Kopa stared across the valley floor, mountains all around them, and tried not to shutter upon seeing the sheer might of the army opposing them. In all his life, he'd never seen more fighting men gathered in one place. A sea of banners and tents washed over the grass like a lake of vibrant colors.
"Dios sea bueno, never before have so many Spaniards come together in one army!" Archbishop Jimenez of Castile crossed himself while looking over their own camp. If their count was correct, the Crusader army numbered just over twenty-thousand fighting men. Alfonso and his Castilians made up the largest contingent, with Kopa's Navarrese and French in second, Pedro and his Aragonese third, and the rest made up of the military orders and Crusaders from Leon and Portugal.
Twenty-thousand was an overwhelmingly massive number for an army. The Angevine Empire and Reich Empire were both capable of raising forces that large but not easily. Even so, Kopa felt a knot forming in his stomach when he looked back at the Almohad army.
"Last count?" He asked King Alfonso, who stared the Berbers down with grim determination.
"Mis exploradores tienen buenos ojos, over forty-two thousand."
Afua almost yelped and crossed himself.
"Forty-two thousand!!! I thought only the Aurevitas Empire at its prime could raise armies that large!!!"
"Al-Nasir probably emptied his entire Caliphate for men for this. Maybe he does plan on continuing on to France after this. Also, mon ami, Aurevitas at its height could raise armies over a hundred-thousand strong."
Clovis was drinking some wine when he choked on it and violently pounded his chest.
"Dieu ait pitié!! Ashamed what's become of the Aurevitas then, eh."
"These bastardos won't reach France because we're going to stop them here. We're well positioned. We can beat them. The Lord God knows we can!" Alfonso roared, earning similar enthusiasm from Pedro and the others. Kopa and his knights did much the same, though the sheer magnitude of Al-Nasir's host lingered on their minds.
That evening, after several hours of discussing their order of battle, Kopa and the Kings each went to confession before going to bed. The King struggled to sleep as the thought of a flood made of Berbers sweeping over them and continuing on to Navarre, then France and England haunted him.
"Dieu ait pitié! Jésus-Christ, Seigneur et sauveur, protège-nous ! Saint Michel Archange, protégez-nous, s'il vous plaît!!!!"
Breathing heavily and his heart pounding, Kopa's eyes shot open, and he saw himself back in the valley. The stars still shined above him, yet he was alone, the Crusaders and Almohads both gone.
"What's happening? Where is everyone?"
Suddenly, the wind picked up but not like any wind he'd ever felt before. The clouds above him steadily gathered in an unnatural and ethereal manner. Not sure of what this meant, Kopa could think of only one thing and fell to his knees and began praying again when suddenly the wind picked up, and he heard a voice slowly rising among it.
"Quoi? Who's there!!!?"
"Kopa." The voice grew, and yet, somehow, Kopa felt calmer. He'd never heard it before, yet somehow the voice reminded him of his father's.
"Kopa." Looking back at the clouds, his eyes widened as a figure slowly appeared atop them. A lion of a man with a tremendous red mane and imposing features loomed over Kion. Yet he wasn't a man anymore. He now seemed unearthly, almost angelic, with an aura of radiant light surrounding him and what he could only describe as a golden halo around his head.
"Kopa, why do you fear?"
"I, I don't understand. Who are you?"
"Do you not recognize me, blood of my blood."
As Kopa looked closer, his nearly jumped, for the figure looked just like his father, only slightly different.
"You, it's, it's really you!!!"
"Yes, it is I, your grandfather. King Mufasa Plantagenet, or rather, that was what they once called me on Earth." Tears swelled in Kopa's eyes as he took in the magnitude of the apparition before him. His grandfather, King Mufasa, the Lionhearted, the Lion King.
"Grandfather, I, I don't understand. Am I dead? Is the Lord's judgment upon me?"
"No, Kopa. You are not dead, nor do I think you shall ever be, should you remain as you are, whatever happens to your flesh."
Kopa's heart didn't stop racing, and he struggled to find words.
