“We’re coming up on Scratskoslovotskaya. Everyone, stay vigilant, this is where Alisson was last seen by the tracking spell.”
“Maybe if the school-teacher could use it correctly, we’d know where Alisson is currently…”
“Stow it!” Freudlin snapped.
“I told you all already,” Clarke piped up from the middle of the convoy, under a heavy coat. “The spell is no longer active. There’s nothing to track – That cult that you made a deal with must’ve sold you a defective spell.”
Down a shoddy road, encased by snow, and with a blanket of gray overhead, the 153rd platinum knight platoon road along in a cavalcade of wagons and horses. The reinforcements had brought with them almost fifty extra hands, all of top-tier quality, consisting of a dozen or so battlemages of the Andestine Aerial Mage Corp.
As well as a hero-summoner pair; which consisted the newly created Epsilon, and the old professor Clarke. Truth be told, these two were a far better fighting force than their lowest standing among the hero-summoner pairs implied – Clarke was an accomplished magician, among the best in the world, and Epsilon had been summoned from a life where she already had excellent military training. A few duels back at the homeland would easily place them among the strongest pairs Andestine had to offer.
No one would dare to oppose the Andestine column, that was certain. Despite this, they were heading into an uncertain situation. Mix Sidonians into that situation, and that was always a red flag, and every single knight there knew it.
For that reason, the hero-summoner pair, Clarke and Epsilon, were going to take point, and approach Scratskoslovotskaya alone, to reconnoiter the situation and gather intel about the Sidonian’s whereabouts, without exposing the presence of a such a powerful military unit to the public.
The 153rd was operating on its own, Andestine supply lines, in fact, their rear-guard was escorting one such supply convoy, and was about a day behind them, because Freudlin wanted to increase the pace. Setting up the supply lines and ultimately leaving Pūshkinskaya and the Freigat Jungle in good condition had taken longer than expected. A standing Andestine garrison at Pūshkinskaya was installed per Freudlin’s orders, though this was not simply out of good faith for the rebuilding town – Freudlin expected that future Andestine presence would be needed within the Jungle.
“Alright, it’s about time, go ahead Clarke, we’ll wait a good distance from the town – If anything goes wrong, just send the signal.”
“Right. “ Clarke nodded, and his horse along with Epsilon’s sped forward ahead of the group.
…
“I see now…” Alisson muttered. “Marmel sold our mounts and our gear while we were gone…and Chiji took it upon herself to kill him before he did anything else.”
Alisson sat in the middle of ‘throne room’ of Scratskoslovotskaya, surrounded by his ‘guards’, thugs that were scared to the core of him and Celis.
“But,” Alisson continued, “At least we didn’t lose anything important.”
“Basil was in there with the mounts.” Celis added.
“Nothing important.” Alisson redoubled. Celis nodded, standing by his side.
With the town under his rule, or, more aptly, with the skinheads that protected the town answering to him, he was able to completely scrape the town of information, ordering the gangs to drag people out of their homes before him and Celis, and having them tell them everything of what they knew. Anybody who’d recently been out of Scratskoslovotskaya, or had recently been to Nubinaya, were questioned.
There were only two things of note not previously known: Definitive evidence for an operational Andestine combat unit in the region. Although the name ‘Andestine’ Never came up, there were grumblings of merchants who bought supplies and then traveled in directions with no settlements. That sounded like a resupplying unit to him. Though, the scale and certain position of the force were still unknowns to Alisson.
Then, there were rumors at Nubinaya. It seemed the Irine blockade wasn’t completely unjustified, a pirate ship had rolled into port recently, boasting a fresh kill of Kitsune.
Alisson had a strong feeling that that pirate ship…It had killed his allies. It would explain why they seemed to be missing from the board – It’s because they were. However, this wasn’t definitive, he and Celis would have to check for sure.
