Lauren Baruch. First princess of the Baruch Kingdom. Talented, beautiful, and adored by the countless denizens of the Baruch Kingdom. Many would wonder what she does in her free time. Does she train her fighting skills? Learn about the history of factions? Seek out diplomacy? Not that she didn’t do those things, but she currently had a more pressing role to carry out, that of a caretaker. Notwithstanding that she wanted to knock herself out in frustration, she had resolved to see it through to the end, with all the effort she could muster. It was fortunate, rather, that she was to stay in the castle to carry out her caretaker role, for it would shock many to see their dignified and regal princess in her current appearance.
Bearing little of her usual poise, her meticulously arranged raven black hair was now tied in a rough ponytail and draped over her right shoulder with some errant strands of hair plastering themselves on her forehead as it beaded with sweat. Running in an apron and a dress made of much cheaper but sturdier material than she would normally wear in public, she was chasing after a young boy who looked very much like her. Every so often, she would stop for breath and squint her amber coloured eyes in frustration, and look askance at the toddler speeding away from her.
Why is he so fast? Or rather, how is he so fast? He’s only a toddler for goodness sake! If only he was half as well behaved as Erin was at his age! She would mutter to herself.
“Please, just put on a shirt and come to eat! I made you your favourite cookies as well!” she yelled, knowing its futility but still having to try it out for the sake of her sanity. “Just stop running! Please?” Oh, how she hoped the boy would cease his playful antics, allowing them to finally get on with their day.
Disregarding his eldest sister’s heartfelt pleas, the young boy, bearing the name Sven Baruch, in hopes of growing up valiant like a rogue knight of legends past, chuckled gleefully as he continued to run much faster.
Sven very much enjoyed playing catching up with his sister and running around freely. Having thrown away the shirt he was supposed to wear the moment Lauren had handed it to him, he was up and off, feeling the wind hit his chest as he ran.
Sven bolted from room to room, ready to begin the day’s chasing session. However, unlike usually days where Lauren would eventually catch him after he grew tired, this time he had accidentally run into someone along one of the side halls of the manor after turning his head to see if his sister was close to catching him. When he looked up to see who he had run into, he saw someone looking down at him, with arms crossed and lips pursed in displeasure.
Sven would recognize that stern look anywhere. It was his mother after all.
“Have you had your fun, Sven?” she would say. His eyes would grow narrow and sheepish.
“Mother!” Lauren would greet as soon as she saw their mother.
Admonished without a word, Sven immediately turned around to hide behind his sister, unwilling to give his mother the chance to box his ears.
“Get him a shirt for goodness sake,” Christine Baruch, Queen of the unofficial Baruch Kingdom said.
“Yes, mother,” Lauren replied, nodding as she brought her brother along.
As they left, Christine tracked their movement. She wore a wry smile as she watched her children’s antics. Underneath that happiness, there was concern.
While the town of which her husband was crowned mayor - and hopefully soon to be Kingdom once the empire approved of its designation - was enjoying peace, the peace would soon come to its end. She knew, unlike her young kids, that the winds of change were on the horizon. Good times were coming for the kingdom, and she could feel it.
Untiered as it was, it was still the culmination of the painstaking effects of the resilient residents of the kingdom and her husband, Friederich.
Christine remembered when she had stumbled upon the disorganized group of refugees and retired veterans living in the shadows of a forest on the edges of the imperial land. Having come here with only a few friends and her husband, she was a stranger to this place. Yet, those who had moved here previously graciously shared whatever food and shelter they had left with them. Moved by their kindness, Christine convinced her husband that this was the perfect spot to finally settle and begin their life. With their knowledge of governing, they organized and worked along with the refugees to build houses. From there, the organization enlarged, and so did their work. In 10 years, Friederich and Christine were able to reap their rewards as many little houses soon became a bustling town, reaching the minimum requirement to be classified as a tiered kingdom by the empire.
Christine would never forget the trust the citizens had placed in her and her husband. They insisted that the couple be mayors of the town as soon as the town had been properly set up. Though it had yet to be counted as a kingdom in the annals of the Empire’s books, droves of people from neighbouring areas, displaced for some reason or the other, would come every year, giving her hope that she would be able to live to see the town officially accepted as a kingdom during her children’s generation. But recent news has said otherwise.
