows, the armored knights struggled to mount their horses, fleeing in panic towards the distant snow-capped mountains.
Duke Charles's mount, however, seemed to suddenly go lame. From riding alongside the emperor, he gradually fell behind to the very rear of the column.
Sorgon, beneath his golden faceplate, noticed nothing. He lashed his horse madly, wishing the beast could grow wings.
Behind him, Duke Charles had quietly rendezvoused with over a dozen loyal knights.
"Milord, where do we go now?" one knight whispered, sweat seeping through his visor. The long march had tested everyone to the limit.
"We surrender," Duke Charles said calmly, pulling his reins and stopping in place.
The knights exchanged looks, their horses stamping restlessly.
When several hundred Kheshig riders closed in like a tide, there was no arrow fire this time. Instead, two riders on white horses emerged from the encirclement
As they drew closer, Duke Charles's pupils suddenly contracted, because one of them was a giant easily four meters tall!
His eyes burned gold, like living fire.
The warhorse he rode was a divine steed.
The other appeared human, but anyone who could ride beside such a being was clearly no ordinary man.
Duke Charles's voice was hoarse: "I am Duke Charles. I wish to see your Khan!"
The giant slowly spoke, "I am Jaghatai Khan, Lord of the Steppe, the Great Khan."
"Respected Great Khan." Duke Charles dismounted, holding his sword horizontally above his head. "Please accept my salutes and surrender."
Jaghatai Khan grasped his sword. "Duke Charles, how many Dukes are there in the Palatine Empire?"
Duke Charles slowly straightened his back. "Only three." One thing at a time. He could surrender, but the honor of House Charles could not be defiled.
Among the three great Dukes of the Palatine Empire, Duke Charles was the closest to the royal family, the most trusted by them, and his fief was the largest. He was confident he could offer a ransom satisfactory to the Great Khan.
"Can you make your Duchy surrender as well?" Jaghatai Khan asked.
Duke Charles immediately sensed something amiss. 'Shouldn't it be demanding a ransom from my house? What did he mean by 'make your Duchy surrender'?'
He raised his head sharply. "You intend to conquer the Palatine Empire?"
"It is Chogoris," Jaghatai replied calmly. "This world will have only one nation, one government, one ruler. Will your duchy obey you?"
Charles spoke with difficulty, "I… can try."
Jaghatai Khan's ambition completely exceeded his expectations. But now he was under another's roof; he had to bow his head.
"You have one chance."
"And if I fail?" Duke Charles cautiously asked.
"Massacre the city, destroy the nation."
Jaghatai Khan's voice wasn't loud, but it sent a chill down Duke Charles's spine.
Jaghatai Khan didn't have time for a slow, drawn-out unification. He was accustomed to efficient conquest, and massacre was the most efficient.
He wanted his enemies to understand that, facing the steppe iron cavalry, they had only two choices: surrender and survive, or resist and be exterminated.
Jaghatai Khan had intended to leave no survivors, but Charles was an exception.
Because he was a duke, pragmatic, and possessed significant united-front value.
If Charles could bring his duchy to surrender, it would save a great deal of trouble.
...
"Duke Charles? Where is Duke Charles?!"
Sorgon reined in his horse, scanning his surroundings wildly. His breath came ragged beneath the faceplate.
He tried to find the familiar old face in the crowd, but Duke Charles was now nowhere to be found.
A noble spoke with barely concealed frustration.
"Your Majesty… Duke Charles fell behind and was captured."
'Why didn't I think of surrendering like that?'
"Fell behind?"
Sorgon immediately sensed something was wrong. Duke Charles was hale and hearty for his age; he hadn't fallen behind before. How did he suddenly fall behind now?
And Charles had just advised surrender… then promptly got himself captured. Could this really be coincidence?
A hysterical roar erupted from behind Sorgon's golden faceplate. "Charles, you white-haired TRAITOR! How dare you BETRAY ME!"
A noble hurriedly tried to calm him. "Your Majesty, the steppe riders are catching up again! We must dismount and rest!"
Sorgon trembled with rage. He believed he had treated Grand Duke Charles well. How could he betray him? How dare he betray him? Did't he fear the execution of his entire family?
"When I return to the Palatine Empire, I will definitely raise an army to attack the Charles Duchy!"
His oath drew no response. The other nobles were each harboring their own thoughts.
They couldn't escape. That much was clear.
From the moment they lost the battle, they were trapped prey. Struggling was pointless.
Soggo refused to surrender, and the others dared not rebel, but now even Duke Charles had surrendered. Why shouldn't they follow?
"Your Majesty! Duke Charles is back!"
Suddenly, a knight shouted. Sorgon quickly leaned between the horses to look out. A knight was riding back, holding high the banner of the Charles Duchy.
But judging by his appearance, he didn't seem to be returning to rejoin the group.
"Your Majesty!" The knight halted fifty paces away, shouting to Sorgon. "The Great Khan asked me to bring you a message: if you surrender, he guarantees everyone's safety."
Sorgon's eyes turned red. He roared furiously, "Undermining morale! Kill him! Kill this traitor for me!"