This was now the predicament Alisson was left in. The enemy was on the move. He didn’t know where they were. The way out of this godforsaken place may lay at the coast. If they reached Nubinaya, and were able to catch a ship or something, then they’d be home free, without ever needing to engage the Andestinians.
However…If him and Celis arrived to the port-village of Nubinaya, and found nothing of note, not even a ship to commandeer and escape with, then he’d be pushed up against the sea with no hope of running, stuck in a village with absolutely no defenses – In other words, caught completely out in the open.
Here in Scratskoslovotskaya however, he had a tenable position. There were walls, albeit terrible, but still. He had people, a great deal of residents that he could use to his advantage. And most importantly, he had a thorough understanding the terrain. It gave to him many more cards to play were he to engage with an enemy force.
Time and time again, he’d been engaged with no forewarning, no preparation, no pieces to play other than those already on the board. This time would be different.
He made up his mind. He would wait for Andestine at Scratskoslovotskaya. He would defeat Andestine at Scratskoslovotskaya.
With them out of the way, Alisson had free rein. Moving forward, no one would be in his way.
He knew damn well that it wouldn’t be as easy as he was making it out to be – The enemy had been reinforced from prior engagements, and would be ready for him.
However, so had his side been reinforced. Celis had unlocked her Opensen. Her blades were now imbued with powerful magic. Alisson didn’t want to admit this to her face but…She was near his equal. Without Enhérejär…She’d probably outclass him. She was a strong piece now, thanks to Alisson’s mentorship, one that he could rely on.
And they now had that object, that refilled one’s mana if they were to be in close contact with it. They could bridge the magic-gap. This was not an unwinnable battle Alisson waited for – It was one he knew very well that he would win given the proper planning.
Alisson smirked. He may be questioning of his Lady, but killing Andestinians wasn’t something he needed orders for.
…
“Alisson…I thought you said your summoning magic was useless…”
I muttered. Beneath the walls of the city, in broad daylight, Alisson and I sat conniving out of the ears of the public.
“Not when I have a limitless supply of mana.” Alisson patted the black canister. “Now then…” His eyes sharpened. “For this farce to work…the townspeople shouldn’t know about it either.”
“Right.”
I said, and kept guard while Alisson started focusing on magic. It took him almost ten minutes, during which, numerous white balls formed and fluttered around him, coming together and forming the rough shape of a humanoid. Alisson stood, breathing heavily. Then, with a clench of his fist, the haziness of the magically formed figure turned to white dust, and disappeared, leaving beneath its mirage a sight that made me stumble back in surprise. Towering over the two of us, a Sidonian heavy knight stood. With his white, glistening armor, blue, flowing fabric, and intimidating sharp helmet from which no light escaped. His massive kite shield comfortably covered his body, and a large sword hung from his hip. The summoned caricature of a comrade looked almost life-like. If one were to take a closer look however, they would spot the eerie white haze wafting off of the plates of his armor, giving it an ethereal, non-corporeal look.
Alisson put his hands on his hips, pleased with himself. “Although my skill with summoning magic is terrible…I don’t need to worry about being efficient with mana.”
“How long will it last? Can it fight?”
I asked. Alisson laid a hand on his cheek, glancing into the sky. “Forty-eight hours at the least, about a week at the most…I’m not too sure…”
“Wow…”
“But,” Alisson rose a finger, “It cannot act autonomously. It’s nothing more than decoration, more useful as a coat hanger than anything. However, it can move if I’m in line of sight with it, and it’d look just like a real person. I could make it fight as well, if I really focused hard but…A single punch would be enough to shatter the illusion – And it wouldn’t be able to deal any damage either, so, it would be nothing more than a distraction in a fight.”
Andestine summoners are far different from the rest of the world’s summoning. In a sense, it’s like the hero-summoner system they have isn’t even the same realm of magic that Alisson is currently utilizing. However, it is possible to make autonomously acting summoned objects, but it requires a certain level of skill that Alisson doesn’t possess, and when objects act on their own, they also drain the summoner’s mana, unlike this shell Alisson made, which doesn’t require any input to stay corporeal, but by extension also can’t do very much.