"Grandfather, you must help me! You were the greatest King ever to grace England or France! You were the greatest Crusader to ever live! I face an impossible battle tomorrow, and if we fail, Spain will fall! Countless will die or be enslaved! The Berbers will continue on to France, and then Italy, all of Christendom will-"
"Kopa!" Mufasa's roar silenced his grandson, yet strangely, he wasn't frightened. Mufasa felt as if he stood beside Kopa, even from the clouds.
"Kopa, why are you afraid? Do you not trust yourself and those around you, and even if you fail, do you not trust your King?"
Kopa went silent, and he struggled for words as Mufasa stared down tenderly at him.
"Kopa, you are a Lion in your own right, but you are only human. If you put your ultimate faith in yourself or other humans, you will always find yourself disappointed."
Kopa clenched his eyes shut.
"That's what happened to you! You trusted your damned brother and-"
"Kopa, I have already forgiven Taka. What's done is done, and I have moved on."
Kopa looked back at him and slowly understood.
"You aren't truly gone, and neither is Odrick."
"No, Kopa. You fear what will happen should you fail, but that fear will not serve you. Have trust, Kopa, have faith." A greater light enveloped Mufasa and Kopa thought he saw something or someone else approaching. Without hesitation, Mufasa fell to his knees, and Kopa sprung up.
"Gaah!!!!" Frantically looking around, Kopa saw he was back in his tent, covered in sweat.
"Dieu ait pitié." The King slowly caught his breath. He'd never had a dream like that before, and it was surreal. Yet, it couldn't have been real, could it?
Kopa blinked, and his hand trembled while slowly reaching for a pendant lying on top of the trunk beside his bed. The pendant contained a small illustration of King Mufasa made during his lifetime and given to Kopa as a birthday present by his father years earlier. Yet, he didn't take it out of the trunk. Kopa clenched it in his hands and then crossed himself.
"Je te fais confiance, mon Seigneur Dieu."
The following day, Dogo dressed Kopa in his mail and surcoat. He noticed his King now seemed much calmer and more sure of himself than before, and he wore a pendant depicting King Mufasa.
"Wine, mon Roi?" He held up a wineskin, but Kopa shook his head.
"Non, I'll need my wits about me. Merci, though."
Kopa looked down at the image of his grandfather one more time before donning a lion-esk demeanor.
"Helmet."
"Oui, mon Roi!" Dogo handed him a crowned great helm and tied his sword belt around his waist.
"I'll keep praying with the others unable to fight, mon Roi." Kopa smiled and patted his squire's shoulder.
"Merci, Dogo. Keep the Berbers in your prayers too."
Dogo looked puzzled.
"Mon Roi?"
"They're children of God too, whether we like it or not." Kopa emerged from his tent, where Beba and the others stood waiting.
"There you are, come on, the Berbers aren't going to wait all day for us, mon ami." Afua guided Kopa ahead, nearly pushing him until they reached the other Kings. There, Archbishop Jimenez performed mass for the entire Crusader army. Kopa saw a mixture of fear, excitement, stress, and dedication across the countless faces around him.
King Pedro appeared somewhat anxious, praying exceptionally hard to Christ, the Blessed Virgin Mary, and every Saint he could think of. Alfonso, by contrast, looked calm and in complete control. Kopa wondered how he could do so with the memory of Alarcos, yet the old Lion of Castile did so. Perhaps it was what Mufasa said to him in his dream. He put his trust in a higher power and had faith they'd done everything they could.
Kopa knew their army was well positioned; they had dedicated warriors and a solid order of battle. Stressing now would do him nothing, and he continued praying until taking communion and crossing himself.
"Amen."
"Amen." The army rose to their feet while a rider raced over.
"¡Mis Reyes! The Almohad Caliph approaches with a flag of truce!"
"What? Does he intend to surrender?"
Kopa smiled a little at Afua's wit and joined the other two Kings alongside the Archbishop and Military Orders leaders as they rode out ahead of their army. A large Berber party also approached with Al-Nasir's banner above them, but they didn't come alone.
"Who are they?" Clovis gestured to an odd banner and a half-dozen men of tiny stature. They wore no metal armor but colored wool jackets and light helms wrapped in cloth, composite bows in their hands. Horse archers, they couldn't be who Kopa thought they were.
