The desperate cry rang out like a crack in glass. Viston turned his head, and his heart clenched.
His field of vision was almost entirely filled by marauders. Of the Eagle Banner soldiers still mounted, less than half remained.
Some had fallen, their bodies crushed beneath trampling hooves, intestines and lungs spilling from their mouths.
Others had been skewered alongside their horses—man and beast toppling together, the rider unable to break free, dying in agony.
Some had been hacked in half, their hearts exposed to the frigid air.
Even those still on horseback were all wounded and drenched in blood.
At this rate, they would soon be wiped out.
Viston gritted his teeth, raised his sword high, and swallowed the bitter taste of defeat.
"Second Battalion, cover the retreat!"
"Eagle Banner—fall back!!"
His voice thundered across the battlefield—but it did not immediately change the tide.