A neighbouring unranked kingdom of similar stature, with a slightly longer history but poorer governance, was preparing for war on the Baruch town. Scouting parties had been spotted and the roughly estimated timeline of a year till the inevitable war was optimistic for everyone in Baruch.
Friederich, unfazed, was already preparing to fight the war and spent every other day at the barracks raising morale and supervising training for his troops. On a whole, both she and her husband had chosen to leave the kingdom blissfully unaware of the potential threat, understanding that the anxiety and stress that would have arisen could very well snowball into another crisis.
The more perceptive and connected members of the kingdom might have gleaned a clue from the recent increases to military activity, but not everyone else. Learned as her daughters were, they had yet to be involved in any conflicts, and she would have loathed for them to experience the pains of war. With Sven, she could only pray that the valiant defence by the kingdom’s warriors would give him the time to grow and develop into the able king she knew he would. Sven was the only son he had, and with the same playful tenacity, she found a lot in him that resembled Friederich.
Eventually, Christine placed her thoughts away. Now was not the time to mull over what could only possibly be. After all, she knew all too well of the habit of things not going accordingly to plan.
A year and a half had passed since the first scouts were spotted. Now, the armies of the Seratus kingdom were marching forward. War was on the distant horizon. The order for the mobilisation of the army had been sent out, and all 500 soldiers had responded quickly and orderly.
Mayor Friederich inspected their gear and raised morale as they stood at attention in the town square at the centre of town. Garbed in strikingly crimson heavy armour and greatsword sheathed behind his back, he carried his plume helmet in his arm.
Friederich resembled every image of a powerful warrior and an inspiring general. His every stride long and firm and every soldier he passed by would find their resolve strengthened and confidence doubled. They stood tall with their puffed chests and the well wishes of their loved ones in their hearts. The outward appearance of these stalwart warriors belied the worry they were experiencing in their heart. They all knew there would be no return, but Friederich was sure not to keep such thoughts in their heads.
“This is a moment in which each and every one of you will dread,” Friedrich would speak with the grit in his voice. “But come today, next year, what will be worse? Being terrified of war, being scared? Would you rather lose the grit in your heart and watch as your loving kingdom be taken from you? Your loved ones, your families, taken from you?”
Friederich could see each and every one of them, their faces drawing of regret. That was what he wanted. “That’s what it costs,” he said. “That’s what will happen if we let each other down. Do you want that? Do you want to lose all that we’ve built? No, do you? So what say you? To fight a war that will bring about salvation? Bring about hope?”
His men yelled in accordance.
“This is what I mean by grit. We fight a war not because we want it, but because we can keep our loved ones safe. To a better future, we must first sharpen our blades, raise up our hearts. Then, we can take the battle to them.”
And that was it. Friedreich's men had all the resolve they needed to tackle the war at hand.
Seratus town, itself on the brink of starvation had mobilized as many soldiers as it could to raid the much more prosperous Baruch town. Unfortunately, 1000 men had travelled. The only silver lining for Baruch was that they had no warhorses and would take longer to travel, but even that wasn’t much consolation.
Friedrich himself knew that it would be a fight to the death, victory or otherwise. Their best hope would be a devastating opener, scaring the enemy into retreat, but that was only a faint hope. He had already seen his wife to let her know of the likely outcome of the battle. Her only response was “Do as you must, but come back to me alive. Please.”, with her head on his chest and her hopeful eyes staring into his. Her hopeful gaze soon began to shimmer as her eyes watered with tears she held back as a show of belief in him. He felt terrible, though, for making her feel that way and had made his exit soon enough. But after that, he knew that he couldn’t bear to see his children in tears, nor did he see the need to, and so he decided to leave them in the dark. Nevertheless, the impending threat of death just made the remaining time he would spend with his family all the more poignant.
“Father, are you really going to train me? Really?” A young Sven looked up at his father, his eyes shimmering with anticipation. Clad in a training tunic, he stood in the courtyard of their house holding a training sword, as the king and his father himself, garbed in his warrior attire sans the heavy plate mail chest piece, stood opposite him.