Jean narrowed his eyes and gestured to the man beneath the banner. There sat a young man, a morbidly obese and unsettlingly satisfied-looking young man dressed in the richest silk robes and turban they'd ever seen in their lives. He had more jewelry than most Queens and didn't even carry a weapon. Nothing about him indicated anything of a warrior, which contrasted the other Berbers.
"Al-Nasir." Kopa thought. Yet as he came closer, Kopa blinked in surprise, realizing he didn't look like the other Berbers. Their usual tan Mediterranian skin tone was instead replaced a slightly tan fair skin and what was clearly blonde hair.
The man looked more like a Frank than anything else, but how could that be possible? Then a shiver ran down Kopa's spine when he remembered the Berber's knack for slavery and what fate Nuka had intended for Vitani.
"Merde."
The two parties stopped within feet of each other, and a tense standoff began, made worse by Hakem, who stared intensely at Kopa and his knights. Jean and Afua growled like lions, ready to pounce, and needed Pablo and Clovis to restrain them.
Kopa paid no attention to Hakem despite his attempts to provoke him, and Al-Nasir grinned, revealing a set of surprisingly white teeth.
"Hola, what do we have here? The King of Aragon, Castile, and yes, the new King of Navarre and Prince of England if I'm correct." Al-Nasir's voice matched his demeanor perfectly, grading the Spaniards and Franks like sandpaper. Still, his control of Spanish was impressive.
"I must say, I much preferred the last King of Navarre. Still, I plan on getting everything he promised me. Everything and everyone." Al-Nasir's tone and lecherous expression nearly drove Pablo over the edge. Even Clovis almost drew his sword, but Kopa remained in control and held his hand over the Norman knight.
"I'm afraid not." Kopa's calm demeanor shocked both parties. It wasn't weakness or timidness but a sense of one in complete control of themself.
"Really, you want to hear what I plan on doing with her? What I plan on doing with all your wives and all your children!!!?"
"Not particularly." Kopa spoke before anyone else could. Alfonso gave Kopa a subtle nod of approval and moved a bit closer.
"We're here to do our duty to our people, boy."
"Boy!?" Al-Nasir snarled like an angry jackal.
"The Lord, our God, has no desire for bloodshed, even if it's the likes of you. Turn back and leave the land of Spain at once, and end your occupation of the southern half as well. Should your people decide to remain, they can. We will bring them to Christ in time and willingly."
Al-Nasir and his men scoffed.
"Arrogant as ever, I'm surprised after my father butchered your men at Alarcos!!!" Al-Nasir sneered, yet Alfonso retained his composure.
"Si, your father defeated me at Alarcos, given he outnumbered me three-to-one. He was a mighty warrior, Al-Mansur, and I often hear of his valiant deeds. However, tell me this, boy, what have you ever done that I should make me fear?"
Al-Nasir scoffed again and gestured to his army.
"Look at what opposes you, Christian. Look at the power I command!"
Alfonso narrowed his eyes and stared more intensely into Al-Nasir's eyes, making him tremble like a Lion staring at a frightened Jackal.
"I said, tell me what you, Al-Nasir, have done. Perhaps you plan on starting now. Very well, let us resolve this as warriors. You and I."
Al-Nasir blinked.
"What?"
"I'm saying, save thousands of your men from unnecessary deaths. Fight me, one on one. Should you win, my men will surrender, as will all the other crusaders. But if I win, your men will do the same."
Al-Nasir stuttered, trying to find words as sweat trickled down his fat face and soaked the fine robes covering his flabby body.
"I, I-"
"Are you afraid to fight an old man, boy?"
Alfonso's knights and the other Spaniards smiled, but Kopa kept his calm demeanor.
"Hah! I won't dignify such a proposition. I have the greatest army ever assembled, including Three-thousand Sonn horse archer mercenaries!!!!"
Kopa tightened the grip on his reigns and exhaled. So, the enemies of the Kingdom of Outremer were there. Those his Grandfather fought in the Third Crusade.
"Say hello to the Emir Kuzimu. They call him the slaver, which is how I will pay him and his men, with more Spanish women and children than they can count!" A terrifying young Sonn man with a mohawk stained in dry blood exchanged fierce looks with Kopa in particular when he saw his pendant.