I looked over the knight. “How many do you plan on making?”
“A couple dozen or so should suffice. We’re not going to put all our eggs in this farce of a basket. Although, if we wanted to avoid confrontation, I could go full throttle with them, and make as many ersatz knights as possible, and we could make it seem that we have a much larger force here than we really do – That would scare away Andestine and buy time if we wanted.”
“But you want to defeat them.”
Alisson smiled. “Yes…That’s right. The initial shock of seeing these knights will be the most value we’re going to get out of them…I still have far more…effective…methods of swaying the battle to our favor in mind…”
…
“Up ahead, that haze on the horizon should be Scratskoslovotskaya…”
Clarke indicated with his staff, and Epsilon nodded. The two of them had dismounted in order to hide the Andestine insignias of the mounts – If they could enter the city without being recognized, that’d be ideal.
“To think people would live in such a terrible climate…”
Epsilon muttered, glancing at the occasional pools of mud and rotting carcasses that lay across the barren scape surrounding the city.
“It is not a decision that the majority of the populace have made, but those that voluntarily live here are what makes this region most dangerous…There’s this swordsman for instance, Vonronlo I believe it was…he’s comparable to a Platinum knight…there’s a lot of those odd-types here…”
“You seem familiar with this city.”
Clarke shook his head. “Thankfully, this is my first visit. It is not exactly one’s top choice for a vacation, yes? Unfortunately, I don’t believe post cards are among the things you can barter for in the black markets here.”
As they approached, they both donned their hoods and large cloaks, to hide their armor and Andestine allegiance.
“Let me do the talking…I don’t believe they’d take kindly to being bossed around by someone with your face…”
Clarke ordered, and Epsilon nodded.
“You there, halt.”
One of men at the gate hollered. A dozen thugs seemed roused from a rudimentary outpost. They didn’t seem too bothered with Clarke, or Epsilon; in fact, they seemed quite disinterested, staring off with hazy eyes, as if there was some greater threat looming about.
“We are simple travelers…”
Clarke purposely sounded as senile and pained as he could.
“This here is my daughter and we-“
“Sorry. No one gets in or out without the lord’s permission. You’ll have to wait for him to arrive.”
The thug responded, straight faced.
“The…lord? Last I remember, this was a free city…”
The thug didn’t respond, but his eyes, boring holes into Clarke, begged him to not ask any further questions. The state of the thugs was one that set a seed of unease in Clarke’s stomach. These were supposed to be the macho, vulgar, tramps who defended the city and shook down every traveler for everything they were worth, not some disciplined city garrison, very clearly answering to a higher power.
Clarke swallowed, and began infusing his staff with magic, still hidden under his cloak.
Apparently, the thugs had already sent word as soon as Clarke and Epsilon were spotted, because none left to go into the city, instead, they all sat silent for a long few minutes, making Clarke deeply uncomfortable.
Eventually, someone leaped atop the rubble wall behind the thugs. Standing against the bright gray sky, it took Clarke a moment of squinting before he could make out the details of the figure. His throat choked.
A mere twenty meters away, Alisson Vi Nuam stood, brazenly exposing himself to the world, staring down at Clarke and Epsilon with a gaze of pure scorn and disgust. Clarke thought right then and there that a battle would erupt, and every cell in his body was ready to unleash magic at Alisson. It took all his discipline to remained planted to his position, though his heart still picked up in pace noticeably.
“These are the two travelers? I see…”
He muttered. A moment later, a blue haired girl jumped up by his side, whom Clarke recognized as Alisson’s apprentice.
“So, let them through, right?”