Friedreich's eyes were filled with a mix of adoration, love and sadness. He looked into the excited eyes of his son and said, “Of course, I know how much you’ve been looking forward to it. It’ll be your early birthday present.”
Contrary to his expectations, his son’s eyes watered. He grabbed his leg as tightly as his chubby 6-year-old hand could.
“Don’t go please?” he asked, not daring to look at his father for fear of reprimand. Friedreich's eyes widened, surprised by his son’s perceptiveness. His father chuckled and bent his knee, ruffling his son’s hair before hugging him. He realized that perhaps his family knew all along and just acted like they didn’t put him at ease.
Given this opportune moment, he also decided to do something he intended to put off to do later and unfastened an amethyst pendant hewn from a single gem in the shape of a teardrop and inscribed with a single mysterious looking rune. Looking into Sven’s surprised eyes, he fastened the pendant around his neck and patted his shoulder lightly. Too confused to cry, Sven could only stare with eyes wide open at his father's gift. He knew he would cherish it with all his might.
“It’s a lucky charm my father gave to me. I have a feeling it will serve you better than it did me,” said Friederich as he stood up. “Now it’s time for training. I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark but since you know about it you should also know that I am relying on you to protect your sisters and mother. Now, wipe your eyes my brave warrior, and let us begin.”
Sven, he too standing up, grinned widely and held his hands up the best he could with the training sword in it, ready to make his father the proudest father in the world.
A week had passed and the invading army was now visible from the gates of the Baruch town walls. The 500 warriors were already geared up and were moments away from marching to meet the invaders in glorious battle. Most of the Baruch town had turned out en masses to see their defenders off. They knew that this battle would determine the life and death of their loved ones and themselves. Among the crowd were Sven, Eren, Lauren and their Mother, Lauren. Friedrich had shared a quick hug with all of them and a quick kiss with Christine before striding off to take his place at the head of the marching army. He dared not look back, knowing that the sight of his wife fighting back tears and his beautiful children looking so worried and forlorn might drag him all the ways just to comfort them instead of marching off. And so, ensuring that all his men were in place with a quick glance, he raised his greatsword up.
“To battle my fellow warriors!” Friederich yelled. “That we may smite those that dare disturb our peace and return to the open arms of our families! For Baruch!”
To which he received a thunderous echo. With the morale of his men bolstered, Friederich sheathed his greatsword and began marching toward the enemy, leading his men from the front like a crimson beacon.
The hour’s march forward to reach the proximity of the Seratus army seemed to stretch on endlessly, with the burning sun exhausting both soldiers and onlookers. It was only when the two armies finally stood in front of each other did both sides decide to take a break. In front of each army stood their generals, both men of valour and experience.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The Seratus general, known as Kruzer, was a mayor and a man who had a wicked looking spiked cuirass along with equally frightening spiked vambraces and greaves. He carried his helmet in one hand and seemed to be a fearsome warrior, all the more emphasised by a vicious scar that ran from the top of his left eye to his chin. His weapon of choice was a massive bastard sword that was even longer than that of Friedrich's but lacked the presence or the peerless of craftsmanship.
As both generals staged each other down, so too did their many soldiers. Both armies consisted of a hodgepodge of people, ranging from veteran soldiers to youth, fighting to be fed by the army, and so too did the equipment vary. However, it was clear from the onset that the Seratus army definitely dwarfed the Baruch army by a magnitude of two. An expected consequence of that would be for the morale of the army to drop by an equivalent amount, if not more. However, the man standing tall in front of them, clad in his crimson armour that seemed to ripple with shed blood even before the battle had started, with runed greatsword yet unsheathed, seemed to have a presence of his own that made up for the 500 men they lacked.
Kruzer, himself wary of the presence of his opponent, had already drawn his sword, using the sheer size as a way to reassure himself and allow him to keep his cool. And so, the two generals stared each other down, trying to get a feel for the enemy. Friederich, spoke first, breaking the eerie silence that had descended on the battlefield.
