Venaris had to be quick if she wanted to finish her mission while it was still dark.

Her rune-plate armor softly hissed as she slipped through the dense vegetation, carefully observing the Imperial soldiers. There were ten sentries that were visible, but they were too busy cooking and lounging around a roaring bonfire to notice her. It was sloppy and unprofessional, but completely understandable. This was the last sentry picket, situated right before the wooden gate of their camp. They felt safe, and were confident enough in their scout corps to warn them if they were ever in danger.

(Poor fools) Venaris thought sadly (they don’t stand a chance)

She held position in the shadow of a massive black oak, close enough to hear their hushed conversation. They were bemoaning the fact that they had to wait a whole week for the next relief crew to take their posts.

She tuned out their complaints as she focused on the wall sentries, timing their rounds.

(Three minutes) she smiled wryly I doubt I’d even need two.

She focused her attention back on the soldiers, wrinkling her nose at the putrid smell of whatever it was they were cooking.

She felt a great deal of remorse that she had to kill them. They were just marionettes who couldn’t comprehend or perceive the strings controlling them.

She gathered any emotions that might cause her to hesitate and crushed them. The Order of John needed this pass and it was her duty to seize it.

The lieutenant didn’t have to clear them without backup, but she had decided to bathe her resolve in the blood of imperial sentries.

(Ah who am I kidding) she thought to herself (I just want the practice. I haven’t fought in a while and this’ll be a good warm-up for the battle.)

Her earlier kills had been too easy, and she hadn’t been allowed to really let loose. Clearing these ten would be a more intense exercise.

Fresh blood glistened on her right gauntlet, dripping from the insignia of the Shadow runners as she drew the knife strapped to her arm.

It was a tool for butchery, but was as elegant and deadly as the elven smiths who had fashioned it. Slim and slightly wavy, the double-edged blade had a graceful air to it that no human smith could replicate.

Tensing her muscles in preparation, she fed a little more of her mana into the rune-plate. Its glow slightly intensified, enhancing her strength and speed beyond the level that a normal human could ever hope to reach.

As the sentry walking the wall turned away continuing his patrol, her armor seemed to hum with pleasure. Flickering brightly as she ducked out of the forest.

She had to be fast. Everyone would have to be dead before the next sentry arrived.

A slight blur was all the warning she gave as she burst out of the shadows. Sprinting as fast as she possibly could, she appeared behind one of the sentries before anyone could react. He dropped soundlessly, the knife buried in his throat having cleanly severed his spine. She tore the blade out, spraying the man next to him with blood as she twisted around to face him. Eyes wide with shock, he had enough time to grip the hilt his blade before her free hand punched through his breastplate. Confused, he stared at the beating mass she crushed in her fist before he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.

She spun lightly on the ball of her feet, dodging a hurried slash she deftly redirected it. The soldier could only gasp in horror as the flat of his blade thundered into his friends face, shattering it into a pulpy mass. Continuing the momentum of the swing she flipped him over her shoulder, cleanly snapping his neck as he slammed into the ground.

The remaining six soldiers stared at her blankly. Meeting each other’s eyes and nodding, they came to a decision immediately. They sprinted in six different directions praying that she couldn’t catch them all.

Venaris rolled her eyes and crouched, taking a second to draw in a mass of seething mana from her soul. Directing it to the earthen rune carved in the gauntlet she kept free, she slammed her fist into the ground.

The earth ripped open beneath the feet of the remaining soldiers and swallowed them whole, muffling their shouts of denial and leaving no trace they ever existed.

She took a steadying breath, fighting off a small wave of exhaustion and nausea as she wiped her knife on one of the dead soldiers tunics. She motioned forward and thirteen shadows detached themselves from the forest, falling in behind her as she approached the main gates.

She wasn’t in a hurry. It had taken her barely fifty seconds to deal with the soldiers, and they had plenty of time to cross the open space between the bonfire and the walled camp.

She scowled beneath her wolf helm. For most, fifty seconds would be an exceedingly fast time. For her it just showed how rusty she had become.

One of the men sidled up to her, his matte black plate glowed softly as he kept pace.

“Done showing off for the men Venaris?” he chuckled softly, “what’s the point of being in command if you just do everything yourself?”

“Not now Ren” she whispered back, pointing up at the sentry just entering their view. “Take him out before he notices the bodies.”

Ren looked bored, ignoring the command he traced the wind runes on his left gauntlet. “Say please and I’ll think about it lieutenant.”

She stared levelly at him. Drawing her knife, she ran an armored finger along its edge.

“If you don’t kill him, I’m going to stab this into the base of your skull” she calmly stated.

It was hard not to let too much yearning leak into her voice as she contemplated the act.

She probably wasn’t that successful, the thought of never having to deal with him again was just too satisfying.

The rest of the men and women under her command didn’t even blink, stoically and pointedly ignoring the exchange.

The sentry walked to the edge of the parapet. Gripping the rough wood he peered intently at the carnage the bonfires light revealed. His face grew pale and he opened his mouth, preparing to shout.

Before he could raise the alarm a gust of wind slammed into his back. Wheezing and unable to breathe he flipped over the side, slamming into the ground with a sickening crack.