Unfortunately, no one listened to him. Even the royal knights were now intently listening to the call for surrender.
Though some knights raised their muskets, they intentionally missed.
The knight's voice exploded in the wind. "Do not persist in futile resistance any longer! This is the last chance! If you still do not surrender, the Great Khan will order no survivors! Everyone will die! Surrender now, and it's still not too late!"
In the sound of departing hoofbeats, Sorgon slowly looked around, his voice cold and biting, spoken through gritted teeth. "You all want to surrender too?"
In the twilight, five thousand steppe iron cavalry encircled the remaining armored knights like an iron barrel. The restless whinnies of horses and the clatter of armor created a suffocating pressure.
"Your Majesty." A noble deeply bowed his head. "Let us surrender. The Empire will ransom us."
Clang! Soggo drew his sword and pressed it to the man's neck.
"Speak of surrender again, and I will execute you!"
"Your Majesty, surrender." Another noble bowed his head.
Other nobles slowly closed in. They were all nobles; the higher their status, the more they feared death. They hadn't yet exhausted their wealth and luxury. Wouldn't it be too great a loss to die here?
The steppe warriors were not bluffing. They had slaughtered over a hundred thousand already; would they hesitate over a few hundred more?
"What are you doing? Are you rebelling?" Sorgon pointed his sword at them, his voice distorted with hysteria. "Knights! My knights, where are you?!"
Many knights pretended not to hear; they weren't Sorgon's appointees.
Those knights Sorgon had dubbed wanted to protect him, but the nobles' knights blocked them outside. Although these knights put up symbolic resistance, both sides understood the unspoken truth.
Two nobles took advantage of the chaos to grab Sorgon from behind. They expected fierce resistance but found this seemingly crazed emperor only struggled symbolically before letting them restrain him.
"Traitors! What are you doing? Let me go! I would rather die than surrender!"
Sorgon was still roaring, but the nobles could see his bluster was hollow.
They thought he was an emperor with backbone, but he turned out to be a weakling, too. If you wanted a way out, you should have said so earlier! Made us run all this way with you!
Since surrender was inevitable anyway, why not surrender right where they were?
"Great Khan, we surrender!"
The nobles raised an ancient imperial banner. The knights shouted at the top of their lungs, discarding their weapons. The horses forming their defensive wall were moved aside, allowing the steppe cavalry to surge forward and take them prisoner.
Under the stunned gazes of the nobles, Jaghatai Khan urged his horse forward. "You are the Emperor of the Palatine Empire?"
Sorgon snapped out of his shock, grinding his teeth. "Don't be too smug! This is merely a temporary setback for me!"
Jaghatai Khan paid him no mind. His hawk-like eyes swept over their faces. "The steppe tribes cannot feed so many of you. What value do you have?"
Immediately, a noble offered, "Great Khan, we can pay a ransom!"
"I don't need ransom." Jaghatai Khan didn't even lift an eyelid. Chogoris would be his sooner or later. The money these people would use to pay ransom would also be his.
Using his money to ransom themselves from him? How naive were these people?
The noble hunched over, his voice pressed extremely low. "What does the Great Khan desire?"
"If you can persuade your fiefdoms to surrender, you may live. Otherwise, die."
The nobles all looked startled, turning to glance at Duke Charles, who was riding alongside the Great Khan. Duke Charles lowered his head, avoiding their gaze. He was contemplating how to persuade his son to surrender, and whether he should even try.
Jaghatai Khan was not joking. But whether he truly had the ability to conquer the Palatine Kingdom remained to be seen.
Even though the Palatine Empire had lost two hundred thousand troops in one battle, it still had an ample population. The steppe warriors might hold all the advantages on the open plains.
But the Palatine Empire had numerous cities.
Charles doubted cavalry had much experience in siege warfare. At most, they would raid and withdraw.
He had not yet made up his mind. He needed proof.
Jaghatai Khan suddenly turned his head, his eagle-sharp eyes piercing straight at Sorgon.
"And you? Can you make the Palatine Empire surrender?"
Sorgon sneered, "Even without me, the Palatine Empire has a new heir!"
Jaghatai Khan gave a slight nod. "Then I will grant your wish."
The hum of the scimitar leaving its sheath hadn't even faded when Sorgon's head, trailing a spray of blood, thudded into the mud.
Thud!
The head rolled beside the bloodstained golden armor, its final expression frozen in astonishment and absurdity. He, the Emperor of the Palatine Empire, couldn't he have bargained a little?
"Great Khan, we are willing to try."
"We are also willing to try!"
Terrified, the nobles hurried to declare their willingness.
Regardless of whether they could succeed, they had to agree first; otherwise, they'd die today.
Moreover, even if they were to persuade surrender, there was an order to it. The border fortresses weren't their territories anyway; they could wait and see how things developed!
....
Apologies, Fellow Daoists! No 135th chapter, it was swallowed by a spatial rift(disappeared) after the old realm(raw source) collapsed (nuked). I have peeked the secrets of the heavenly laws, but still nothing. Good news, though, found a new realm(raw source) to inhabit. Uploads will return to 2 chapters a day.