A thug called from below, clearly accustomed to this process. Alisson went silent. Clarke knew right then and there that Alisson knew clearly who they were. Alisson had fought them at Foksly. It may have been a great deal of months ago, but Clarke and Epsilon were a new hero-summoner pair, someone of Alisson’s standing would do well to remember them, and it seemed, that he had.
Alisson sighed. “This town is under the rule of Sidonia. And I am its acting regent. We will not let Andestinians enter, now begone.”
Clarke cracked a smile, his fear suddenly abating. “Really? Sidonia claims this town? With two fighters? That is quite comical, yes?”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Alisson leaned into his apprentice’s ear, and whispered something, before the apprentice leaped off the wall and back into the city, disappearing from view.
Clarke looked up to Alisson, confident in his side’s overwhelming advantage. “Give up Alisson. It’s your only chance for survival. You must be desperate to have fled all the way here.”
Alisson closed his eyes, and simply said again, “No passage for Andestine.”
Clarke frowned. “Mistake.”
Clarke suddenly parted his cloak, and rose his staff into the air, and launched off a bright green line which soared high into the sky. It them detonated in a fancy, effulgent pattern. Clarke set his gaze on Alisson. “You’ve brought this on yourself.”
Over the horizon, better to say, at the edges of the crater that Scratskoslovotskaya resided in, a wave of horsemen suddenly appeared, and descended, rushing toward the city.
Alisson, whom Clarke thought would then leap immediately into combat, simply sat at the top of the rubble wall. To be called a Sidonian town, it was so stupid. A trash heap, and two whole Sidonians to defend it. They must be desperate.
Clarke kept his eyes wary however, for that apprentice who’d disappeared, just in case she was trying to get the jump on them.
Alisson simply stared forward at the oncoming battalion, as if he was indifferent. Clarke heard Alisson say softly then, “You will die. Your comrades will die. No one will remember you.”
Clarke’s eyes widened. It was then when he realized just who he was dealing with – Alisson Vi Nuam. There was no way he would just lay down and die, and perhaps this was all simply his plan…Clarke suddenly feared for the 153rd, fearing some sort of magic minefield or planted imbued bombs that would just blow them to smithereens. Despite Clarke’s fears, nothing came, nothing but an entire battalion of Andestine knights, who surrounded the area. Freudlin came riding right up to the wall of the town, and pointed his sword at Alisson.
“Surrender. I have no want for catching this town in the middle of a battle.” Freudlin demanded.
Clarke realized that perhaps that this was Alisson’s intention – The town’s walls were hardly tenable, any normal man could scale them, but the urban environment, fraught with non-combatants, was just as good a shield as any.
“You’re outnumbered, Alisson. Even you can’t fight your way through this many knights alone.”
Alisson suddenly smiled. “Yes…you’re completely right…However, I am not alone.”
Alisson rose his hand into the sky with a sharp motion, and snapped his fingers. In action that silenced the immediate area, everyone looked on with bated breath before suddenly –
A dozen Sidonian knights leapt atop the walls beside Alisson. The 153rd recoiled, and Clarke stumbled back, clutching his staff. The Sidonian knights planted their sword and shields into the debris below them, and stood tall against the overcast sky.
Alisson cut his hand to the side. “This town is under Sidonian rule. I’ll say it again: No passage for Andestine.”
As he spoke, more Sidonian knights leapt atop further, distant walls, until every piece of wall Clarke could see had a Sidonian standing atop it in one hundred meter increments. All in all, there were only about twenty of them, however there were probably more along the rest of the wall.
He certainly has a flare for the dramatic...
Clarke thought, clutching his staff. Freudlin had a face of steeled shock – Clarke knew this emotion well, it was one of a commanding officer concealing their emotions for the sake of their men.
Despite the sudden show of Sidonian superiority, Freudlin rose his sword once more at Alisson. “This will only delay the inevitable – now your men will perish as well. You’re just buying time.”
With that, Freudlin turned with his horse, and gave the signal to withdraw. A most wise call, Clarke concurred.