While he loathed dealing with black-hearted raiders such as the one that stood before him, he very much feared not being able to keep his family safe and to rejoin them.
“Kruzer, was it? I’m sure you are very confident in your army. But what use is it if you are not alive? As you can tell by my equipment, I am a very formidable warrior. And while I can’t guarantee my victory, I can guarantee your death. So what say you that we reach an accord of peace?”
Kruzer, himself not that much of a fool to have been able to become mayor of a city, poverty-stricken as it may be, wanted to agree to this proposal and would have had the situation turn less dire. Now, however, his city had been starving for weeks on end now after an unfortunate plague hit the town, and he needed a town’s worth of food, not a single caravan’s.
“Sounds tempting,” Kruzer replied. “Give me a 100 bushels of grain and I'll turn around.” Kruzer tried to keep the quiver of his voice hidden from his imposing opponent.
Friederich, hearing the reply, immediately grew incensed. He knew that it would be no different from giving away all the food his town had, save for some minor reserves.
“Death, then,” Friederich grunted, slowly drawing out his blade from his back. And as he did so, time seemed to stop for a second as everyone present collectively held their breaths at the same moment. The previously dormant runes on Friedreich's blade lit up, with all 6 of them shining the same blood red colour that his armour now seemed to shine with as well. The strangeness and the sheer might he felt radiating from his opponent caused Kruzer to briefly break out of his trance as he yelled, “What are you waiting for? GO KILL THAT MONSTER!”
Charging forward along with his men, the thunderous yells of the Seratus army seemed to suppress the aura that Friederich was releasing, but Kruzer himself veered left to go attack normal soldiers.
With a “TILL DEATH!” Friedrich joined the fray, cleaving through soldiers left and right like a farmer harvesting wheat. His men rallied around him, forming a triangular formation with him at the apex, seeking to pierce through the invading army that threatened to surround them fully. And so the battle began in force.
Friederich, worried about the enemy general, attempted to look around and identify that man’s location but would find himself distracted again and again by the many soldiers throwing themselves at him. He could hear the pained cries and miserable yells of those that Seratus encountered but found himself powerless to confront him immediately. Understanding that the current status would result in the loss of this battle of attrition, he immediately charged up the runes on his blade.
Influenced by all the bloodshed, the armour and the blade both began to glow brighter as they discharged blood-red lightning, causing Friederich to grunt in pain while channelling these powers. It seemed too strong for him to conquer the sword’s unwieldy might.
Only after a few seconds, when the air around Friedrich seemed to positively hum with power did he release the energy, channelling it through his greatsword which he swung in a wide crescent arc in front of him. A blade of pure energy released from the trajectory of the swing and flew unobstructed into the mass of soldiers in front of him, bisecting about forty to fifty soldiers before finally fizzling out. Its purpose had been served.
The brief lull in attacks gave Friederich the time to locate Kruzer, and a discharge of blood-red lightning at his feet all but made Frederich disappear. He sped up so fast he seemed to leave mirages behind, appearing right before his enemy. Kruzer, spying his fated opponent before him, reacted instinctively with the strongest blow he could muster, an aura charged swing that gave the oversized blade a crushing momentum, aiming at Friedrich's right shoulder. To his dismay, Friedrich disappeared again, before appearing behind him. Seratus was greatly dismayed. The sheer force of his own attack had unbalanced him, and a lack of advanced training left him woefully unprepared to deal with the first instance of anyone dodging his aura charged attack. He immediately bit his tongue and channelling his life force, redirected his aura attack, albeit through a very crude method that would likely leave him with sequelae for the rest of his life.
This blade, influenced by the burning life force of its wielder, carried a far greater strength than the previous blow, and could truly be called the culmination of its wielder’s life efforts. Friederich knew that there could be no dodging this blow because the cost of hunting down this shameless warrior in front of him was too high to bear when so terribly outnumbered, and continued to attack. Friedreich's attack was one of such blinding speed that the cost to power it had been permanently damaged to two of the runes inscribed on the weapon. Before Kruzer had the time to fully comprehend the shock of what he was seeing, his head departed his body, spinning several times before landing in the dirt where it was trampled by the fighting warriors.
