“Blood spilled can never be taken back.” - Old soldier’s saying.

For the first two hours of the battle, nothing much happened.

Well, people fought and died on the frontlines during those hours, their bodies left where they fell only to be stepped on by those still fighting, but no major shifts in the battle took place. Both armies seemed content to grind each other down and see who broke first. Even the rain of arrows had lessened to a drizzle as the archers started to pace themselves to avoid excessive fatigue and to save up on their limited arrows.

Soldiers who grew fatigued from the battle were rotated out and replaced by fresh and eager ones on both sides. With how both armies had their elite soldiers taking the front on that day, the battle was even so far, as while the Podovnian army had more troops in total, they did not have that much more elites compared to their foes.

Also, part of their elites had been kept on the sides to watch out for the enemy cavalry, which reduced the number who could be stationed at the frontlines.

After another hour, however, the Podovnian army was starting to run out of fresh elites to rotate to the front lines and the Marquis made a decision to have those at the sides switch over to the front lines while those who were resting would take over the sides instead. The shift of soldiers was unable to escape their opponent’s sight, however, and served as a spark that ignited the second phase of the battle.

“It’s time,” noted Marshal Publius Cornelius from where he sat astride his steed at the head of the cavalry stationed behind the infantry lines. Podovniy had the right idea with how they stationed elites on their flanks to watch out for cavalry, but then made the mistake of rotating their resting troops there while the original troops went to the front.

It was what Publius had been waiting for all along.

“Pass the order. First squadron and third squadron, on me, we will take the enemy’s right flank. Quintus Lucius will command the second and fourth squadrons to hit the enemy left flank,” he said in a steady voice to a messenger next to him. “No charges into the enemy lines, ranged harassment only, aim for the sides and back of the enemy formation.”

The messenger saluted then ran off to pass the message to the various unit commanders. Each of the four squadrons had their own commanding officers, of which Quintus Lucius was the commander of the second squadron. Publius had taken personal command of the first squadron as he was used to, while the fourth squadron was Levain’s cavalry under the command of the half-orc they had met back then.

He waited a short while to let the messenger do his job, and soon received word from another messenger that everyone was ready. Publius nodded in satisfaction. The army was prepared to move in a shorter time than he expected, which was a good thing. Even the Levainians signaled their readiness promptly. With a smile on his face he turned to the rider to his left, who carried a banner pole on his back and had a large brass instrument almost coiled around his body.

“Sound the horns, my good man. Today, we march to Victory!” he yelled, at which point the bannerman blew the horn loudly in a two-beat pattern, a signal for attack.

Almost as one, the thousands of cavalrymen under Publius’s lead started to trot their steeds as they moved out from behind the infantry lines. They slowly gained more speed as they distanced themselves from the main battle before they turned around and urged their steeds to a steady gallop, their path directly headed towards the enemy’s left flank.

A similar scene played out on the other side as the second and fourth squadron of cavalry did the same, and both groups charged towards their enemies in unison, war cries meshing with the whinnying of horses and the thunderous sound made by the galloping hooves as their rushed with shield and javelins held in their hands.

Each cavalryman – both Caroman and Levainian – were armed with a round shield made from light wood covered by leather, multiple javelins, and a single long spear typically slung across their back when not in use. For today’s battle they also carried a second pack of javelins behind their backs, each man or woman armed with a total of twelve javelins.

The riders swerved to the side so that their path ran parallel to the enemy lines instead of crashing into them when they were but ten meters away from the enemy soldiers, and hurled their javelins as they turned. Thrown from such short distances, the javelins were deadly and accurate, with many of them claiming a victim from amongst the enemies.

Then those behind them repeated their actions.

While the enemy soldiers at the sides held up their shields to cover themselves from the rain of javelins, many of the projectiles still managed to slip around their defenses to find unprotected flesh to pierce. More than one soldier took a javelin to their legs, only to take another to the chest or neck as they fell down from the pain and exposed themselves.

Despite how each cavalrymen only threw three to four of their twelve javelins in that pass, their numbers meant that nearly twenty thousand javelins were hurled towards the right flank of the Podovniy army, which caused at least a couple thousand casualties, both injured and dead. Many shields were also rendered unusable by the weight and encumbrance of the javelins that sprouted out from them.

As their enemies reeled from the strike, the cavalry rushed past the Podovnian army even as their foes mobilized their smaller contingent of cavalry to chase after and stop them. The head start meant that the Podovnian cavalry were unable to catch up to their enemies, at least until Publius ordered an about-face and turned his two squadrons around to strike at their pursuers.