"Ahh, yes, the Sonn. Fierce warriors and utterly annihilated at Arsuf by King Mufasa. Grandfather of King Kopa." Pedro boasted, earning laughs from the Christians.
"Yes, before he was murdered by his own brother and his Kingdom became overrun by Vikings." Kuzimu retorted, his men laughing back.
Kopa, once more, remained calm, which seemed to irritate the Sonn Emir more than if he'd shouted back.
"He was murdered but is with Christ now. I'm also happy to inform you that England is no longer overrun and is doing well under Mufasa's son, my father."
"For now." Kuzimu retorted.
"Hmmm, a lot of big talk coming from such a little man." Clovis growled.
"Enough. Al-Nasir, this battle won't go the way you hope it will. Even if you win, you'll lose half your army at best." Kopa pleaded with the Caliph, who scoffed, not for himself, but for the Berbers. Yet, Al-Nasir scoffed again.
"Hah! When I massacre your army, I'll plunder your Kingdoms and continue on to France. I will take what is mine and add her to my collection."
Kopa still showed no anger but spoke no more. Both sides returned to their side and began arraying the armies for battle. Within two hours, Kopa stood among his Navarrese and Aquitane knights, sergeants, and light cavalry on the right flank. King Pedro led from the left with his Aragonese knights, light cavalry alongside the Leonese/Portuguese crusader cavalry.
King Alfonso and his Castilian knights and light horsemen rested in the center, with Crusader heavy infantry from all over Spain and Aquitaine formed up between the three Cavalry formations. Finally, the knights and mounted sergeants of the various military orders positioned themselves in the vanguard, directly ahead of the Castilian knights.
"Ok, here we go. We can do this, we can do this." Afua crossed himself while Jean kissed a cross around his neck. Clovis appeared as calm as Kopa but adjusted his neck, earning a deep and satisfying cracking noise before crossing himself like Afua.
Kopa glanced over at Pablo, who, like him, still hadn't donned his great helm. The young King smiled at his knight.
"I'm glad you're here with us, Pablo." The Navarrese knight wiped a tear away and nodded back.
"Gracias, mi Rey."
"No, tu amigo."
"Just accept it, Pablo. You're one of us now." Afua laughed with Clovis, and even Jean chuckled beneath his great helm. Soon Pablo joined in before donning his great helm with Kopa.
Across from them, the Almohad army, too, formed up. Given their immense size, the bulk of their infantry formed up in deep ranks along the center, with hordes of Berber and Andalusian light cavalry along the flanks. At the back sat Al-Nasir's tent and banner, with a large bodyguard around it.
"So the groscul won't be fighting himself. Shocker."
"Be grateful, Afua. He might've tried to sit on you."
"I'll bet his horse is relieved." Pablo's jest earned particular laughter from the Navarrese knights around them.
"¡Mirar!" Don Jordi pointed to the base of the hill below them, where the Sonn horse archer contingent took a position. Although Kopa didn't have much experience with horse archers, he knew enough about skirmishing light cavalry to realize this battlefield was ill-suited for them. The two armies were too close, and the valley too narrow, meaning they couldn't employ their infamous feigned retreat effectively.
Al-Nasir likely knew their reputation but clearly didn't know how to use it effectively, or his own, for that matter. Las Navas de Tolosa was well suited for the Crusader knights, and it was by the grace of God that they managed to slip in through the unknown passage days earlier, thanks to the mysterious local shepherd.
A thunderous horn blast overtook both armies, and the Grandmaster of the Knights of Santiago raised his lance.
"¡Por Dios y por España!"
(Recommended sountrack: Follow by Incubus)
"¡Por Dios y por España!" The Holy Knights roared back before following him down the hill in a tight conroi formation, ridding stirrup to stirrup. The military orders had the training and discipline greater than anything Kopa ever saw before, and he imagined that ancient Aurevitas imperial cavalry might've ridden like that.
The Sonn horse archers loosed a volley of arrows, which proved mostly ineffective against the heavily armored shock cavalry. A Sonn horn blew and signaled their retreat, which Kopa admitted was extremely organized. Not only that, but their Turkoman horses proved far faster than anything he'd ever seen before. Under different circumstances, this might've been disheartening, but Kopa knew knights well enough to realize that regardless of how fast the Sonn were, it was already too late.
