As the sun rose higher and the fog gradually dissipated, it was now possible to see everything within a hundred meters, unlike the earlier difficulty in seeing.
As the fog slowly cleared, the traces of battle also appeared before everyone's eyes. Scattered bodies lay in front of the formation, remnants of skirmishes. To prevent the opponent's probes, both sides had suffered considerable casualties.
With the fog gone, the skirmishers who were fighting ceased their struggles and returned to their main formations. Continuing the fight now was meaningless; the real battle was about to begin.
Although the thick fog had receded considerably, the remaining mist still obscured the enemy's movements. Everyone, including the Kiev Grand Duke himself, remained vigilant. No one dared to confirm where the Polovtsy would attack from or what tactics they would use before seeing their main force.
Rostislav could now see the situation of the Kiev Grand Duke's central army and the right flank. The Kiev Grand Duke was still wearing the armor Rostislav had seen him in during his campaigns in Estonia, surrounded by Bodyguard Unit, exuding the full majesty of the Kiev Grand Duke.
As for the right flank, it was a dazzling expanse of silver light; countless armored warriors formed a powerful battle line. If needed, they could instantly transform into an iron fist, delivering a devastating right hook to the Nomad army.
"What strategy will the Polovtsy adopt? Will it be a direct cavalry charge or an outflanking mounted archery attack?"
Rostislav was surrounded by his Bodyguard Unit. In front of him were the nervous Monastery militiamen. Although they never doubted victory, the impending battle made them extremely tense. After all, they were just new recruits stepping onto the battlefield.
The Prince felt a bit nervous. The moment before the opponent makes their move is always the most nerve-wracking, especially when facing the fierce Polovtsian steppe people, a formidable enemy that would trouble the Slavic people for hundreds of years.
"It's just those few tricks. Let them come; let them crash head-on into our battle line. The shield wall will, as always, block everything."
Yang said with an indifferent tone. He had grown up with stories of the great victory over the Pechenegs; the childhood memory of his generation was the Slavic people's dominance over the steppe.
According to the original history, Rostislav should have shared this thought, but unfortunately, the Prince's body now contained a soul from a later era. He knew well what impact and destruction these foul-smelling Nomads would bring to the Slavic people.
Gvaran walked through the military formation, shouting encouragement to the farmers. The guard unit recited prayers to God, offering them spiritual solace.
The wait did not last long, for soon everyone felt the ground tremble. At first, it was just a slight tremor of small pebbles, but quickly it became so violent that everyone could feel it.
Everyone knew the Polovtsy had arrived.
"They actually chose a direct charge. They truly disregard casualties."
Rostislav was somewhat surprised. He had thought that the engagement would begin with skirmishing and mounted archery before a full-scale battle. Instead, the enemy immediately launched a full cavalry charge.
"Soldiers, hold the line! Secure the wagons tightly; the impact might be quite severe later."
Gvaran's voice rang out among the infantry ranks. The experienced Captain of the Guard immediately realized what needed to be done. At his command, the soldiers busily reinforced the wagons, and many spearmen even propped their spears on them.
Meanwhile, the archers drew their bows, ready to unleash a volley of arrows the moment the Nomad cavalry burst from the fog, turning them into sieves. The cavalry on the outermost flanks quickly ended their rest and mounted their warhorses, constantly prepared to counter any flanking or outflanking maneuvers by the Polovtsy.
A long, drawn-out horn blast echoed through the air, telling the Slavic people to prepare for battle.
The Prince's eyes were fixed on the faint mist ahead, waiting for the Nomad cavalry to emerge from it.
As the earth's trembling grew more intense, everyone knew the Polovtsy were coming. All gripped their weapons, preparing for the coming slaughter. Everyone understood that their wealth or poverty depended on this one struggle today.
Finally, the first warhorse broke through the now thin, almost dissipated fog and appeared in people's sight, followed by the second, the third... Herds of warhorses appeared before the Slavic people, filling their entire vision, looking like an ocean of steeds.
However, the soldiers, who had mentally prepared for this, let out gasps, even cries of fear. The reason was very simple—there were no riders on these warhorses, not even saddles or stirrups!
"My God, what is this?"
Rostislav stared at this scene, dumbfounded. He had never imagined that riderless horses would be charging out.
From above, it looked like a wildfire composed of warhorses sweeping in, mercilessly devouring everything in their path.
Rostislav had anticipated that the Nomads might commit their entire force to crash into the battle line. He had even discussed this with the Kiev Grand Duke, and the countermeasure was the current wagon fort. But the result was this sight.
The Slavic people were caught off guard by this scene. Many had never seen such a massive herd of horses before. Rostislav saw many soldiers instinctively retreat, only to stand trembling at the reprimand of the Bodyguard Unit.
Even some of the Bodyguard Unit showed signs of hesitation; their fear was written on their faces. Fortunately, in the end, honor and duty compelled them to stand their ground.
"They're mad! The Polovtsy are mad! They've gone completely insane!"
Driving such a massive herd to charge a military formation was indeed an act of madness, using so many animals for such a deadly charge was truly a waste of money. However, while this was true for the Slavic people, it was not so for the steppe Nomads. The Khan might not have many other things, but he definitely had enough livestock!
"Shoot! Shoot! Are you all fools! Quickly shoot those beasts!"
Amidst a flurry of panicked and similar shouts, the Slavic archers finally fired the arrows that should have been loosed when the first warhorse appeared. For a moment, the sky was filled with arrows.
The arrow rain fell on the heads of the horses. Many steppe horses fell to the ground, struck by arrows. Sometimes, they would trip the unlucky horses behind them, creating a spectacular scene of flying dust.
Unfortunately, although many horses were hit by arrows, compared to the total number of the herd, it was still not enough. The herd continued to charge with an unstoppable momentum, the ground trembling from the trampling of countless hooves.
The archers fired several more rounds of arrows, but still not enough warhorses fell. The total number of the herd remained terrifyingly large.
The Slavic soldiers behind the wagons trembled, their once abundant confidence now completely gone. Looking at the herd of horses surging like waves, all their courage vanished. They only remained standing due to the discipline of their training and the supervision of the Bodyguard Unit behind them.
For Rostislav, fortunately, these warhorses did not directly crash into his left flank, but they charged towards the Kiev Grand Duke's central army!