Chapter 650: The Fallen King
"My King."
Oedites could not bear it, fearing that the dust on the ground would stain Attila's noble body, and called out twice.
Attila still did not respond, he had been attracted by the river of blood.
The Marne River flows quietly, and the corpses floating on it remain quietly in place like isolated islands suspended above it.
This is all Attila's fault. No, to be exact, this is the most severe punishment God has given to the loser.
After all, he was just a guy who shouldn't be there. At least at this time, Oedites wanted to persuade Attila, but the words on his lips were met with Attila's indifference.
He sighed lightly. It seemed that failure had completely defeated this king. It was like an invisible hand that pulled him off the high throne and made him fall into the quagmire. His filthy and miserable appearance was revealed to the world, and he eventually became a laughing stock of the world.
"Hello."
Just as Oedites was about to leave, Attila spoke, and Oedites stopped and turned around.
Attila did not look back, but just raised his head to look at the army that was slowly gathering in the south of the Marne River. They seemed to be arguing about something, and I guess all the questions were directed at Attila himself.
"They are arguing about us." Attila couldn't help but sneer at this point, and the laugh sounded very helpless. "To be exact, it's me. They are so eager to kill me. Now is the best opportunity."
"But I see they are hesitating." Looking at the Roman coalition that had not yet taken action, Oedites continued to say to Attila, "My king, we are not without a chance. We still have brave soldiers. Although they are tired, they are still willing to die for you. Although the Romans defeated us, they also suffered a heavy blow. They stopped because of fatigue. They are vulnerable, my king."
"Then we are not even vulnerable." Attila was really an expert at sabotaging things. His words left Oedites speechless for a moment, and he didn't even know how to answer him again.
South bank of the Marne River
"See, this is what everyone wants!" Torismon spread his hands, laughed wildly at Aetius and Luca, and then said: "Okay, Romans, your soldiers are tired, but our soldiers are full of fighting spirit. They are shouting and fighting hard. As long as they fight against the Huns, they can burst out incredible and endless power!"
After saying this, the Gothic soldiers behind him raised their hands and cheered loudly. This was more like a demonstration to Luca and Aetius, letting them see that no excuses could hinder the Goths' determination to kill Attila with their own hands.
Opposite them, Luca and Aetius had gloomy faces. These two top Roman commanders just watched the group of barbarians demonstrating in silence, which was more like an insult to them.
"Damn it, Mo"
Seeing that the various barbarian tribes in front of him, led by Merovice, were actually planning to follow Torismon, Aetius, as Merovice's adoptive father, was naturally furious. He cursed inwardly and was about to open his mouth to scold Merovice, but was suddenly grabbed by two hands.
He turned around and saw that it was Luca.
"Sir Aetius, doing this will only make the gap between us and them grow deeper." Luca's reminder, whether intentional or unintentional, really confused Aetius. Although he didn't know what it meant, his intuition told him that he should remain silent at this time.
"Well then." Luca turned around and looked at Torismon who was encouraging the soldiers to roar, then waved and pointed to Attila's camp on the other side of the river, where the top of the fortress wall was already filled with Hun cavalry.
"Let go, Torismon, and lead your followers." Luga said, and then spread out his left hand to Torismon. In the palm of his hand, the tip of the Spear of Longnokis, which was broken into three sections, lay quietly in Luga's palm.
"God instructed our Pope Leo to give me the spear that pierced God's body, because only the spear stained with the holy blood of Jesus, the messenger of God, can kill the devil Attila. But unfortunately, the spear broke before it met Attila, which means that God changed his mind and he didn't want us to do it. As you know, Torismon, we Romans are devout Christians and we don't do anything that goes against God's instructions. God stopped us from killing because he was afraid that Satan would absorb too many innocent souls and become too powerful to bring disaster to the world. So God broke the spear representing killing in my hand and stopped me."
Luca's long string of nonsense left Torismon confused. God knows how much truth there is in the lies that Augustus said in a serious manner.
Even though it was a lie, Luca was Augustus, so his words were naturally not questioned, and his words became the reason for the Roman army to stop here.
"I never counted on you!" Torismon glanced at the broken Spear of Longnokis in Luca's hand. He had heard of this thing and naturally understood that it was the church's artifact. Even the artifact was broken, which must be God's will.
He didn't believe in evil, or perhaps his burning love for his father and his fanatical rage for revenge made him unable to care about anything else.
He wanted Attila dead so badly, immediately, right now!
He led his troops and set off, crossing the Marne River where corpses were floating densely. They landed on the north bank one after another, then shook off the blood on their bodies, and walked slowly towards Attila's camp in front of them, all wet.
Even though they were exhausted, the soldiers of the barbarian coalition still gritted their teeth and held on. They were getting closer and closer to the Hun camp. The Hun archers standing on the city wall held their bows tightly and pulled the strings slowly. They didn't have many arrows left, so they were required to make sure that every arrow hit a person's vital part.
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Because the war horses were afraid of the blood river, Torismon and his soldiers had to dismount and walk, so the ones following behind him were all infantry.
They held up their shields, and although their steps were unsteady and their feet felt as if they were filled with lead, Torismon still gritted his teeth and persevered. He held the shield in front of him and slowly walked towards Attila's fortress.
"Oedites, my friend." Looking at the dense barbarian army heading towards the camp, Attila said again, "Please order the soldiers to remove the saddles from all the horses."
"What is this going to do?" Oedites thought Attila had a better idea.
"No, it's nothing. Just do it and don't ask too many questions."
Oedites did so, and soon saw the cavalrymen piling up the saddles of their horses beside Attila's tent, so many that it looked like a small hill.
Attila held the sword of Mars and climbed to the top of the "mountain" step by step, and then sat on his own saddle that he had placed.
Several soldiers who had been given orders temporarily carried oil barrels and poured oil onto the saddles. Attila held a torch in one hand and looked at the approaching enemy with the other. Everyone knew what he wanted to do.
"I, Attila. The King of the Huns, the King of the Scythians, the King of the Germans, the King of the Four Directions, the Supreme King. No one can defeat me, no one except myself!" Attila muttered to himself, his face was ashen and his expression was ferocious.
(End of this chapter)