The soldiers could hardly believe it - they were about to engage in a pitched battle against the prince of Arlania.

Who would have thought that they had the balls to fight?

Despite their initial doubts, they were excited for it , as after the battle the soldiers would have certainly been allowed to loot and rape in the city at their liking.

After all, as the Romlians say 'If they bend the knee help them rise, if they fight make sure to give them steel and blood'

And seeing the army , someone would receive their steel today.

"Forward men!" The officers spoke with fierce shouts and encouraging words. "They are cowards! One push and they will all fall!" The soldiers formed a line and marched forward,the battle had already started.

"All in a line," came the command, "Don't break formation. Keep your shields up and march slowly."

"Come on men! Since when are you scared of these pieces of coals?"

The general plan was easy to grasp , even the officers , though low-level in rank, understood it. They knew that the Arlanian army lacked a strong cavalry , which meant , that the enemy would struggle to defend against their clibanarii riders.So the plan was for the infantry to charge , and when the time was ripe, to send the clibanarii to finish the job.

As the infantry marched steadily towards the enemy forces, shouts of defiance and threats echoed through the air. "Come and die you bastards!" yelled one soldier, fueled by adrenaline

"I shall have fun with your daughters and wives while you watch me from hell!" jeered another.

Among them all, many were spurred forward by greed be it for gold or women

"Your gold will all be mine!" another one cackled maniacally

Their war cries echoed through the battlefield as they marched straight towards their enemy.

Usually a battle would not begin with a straightforward charge, but rather with an exchange of arrows and projectiles between the two sides, with the winner proceeding forward to soften the enemy lines , before retreating after they either finish up their stacks of arrows, or the enemy start moving toward them . It was a common tactic, but today was different.

Today, at the forefront of the Arlanian formation stood the arch-nemesis of the emperor . Just the sight of them made Gratios grit his teeth in frustration as he ordered his infantry to march forward.

"This time,", he had thought fiercely as he sent the army foward , "I will make sure to annihilate every last one of you."

However, this meant that while battle would be brought to them faster, it certainly allowed the Arlanians to have clear passage and to unleash their entire arsenal upon the oncoming armies. Arrows whizzed through the air,like snakes hissing in the grasss - all aimed at the enemies who advanced towards them. The imperial infantry had no choice but to advance , dodging and weaving through a barrage of lethal projectiles as they fought to reach their opponents.

Amidst the chaos, arrows found their mark, piercing limbs and shoulders with their sharp points.

''My leg!My leg!'' One of the soldiers shouted as he bled from the leg , a small piece of stick being the gift left by an archer.

''Those bastards hit my shoulder'' One of them growled as he broke the arrow leaving the end inside and marched forward, as it was the only way to go, only the wounded were allowed to march back. It was either the axe or the arrows, and they all chose the arrows

''You bastards!I will make sure to impale your women properly'' Some instead shouted in anger as they bit their inner cheeks and continued forward ignoring the pain, coming from their thighs.

Soon Javelins and axes too were thrown by the Arlanian mercenary, as the imperials were now within range,and those were the real deal, as while arrows could easily be deflected , axes and javelins were another matter completely.

"Suck on this, you fucker!" One man bellowed triumphantly as he watched his javelin pierce through an enemy's chest.

"Right to the neck, ehehehe..." Another cackled maniacally as his axe found its mark on a collarbone, causing the enemy soldiers to falter and fall to the ground , like a tree hit by a thunder .

"I've got more for you, come on!"

The mercenaries may have lacked discipline, but their many battles had made them seasoned veterans who knew exactly what they were doing.Their skill was only second for thier thirst for gold. In contrast, the upcoming infantry consisted only of levies hastily enlisted by various lords for this campaign. And the difference soon was to be clear.

Soon projectiles were sent no more , as both sides reached closer to each other.

theirAll braced for the impending clash. With their shields and lances at the ready, the Rolmian soldiers formed a tight line, heeding the strategy passed down by their ancestors, the gist of which was "Stay close to your companion and strike with the pointy end."

The sound of metal clanging against metal echoed through the battlefield as they advanced.The usual plan was to stay close to their comrades, give one step forward and thrust their lances before falling back, regardless of whether it pierced flesh or wood.

But this time on the centre of the battle , their opponent was not like any other. Ahead of the levied peasants stood mercenaries ,that made it their mission to provide aid against whatever country wanted to fight the empire, accepting to offer even discount if it meant fighting them.

Which of course meant that they were well-versed in countering the traditional tactics of the Rolmians. Armed with heavy axes and maces, clad in thick armor, the men of the Order of the Betrayed exuded a confidence that far surpassed that of their opponents, who relied mostly on simple shields and chainmail for protection.