The source of his shock was his opponent resisting the blow he channelled his life for, with only the armour and his body, and it was only with his incomprehensibly strong body that he managed to ward off the impact of his strike, given that the armour had only resisted for a fifth of a second before giving way. While he would never know that the reason Friederich had survived had been the high quality workmanship of his armour and his body fortified with many rare materials, he could take comfort beyond the grave having dealt a blow that would have pulverised any other lesser man.
Friederich however, knew that he had expended a far greater degree of aura than necessary to deflect the blade, in order to maintain his current fighting ability. In truth, his ribs had shattered, with many vital organs suffering tremendous damage. All this damage was now being held back by sheer force of will and aura mastery. Having slain his target, he used one of the forbidden functions of the blade to recharge itself by drawing out the remaining vital energy from Kruzer. As he did, he glanced around, taking note of the state of the battlefield, and where the fighting has become most tough.
Once all 4 runes on the blade were lit up, he channelled the remaining energy into himself, deciding that any thought of potential consequences could be left for the him that survives this battle to deal with. Unbelievably strengthened, albeit at a cost, he unleashed himself into the hotspots of fighting, acting like a tempest of blades, coloured red by the blood of those he slaughtered. As he slowly lost himself to the melody of the battle, he failed to notice that he was now the only one left alive. As he continued fighting on, he would expend his rune charges now and then, clearing out swathes of soldiers.
In the end, he found himself hunched over, using his greatsword which was now badly chipped as a crutch, with uncountable numbers of weapons piercing his armour. His helmet was also shattered in half, and the veteran that had done that had also managed to leave a deep scar on the right side of his face along with blinding him.
But such injuries could only be considered minor to Friederich who knew he was on borrowed time. Already he could feel the red aura on him turning a necrotic black, as parts of him started to rot. But there was no trace of worry or pain on his face, only a relieved smile, the smile of a gratified father. For he knew, there was no one else alive, and a victory had been won. Utilising what meagre aura he had left, he condensed a blood red flare and launched it into the air, before losing himself to unconsciousness.
Back in the town of Baruch, most people who had turned up to send the soldiers off had already gone back. But they were unable to stay calm, for they knew their life was in the hands of those soldiers.
A few veterans who had suffered different kinds of damage and some well-meaning civilians volunteered to man the town walls. They were armed with pitchforks and stones, doing anything they could to protect their town.
When the flare was sent out, its unique crimson tint immediately attracted the attention of the patrollers, and in unison, their faces broke out into uncontrollable smiles. They knew, that the man they had chosen as mayor had lived, and that meant a victory. One of those patrolling had gone to get Christine, as she was acting as the stand-in mayor when Friederich was not present.
Christine soon organized a relief group, bringing medical supplies and some food and water to the soldiers. She left her children behind in the manor, and soon the relief group set off. The group, consisting of several physicians, some veteran soldiers and some other volunteers were in a jubilant mood, expecting to see many of their friends once again, although they braced themselves for the loss of people they knew. However, once they reached the sight of the battle, they were greeted with a sight of desolation and slaughter that they were unprepared for.
Some of the volunteers and physicians vomited, unable to stand nausea and fear they felt at the site. Lauren however, had eyes for only one thing, the man hunched over in his crimson armour.
Every blade that was pierced into him was like a wound to her own body, and she felt her heart weep for the extent of damage that he had suffered. Despite knowing he could perish she was unable to help herself.
Christine, unable to collect herself properly, rushed forward to him. She did not hesitate to use her healing powers to slowly mend the wounds he had encountered, tenderly pulling out the motley of daggers, swords and axe that had pierced deep into her husband.
Christine ordered the relief party to split up and look for remaining survivors. She herself would attend to her husband.
With the orders out of the way, she made him lie on the ground before removing his horribly damaged helmet. She let out a gasp at the sight of the gruesome wound that blinded his right eye. She knew she couldn't heal injuries of this kind, but at the very least he would survive.
Feeling that everything only came secondary to his survival, she found herself feeling blessed. The rest of the day passed by in a blur to her as she would constantly inject pulses of life energy into him, trying to bring him back to consciousness. Naturally, no one else noticed her efforts, both because of her discreteness and also of their preoccupation with other matter, namely the utter decimation of the defending and attacking army.
