Chapter 14: Viscor v Balros i
-Larc’s Perspective-
Larc walked into the central building housing the main framework of Viscor’s laws and discussion. He moved down the hallways to a room guarded by an entire unit of Knights, each occasionally patrolling the area in search of intruders. He showed his Golden Eagle badge to them and they let him pass. He passed through the door to find a room with only one table and eight chairs, each positioned to match the eight cardinal directions. Of the eight seats, only five were filled around the table with a large map of the local area located at the center of the table. Many colored pawns representing each of the seven people were placed on the map as the five Captains proposed their strategies.
Larc was the last of the Captains to enter the room, most of their eyes briefly meeting his before going back to discussion. Only one of them had their eyes locked onto him. A woman in full black gear named Zetea, Captain of the Night’s Hand. She called Larc over to the table.
“Welcome back, we just started working on the actual battle plan.
“Mind telling me what I missed?”
Larc took his place at the table fluidly, his position being on the northern end right between Zetea and Geril, Captain of the Pneuma Spire. Geril was rather inclusive and only few know of his true name and identity. Larc never understood Mages, and he especially wasn’t privy to information about Wizards other than their incessant desire for knowledge.
“Roughly 10,000 soldiers are marching towards us from the West. The Shadowless reported the sighting of three Noble flags, but we have confirmed that there were no Knights in their forces. We suspect that this is merely a bait to analyze our strength or in the worst case, a detachment force from an even larger army.”
Larc took in the information quite calmly considering how dire the situation is. Viscor was a city full of craftsman, so they have a plethora of high quality weapons and various different types of aids. But despite this, those weapons and tools are commonly sold to anyone able to throw money at the crafters.
“Have we checked our exports yet? Check any logs regarding the sale of anything to the western Balros Kingdom.”
Zetea shook her head.
“No. We had a rocky relationship with Balros from the very beginning so we didn’t have many commercial connections with them. A few merchants might have come and gone with our wares but we can’t control them. The only massive shipments we found were two to Helios Capital and a few others to other small territories.”
“Can you two stop yapping about our commerce and focus on the war at hand?”
A burly man across the table was scowling at Larc and Zetea. He was Grivon, Captain of the Iron Boar. His personality was the polar opposite of Larc’s, and he cares for nothing other than fighting. He was honorable to the extent of conducting warfare but his manners towards his comrades doesn’t earn him any favors.
“And while you’re at it, Geril! Quit reading that book! I can see it from here!”
Geril closed the book he held under the table, clearly irked by Grivon’s loud voice. He instead pulled out a sheet of parchment from somewhere and started scribbling with a black feather. Within seconds he drew a perfect replica of the map on the table, and in addition, he added various markings in different ink, the arrows and circles showing his own proposed tactics for the battle. Each color representing each of the Captain’s forces, with his own color being in iris colored ink.
Geril set the paper in the middle of the table before quickly reopening his book to the page he last left on. His paper was then picked up by a red haired woman to his right. She was Pyra, Captain of the Crimson Dawn. She was a Fire Mage who viewed the world as a playground to burn. She was only restrained by her counterpart who was currently across the table, Selen, Captain of the Empyrean Sanctum.
Pyra inspected the paper. On the paper were five different circles with different colors of ink indicating their roles in the upcoming battle.
“So Larc, Grivon, and I will act as the spearhead while half of Zetea’s forces will strike them from behind. And before that, we distribute Selen’s Healers and a few of Larc’s Guardians across the vanguard and the city? But where does Hashan come into play?”
Geril raised his head to look at Pyra, his eyes sharp and calculating.
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“Hashan’s group is already busy scouting and relaying information. The Shadowless aren’t a combat group. If I were you, I’d worry more about the state of your mana than what they do.”
Grivon had somehow managed to raise his voice even further as his words became blares to the other Captains.
“Why do I have to be with Larc? My Iron Axe doesn’t need the help of others to win war.”
“I specifically put you with Larc so that you don’t cause trouble. The last time you went on a little excursion you cost us thousands of soldiers. The vanguard is filled primarily with your Warriors anyways. The Guardians without Larc will move throughout the city to ensure none of the citizens are harmed or taken during the battle. Any more questions?”
None of the five (other than Grivon of course) had any objections towards Geril’s proposed plans. He was the best of them when it came to strategies. But there was a slight problem which Selen then pointed out.
