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In the blink of an eye, Lothar had closed the distance to the enemy to fifty meters. He could even clearly see the man’s face: filthy, covered in grime, with a beard as wild and unkempt as tangled grass.
Dark eyes, dark hair, and a dark beard. ’Are these Hungarians?’
He squeezed his mount’s flanks hard, and the warhorse transitioned from a trot to a furious gallop. The wind howled ...
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