Captain Dominico Ottavio Ramano Di Mirandola stands proud at the front of nearly 2200 soldiers. Arrayed before him are thousands of fanatical zealots, stirred into a frenzy by their deity Clymenia. Years, nay even months before, these zealots would have troubled him little in an open battle such as this. Religious warriors supported by numerous peasants who had taken up arms for a cause would have fallen easily before his disciplined troops. But now they had power. Every few paces warriors glowed with a golden aura, the archangel’s power resonating throughout them. Dominico stood silent, sword raised. The knowledge that when his sword dropped, hundreds and potentially thousands would die today weighed heavy in his thoughts. To his left stood Philippe Alfonso Lazzaro Tavari, next in line to the Duchy’s throne. As usual a self assured smile rested on his face as, rapier drawn, he prepared to join the charge. On Dominico’s right stood the Lady Fiorella Stefania Marietta Di Parerra, face drawn and serious today, her stance determined. Dominico took in one last deep breath. Then he dropped his sword.
Feet pounded the ground and the cry of two hundred soldiers was deafening as the first two centuries, the armoured vanguard of Dominico’s forces charged the enemy. The initial clash was brutal, Templars falling all around. The two hundred pressed forward as Dominico ordered another two centuries to move up and hold the gap that was being made. At that point the sky lit up with an orange glow as the army’s small magical contingent brought power to bare, opening the breach in the enemy lines further. That was the signal for the final charge and the remaining forces advanced into the breach, pushing ever forwards and holding the zealots off to the sides. The fighting was close and bloody, people falling on both sides. At one point, the left flank buckled, a breach in Dominico’s lines seeming imminent. But then, Philippe and his two hundred moved and with professional discipline plugged the gap, pushing the lines back even. A great ray of light streamed towards the command group from the right. Dominico had to shield his eyes, sure that this would take some devastating toll. But as the light faded and he could look again, he saw Benjou, the Castanni ritualist that travelled with Lady Fiorella on one knee, staff giving off a little smoke but otherwise fine. The battle felt like it lasted an eternity, in truth it was a little over two hours. The army broke through the Temple Gangs lines and proceeded to move South with haste. They were not pursued, it seemed the Temple Gang were content with taking and holding the fortified Conoscenza Estate. Dominico only wished there had been more time to leave some hazards for the enemy forces.
Dominico and Philippe headed South along the main road to Mirandola. There would not be much time to gather themselves and rest, another fight lay ahead. Between them they had a little over one and a half thousand soldiers left, five hundred lay dead behind them, lost in the breakout. They would be mourned later. The siege of Mirandola was about to begin.