“But what happens if this 10,000 strong army was a detachment?”
The grim idea caused the Captains to become serious. The prospects that the army was a detachment from a bigger army was slim, but if that were the case, then an absolute conquest was inevitable. Geril closed his book for good this time, his words representing the most accurate scenario possible from Selen’s question.
“If it were just a bait from Virandi, then we will be fine for the time being. But if it were a small detachment and an even larger army is marching our way from somewhere else… Then we are in big trouble. If Viscor falls, the Balros Kingdom will gain a large amount of resources, and who knows how fast they will sweep the continent then.”
Grivon slammed his fist against the table. Knocking down some of the pawns from the table.
“Why don’t we just attack them first? Soldiers like ‘em won’t stand a chance against us!”
Grivon’s voice could be heard from outside the room, causing some of the guards to get the wrong idea and barge in weapons out.
But they weren’t the guards. Masked men in black cloaks entered the room with knives. They sprung towards Selen, their intent obvious.
Grivon, who was seated closest to the entrance intercepted the first man. His giant broadsword locking the man’s stilettos in place.
“Protect Selen!”
Grivon shouted as the man locked in-place freed himself from his lock by dropping his daggers. He brought out two more daggers, sharper and more compact than the ones before. He threw the knives towards Grivon before evading the strikes that followed.
The throwing knives didn’t manage to pierce the man’s skin, bouncing harmlessly off due to the effects of Grivon’s [Steel Skin] skill.
While this happened, the other man was rushing toward Selen with his dagger in hand before he was intercepted by an explosion of flame in his path. He stopped to avoid the scorching flames and glanced towards his left where the now standing Pyra was.
Pyra was holding a specially crafted staff in her hand. It looked like a black metal spear instead of a staff due to the blade tipping its top end, but the glowing red Fire Quartz imbedded in the bottom of the head connecting it to the rod. The inscribed runes flashed red on the blade, causing flames to travel in its wake with each swing.
Pyra channeled more Mana into the spear, the runes regulating her Mana and the formula in the Fire Quartz creating the flame. She shot them from the blade towards the man, the scorching flames just barely touching the man as he evaded the best he could. Selen had already retreated behind Larc as he unsheathed the longsword from his belt.
A golden light enveloped Larc’s longsword as he swung thrice, the energy concentrated in the edge of the blade releasing in three arcs. The sword waves slicing through air towards the man, causing grievous wounds in the man’s body, falling over and bleeding without rest.
“Take this!”
“Wait!”
Meanwhile, Grivon cleaved through his target’s weapons and body, his blade causing a bloody mess as it embedded itself in the man’s chest. He drew his sword back as the man collapsed on the ground.
“Dammit Grivon, we could’ve taken the man as a hostage. You just had to run him through didn’t you?”
Pyra complained at the man’s act of bloodshed.
“Selen, close this guy’s wounds for me.”
Pyra pointed towards the guy struck by Larc’s [Golden Light], but before Selen received the opportunity to, a crunch was heard from his mouth and the man began frothing, his black beady eyes becoming white.
“Oh no you don’t.”
A beautiful light began to surge from Selen’s ivory cane, surrounding the frothing man as the healing magic did its work.
“You didn’t expect to poison yourself to death in front of a Saint like me did you?”
Selen smiled, her grin unnatural on her own pretty face.
“I’ll make sure you are cared for. Nice and happy.”
The man was trained to resist torture, but the sadistic tone in the Saint’s voice caused him to feel fear for the second time in his life. The first to his exceedingly cruel instructor, and the second to this kind looking young woman with a horrific smile on her face.
He scrambled to get away from the girl, but she brought out a jagged butcher’s knife and cut his arms and legs off, staunching the flow of blood with that divine light of hers. She robbed him of his ability to move, and then she robbed his ability see.
The man, Vincent, was terrified. He who was used to the night has never experienced such a situation before. His orders were relatively simple, but he never expected that his target this time to be such a horrifying monster. The unfaltering sound of a knife entering a body followed by the screams of a man caused four of the five other Captains present in the room to close their eyes and hearts at the brutal display. The divine flash of light streamed out of Selen with each stab, healing the man and closing his wounds, only to be followed by another deep thrust of the knife. The blood spilling from his wounds had covered her white garbs and hands, dying them a rich red. Her face had twisted deeper and deeper into delight with each passing moment, as his screams rang out for what seemed to be an eternity.