He casted flight spells on himself and Epsilon, and they flew off along with the mass of Andestine cavalry. All the while Alisson and his knights stood atop the walls, never taking their eyes off of the retreating Andestinians. Meanwhile, the thugs who’d once been enjoying a sleepy morning were now shivering, fearing that they’d be caught in the middle of the coming battle between the world’s two most feared militaries.
…
“What the hell!”
One of the 153rd’s officer’s exclaimed, slamming his fist onto the table. “I thought the council said that we wouldn’t facing any other Sidonians, but here it looks like Alisson’s been reinforced! Who knows how many men he has in that town, it could be a whole army!”
The 153rd had retreated to outside the crater of Scratskoslovotskaya, and had settled into camp. Those present consisted of officers, Freudlin, and Clarke and Epsilon.
“This is definitely uncalled for.” Freudlin agreed. “But it’s not something to yell over. We’ll start with what we know: Alisson now has allies. It’s evident that there’s something important at Scratskoslovotskaya. My guess would be that he’s buying time, either the Sidonians are doing something in the city or the surrounding area, or their waiting for reinforcements . What Alisson showed us on the walls, was probably all of his men. He’s trying to intimidate us.”
The officers gave a murmur of approval. “For now, we’ll settle in for a siege, make it look like we’re playing his game. We’ll wait until dawn tomorrow – by then, our rearguard should be caught up to us, and we’ll launch an assault. “
“What about the Sidonian knights?”
Freudlin shook his head. “They’re still on those walls…my guess is that Alisson’s posted them up their like scare crows to make us believe he’s got more men than he really has, but there’s no denying it – We most likely still outnumber him, even more so when our rearguard arrives. By dawn, they’ll probably be quite tired, even if Nekomata can stay awake for three days straight, it still give us the edge in a head-to-head fight, and hopefully level the playing ground.”
“But still…” The officer insisted.
Freudlin sighed. “Those knights of his didn’t look like anything special, those were standard Sidonian heavy infantry, that make up the core of their armies. Not the kind of special forces that we’d expect all the way up here, but nonetheless our knights should outclass them. We’ll be able to break through their defense – Especially if they keep staggered like that across the entire length of the wall. We’ll attack from every direction with a few concentrated companies – That’ll greaten the number’s disparity even more. We can also bombard the walls with our mage advantage beforehand, that should throw them into disarray.”
The officers murmured in approval, and Clarke concurred. “And about Alisson?” Clarke asked, folding his arms. “And his apprentice, for that matter?”
Freudlin motioned to Clarke and Epsilon suddenly. “That’s why you’re here. Even if you face him in a one on one battle, you’re powerful enough to hold off alone until reinforcements can back you up, and combined, we’ll win against him.”
Clarke nodded. Freudlin declared, a glint in his eye, “We’ll crush through their cobbled-together defense and then surround and destroy every last Sidonian in there. We won’t let Alisson escape, not this time.”
…
Alisson took a sip of the steaming liquid. He frowned, then sighed. “Like rat piss. I suppose a town like this wouldn’t have anything of quality other than alcohol...”
The thugs before him shivered, fearing some sort of retribution. Night had fallen, the bonfires within the rubbish throne room bathed the area in a warm orange.
The door to the throne room opened, and in walked Celis, striding toward Alisson with a stone face.
“Celis…how goes the preparations?”
“It’s gone like you said. Everything is in place.”
She nodded, saying in monotone, as usual acting far more reserved in a public setting than a private one.
“…Will you…will you really be alright, alone against all of them?”
She then tepidly asked, her stone face suddenly twisting into concern. Alisson closed his eyes with a smile.
“Yes.” He said softly. “I’ll be alright. You’ll be on my side after all…I’m relying on you, Celis.”
He looked up to her with puppy dog eyes. She blushed and averted her gaze, clearly embarrassed with the thugs around, watching them.
