Herald of Steel

As Lord Parker's reinforcements arrived at the bridge, they found themselves with a pleasant surprise waiting for them.

Because off in the distance, past the standard of the enemy displaying a large blue flower against a white background, there was the sight of another standard proudly waving in the wind- a standard that was allied to them

It was the Margraves emblem- a golden balance with two coins resting against a field of green.

This flag indicated that there was an allied unit on the rear flanks of the enemy, and with Lord Parker's reinforcements pressing from the front- well the rat was cornered as they say.

It was a sight that brought great joy to the clad in black men, especially since they were not at all expecting this aid.

By all accounts, these men should have been away rescuing Lord Kite.

But for whatever they had not gone there but instead chose to attack the enemy here.

And these attackers were happy about it.

Initially, they had been worried about how exactly they were going to dislodge the enemy from the bridge as asked by their superior, since they were in such an advantageous position.

The narrow bridge acted as an excellent chokepoint, nullifying much of the advantages of their superior numbers.

So at first, the best they had dared to dream was to overwhelm the enemy through sheer attack and exhaustion- using their great numbers to launch wave after wave of assaults on the line.

This would not likely break them, as the narrow bridge would prevent the legionaries from scattering even if they wanted to, but the assault would hopefully be able to force them to back off, making them retreat all the way back to the island.

Then there, out in the open, with any luck these legionaries could be outflanked and destroyed.

That was the wish at least, the best case scenario.

In reality, however, most of the soldiers would have been content if they could just reclaim the bridge.

But now, with the presence of a friendly unit behind the enemy lines, the equation had clearly changed.

There was no room for the enemy to retreat from this narrow bridge, and so all that was left to do now was to push and slaughter them.

"Charge! Men! Charge! The enemy is trapped! Haha, the gods have blessed us! Charge! Take no prisoners!"

And easily comprehending his advantage, the commander of the forces wasted no time in letting out this great shout of joy.

Before starting to personally charge at the lines with his men, as was the custom of the Heeat family, or Sybarians in general- commanders always led from the front,

And this time, the commander who was spearing towards Alexander's formation was none other than the man himself- General Achillas, galloping atop his large, heavy horse, like a deadly freight train.

Usually, as the general of the entire army, would have been very demeaning for him to command such a small force of only a thousand men.

But after that recent tirade by Lord Parker, where even the top man himself had not been spared his lord's wrath, well the man quietly took command, vowing in his heart to prove himself.

The island would be recovered under him no matter the amount of blood lost, and he swore to bring back the head of the enemy commander's head as an apology for all the recent failures.

Which in this case would be Alexander's head, and from the looks of things, his neck might very well be under the threat of leaving his body.

"Fall back! Retreat! Retreat!"

"Back up! Back up!"

"Bunch together! Cover any gaps!"

"Stick together! Do not falter!"

Towards the grave predicament they were in caused by the pincher attack, the legionaries had little time to even bemoan their tragic circumstances.

Because they were instead far more concerned about trying to survive, they instinctively tried to get as far away from Achillas's men as possible, moving away from the mouth of the bridge to more towards the center.

But there was only far they could go, as the Margraves commander in the rear also launched his attack in tandem, letting out a similar cry of delight as Achillas, "Now men! Go! Our time for revenge is here! Slaughter them all! For all our fallen brothers!"

He too could see the appearance of a new standard- of a red horse against a golden wheat field, appearing on the opposite side, and knowing what it represented, instantly rejoiced.

"For our brothers!"

As did the Margraves troops, hence they also charged with extreme zeal, uttering such a bloodthirsty chorus, and squeezing Alexander's men in a deadly pincher.

So what was going through the heads of the men who were being put in this gallstone you ask?

Well, nothing good of course.

The various commanders and officers tried their best to keep morale, many shouting encouraging phrases to not keep their hopes high and fight on till the bitter end.

While a few others urged the men to make sure to take as many of the enemy they could, thus asking them to make suicidal attacks.

But at the end of the day, whether they tried to play to the men's survival instincts or their raw manly desire for blood and revenge, they bore very little result.

And how could they?

This was not a situation that could be resolved by simple words or mere tactics.

They were trapped here, on this narrow bridge, facing attacks from both sides and no amount of sophistry was going to change that.

It was something all the veteran men there knew very well, and that the only way they were going to get out of this was through external help.

So until that happened, these men were content to simply lock their shields and wait, hoping for a miracle.

'What do I do now? What do I do now? Oh god, why did I not listen to Hemicus? Oh god, why did I not listen to Hemicus? What do I do now? What do I do now?'

While his men prayed for salvation from above, Alexander himself was panicking like he had never done.

The man had never been in such a dangerous situation, ever.

Not even when he was outflanked, or had the enemy charge at his lines, he had not felt the amount of panic and distress he was facing now.

At least in those cases, he had the choice of escaping, as bad as that choice would have been.

But here, he was like a fish inside a fish trap. Still able to swim a bit inside the woven basket, but ultimately there was nowhere to hide.

And this reality was sinking on him with each passing second.

He could already hear swords and spears clanking from both sides of the formation, the dull thud of shields blocking metal, the loud but increasingly panicked shouts of his officers, and the

And soon even that was not compact enough, as a 'crushing' began to develop.occasional pained and heartbreaking groans of his men getting hit and falling, all while the space around him was starting to get smaller and smaller, as the frontlines were pushed back one step at a time.

This was of course natural, as even though the legionaries were as brave as they could be and even though they tried as best as they could, the overwhelming numbers they were facing, as well as the way they were being attacked from all sides, made their retreat inevitable.

They were going to lose this fight, and this was how they were going to it.

By being surrounded, squeezed to a single point, and then decimated one by one like in a slaughterhouse.

The legionaries hence continued to become closer and closer to each other until they began to squeeze into themselves, their bodies pasting into one another to the point there was no space to move or even lift one's arms.

The hounded men pushed against each other's chest so hard that it made it difficult for them to even breathe, as their diaphragms were unable to lift themselves due to the mortifying pressure pressing down upon them.

It was an agonizing way to die.

And one that General Achillas seemed to rejoice to see, as he cheered his men from atop his warhorse,

"Yes! That's it! Push! Push! Harder! The bastards are close! Push!", while he led from the front, swinging his large iron battle axe in huge dreadfully fast arches, ones that seemed to make sparks each time it bashed the shields the legionaries were holding on for dear life, or cleave right through the body if it hit flesh.

The current unfolding circumstances had put the man in an extremely good mood, rejoicing at the ease and quickness with which he had managed to corner the entire contingent of the enemy.

It caused him to already start dreaming of how he was going to present his lord with the head of the enemy commander, just as he had sworn.

As for that commander in question, he heard the captain of his guard, shout desperately into his ear, piercing it,

"Alexander! Jump! Jump to the sea and escape! Jump!"

It seemed the only way out for Alexander was this dangerous almost 40 feet jump.

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