Chapter 639 Battle of Chalons 21

Of course, Attila guessed right again and did it right!

Seeing the Hun cavalry coming at them, the Franks in the front row were stunned. They stared with wide eyes at the black flag fluttering in the wind in the middle of the assault cavalry.

The Franks, who had fought with the Huns many times, could not have been unaware that this flag belonged to the Hungarian King Attila himself.

"Attila! Attila!"

When the Frankish noble officer faced the cavalry charge, he did not call on the soldiers to defend at the first time. He was frightened and uttered his last sound while standing in the front formation. That sound was calling Attila's name. It was full of fear and panic. In the end, he was knocked down and died under the horses' hooves by the heavy armored cavalry that was charging towards him.

"Forward! Forward! Follow the direction pointed by the iron sword in my hand?"

In the army formation, Attila held high the strangely shaped iron sword in his hand. It was said that the sword was obtained in a village in the province of Pannonia. Together with a golden crown, it became the symbol of his rule, and people called it the Sword of Mars.

It was as if the declining polytheism was entrusted to an outsider like Attila to teach the "heretical" Rome a lesson.

The roaring heavily armored Hun cavalry once again tore apart the fragile defenses of the Franks and Alans. They were like a whirlwind, ruthlessly dispersing the Alans and Franks who were gathered together and trembling.

"Stop, stop quickly, reorganize the army to defend! Reorganize the army to defend!"

Merovingian, the King of the Franks, who was at the rear of the army, shouted loudly. He stood in place and formed a human wall with his cronies behind him, continuously blocking the Alans and Franks who were retreating backwards.

It would have been fine if they had intercepted the Franks, but the Alans could not understand their language, which could not be blamed on them. After all, after the death of King Diego of Alans, the Alans' army had been on the verge of extremely low morale.

This attack undoubtedly dealt another heavy blow to the Alans' already fragile nerves.

The defeat was disastrous, and perhaps Merovice himself had not expected such an outcome, because the team he led was filled with too many soldiers from other tribes, who would not obey his command at all. So in the chaos he really had no way to stabilize and rebuild the morale of his army.

Maybe he had just managed to hold back a few people when he suddenly saw a large group of Alans fleeing in disarray not far away. Then he turned around and found that the guys he had just stopped had disappeared without a trace.

Even so, Merovingian still gathered the Franks tightly around him under tremendous pressure, watching the Hun cavalry approaching more and more. They were basically stepping on corpses and were soaked in blood, like killing gods from hell.

"Gather together, gather together!"

Merovice was indeed a little panicked. He roared loudly, personally ordered the soldiers beside him and directed them to form a shield formation with the wooden shields in their hands.

But he seemed unaware of the soldiers beside him. They looked at the Huns with expressions ashen faces, bodies shaking like sieves, pale lips and eyes revealing despair.

What kind of fear could bring them to the brink of collapse?

"Gather together! Gather together!" Even Merovice's voice was trembling a little, but he still held the iron sword tightly in both hands, staring at the Hun cavalry that was getting closer and closer.

It's like a fisherman standing on the bow of a boat looking at the huge waves in front of him. What are they thinking at this moment? I'm afraid only they themselves know.

"Tap tap tap"

The blood-soaked war horses neighed, and even the herbivorous animals became violent because of the blood and killing. They sped up and knocked down and trampled those who had given up resistance and tried to escape.

The Hun cavalry charged here, and they kept cutting through the two sides of the small army formation assembled by Merovingian. The Hun horses kept passing in front of the soldiers, and the heavy horse armor hit the shields in their hands from time to time.

Heavily armored cavalrymen kept passing by, and they deliberately used the armor of their horses to hit the Franks' shields, making a dull sound. They laughed wildly, mocking the Franks for being so vulnerable in front of them.

However, the Franks still gritted their teeth and tried to struggle. Under the command of their king Merovingian, they relied on shields and spears to continuously counterattack the nearby Huns.

This action made the nearby Hun cavalry very angry. They roared and spoke in an incomprehensible language. However, it was certain that these words were dirty and unbearable to hear.

Relying on the heavy armor they were wearing, they rushed to the Franks' shields with dignity, waving their bloodstained iron swords and battle axes, constantly hitting the Franks' raised shields.

Hundreds of Hun cavalrymen around were waving their weapons and constantly hitting the Franks' shields, and Merovice and his men could only passively defend themselves and watch the "tall" guys riding on horseback in front of them.

The despair in Merovice's heart was reflected on his face. He looked at the increasing number of Hun cavalry around him in horror, and only then realized the crisis.

"My lord, where are the Romans? Where are the Romans?"

The soldiers around him shouted at Merovice again and again, questioning Merovice, the only guy with authority.

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Merovice stood there blankly, listening to the shouts and inquiries around him, and he didn't know how to answer.

"No reinforcements."

"What?"

"I said there is no reinforcement! Damn it, don't you understand?" Merovitz finally exploded. He yelled loudly at the soldiers around him, and he could only rely on this little bit of authority to support his anger.

The Hun cavalry laughed wildly and rode their horses around the Franks' shield formation, waving their weapons and hitting their shields.

"Caesar, Caesar!"

At this time, the messenger rode up quickly and pointed to the middle road and said to Luca in a surprised voice: "Attila led a huge cavalry army to tear open the middle road. The Franks and Alans are finished!"

"Caesar, what should we do?" Marenius quickly looked up at Luca and asked.

"They are indeed weak and vulnerable," Luca shook his head with a look of contempt on his face. "I don't know how Aetius feels about taking in Merovice. Don't worry about it now! Focus on facing the enemy in front of you!"

(End of this chapter)