“I believe in you. You’re strong now Celis. You’re my only piece on the board.”
Celis smiled to herself, looking into the floor, and shuffling with embarrassment.
"Now, all that's left is to cast our dice."
…
Daybreak came early. However, the rearguard, from which the 153rd had been expecting to arrive, with extra manpower and supplies, never came. It seemed they were further behind then previously thought. Regardless, the 153rd sallied out at the break of dawn for battle. All of the Sidonian knights, as the scouts reported, were still atop the walls, and Clarke bet that they were at least a little fatigued from being up there all day and night, while the 153rd had a full night’s rest. They would’ve had filling breakfast as well, but due to the rearguard’s sudden absence, rations had been cut in good practice, and their stomachs growled they stared down the walls of Scratskoslovotskaya.
The barren scape before the city was far different than the day prior – It was like one large amalgamous puddle of mud. It seemed that through the night, thugs and other citizens had been forced to sow the barren fields of the crater, digging up and disturbing the mud. This was in an obvious attempt to mitigate the 153rd’s cavalry advantage, but it didn’t matter much when the 153rd was assaulting a fortified position – horses would be off little use when a wall was in the way.
“Men,” Freudlin rode before the knights assembled. “This will be the largest Ando-Sidonian conflict to take place in the better part of a couple decades. The Sidonian knights will be tough opponents, but we still have the advantage. We have them surrounded, and soon our mages will begin their bombardment. They’re desperate, grasping at straws, it’s obvious they’re waiting for something…let’s pound them into the mud before they can pull any of their tricks.”
“Sir, yes sir!”
As soon as Freudlin finished his final words, about order the mages to start their bombardment, the gates of Scratskoslovotskaya suddenly opened.
“…They’re sallying out to attack us?”
Clarke muttered. But when it was revealed who exited the city, it was hardly a contending force. From every gate, from all sides of the city, about two hundred tramps and peasants ran out, screaming loudly, terror on their faces, all armed with subpar weapons. The 153rd was split into three companies, Clarke and Epsilon being at the frontal company along with Freudlin and a third of the Andestine knights. The peasant army poured out of the city, running through the mud, hollering a battle cry.
“What the hell?”
One of the knights whispered.
“Look there.” Freudlin indicated. “Look at their faces, it’s fear, they’re not running into a battle, they’re running from one – These citizens have been conscripted to the city’s defense by Alisson.”
It was a slap in the face - No matter how many untrained thugs and peasants Alisson rallied up, there was no way even a single Andestine Knight would break a sweat cutting them down. Alisson could very well press the entire populace of Scratskoslovotskaya into the militia, and the 153rd would have no trouble executing all of them.
Freudlin rode forward, motioning for the mages to hold fire, and gave a quick few words to the two other companies surrounding the city with the message spell. The frontal group of conscripts, numbering at about a hundred, closed in on the frontal Andestine force, when Freudlin suddenly called out in a loud declaration:
“Throw down your arms! Andestine has no wish to slaughter non-combatants! We’ll guarantee your safety from the Sidonians!”
The charging group of drafted men slowly decreased in speed as they closed in on the Andestinians, before, with tepid glances back at the town and at the 153rd, threw down their weapons and rose their arms into the sky.
“W-we surrender!”
“Spare us!”
Freudlin sighed. “Figures…Sidonian scum.”
One of the conscripts approached Freudlin. “M-mister knight…”
Freudlin looked upon him with intrigue. “You are…Sir Vonronlo, I think I’ve heard of you…Just what did Alisson do to you? You look terrible.”
All of the men who’d charged had done so with faces of pure terror, like they were running headlong into a wall of spikes whilst being urged on by something far worse behind them.
“Sir…Alisson is, the Sidonians are…They’re waiting for reinforcements!”
“Oh?” Freudlin didn’t look surprised. “What do you know?”
“It’s…It’s an army, sir! The Sidonian 9th army! I overheard Alisson talking about an army that would be here soon!”