"Here we go!!!!" Afua nearly jumped out of his saddle, yet Kopa managed to steady himself as the military orders made contact. They came like a tidal wave, driving deep into the Sonn light horsemen, each killing a man with their lances before drawing swords.
A collective cheer roared from the Crusader army as they watched the butchery unfold before them. The heavily armored and masterfully skilled knights and sergeants made short work of the horse archers, most of whom lacked weapons capable of penetrating Frankish armor.
Within minutes, most of the Sonn horsemen lay dead or wounded, and it seemed like the Crusaders might've gained an early advantage. However, that hope faded when another horn blew from the Almohad camp. The ground shook slightly as the front half of the Berber and Andalusian infantry line surged ahead, drums beating and warcries echoing.
Kopa almost blinked in disbelief at just how fast these footmen ran. Their lack of armor likely helped, and within minutes, they'd crossed the field and engaged the now-stationary military order cavalry. Had they charged these infantry as they had the Sonn, the knights might've routed them. Instead, they faced a sea of spears and other weapons.
Kopa's stomach tightened as he knew that without help, all of those men would die. He was just about to send a runner to Alfonso and Pedro when one reached them first.
"King Alfonso wants the infantry to back them up!"
"Si! At his command!" Two horn blasts echoed and thunderous shouts from the infantry preceded their steady march down the hill. They didn't run to preserve their formation, yet every moment seemed to last an eternity. Kopa's struggled to remain calm, watching the knights and sergeants fall one by one against the sheer number of spearmen. Many lost their horses first or were pulled off and butchered despite their armor.
Even the Knights of Santiago's Grandmaster didn't escape this fate, killing five spearmen before another seven dragged him down, forced his helmet/coif off, and slit his throat. Those who survived dismounted and sent their horses off, instead forming a makeshift shield wall around the Templar Marshal after his Grandmaster fell.
Even against such overwhelming odds, the dismounted knights and sergeants held their nerve and braced themselves.
"Come on!!!!" Jean grit his teeth and struggled to remain stationary. Kopa longed to charge down there with his knights and save their allies but had to keep to the plan. Just then, another excited cheer blew from the Crusader cavalry, joined by thousands of spears, hammers, swords, and axes beating against shields.
The two wings of Crusader heavy infantry countered the Almohad warcries with their own and pressed against them with shield and spear. The dismounted knights and sergeants took the position as the center in between them.
More cries of elation flowed across the Crusader cavalry, for their heavy infantry now steadily pushed the lighter Berber footmen back and inflicted mounting losses upon them.
Yet just as they did so, more shouts overtook Kopa, and he felt the ground shake again.
"Impressionnant." He said to himself as thousands of Berber cavalry surged forward shouting war chants, spears ready. They moved fast and clearly intended to encircle their infantry, and unfortunately for them, the Crusaders were ready.
Alfonso raised his lance high.
"¡Por Dios y por España!"
"¡Por Dios y por España!" Kopa and his knights joined this roar and spurred their horses. Much to Viscount Perrin and his other Aquitane knights' frustration, aside from Jean, Clovis, and Afua, he surrounded himself with his Navarrese knights.
They charged down the hill in tight formation like the military orders, with lighter jinete horsemen augmenting all three cavalry formations. Despite the speed of the Berber horsemen, the knights reached them first.
Kopa braced for the clash and felt his lance grow heavy as they drove deep into the enemy cavalry formation. The jinetes hurled their javelins before impact and dropped hundreds of Berber horsemen. Kopa's lance snapped after downing two Berbers, and within moments his sword flew, slaying another.
Most of the enemy cavalry lacked even basic armor, and even those with mail and steel helms wore that of much poorer quality to the Franks and Spaniards. The Berbers fought like striped hyenas, showing no fear or mercy. Kopa had a begrudging respect for their near-fanatical tenacity but didn't slow down. He parried spear and sword with his shield before slashing and stabbing back.
Unfortunately for the Berbers, the Spanish and Frankish knights were not only much physically larger and stronger, for the most part, but possessed just as much ferocity in their own right. The knights and the Berbers were quite similar. Both deadly mounted warriors trained for childhood to be professional fighters.
