“The fight was glorious. Count Herbert defeated his first opponent quickly, killing him with a single stroke of his blade. The feeling of victory felt better than anything that he had ever felt before, but he had no time to focus on that. He continued onwards, cutting down his opponents like a scythe cuts down wheat. He killed many men, but there were always more to fight.
His enemies attempted to retreat, but he refused to allow that. Letting them regroup could allow them to utilize strategy and make a formation, which would remove any advantage that the ambush had given his men. That would almost certainly mean a loss for his forces, who didn’t have a formation despite having had adequate time to make one because his army’s commander was too lazy to even do his job.
Unfortunately, Count Herbert couldn’t take out his anger on his incompetent subordinate because he remained useful. Fortunately, there were thousands of other people to take out his anger on, and they were even allies of unjust usurpers, so he didn’t even need to feel guilty about it.
Soon, Count Herbert was covered in blood, but he was given no rest. His enemies had apparently realized his military prowess and continued to attack him. He had no room to maneuver, and all he could do was kill one enemy after another. No matter how many he killed, there was always more to fight… and he loved it. The feeling of justly killing servants of the man who had usurped his throne was amazing.
Sadly, it was also tiring, when the enemy attempted to retreat a second time, he let them. He needed a second to catch his breath… and a second to figure out where his army was. He looked around, and he discovered that there was a great distance between himself and his army. Thankfully, no natural barriers were visible in the space between them, so he could retreat at any time…
His men seemed fine, although they were scattered across the battlefield. Many of them looked winded, but he saw no dead bodies. The mercenaries didn’t seem like they had moved from their initial position and were forming a line around the battlefield. Count Herbert figured that they would deal with any stragglers from the enemy. All in all, there didn’t seem to be a single reason to stop his rampage, and every moment that he wasn’t adding to his blade’s crimson hue was a moment that his foes could use to regroup.
He turned back to where the enemy army had once been, and he found that only a few men remained within his sight. He briefly shut his eyes and considered what this meant. He briefly considered that the few men were meant as bait to draw him in that direction, but he quickly dismissed that thought. After all, surely there wouldn’t have been time to set up such a plan during the short period where he had been checking on his men.
Under his breath, a single whisper escaped Count Herbert’s lips. 'I hope I don’t regret this.'
He also decided to command his soldiers because, clearly, his chosen commander had been too lazy to do even that. Against his better judgement, He went with the oldest tactic in the book - he raised his blood-soaked blade and yelled, 'we have them on the defensive! We can annihilate them completely now! Charge!' " - The Valois War
His enemies attempted to retreat, but he refused to allow that. Letting them regroup could allow them to utilize strategy and make a formation, which would remove any advantage that the ambush had given his men. That would almost certainly mean a loss for his forces, who didn’t have a formation despite having had adequate time to make one because his army’s commander was too lazy to even do his job.
Unfortunately, Count Herbert couldn’t take out his anger on his incompetent subordinate because he remained useful. Fortunately, there were thousands of other people to take out his anger on, and they were even allies of unjust usurpers, so he didn’t even need to feel guilty about it.
Soon, Count Herbert was covered in blood, but he was given no rest. His enemies had apparently realized his military prowess and continued to attack him. He had no room to maneuver, and all he could do was kill one enemy after another. No matter how many he killed, there was always more to fight… and he loved it. The feeling of justly killing servants of the man who had usurped his throne was amazing.
Sadly, it was also tiring, when the enemy attempted to retreat a second time, he let them. He needed a second to catch his breath… and a second to figure out where his army was. He looked around, and he discovered that there was a great distance between himself and his army. Thankfully, no natural barriers were visible in the space between them, so he could retreat at any time…
His men seemed fine, although they were scattered across the battlefield. Many of them looked winded, but he saw no dead bodies. The mercenaries didn’t seem like they had moved from their initial position and were forming a line around the battlefield. Count Herbert figured that they would deal with any stragglers from the enemy. All in all, there didn’t seem to be a single reason to stop his rampage, and every moment that he wasn’t adding to his blade’s crimson hue was a moment that his foes could use to regroup.
He turned back to where the enemy army had once been, and he found that only a few men remained within his sight. He briefly shut his eyes and considered what this meant. He briefly considered that the few men were meant as bait to draw him in that direction, but he quickly dismissed that thought. After all, surely there wouldn’t have been time to set up such a plan during the short period where he had been checking on his men.
Under his breath, a single whisper escaped Count Herbert’s lips. 'I hope I don’t regret this.'
He also decided to command his soldiers because, clearly, his chosen commander had been too lazy to do even that. Against his better judgement, He went with the oldest tactic in the book - he raised his blood-soaked blade and yelled, 'we have them on the defensive! We can annihilate them completely now! Charge!' " - The Valois War
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