As the Romlians attempted to create space to build momentum for their lance charges, the mercenaries closed in quickly, engaging them in one-on-one combat. The battlefield became a frenzy of swinging weapons and clashing armor, as hundreds of men fought for dominance. Some even abandoned their shields in favor of wielding two axes at once, hacking away maniacally at anyone who crossed their path.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

The result was devastatingly evident. The levied infantry were no match for these seasoned fighters, cut down like helpless animals caught in a grinder.For many of the levies this was to be thier first battle, while thier opponents made a living out of killing.

''Help , help" One soldiers shouted as his shield was knocked over and a blade cleaved through the air

"Mother!"Another one shouted with tears as the last drops of courage went flowing down his pants, the yellow liquid staining the sand below.

The air was filled with the shout of pains of the Rolmians , as the number of casualties piled up.

The sound of metal meeting flesh filled the air, accompanied by the sickening thud of bodies hitting the ground could be heard everywhere. The axes cleaved limbs and head clean , while maces knocked opponent to the ground, allowing the feet of their own back comrades to give them the mercy.

With each fallen man, it seemed that two more took his place on the battlefield. The sheer force of numbers was overwhelming, and even the stronge. No matter how strong the mercenaries were, the numbers though were still too great to fight evenly, as such slowly but steady , many units began being pushed back

———-

PRINCE OF THE SAND

''Seems like the battle is not going our way…'' muttered a man donned in royal golden armor, with the emblem of the sun depicted on his chest, the herald representing the Arlanian royal family. He surveyed the chaos with a calmness akin to a still lake, seemingly unfazed by the sight of his army being slowly pushed back . Almost as if he was watching a play.

With caramel-like skin that seemed to glow under the sun's rays, he cut a striking figure against the backdrop of sand and dust. His long blonde hair cascaded down to his neck, flowing like strands of gold in the desert breeze.

With a visage that boasted handsome features, devoid of any blemish or scar,the prince pleased the eyes of both men and women. His chiseled jawline framed a determined expression, his piercing eyes ablaze with determination and resolve as he led his men into battle for the first time.

''May the sun bless his sons and blaze on our enemies.'' he muttered as he raised his eyes towards the sky, before immediately dropping the gaze when the sun became too unbearable.

Though still in his early twenties, the prince carried himself with the confidence and authority of a seasoned leader, one of the many reason he acquired the loyalty of some nobles.Which considering the kingdom he was ruling, was certainly a great feat.

One of these noble Yamier (Earl) Marza, a loyal supporter of the prince , approached his liege . His armor glistened in the sunlight, adorned with the sigil of his noble house, two ravens on a red field, a symbol representing the fact that the richness of his house was built through battles alone and not deception or intrigue . Something that was greatly appreciated by the prince.

I need blades , he thought , not snakes with poison.

"My prince, the ' betrayed ' are being pushed back," he began, his voice filled with concern. "Should we go ahead with the plan? I fear they may break if this continues."

Prince Arzalat's gaze remained steadfast as he met Marza's eyes, he muttered few words, yet they still shook the man from his core

"Will you uphold your oath once again, my good man ?" he asked solemnly

With a deep bow, Marza knelt before his prince, his commitment evident in every fiber of his being. "Always my prince , in this life and the other," he vowed, his words resonating with solemn reverence.

Satisfied with Marza's response, he raised his hand

"Very well," he declared. "Take control of the two Azabs and flank the enemy from the right."

After that he immediately turned left, giving his attention to another loyal retainer,Sheri (baron) Nasaah.

Nasaah, like Marza,was a man in his late forties , unlike Nasaah though he was bald,though the lack of hairs was compensated by his long beard. His skin like that of his prince was caramel, as while most of the common populace was black in hue, the nobility instead had a light brown color , as most of them were not of Arlanian blood as much as they were cousins of their neighbors in the sultanate of Azania.

"Sheri Nasaah," he called out, his eyes fixed on his trusted commander. "Take control of one Azab and provide support to the Betrayed. Ensure that they do not break."

Without hesitation, Sheri Nasaah bowed deeply before swiftly moving forward to carry out his orders.

Meanwhile, the last remaining Azabs in reserve were given their final instructions by the prince himself - another noble was tasked with charging from the left flank, effectively sandwiching their enemies between two fierce attacks.

Everybody in that camp knew, that what they were doing was a bet. If they won, than they could finally ascend on a golden age, where the Arlanian could finally decide on how to live on their own, while if they failed than nothing would change.

All the nobles that followed Arzalat, came to see him as the man that could change the fate of their country.

He was seen as the one who could break their shackles and free them from the tight grip of the empire that held them captive. But even with this liberation, a new power would rise in its place: the mighty Azania. Despite this, many were willing to trade one for the other , for they felt a stronger sense of connection and belonging to the sultanate rather than being mere pawns in the hands of foreign oil-drinkers.

After all, it was thanks to their gold and support that they now had the chance to meet the emperor in battle, a dream that would have never come true without that help.