Clarke almost choked. “A-an army!? You can’t be serious - I’ve never heard of a Sidonian 9th army.”
“No Clarke…” Freudlin said sternly. “I think he’s telling the truth…where these knights came from…the Sidonians must have a small-sized army operating in the north. A behind-the-lines one that we haven’t heard of before.” Freudlin looked to the swordsman Vonronlo, “Is there anything else you overheard?”
“Y-yes,” He tepidly spoke up, “They said something about a supply convoy being caught and destroyed by the army…”
Clarke’s eyes shot wide open. That was their supply convoy! No wonder they were behind schedule! But if that was true…then that meant the Sidonian army was only a day away! Now he understood why Alisson was acting so cocky, despite having the overwhelming tactical disadvantage.
“Damnit!” Freudlin cursed.
“Commander,” Clarke put on a coolheaded tone, for the sake of moral, “We have two choices.”
Freudlin nodded. “We either run, or we take our chances, and attack Alisson while we can. If we can beat Alisson now, we’ll have a tenable position to use against the army –Running won’t do us any good if they’ve cut off our supply lines.”
Clarke nodded. “I concur.”
It was their best bet. They just needed to go for it.
“All of you who were forced to fight by Alisson, get behind us, and try not to get hurt. Aerial Mage Corps!”
Freudlin lifted his hand up. “Begin bombardment!”
Freudlin brought his hand down, and all at once, mages from all three companies began firing their heavy artillery spells at the Sidonians atop the walls. Clarke had a brief doubt that perhaps they shouldn’t be destroying their only wall between them and the oncoming Sidonian army, but on second thought, once Alisson’s forces were defeated, and they had control of the town, he was sure that the 153rd and the townsfolk could probably scramble together new walls just fine – These rubble ones weren’t exactly useful to begin with.
As the spells flew toward the city walls, Clarke was astonished to see that the Sidonian knights sat still atop them, staring down oncoming spells with zero fear.
Do they perhaps have a means of countering our spells? No…Alisson’s redirection shouldn’t work everywhere at once, he’d only be able to redirect once side of the bombardment at the most…
But Clarke’s doubts were abraded when the spells impacted cleanly on the knights. Almost every single spell was a direct hit – Evidence that the Sidonians had quite literally not moved an inch in evasion. Each Sidonian knight was engulfed in two or three explosions of magic. The 153rd was once more shocked still by the sight of it, everyone gazed on in disbelief: Had they really just won the battle? Just like that? Sidonian standard forces after all were magically deficient, there was no way they had their own shields so…
The smoke cleared, and no knights were left standing. Breaking everyone’s awe, Freudlin rode ahead, swinging his sword forward.
“Breach the walls!”
The knights were quickly shaken from their stupor and followed in Freudlin’s wake. Clarke and a few other battlemages took to the sky, and Epsilon rode ahead with the striking force. The mud was thick, and slowed the horses considerably, making them unusable as attacking cavalry, but it was still faster than being on foot.
The one thing that the walls of Scratskoslovotskaya were good for was protecting against horsemen – Horses wouldn’t be able to cross the rubble walls, so as the strike forces reached the base of the walls, they dismounted. Clarke watched warily from above, certain that at any moment some Sidonian trick would show itself.
Instead, Alisson Vi Nuam, in the flesh, appeared atop the wall before Freudlin and Epsilon, along with four other Sidonian knights who’d leapt up alongside him.
“Where’s your apprentice? Not keen on sacrificing a little girl’s life?”
Freudlin called from below the walls.
“Who do you think reported your rearguard’s position?”
Alisson said quietly. That confirmed it then. Alisson’s apprentice had probably left in the middle of the night to call for the Sidonian 9th army. At least now they didn’t have to worry about her – According to Shepard, she was a strong fighter.
