Blood sprayed across the faces of Atvari and Imperials alike, what cohesion the units had was long lost to blood fury and fear. Cataphract fought alongside Protostate and auxiliary militiaman, and the kahreed men were equally as disorganized, having mostly gotten over the shock of their comrade's heads at their feet when their lives were on the line. Had they not held the highground, it would have been impossible to see. But the mounted cataphracts to the north were plainly visible, as were Phaedra's cavalry to the east. Brasidas had been in many melees, but this was truly an undisciplined slog.

The men might claim otherwise, but Brasidas would have been a dead man had he not been so armored. His lamellar scalemail allowed him to fight without the shield, axe in one hand and a kahreed iron rod in the other. An axe had more stopping power than a sword, but it was not nearly as versatile. Used with a shield or another weapon however, or in two hands? It was extremely effective. In the maelstrom of the battle, he shouldered an atvari man out of the way, turning and hooking his axehead over the shield of a Mamluk, yanking the shield down whilst simultaneously swinging the rod he had adopted, breaking the cheek plate of the man's helm and sending the man into shock, falling listlessly to the ground. Out of the gloom a spear stabbed at him. He knocked it downward with his rod, stomping on it and snapping the worn weapon with his heavy boot before cleaving the head of the wielder with the axe. A broad blade stabbed into his armor, biting him and causing him to cry out, turning to block the next swing of the royal Khareed Mamluk, weapons locked as they struggled. 

The enemy was buckling, but not broken. As the arrows rained down from the east, Brasidas cut down the Mamluk and stepped back into his personal guard, calling for his horn blower. Moments later, the blast rang across the battlefield like a beacon, causing the men around the center of the melee to be silent just long enough for Brasidas to shout one word. 

"Reform!" 

Like the realigning of a snake to better move, the men up front stepped back as the men behind pushed forward, every Lochias knowing their orders from their commander's call. Spears were no longer an option, but a rough shield wall began to form, stabbing spathas out and ready to hack and stab at any kahreed that came close. Many protostates were cut down as they tried to join the makeshift phalanx, but enough of them were close enough to make an effective line. The kahreeds were no longer in striking distance of the Imperials. They were caught against their shields, just as they were caught against the spears to the south. As arrows fired in from the east and Loxos and the Cataphracts harried their flanks, the Gods smiled as another group of shrieking cavalrymen appeared over the dunes of sand. No, cavalrywomen! 

A feral woman holding a standard attached to a land charged into view, sturdy and swift miravet cavalry beside her, forming a wedge as it charged. Arrows flew at them like gnats, but they did little to halt the momentum of the charge. Some of Brasidas's cataphracts wheeled round to join the miravets, plunging back into the mass of kahreeds for one last push into the fray; the rumbling of a thousand horses filled the ears of Atvari and Imperials until it was blotted out by the clash of steel and cries of the dead and dying. 

"Push!" Brasidas cried from behind the shieldwall. 

His men complied, shoving their shields forward and stabbing with their swords. Like the old legion they moved, stabbing into necks and under the shoulder guards, stepping forward and chipping into them like a serf upon the farms of the levant. The field was bloody, stinking with corpses and shit. The imperial noose began to tighten, and the kahreed's world was growing smaller as they closed in around them.