The True Faith also had its representatives; the Holy Order of the Iron Fist, of the Vinier as well as the Holy Order of the Temple, to which I belong. We had lined up under the banner of King Solar, a pious believer of the True Faith. For our part, we were in the background, kneeling in prayer. Garin had given us orders to sneak between the enemy troops and take them from the rear, and that is what we intended to do. I myself had to lead the charge of the Order, gonfanon flapping in the wind.

The tension was palpable. Neither army dared to attack first, preferring to wait to see the opponent's reaction. The bulwarks of the two armies were drawn up in a line, forming two parallel walls almost merging into one another. The polearms, banners in the wind, were raised, threatening like the fangs of a jaw that was about to close on this day.

The signal was given by the sound of the horn and the cannons spat out their death in a din of smoke and metal. On both sides, the lines of archers released their showers of arrows, picking off the unfortunates who did not have time to take shelter behind the shields. The two armies threw themselves at each other amid shouts and clashing weapons. The day started well.

The Templars charged in line, and we slipped through a gap between the Clan of the Snatched, to arrive at the enemy's rear. We fell right into their archers who found themselves without protection, facing our blades. Brother Ahab ibn Chakal our marshal gave the order to charge the archers. The latter launched a final volley of arrows which mowed down several of my brothers, but when we got too close, they were easy targets. It is always pleasant to come across these louts who use the bow and shoot down brave knights from afar. With my spear, I pierced four of them and I saw Brother Aldebert de Roiville, who was only holding his brans, heroically cutting through the mass while shouting “Monjoie, Saint-Denis!!! ". He was unleashed with an almost divine bravery. His companion from the Eastern Commandery, brother of Montbard, closely followed him. Brother Edward and his Northern Commandery had nothing to envy them, since they defeated many enemies. Soon we routed the archers. Around us there were only corpses of enemies. Victory seemed assured!

No! The wind had turned. The pitched battle had turned into several isolated skirmishes, and we were being driven off the plain. The enemy was outnumbered and we had too many losses. The Red Phoenix turned towards us and delivered the charge that broke our cohesion. Despite heroic resistance, we had to resolve to their
abandon the Pointe du Chalucet plateau.

The barricade

King Sven had won a battle, but he had not yet won the war. The Templars withdrew into the Harcourt forest accompanied by the Lotus No Chi. We found the Iron Fist supported by other guilds holding a barricade closing a clearing, where an abandoned camp stood. There were only two access points to this clearing; the main entrance between the barricades, and a path hidden in the woods. The defense was quickly organized because the enemy was approaching. The bulk of the troops were going to defend the main access while we, the Templars, were going to stay hidden in the woods outside the barricades to take the enemy from the rear. This plan worked wonderfully. A large force of Sven's men approached on the main road, determined to expel us from this fortified position. They threw themselves against the defenders of the main entrance, and too absorbed in their fight, they saw nothing when the Templars came out of their hiding place and threw themselves on their flank. They were all cut to pieces, the corpses cluttering the entrance to the barricade.

As we returned inside to rest, another menacing troop approached. They quickly understood their predecessor's mistake and decided instead to scale the barricade and enter through several points. The Iron Fist as usual held firm in the entrance, but the enemy was infiltrating everywhere. There was then a general melee in the clearing. They were coming from all sides. The combat was so confusing that I'm not sure I only killed enemies. I curse those who wear no color. A heavy rain fell at the same time adding to the confusion, and turning the ground into a quagmire of mud. But our courage and our Faith in God allowed us to repel them. In the end, all that remained was their corpses scattered everywhere.

But God had not yet given us victory. Mud and blood had stained our white tabards, so that we almost looked like beggars. We had not even yet relieved all our wounded when another strong troop approached. Misinformed, they only threw themselves into the entrance, so that they were surprised when they were caught in a vice again. The Iron Fist even took the pleasure of leaving his position to shoot them down in the path.

Our barricade withstood several more assaults. But we had probably sinned without confession, because God punished us in the most horrible way possible. While we were confronting a group of skirmishers on the road, Brother Édouard set foot in a nest of terrible Dinant hornets, surely the most fearsome wasps in the Central Lands. The swarm of wasps enveloped several of our knights and, trapped under helms and hauberks, they afflicted us with terrible stings. Brother Édouard was the most horribly affected. Out of action, he was so blistered that it was impossible for us to remove his helmet. Charis of Edinburgh almost had his eye gouged out by a voracious wasp. Another further away was convulsing on the ground in agony, pierced on all sides. These wasps caused us more losses than Ozame's army.

Put out of action by this scourge of nature, the Holy Order of the Temple could no longer do anything for the barricade. It fell under the final assault of King Sven's troops. The survivors of our Order fled towards the valleys of Harcourt, where we thought we would find refuge. It was across a path that we were blocked by an ambush of the Redemptorists, and it was there that we fell one after the other, in the rain.

Conrade of St-Sulpice