The Iberian infantry charged into the ranks of the Desert Infantry, ordered to form one big line so as to prevent a route. If there was no calvary apart, the more heavily armored swords men of Iberia would have tore into the lightly armoured desert troops. However, the Numidians boasted their famous Numidian calvary, raised and bred in the plains of Africa.
Ezena crashed into the flanks of the Iberian infantry before the second wave could support the first wave.
Ezena ordered his men to disengage and let the infantry route, for Carthage's hired mercenaries were about to flank them. And so the two horse Numidian horse men, one fighting for glory and nation, and the other for greed and money, colided.
Ezena threw a spear into the neck of one of the horsemen. Jumping over his corpse, Ezena slashed wildly with his shortsword as he pulled it out of its scabard. Blood spilled onto Ezena's face, and he could feel the heat of it, reminding him of how recently it was part of something living. In a few seconds however, the blood and body shall go cold.
With only one eye opened, Ezena was in a trance. Swinging his sword as if he was dancing, timing his strikes to the rhythem of the war drums.
The mercenaries routed, wildly urging their horses to escape the battle.
Ezena and the rest of the calvary butchered the remaining Iberian infantry that routed, unable to escape the horsemen on foot. But Ezena clucked his tongue in frusturation as he saw the Numidian mercenaries escape towards the walls of Carthage.
But they would not be entering the walls, but will be going far away from it now. As they only fought for money, and won't blindly sacrifice their lives in a hopeless battle.
The Captain breathed in deeply through his nose and sighed. They did it. They actually took Carthage.