The relief party returned back to town, namely to let Friederich rest in his manor and to get more volunteers to loot the battlegrounds and bring back the bodies for burial. The knowledge of their hard-fought victory made all the people of the town celebrate, though the knowledge that their army had been utterly wiped out left a grey cloud of worry over their celebrations.
While the rest of the town was mourning the dead and celebrating their victory, the Baruch manor was eclipsed in a gloomy atmosphere. Christine found herself getting more and more irritable as time went on without Friederich waking up.
She had to catch herself from snapping at her children when they asked how he was. Eventually, with several days of rest and constantly exhausting her reserves of life energy was she able to witness her husband waking up. She had never seen a sight so beautiful in such a long time.
Immediately rushing over with misty eyes, she hugged him ever so tenderly. Surprising her, he returned the hug, albeit with one arm. Soon enough, the children of the manor found their way into the hug, and for a while, the Baruch family simply shared one big group hug of relief.
Christine shooed the kids off to give their father space to rest as she pulled up a chair beside him and prepared to feed him some soup. She noticed, however, that despite the brave smile on his face, and his relief at being back, his eyes seemed to show the torment that was ravaging him.
Friederich, watching the growing worry on his wife's face, spoke up to try and placate her.
“Dear, I…”
Christine stopped him. “I know. How could I not? I just didn't want to believe it,” she said. “My brave warrior, I have only utmost pride and love for you. I just wish I could have stayed by your side as you fought, like the days of old. Why? You silly fool, you said we would grow old together. Then why has it turned out like this? Why?”
She found herself with tears spilling out of her eyes as she held the hand of her beloved husband. With her affinity to life energy, she could sense the rot and necrotic energy of his borrowed energy spreading and corrupting the vibrant red life force of his that she loved so much.
“It’s alright dear. When I said ‘old’ I didn't specify ‘how’ old. You should have clarified,” he said, with a half-smile and a cheeky wink with his still working eye.
The sight of him made Christine smile before lightly punching his chest. “You scoundrel, to think you still have the energy to cheer me up like this.
They shared a moment of clear happiness before the future returned back to them.
“What should we do now?” Christine asked.
“I guess it is time to do what we have always envisaged for our children,” Friederich said. “Two of the three have inherited a great deal of your magic prowess, and it appears our son has my knack for blades. Despite it being one of the lesser blessings one can be born with, I believe his aptitude might even surpass my own.”
“But you are in no state to train him!”
“We must. I will supervise when I can. Judging from the rot on my body, I’m guessing-”
“-I know the length of your injury. We don’t need to discuss this.”
There was a faint smile creeping over Friederich. “I’m sorry dear, as much I loathe it, I must leave the burden of our family on our back, or at the very least until the time our son can take care of us. The rest we can only leave up to the pendant.”
Christine’s ears immediately perked up. “The pendant? Isn’t it too early to have it bind to him?” Christine gathered her thoughts. “Perhaps this will have to do. Hopefully, that pendant you fought with your life to get is worth it.”
“It will be,” he said.
“We’ll work it out together. But for now, it's time for lunch.”
The 3 children of the Baruch family, having been listening at the door for so long, soon dispersed. All of them had an unspoken agreement to do whatever they could to lessen the load of their parents.
Sven, having seen a majority of the battle from afar after having sneaked out, was so proud of the strength his father was able to display, successfully fighting off so many people to come home alive. But he vowed to surpass that. After all, didn’t his mother still cry and wasn't his father bedridden? He had heard the part about his affinity and the pendant and that was enough for him to know what he had to do.
He made his way to the training room in the manor and begun to swing the training sword with all his might.
His sisters were also heavily motivated and each went into their own rooms to practice their budding magic talents. And so the days passed, with most the Baruch manor not making any more public appearances while Christine found time to perform her role as the mayor in charge.
It was only a matter of time before the memories of war would be dulled as life found a way to distract everyone, even the royal family of Baruch, closing the curtains on the most painful war that the town had ever experienced.