Chapter 618 Augustus's Guard

"What is that? What is that?"

The barbarians stopped their attack, and all they could see was the silver-white light roaring across the entire street.

The gravel on the street was trembling slightly under the heavy sound of horse hooves, and the hearts of the barbarian soldiers were also trembling. Their legs became weak as they looked at the silver-white horse whistling closer and closer, and cold sweat covered their already pale faces.

"Oh my god, what the hell is this?"

Even lying in a corner of the street, Vokrik couldn't believe what he was seeing. He had never seen such an army.

“Run! Run!”

Just as the group of silver knights raised their lances and roared and rushed towards them, they finally came to their senses from their surprise, and it was too late to flee.

The neighing of the horses and the roars of the knights drowned out their screams. In an instant, only the sound of violent collisions was heard. No one could survive such a collision.

The barbarian troops were scattered by the cavalry who charged in a group. The dense lances tore to pieces countless screaming and fleeing barbarians, and the heavy horses' hooves trampled countless people and corpses into meat paste.

Vokrick just lay there like a corpse, watching the dramatic change in front of him coldly. The barbarians who had just roared about killing all the Romans in the city were trampled to pieces in an instant.

This cavalry that came from nowhere kept passing in front of Vokrik. The silver-white on their bodies was all because of the heavy chain mail and plate armor on their horses and men.

Both the people and the horses were covered in heavy armor, and even their faces could not be seen clearly. This was an army that Vokrick had never seen before.

It is no wonder that these barbarians were so terrified when they saw this scene. They were frightened by the knights in armor and were scattered.

The war cries stopped, replaced by screams and cries. The soldiers in the front tried desperately to run back to survive, while those behind were still planning to chop off a Roman's head and rushed forward desperately.

The two sides were huddled together on the street behind the bridge. The soldiers in front who were retreating were crying and shouting, while the soldiers in the back who were rushing forward were roaring, and the two sides were arguing fiercely.

The Roman cavalry attacked from behind, and these silver-gray knights had their bodies and vests covered in the blood of barbarians.

This made them look more like bloodthirsty devils. The cavalrymen increased their speed once again. They roared and charged forward fiercely with their lances stained with blood and flesh.

"boom!"

It was like a huge battering ram smashing the already dilapidated wall. The broken "stones" wailed and screamed and fell into the river, splashing a lot of water.

"What's going on?"

Seeing that his front-line soldiers were completely defeated, Attila's face was full of surprise. He felt incredible, very incredible. Could it be that the Romans had a backup plan? He didn't have much time left.

"My king, the Roman reinforcements are coming."

His generals came to his carriage and whispered to Attila this news which was not good news.

"How many of them came?"

"Thousands and thousands of them are coming like a flood, getting closer and closer." The general didn't know how to describe it to Attila, so he reported the current situation to Attila using the simplest words he could.

"Lucky for them."

Attila sighed softly as he spoke, and used the scabbard in his hand to hit the wooden board under his feet hard, making a "bang bang" sound, as if only in this way could he vent his inner unwillingness bit by bit, the unwillingness that a king could not express.

"Who are they?"

"Flavius ​​Luca, Flavius ​​Aetius."

Attila's eyes suddenly became sharp, his whole body hair stood up, like a rooster ready to fight, his eyes fixed on the barbarian tribe in front of him that was being defeated.

"My king, do you need us to help them..."

"No need, my friend." Attila said coldly: "Let's see what their gods can do for them. We must leave here now. We can't let the solid walls around us become a cage to trap us."

After saying this, Attila's carriage slowly turned around, and his soldiers looked coldly at the barbarians struggling in the water, without any reaction. Finally, they followed Attila's carriage and slowly retreated from Orleans.

Finally, a large number of fully armed archers stood on both sides of the river, drawing their bows and arrows and aiming at the barbarians who were still struggling in the river.

"Look! This is the punishment the barbarians who invaded Rome deserve!"

The officers loudly encouraged the soldiers and were the first to loosen the taut bowstrings. Then, the soldiers roared and loosened the bowstrings one after another.

All that could be heard was the sound of bowstrings being stretched and snapped like trees being pulled, and countless arrows whizzed out from all directions in an instant. The river was like the Styx in hell, filled with countless screams and cries, and the entire river turned blood-red, with dead bodies floating in the water.

Now the barbarians retreated, strictly speaking, it was Attila who retreated, and Orleans was finally saved.

Sitting on the street corner, Walkrick always seemed to be forgotten. Looking at the soldiers coming and going, no one noticed this scarred hero, not even to offer him a sip of water.

He also chose to remain silent. No one knew how lost he was at this moment. He could only comfort himself: Maybe they need to care about bigger issues.

"Caesar, Attila has withdrawn from Orleans and is retreating to the north." When Vokrick heard this voice, he hurriedly looked in the direction of the voice.

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On an empty street, a Roman man wearing iron gray segmented armor, a gray wolfskin cape on his shoulders, and a heavy and gorgeous purple cloak hanging behind him was walking slowly, surrounded by Anenus, Aetius and other officers. The officer who was delivering the message was saying something to the man. They were separated from Vokrick by a team of soldiers and almost passed in front of Vokrick.

"Caesar?" Vokrick repeated softly. He had just called this gorgeously decorated Roman "Caesar", so this person must be Augustus.

"who is he?"

Vokrick endured the pain, stood up and asked the soldier beside him.

"Caesar, Augustus of the Eastern Roman Empire, the commander-in-chief of the war against Attila."

“Oh my god!”

Vokrick held his head and looked at the figure gradually moving away. He had never thought that he would see the ruler of Rome here, and at the forefront of the battlefield.

He endured the pain and dragged his tired body along the street closely following the group of people. He was afraid that he did not see Luca's face clearly, the sacred face belonging to Augustus. He believed that this would be a sacred reward for him, and he was always unwilling to give up.

"Are there any officers left in Orleans, then?"

Luca and his party stopped and turned around to ask Anenus behind him.

"Oh, Caesar, this, this..." Anenus seemed stumped.

"Centurion Vorrick, commander of the patrol force stationed on the northern wall of Orleans, salutes you!"

At this time, a sonorous voice was heard behind Anenus. Everyone turned around and saw a disheveled guy with blood all over his face.

His clothes and armor had long been filthy and dirty, and only the deformed centurion horned helmet on his head indicated his identity.

Although he was covered in wounds, he still stood straight in front of Luca.

"Vokrick, oh, yes, a faithful fellow." Anenus quickly pointed at Vokrick and said to Luca: "Caesar, yes, there is an officer, a junior officer."

Seeing Vokrik's miserable appearance, the other officers couldn't help but cover their faces and laugh. However, Luga looked Vokrik up and down with a serious face. Then, he took a water bottle from the waist of the guard beside him and handed it to Vokrik.

"You're thirsty, drink it."

Vokrick was stunned for a moment. He looked at Luga, then at the kettle handed to him by Luga. He pursed his cracked lips and was silent for a long time. Finally, he stretched out his trembling hands to take the kettle, opened the lid, tilted his head back and swallowed the water in the kettle in big gulps.

"After you finish drinking, bring your water bottle and report to the Guards. I need soldiers to serve me." Luga had a gloomy face from beginning to end. He just said this and turned away. However, Wokrik, who heard it, understood that such cold words were the greatest compliment to him!

(End of this chapter)