We are doing a great thing, like saving a beautiful princess from the mouth of an evil dragon, like helping the villagers expel the evil bandits, like for God, for the civilized world to put an end to barbarism and ultimately preserve glory and eternity.

What is the price of the enthusiastic young men who can get them into battle? An epic poem that celebrates war and glory, it may be excerpted from Homer's epic poems, Gallic wars, or even the witty words of ordinary nobles.

It's just a story of a hero saving beauty, a brave warrior saves a beautiful woman and finally hugs the beauty, and the girl is best of Germanic origin, after all, exotic customs are always so fascinating.

A brand new piece of chain mail, although this is scarce, an iron helmet, look, this thing is not only powerful on the head, but also very durable.

Or maybe a few gold coins of Souledes a year, which can buy a few sips of wine and a girl who fights for money to have a night of her own.

Or, it was just a nod of the Roman officials, and then the reply: You are now a Roman citizen.

The reason why he joined the army has long forgotten his lofty goals, and what glorious future there is, what outstanding and illustrious people are, they are all stars in the sky, and they are beyond reach.

You can't tell a man who has just crawled out of the pile of dead people about the greatness of war. Those who had never been on the battlefield saw the flags waving after the victory and flowers everywhere, but what they saw was the blood-stained earth and the hideous corpses lying on it, and the limbs that had been cut off alive and thrown on the ground and were still twitching.

The ironclad cavalry under Lugar's command marched forward, knocking down all the barbarian soldiers who had been crowded together by the chaos along the way.

The follow-up attack of the Roman army was like a huge fist, which instantly became larger, and quickly stretched out the large mouth that tried to devour this fist.

The fierce offensive forced the barbarian coalition in front of them to retreat, as they were in disarray.

The vast plains south of the Marne were crowded with people, everything was in disarray, and the frenzied soldiers were roaring loudly, and from time to time they raised their weapons, and tried by all means to kill the other party.

"Theodoric is dead, our king is dead! I saw with my own eyes that he was trampled to death by a frightened warhorse! ”

The Gothic cavalry, who had witnessed this tragic situation, cried to Torrismon who had come to stop them from retreating, and all of them looked at Torrismon, each of them with different expressions, but the common thing was that they all wanted a satisfactory answer from Torrismon's mouth.

"Torrismon." At this time, an old veteran stood up and whispered to Torrismon: "This is not our war, enough, we have paid too much for this feud between the Romans and Attila, we have done too much, stop, Torrismon, let our soldiers return to their homes alive to reunite with their wives and children, this is a misunderstanding in itself!" ”

"Why? Why should we retreat? ”

Another young officer stepped forward, he was so strong-blooded, like a lion ready to fight, and roared at the cowardly veteran: "See? Our king, Theodoric's horses died under Attila's bow and arrows, he was thrown to the ground, Attila terrorized our horses so that they lost their minds and killed our king, Attila is the culprit, we must take revenge, we have so many equally angry soldiers! ”

"Then why, you're riding here." The veteran snorted coldly, looking at the young general who retorted with a look of disdain, "Could it be that your war horse was also bewitched by Attila and fled here in panic instead of carrying you to the enemy." ”

"Torrismon, Torrismon!" The young officer looked back at Torrismon and said eagerly: "You should understand what you are going to do, your father's murderer is manipulating more people to kill your compatriots, you must know what you should do now, everyone is waiting for your decision!" ”

"Torrismon! Torrismon! ”

The officers and soldiers were calling Torismon's name, which made it very difficult for him to stand in the crowd without making a decision.

"Yes, we have to go back!" "Since we have promised the Romans to fight alongside them," said Torrismont, "we must fight with them. ”

"What's more!" Torrismon said, turned over and stepped on his horse, took a cavalry spear from the hand of the cavalry guard beside him, put it on his shoulder, and said loudly to every Gothic cavalryman present: "I, the eldest son of the Gothic king Theodoric, the prince of the Goths, now orders you to follow in my footsteps, let us return to the battlefield, and redeem all that has been lost by the death of my father!" ”

In the midst of Visgoth's rebellion, Attila was not satisfied with the slow offensive of the soldiers, and he disliked that they were too slow, far from the speed he wanted.

Although without the cooperation of the cavalry, the Gothic infantry looked like a piece of fat in front of Attila, but although their morale plummeted despite the defeat and retreat, they still had a complete formation, and they closely cooperated and retreated.

Behind him, the Roman horn sounded constantly, and the sudden roar of the Romans made Attila's heart tighten, after all, he didn't want to see his servant army unable to withstand the onslaught of the Romans and retreat unprecedentedly.

Riding a black warhorse, he struck again at the flank of the Gothic cavalry, escorted by a group of white-horse cavalry.

"Kill! Kill all these thorns who refuse to kneel! ”

Attila roared, brandishing the sword of Mars and charging into the already chaotic array of the Goths.

"Our King! Our King! ”

The Gothic soldiers were still shouting, no longer surprised, more like wailing, crying and longing to see Theodoric appear to repel the fierce Attila.

"Gothic cavalry! Gothic cavalry! ”

Attila is in the middle of the killing, and there is a great tendency to eat the tens of thousands of Gothic infantry in front of him. Suddenly, he saw a cavalry of commands running towards him, shouting over and over again, and pointing far behind him.

Attila looked up sharply, only to see smoke and dust billowing in the distance, and a large number of cavalry roaring from the distant highlands, and this time they did not rush straight towards the cavalry under Attila's command, but went around and ran to the right side of the Gothic infantry.

"Our King! Our King! ”

Hearing the sound of heavy horses' hooves, and looking up to see the mighty cavalry galloping behind them, no one did not believe that it was not their king Theodoric, the Goths raised their shields and shouted loudly, and many more launched a counter-charge against Attila's cavalry without fear, no longer so fearful, but like mad beasts.

Mid lane.

Aetius's army had to stop, because Attila thought they were a great threat and could not draw more soldiers, so Goldin and a thousand cavalry were left here to harass the armies of Lysimel and Andrew with arrows, causing them to pay considerable casualties for each step forward.