Among the NCOs and staff of Galen's army, most were part of his old team who had served and fought with him in the famous "Northern Fire" Legion.
Others were Kirshis family retainers and subordinates, absolute loyalists.
It was by relying on these capable people who supported him sincerely that Galen could quickly control the army.
Despite the situation of "the general not knowing the troops and the troops not knowing the general," he not only completed the transition of command but also, after a period of training, brought out the unit's combat power beyond normal levels.
The development of the battle tilted in favor of the Northerners.
While the Greenskin center suffered massive casualties, it failed to make a breakthrough on the line, being held firmly outside the inner defenses by the pikes, halberdiers, and sword-and-shield units arrayed on high ground.
Once the flank collapsed and the knights charged into their rear without losing momentum, and once the Estalians began their proactive counter-attack, defeat was certain for the Greenskins.
Outriders and knights scattered out, hunting down the fleeing Greenskin routing troops, thinning the enemy's living strength as much as possible to prevent them from regrouping and causing havoc.
The Greenskins' problem is obvious in this regard: a true defeat—not a feigned one for an ambush—puts them in a state where every rustle of leaves sounds like a ghost.
Panicked Greenskins find it very hard to regroup their full strength.
Order factions, typically like the Empire, Dwarfs, and Elves, can handle this well.
Unless it's an annihilation battle, even a defeat won't cause the unit to completely shatter and scatter. As long as there is someone left to command, the routing troops can regroup spontaneously.
Greenskins need to run far enough and be safe for a while to escape the state of mindless panic, eventually being guided by a mysterious pull to rejoin a larger horde and return to a tribe.
Alternatively, some Greenskins huddle together and turn into small or micro-bandit gangs, acting as highwaymen, harassing villages, and attacking travelers.
Because of this racial trait, missions to pursue routs, drive them off, and expand battle results are relatively safe when applied to them.
The Skaven are similar; when they are brave, even the lowest slave rat can be fearless, but when they break, they fall like a landslide.
The issue lies in their pheromones; pheromones secreted during states of courage, confidence, or battle-lust can inspire and hearten their companions.
But pheromones from negative emotions like defeat, death, or panic can also infect their comrades, causing a chain collapse of morale.
A red-striped knight decapitated the last Big 'Un still resisting with a single sword stroke.
That hideous head flew high with a spray of blood before dropping and rolling across the ground, coming to rest in the arms of a fallen human warrior.
The knight named Samael took off his helmet, revealing a weather-beaten face like a classical statue polished by vast amounts of time, and looked toward the hill.
Galen, leading several guards and confidential staff, proactively went to meet him, walking down the slope.
"My thanks for your aid, ally of Estalia, noble knight of chivalry."
"Your bravery makes me think of the most sacred legends, the incarnations of virtue walking the mortal world—the twelve Grail Companions."
"This is a testament to the friendship between the Kingdom and Bretonnia! A steel friendship forged over thousands of years through blood and fire!"
Galen spoke with excitement, loudly praising the knights' achievements, stating that half the credit for this victory belonged to their assistance.
He intended to record this experience and send it to the Northern Council in Bilbali to express gratitude on behalf of the Kingdom of Estalia.
The knights remained silent.
Only Samael, the red-striped knight acting as the leader, shook his head slightly and said:
"Our mission is complete. Next, we must return east to Sahagan. The road ahead you must walk alone."
A flicker of melancholy passed through Galen's eyes, though his face remained mostly full of gratitude.
He waved his hand, saying: "You have already helped me much. Don't worry; now that this enemy has been crushed, the Greenskin scum's influence on this road has basically been cleared."
"Small bands of roaming enemies pose no threat to us. In three days, we will arrive at the site of the 'Bulwark of Saint Monna'."
"We shall camp and rest here today. I hope you can stay one more night to celebrate this victory with us. What do you say?"
Samael shook his head, declining. He donned his helmet, and with his knightly companions, they separately arranged for the wounded.
Then the entire troop of knights silently left the camp.
There were no cheers, no grand farewells—they simply came in silence and left in silence.
The Fleur-de-Lis, Sword, and Grail Knights.
In the hearts of Estalians, they remained a complex symbol.
Even in front of Al, aside from the fanatical prayers shouting for a "World of Virtue," one could see almost no other emotion from them.
Even the pain suffered on the battlefield was endured by the vast majority of knights with gritted teeth, silently waiting for treatment.
Like when they destroyed the Skaven Undercity before; many knights were infected with plague.
The most severe cases showed large patches of rot and festering, which was terrifying to behold.
Even then, the knights didn't say a word, receiving Shamanic treatment in silence.
Only when necrotic flesh and pus were being cut and scooped out would they uncontrollably let out a few groans.
This had once made Al suspect if these guys were Grail Marines created by Lileath.
After all, the Four Mothers could let him use bloodline power to cultivate God-blessed Bestigors.
Lileath already had a precedent for cultivating powerful warriors as enforcers, so it was normal for her to create super-soldiers after the Great War.
Astartes, Old World Skin, Bretonnian Edition.
They were very strong. In a one-on-one scenario, excluding the monster units and considering only regular troops,
only Al's heavily armored bodyguards among the Beastmen could barely go fifty-fifty with these mounted knights.
The knights were just as dangerous once they dismounted.
Situations involving life-and-death struggle on the battlefield were another matter.
It was for this reason that Al always arranged the knights' quarters at a good location outside the main camp.
A place with mountains, water, and plains, with two settlements nearby to imply surveillance.
Only about twenty knights stayed permanently at the main camp to participate in councils and various tasks.
The leader was, of course, Samael.
He was a man of few words and a large build, but regardless, he was an exceptionally capable individual.
Not just in combat, but in management, logistics, and governing the people, he had unique insights.
At the very least, he could understand Al's instructions perfectly and carry them out faithfully.
For the tribe, that was more than enough.
The Grand Master of the order was drafted into hard labor; Al assigned the affairs of a dozen settlements to him for processing.
The taciturn knight completed them faithfully, working hard without complaint.
He wouldn't come to check on the Little Father like Misha did.
He was a qualified talent.