Without warning, the five Sidonians leapt down from the walls, right onto the knights. The two sides ran at one another, the Sidonians in a ferocious, animal like manner, without a care in the world for a formation.
Clarke motioned to the other battlemages to go ahead and aid the rest of the town’s capture, with Alisson here, they wouldn’t be of much use. Clarke only trusted himself not to get his comrades blown to pieces.
Clarke watched Alisson’s movements intently, not worrying about the other knights. The moment the two sides locked blades, Alisson was the only one who retained their momentum, leaping through the Andestine formation, and stabbing a Platinum knight directly through the neck, drawing the first blood of the engagement. Instantly, a dozen other knights were on him in a heart beat. Each one swinged in turn, and each time, Alisson deftly evaded, it was a mesmerizing display.
A few knights had their blades parried, and immediately they were punished by a riposte to their necks. Clarke winced as every knight fell. A knight was stabbed through his eye slits, then to be evaded and gutted in a gap in his side armor, leaving him wailing on the ground as Alisson moved on to the next knight.
Clarke noticed something strange about after a few seconds – Where were the Sidonian knights? Clarke averted his gaze for moment, and saw with confusion, only four clouds of white mist, each before a bewildered Andestinian soldier.
“C-commander! T-the knights are illusions-!”
“It’s just like at Geraldi!” Freudlin cursed.
Clarke stared in shock for a moment. The Sidonian knights were…illusions? No…that didn’t make sense…At Geraldi, the wave of phantoms was very clearly that, just cloaks and swords that had no mind and no rhythm…these Sidonians were different, they had form, they had…
Clarke looked across the four clouds that had previously been Sidonian heavy infantry.
Mana, they had been made of mana! They were summoned caricatures! All of them were!
It would explain why those knights at the walls just sat there…but if that was true then…if Alisson’s apprentice wasn’t in the city then…the only Sidonian for miles, was Alisson. He’d just tricked the entire 153rd into sieging a single person, splitting their force into three.
Clarke set his gaze on the Nekomata, diving between knights, bobbing between blades, and countering with sharp ripostes and beats.
Only a minute after the clash began, almost a dozen Andestine knights had fallen, not all of them were dead granted, but was an unbelievable display, for so many professional soldiers to be beaten so quickly. None of those who lay across the ground had any indication of their armor being pieced. Each one was stabbed in the wrists, the elbows, the necks, the knees, all the gaps for mobility…it was like Alisson had memorized the contours and the shapes of each piece of Platinum knight armor.
And that could’ve very well been the case, given his lifespan.
Alisson jumped back, once more against the walls, taking a deep breath. The knights of the frontal 153rd took the moment to form up, and face Alisson. Every single knight who’d perished were ones who had previously not been in the 153rd, this being their first clash with him – the ones that remained were all veterans of the very first clash between Alisson and the 153rd, they seemed to know a little better to protect their weak points, to force Alisson to attack through their thick armor.
“So it was all just a ruse?” Freudlin spat. “Any moment now, the other two companies will come right over those walls behind you after they find out that your entire unit is fake. You’ve the done all the damage you can with this surprise.”
“Yes…” Alisson muttered. “Thus it’s prevalent I show my true form.” He spoke in clear, Andestinian tongue.
“Your little cat ears aren’t going to help you.” Freudlin snorted. “You’ll be long dead before your 9th army relieves you.”
Alisson gave an intimidating flare to his blade, clearing it of blood. “You’re mistaken. There is no army. Only my apprentice.” He said matter-of-factly, as if the two could be easily mistaken for one another. “When she gets here…You’ll wish it was an army.”
After a flash of light, Alisson had activated his inner beast – Two ears and two tails were now attached to his body. The 153rd formed into a shield wall, staring down the Nekomata.
“Now-! Let me show you why they call me the Fairy of the Battlefield!”
Alisson’s tails suddenly peeled away into dozens of white tendrils that wriggled into the sky, an electrifying red wafting through them.
***