Yet the simple truth was the North Africans were light horsemen, better suited to skirmish and maneuver. This was a head-on fight, exactly what knights were trained and equipt for.
"Gaaah!" Clovis roared, his sword almost cleaving a Berber in half.
"Come on, let me ransom you!!" Afua's opponent answered him with two furious spear thrusts before getting decapitated by the French chevalier.
"Why didn't you let me ransom you? Learn from his example and stop fighting!" Afua got similar responses from two more Berbers who ended up with the same fate as their companion.
Jean, meanwhile, took down an armored Andalusian alongside Kopa, who slew a Captain. All around them, the Navarrese and French knights found similar success cutting through the light horsemen who only held their formation by sheer numbers and grim determination.
Although he couldn't see it, Pedro and the Crusader cavalry on the left found similar success, though they encountered more Andalusian heavy cavalry than Kopa, which slowed their progress.
Just as Kopa downed another Berber, he heard one last horn blast from the Almohad camp.
"Non." Peering through the slints in his great helm, he saw the Almohads deploy the last of their reserves, which flooded the center, reinforcing the Berber infantry.
Before this, the Crusader heavy infantry nearly had them on their heels, and now they were being steadily pushed back by overwhelming numbers.
King Alfonso and his company of royal knights broke away from the rest of the Castilian knights and raced to the center of the heavy infantry.
"¡Mantenga la línea! ¡Mantenga la línea! Fight for Spain, for your homes, your family, for Christendom!!!" Even with his encouragement, the Crusader infantry buckled, and Kopa knew if they broke, it would end the battle.
Kopa and his knights, particularly the Navarrese, fought with renewed vigor, cutting through Berbers left and right until finally, they broke through completely.
Kopa's adrenaline lit ablaze as he stared at Al-Nasir's banner with almost nothing between him and the Caliph.
"¡Adelante, valientes caballeros! ¡Por Dios y por España!"
"¡Por Dios y por España!" Kopa, Afua, Pablo, Clovis, and almost three-hundred Navarrese knights charged ahead, swords out. Their horses were slightly winded but drove on regardless, racing into the emptied Almohad camp.
Surrounding Al-Nasir's tent were dozens of Subsaharan African warriors, their hands bound together by chains even as they held spears. It was only then that Kopa realized the guards were slaves, forced to be there against their will, and trembled before the charging knights.
"Leave the slaves be!!! Take the camp!"
Al-Nasir had been sitting in a cushioned chair eating sweets and drinking sorbet when he yelped and staggered out of his seat. Clovis and a few other knights broke the chains holding the slaves in place, allowing them to flee.
Non-combat personnel also fled in panic as whatever warriors remained desperately raced to meet the knights, who came like a pride of Lions. Kopa and his men quickly cut them down and scattered those who didn't fight. Hakem eyeballed Kopa as he engaged an armored Andalusian Lord.
The Berber captain drew a javelin and spurred his horse.
"Hakem!!" He heard a familiar voice and turned just in time to see Pablo racing towards him. The Berber hurled his javelin, hitting Pablo's shield and forcing it off his arm.
"Gaaahh!!" The Berber frantically drew his saber, only for the knight to knock it away before slicing him clean in half.
Clovis cut down two Berber horsemen when he spotted none other than Kuzimu nearby.
"Toi." The Norman Knight saw an oil-lit torch nearby and doused his sword in it, lighting up the blade.
"Hey Sonn, brûle en enfer!!!" Clovis rode over and exchanged two blows before striking the left side of his face.
"Gaaaaaaaaaah!!!" Kuzimu screamed worse than Nuka had and fell off his horse before thrashing about, trying to put the left side of his face out. Clovis considered ending the Sonn Emir but, seeing his pain felt pity for him and dismounted.
"Tenir bon, hold still!!!" The massive Norman's immense strength and Kuzimu's small stature made it easy for Clovis to hold him down and splash some dirt into his face, extinguishing the flames.
Kuzimu lost consciousness from the pain and lay flat on his back. Clovis grimaced when he saw the left side of Kuzimu's head severely burnt, revealing the bone and flesh beneath it.
