Almost as the enemy made their first move, Duncan led the Frankish Dragon Cavalry and Lager Knights to intercept, and the retreating Western Goth army lost all morale. Initially, they could barely maintain some command, but over the course of a morning, severe command chaos emerged.

The breakout turned into a great defeat.

Torismund, surrounded by the King's Personal Guards, looked at the chaos and defeat of his army behind him, then turned his gaze toward the black Dragon Banner billowing ahead.

If he broke through at all costs, he still had a chance to escape.

But this defiant Western Goth prince ultimately raised his lance and pointed toward Duncan's banner, roaring, "Knights of the Western Goth King!"

"Follow me!"

His father died on the battlefield in Sharon; he could not abandon tens of thousands of armies and flee in disgrace.

Indeed.

As Torismund personally led his troops in a charge, it seemed as if the miracle of the Battle of Sharon was being reenacted. The originally demoralized Western Goth troops surprisingly rallied as if experiencing a resurgence.

In this era, the effect of a king personally charging to boost morale was indeed astonishing!

Not far away on the hillside.

Duncan looked forward with a blank expression, seeing Torismund's banner, and slowly urged his horse forward.

Crack.

The enemy leader's Skull Mark had already shattered.

——Torismund (Western Goth King) (Leader Unit) (Odin's Gaze)[Three-star Gold].

"Crush them!"

Duncan waved his hand, and the elite cavalry behind him began their charge. Since the opponent wanted to die like a hero, Duncan would fulfill him. The fall of a hero is only matched by blood and sand, wrapped in horsehide.

In an instant.

The entire battlefield seemed like two torrents of steel colliding. The famous heavy cavalry of the Western Goths, renowned from the Battle of Sharon, faced off against the era's top two cavalry units, the Lager Cavalry from Great Britain (the precursor of the Round Table Knights) and the Dragon Cavalry from France.

Boom!

At the moment of collision, the cavalry on the plain were instantly thrown into chaos, like waves crashing into each other, bodies strewn everywhere. Duncan's figure remained conspicuous amidst the throng, accompanied by the billowing black Dragon Banner, with dozens of two-star-mark General Guards protecting him as they pierced through the enemy formation, directly charging towards the flying King's banner.

"Come! To battle!"

Raising his eyes, Torismund saw Duncan ahead, seemingly already aware of Duncan's incredible archery skills, and had prepared by grabbing a Knight's Shield. He assembled the surrounding Western Goth feudal knights, forming a spearhead aimed directly at the enemy ahead.

King's Personal Guards bravely protected him on both sides, mindful of the former king's fatal example.

The distance between them grew closer.

A hundred meters, fifty meters, thirty meters, twenty meters; Torismund could even see Duncan's hair flying as his warhorse ran.

Bam!

But the anticipated epic battle of three hundred rounds didn't occur. Suddenly, Torismund felt a great force attack him, followed by intense wrist pain, as if fractured, and the knight's shield shattered under the immense power, throwing him off his horse.

Before he realized it, a hoof had trampled on him, blood gushing out, and Torismund felt his ribs break.

The elite heavy cavalry of the Western Goths thundered past!

Duncan didn't need to look back to know Torismund's fate; heavy cavalry charging forward couldn't halt. Even if he fell to the ground and was trampled by many heavy cavalry, as long as he was flesh and blood, he'd be stomped to death.

At this time, the battlefield seemed to be paused.

As Duncan led the General Guards, slaughtering through the enemy and turning his steed, hundreds of meters behind him, the face-grieving Western Goth feudal knights had already picked up Torismund's corpse, mutilated by the trampling horse.

The scene was brutally unbearable!

Torismund, possessing three-star gold strength, after being thrown from his mount, was trampled by hundreds of heavy cavalry. His body was flattened, his helmet collapsed, revealing only his exploded eyes and brains mixed with blood.

The enemy began to descend into chaos.

The army of the Western Goth Kingdom suffered a crushing defeat, with tens of thousands of casualties, and nearly thirty to forty thousand captured. Only a scant few managed to escape back to Toulouse.

For a moment, the Western Goth Kingdom, which was at its zenith, seemed on the brink of obliteration.

Duncan's single battle completely dominated Europe.

However, unexpectedly, after capturing tens of thousands from the Western Goth Kingdom, emissaries from Great Britain arrived soon after, expressing their willingness to temporarily cease hostilities with the Western Goth Kingdom, simultaneously returning those captured noble knights. Only, the other side demanded an exorbitant ransom, requiring the Western Goth Kingdom to acknowledge defeat, compensate for losses, and pay a hefty sum for ransom!

This figure was somewhat astonishing, akin to the total tax revenue of the British Province for ten years.

Paying this sum would severely drain the Western Goth Kingdom's resources, allowing all of Britain to waive taxes for a year, with France avoiding half-year taxes.

This affected only agriculture; merchants still had to pay taxes. Since ancient times, merchants needed to be suppressed somewhat. Anya, as a top merchant, had to be firmly controlled, occasionally giving thunder and rain, ensuring she didn't grow arrogant from favor.

Pay the ransom, and the people would be released.

Don't pay?

Fine.

The army of the Britain Kingdom directly attacked the Western Goth Kingdom's capital, Toulouse, and those captured nobles were thrown into the mines to work until death.

These staggering ransom figures, Duncan was determined to obtain them.

If they refused.

Then Duncan wouldn't halt the British Legion from assaulting and seizing the enemy cities.

He could commit such acts as mass slaughter; disrespecting him and ignoring ransom would warrant his merciless actions.

Forty years ago, Western Goths pillaged Rome, seizing vast wealth. This time, Duncan wanted them to return everything they took.

The state and civilians together drained dry, state war reparations, civilians paying ransoms for return.

Making the entire Western Goth Kingdom scrape the land three feet deep.

With his current strength, temporarily unable to consume the Western Goth Kingdom whole, naturally, he had to first squeeze a wave of profits, then turn his attention to settling the chaos in the Italian Peninsula.

Land wouldn't immediately translate into money, and captured territories couldn't be absorbed, only becoming a burden.

The Italian Peninsula was more crucial than the Iberian Peninsula!

First, bite a big chunk from the Western Goth Kingdom, then eliminate the aristocrats of Italy.

This time, he wanted a fat return!

After two consecutive wars, the Britain Kingdom had already exhausted its foundations. This time, they needed at least twenty years' worth of national tax income.

In short, find the wealthiest, take their money.

Once Duncan stabilized the chaos on the Italian Peninsula and was crowned Emperor Augustus, conquering the Western Goth Kingdom would be effortless.

The embryo of the empire he held was already being reforged; nothing could stop his dominance over Europe.

Paris, Governor's residence.

Anya entered Duncan's bedroom, gesturing to her servant, and then turned to the beautiful woman beside her, saying meaningfully, "You know what to do, right?"

"Lysiniya, the Queen, has put aside her pride, what do you have to let go of?"

Everyone knew.

When Duncan led his army into Rome, it was his time to ascend as Emperor. Now, as the ruler re-forging the entire Western Empire, he urgently needed an heir.

Anya was left with no retreat; after defeating the Western Goth Kingdom, should she continue clinging to Duncan's favor without yielding anything, Severus might confront her directly.

In fact, Severus was already selecting suitable young and beautiful noble girls.

Everyone was yearning for the birth of a legitimate heir.

.........

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