The Picori Plight

Chap. XXIII | Meeting Alfonso

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Link itched away at the hemming of his cap. Perspiration that'd nestled from the dome of his head had now flowed down in salty beads of tiresome. Thereafter taking care of the itchiness, Link peered his half-shut slits upon the battlefield once more. Veering his head to the far left, the infantry there were of innumerable quantity- possibly in the hundreds- if not up into a thousand. Though poorly-equipped, the opposing side (supposing to be one of the assumed Gharabha armies) perhaps retained as much numbers as the left side. The horses began rearing up on their hind legs as if predicting the steely outcome of their survival. The reigns of the chariots and mounted horses were joggled numerous times coercing the slow pace of the horses to quicken into a speedy gallop. The lances of these cavaliers and charioteers jutted horizontally out in front of them; the last rays of the sun glistened upon the cold, heartless steel of the lances that surged out from the gap. Responsive to their coercive measure of attack, springing from behind the rows of cavalry were tall, steel-reinforced shields reaching a height of six feet.

Undaunted by the defensive protection the shields provided, the cavalry and charioteers unhesitantly charged toward the cool steel of the middle flank. Seconds before contact, they tilted forward in stature thus lengthening their reach before them. The cool, sharp zeal of the spears pierced through several shields thereby not allowing several of the horsemen to budge another inch ahead. Though impenetrable from the flanks, the chariots surge forth to the center of shields. The heaving weight of the chariots caused the middle flank to topple over from such a explosively speedy impact. Surging out into the gap, the infantry were helplessly armed with nothing but a measly scimitar. Several Gerudo troops, realizing the brandished dazzled appearance of the frontline's spear, turned in fleeting pace away from the pikes. Unfortunately, for those small and frail, they were knocked to and fro upon the ground. Soon bursting from the middle flank, the fallen Gerudo infantry were met by the hard-hitting horseshoe of the rider's mount. The crushing weight set in them in a motionless state.

Observing the gruesome fatality of the crushed Gerudo troops, Link, in aghast, his mouth opened in an agape state as he witnessed the horror laid out before him. "The Gerudos never seem to fret from their gruesome battles," he commented.

Romulus, repliant to the statement, responded with: "They never seem to finish first either."

"Gharabha's armies for sure in that case," Link reciprocated back.

The pace of the frightened troops had quickened; laggards straggling behind the cluster of Gerudo infantry were met with the quick stab of a pike or gashed upon by the slashing of a scimitar upon the nape of the neck or diagonally so on the upper-section of their bare backs. Their numbers dwindled as they were cut down in number. Blood was splayed across the battlefield as it profused out from the knicks and cuts endured upon by the cowering, ill-equipped Gerudo warriors.

"That was a quick breaching of their frontline," Link commented.

"Yeah- no kidding!" Romulus muttered in utter sardonicism.

Link turned his head and nudged him on the shoulder. "Why the sarcasm, hmm?"

Romulus lifted a hand up to itch the dome of his head. "Well, this was quite the anti-climactic battle- that's all. I kinda figured they were gonna lose in the first place. First off, they had less numbers. Secondly-"

"They were quite ill-equipped!" Dubro interrupted with the loud, quick snap of his finger.

"Exactly my point," Romulus uttered out thereafter he shrugged his shoulders. "If this one of Gharabha's armies, you'd think it'd better equipped for battle."