Jean and Afua tried to find Al-Nasir, but he'd vanished.
"Regardez!" Jean pointed at the obese Caliph, who fled on a horse, vanishing from sight.
"Merde!" Afua snarled, but it didn't matter. The Almohad camp was theirs. Don Jordi and another knight eagerly cut down Al-Nasir's banner and raised a Christian one. Kopa regrouped with his knights around the new flag and cheered.
Back in the center, both sides saw this, and the wavering morale of the Crusader infantry reignited into an uncontrollable inferno while the entire Almohad army's collapsed. Chaos, confusion, and terror filled their hearts upon seeing Al-Nasir's banner replaced with a Christian one.
Their Caliph was either dead, captured, or had fled, and their encampment was overrun. No one knew what was happening anymore. Panic spread like wildfire, and formations started to break apart.
King Alfonso of Castile raised his sword and charged forward with his infantry.
"¡Por Dios y por España!"
"¡Por Dios y por España!" The entire Crusader army, including the Frenchmen, echoed. Kopa's smile vanished as their army charged as one, shattering the Almohad's formation, and pressed on. A look of unrelenting horror overtook Kopa as he watched the Spanish surge forward and unleashed five hundred years of retribution on the invaders.
Jean, Afua, and Kopa lost their breath as the Spanish cut down Berber after Berber, showing no mercy as they did so.
Beba crossed himself in horror while the Navarrese around them cheered, and Clovis joined in.
"Pour l'amour de Dieu! Let them go!!!" Afua yelped while Pablo breathed heavily, remaining silently beside Kopa.
"¡Deténgase! ¡Deténgase! ¡Alfonso, por favor!" Kopa pleaded, but it was no use. The Spanish kept going, killing Berber in their path. This dragged on until virtually the entire Almohad army lay in ruin, vultures and other scavengers trickling in to feast on their flesh as the Crusaders scoured them for anything of value.
King Pedro rode around the battlefield, cheering and enticing any men he crossed while Archbishop Jimenez led a vigil for the fallen crusaders. Kopa and his knights slowly approached Al-Nasir's tent, where King Alfonso stood, his men packing it and the Caliph's standard into crates.
"Si, these will make fine gifts for his holiness. Ahh, Kopa, there you are." He offered the younger King a wineskin.
"Drink to our victory! Tis a glorious day, the Lord and Saint James smile on us today, as does your grandfather!" He gestured to Kopa's pendant, but the young King breathed heavily and looked more sick than elated.
"The battle was over. They'd broken."
Alfonso went silent, his demeanor changing sharply.
"They were fleeing, but they didn't surrender! Should I have waited until they regrouped and dragged the battle on!?"
An uncomfortable silence fell between the two Kings as Kopa's knight watched.
"Over forty-thousand men lay dead, Alfonso."
"Si, men who cannot oppress Spain anymore! The Almohads will never recover from this blow! My grandson will drive them back to North Africa when he takes the throne!"
Kopa looked away.
"And of that, I'm grateful. But I won't celebrate such butchery, Alfonso. Every one of these men was God's child."
"Si, and they came to kill us all, ravage our homes, and take our families as slaves!!!"
"Perhaps."
Kopa crossed himself and saw Alfonso turn away, yet as he did so, he noticed the aging King glance at the annihilated Almohad army again, and a single tear fell from his eye.
Kopa also broke down into prayer alongside his knights, each giving thanks to God for their survival and victory before praying for the souls of those who'd died. Kopa, however, also added prayers for the fallen Almohads.
After several hours, as the Crusader army continued collecting their wounded and loot from the Almohads, a messenger arrived from Navarre.
"Mi Rey, news from your Angevine lands. The Viking Chieftain Ubbe landed his Great Heathen Army in England."
"Quoi!!!!?"
Kopa frantically snatched the letter and read it as Afua, Jean, and Clovis fought each other to try and do the same.
"Well!?" Kopa's fear vanished into joy, and he laughed while crossing himself.
"Kion was ready. He arrived in England with Normans, Angevines, and Bretons before rallying the Saxons and Anglo-Normans there. He won a great battle and slew Ubbe himself. He and his Lion Guard are all safe."
Kopa's laughter spread to his companions.