Chapter 624 Battle of Chalons 6

Finally, the long night finally saw the dawn, and Odoric was flashed by the faint light, which was the light reflected from the iron sword inserted next to his face.

He opened his tired eyes and saw that the sun had already appeared more than halfway above the horizon of Asia.

It was quiet and there seemed to be no one around. He raised his head and looked around, then pushed away the corpse that was pressing on him and endured the pain as if his body was falling apart.

When he stood up again, he saw corpses lying densely all around him, as well as broken spears and shattered helmets, and blood had dyed the ground beneath his feet red.

Odoric stood up. Although there were many people lying here, who knew how many of them were alive? He looked around and saw no Romans or his own people. There were only corpses lying motionless on the ground. Then he smelled the familiar smell of blood.

Odoric pursed his cracked lips and murmured in a hoarse voice: "It's dawn."

He turned around, looked for a place to stay among the corpses on the ground, and then walked in the direction of the army.

"My king!"

Suddenly he heard a call. He looked in the direction of the voice and saw an old soldier in ragged clothes with wounds of all sizes on his body, leading two war horses slowly towards Odoric.

"Oh my god, I thought you had an accident. Fortunately, I persisted when everyone tried to persuade me to do so."

"Yes, my loyal companion." Odoric nodded, glanced at the battlefield again, and then asked the veteran: "How many times did we repel the enemy's attacks? I mean, I remember five times, and then I don't remember anything."

"Seven times!"

The old soldier straightened his chest and said this as if he had become taller. It was a sense of honor and pride.

"Oh, I'm so proud of you!" Odoric sighed, but still said it out loud. "It's a pity that I let God down and missed something really important."

At this point, Odoric seemed to remember something and asked hurriedly, "How many casualties have we suffered? We have withstood seven attacks from the Romans, and we have suffered quite a lot."

"Just as you worried, my king." The old soldier looked around at the corpses and sighed. He then said, "Half of our manpower has been lost. The remaining soldiers are all injured. Now the soldiers need you more than ever, my king."

Odoric followed the veteran silently without saying a word, like a child who had made a mistake.

The old soldier must have seen what Odoric was thinking at the moment, for he laughed, as if he could laugh off such a sad thing.

"Don't blame yourself, my king. The soldiers still need you. They need your leadership."

"Maybe." Odoric still looked a little dazed. He must be too tired. Hunger and thirsty, these physical pains were tormenting Odoric all the time.

He followed the veteran soldier onto his warhorse and headed for the nearby Chalon Plain.

On the Sharon Plain, the originally empty space was suddenly filled with people and horses. They put down their luggage and set up camp.

On a high ground north of the Marne River, the Hun soldiers built camps and defense lines.

Hundreds of thousands of people worked together, and the camp was built at a very fast speed, as if it happened in the morning and appeared in the blink of an eye.

They only built a camp for Attila and the Hun leaders and nobles. The others rested on the open grassland, sharpened their weapons, and then waited for the arrival of the Romans.

The Sharon Plain is flat on both sides of the river with little terrain undulation, but there is a highland in the south that is like a hill, and not far below the highland is a forest.

The high ground has a good view, and the advantage of being high above allows either side, if they completely occupy the high ground, to firmly grasp the entire Chalons Plain before the Marne River.

Attila naturally had his own ideas in choosing this place. The battle started with the fight for the high ground, or to attract the Romans to fight for the high ground. If he occupied this place early, the Romans would inevitably take a detour to go straight to the Marne River.

Odoric and the old soldiers rode over and saw the remnants of his defeated troops gathering on the south bank of the river. They sat on the grass, waiting for something.

Odoric rode up to them, but the soldiers under his command just glanced at him and then bowed their heads heavily.

Such silence was more like a silent accusation, and their numbers were really as deafening as the loudest accusation, causing Odoric to hang his head.

He even wanted to cover his ears, as if their breathing was a curse on him.

They rested here and struggled for three days with limited military rations.

On the afternoon of the third day, a long horn sound was heard coming from the woods in the south. The sound was deep and piercing, as if it was blown by hundreds of different horns.

“Tap, tap, tap…”

Only the sound of heavy footsteps was heard, and everyone looked up to see a raging wave sweeping towards them with overwhelming momentum.

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A large number of soldiers were lined up horizontally, stretching for several kilometers. The Roman army was on the left, the Alans, Franks and Lombards in the middle, and the Franks on the right.

Under Attila's command, his soldiers stood up from the grass one after another, looking at the black sea of ​​soldiers in front of them, slowly pressing towards Attila.

"It seems that the Romans are really going to fight us to the death this time." Attila slowly walked out of the military camp. The officers and nobles came to the front of the army fully armed. The soldiers stood up and lined up behind Attila.

"It seems that the Romans are going to risk everything to fight us to the death. As long as we move forward, meet them and defeat them, we can conquer Gaul, Iberia, Italy, and finally Rome."

Attila repeated it over and over again, holding a golden eagle sculpture and flapping it in his hands, and finally pointed directly at the Western European army slowly approaching in front of him, and shouted: "Cross the river!"

The Hun army rode slowly forward on horseback, thousands and thousands of horses treading on the water, splashing water all the way, as if the water in the entire Marne River was boiling.

They joined forces with the barbarian vassal army south of the Marne River, and together they faced the oncoming Roman army.

"Don't be afraid! Don't panic. Now, follow the sound of the horn and keep moving forward! Forward!"

On the Roman side, the junior officers at the front shouted loudly, encouraging the soldiers who were slowly moving forward behind them.

Luga stood on the chariot and slowly advanced with the army. The armies of both sides were like two rivers slowly converging together, rolling in just for the final moment of collision.

The flags are flying, and this will be a war of a huge scale that will go down in history and will soon be presented to the world.

Now, all they could hear were the sharp and rough sound of horns and the heavy thumping of footsteps. No matter who they were, they would have a desire to fight. The sound of horns and war cries would give even the most cowardly cowards courage and the desire to fight.

"Flavius ​​Luca, and you, Aetius, my old friend!" Attila rode forward while secretly saying in his heart: "It's time to settle the accounts from the past to the present!"

"Attila, Attila!" Luga thought to himself as he walked forward, "I have struggled for more than ten years just for this day, just to fight you here!"

(End of this chapter)