“Geez! Calm down cuz,” Ren muttered, “You need to learn how to take a joke. ” He eyed her as he lowered his hand, runes faintly glowing from the magical discharge. “What’s with the threat anyway? I thought you hated killing people.”

“You’re right, I do hate killing people” she admitted grinning, “But you, my dear cousin, are not a person. You are an annoying little twat that I have to deal with on a regular basis.”

Motioning for the soldiers to huddle up she looked everyone in the eye, making sure she had the whole groups absolute attention.

“Our squads objective is to kill the enemy commander. When all sentries have been cleared Wolf will send the signal and we’ll burst in from all sides. Cut down anyone that gets in the way, but do not stop under any circumstance. The faster we kill the commander, the faster we can rest. Any questions?”

Their helmets, created in the likeness of a grinning wolf, clinked slightly as they shook their heads.

Spinning lightly on their feet they faced the gate and drew their swords.

Each of them came armed with the orders signature weapon. It was such a long and heavy blade that a regular man would be hard pressed to wield it, even with two hands. Crafted by the dwarves it was practical and had almost no ornamentation. Single edged and deadly, it had only a single line of runes covering one side. She glanced at the runes curious; they were the only markings that marred the otherwise plain blade.

The monstrous strength of rune-plate allowed them to wield the blade in one hand. Most choose to do so keeping their other hand free.

The reason to fight with an empty fist instead of another weapon being, well, magic.

Rune-plate allowed them to cast a spell of their choice, but only through their gauntlets. Everywhere else the plate absorbed magic, not letting magical power in or out.

They stacked up next to the main gate with baited breath, restlessly shifting their weight in a vain attempt to stay focused.

They didn’t have long to wait.

After a few moments a giant fireball streaked into the air hissing and leaking flame. It exploded over the camp with concussive force, shattering the stillness of the night, and enveloping them in a wave of heat.

Speed was of the essence, they had to hit hard and hit fast.

“With me shadow runners!” screamed Venaris, ducking her head and charging through the reinforced wooden gate. Wood shrapnel went screaming into the camp, whickering into nearby tents and drawing screams of anguish.

They were met with the sight of a neat camp. Small tents were set up in rows, centered about a massive command tent.

A nice disciplined camp; it was most likely recreated exactly from a, no doubt charming, drill text the commander possessed.

It was, however, currently in complete chaos.

Fire was raged unchecked.

Men scrambled half asleep, attempting to strap on armor and fumbling with weapons, eyes flickering everywhere looking for the enemy.

It wasn’t an honorable fight that historians would discuss and praise years from now. It was simply a massacre.

Soldiers in black rune-plate waded through the confused press of bodies hacking left and right. Ignoring wounds that would have fallen a regular soldier, they clinically and efficiently tore the empires soldiers apart.

Their rune-plate and wolf helms made them look almost demonic as they drenched themselves in the red blood of their enemies. Causing some men to just drop their weapons and flee in pure terror.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Normal weapons and armor shattered when pitted against the orders equipment, but it wasn't infallible.

Now and then an enemy would get lucky, finding a gap in their enemies rune plate. They never really stood a chance of winning though.

Magic flowed from the orders hands freely, annihilating any large group of men that attempted to rally against them.

As her squad pounded along behind her, Venaris clenched her fist at a reinforced structure indicating a target. Two of her men twisted around facing the gatehouse with outstretched hands and seemed to concentrate. Without losing pace, they sent two gouts of superheated flame into the enclosed space. The backwash of heat was so intense she could feel it through her armor. Screams rent the night air as dozens of soldiers were cooked alive in their armor, seared to a blackened crisp in the newly created oven.

Trampling through the camp in a direct line to the command tent, they cut down anyone foolish enough to get in their way. She cursed as a volley of crossbow bolts rained down around them. Scything into the confused melee, it killed scores of imperial soldiers.

She prayed for her armor to hold and it did. Arrows harmlessly glanced off the matte black plate. Bruising was going to be the worst of her troubles. Everyone else wasn’t so lucky.

Two of her soldiers fell, hit in vulnerable areas. One woman got up, jerkily snapping some of the bolts that had imbedded in vulnerable joints.

The other didn’t, he lay still in a spreading pool of his own blood.

Venaris gritted her teeth, snarling, as they fought through the melee. Wherever her squad struck, blood flew and men were killed as they slowly carved a path of destruction. A path of destruction aimed directly towards the command tent.

With one last effort they cleared the melee, and with the shadow runners hot on her heels she burst into the large tent scanning her surroundings.

She wasn’t met with the crowd of bodyguards and lavish decorations that she would have expected from an imperial commander. Instead she was met with a Spartan room, devoid of all decoration and furniture. The sole exception was a large table overflowing with maps and documents that was set against the tents right wall.

She started as she realized the enemy commander wasn’t even human.

“Dragon-kin!” Venaris grimaced, “Fan out and surround it.”

It’s eyes snapped to her as she talked. The draconic expression was impossible for her to read, alien and foreign, she didn’t even know where to start. Its reptilian eyes however, radiated such an acute rage she almost shivered.

It stood completely still in the middle of the tent seemingly unconcerned.

Taller than the average man, and dressed in a loose fitting robe with a red bangle on its arm, the humanoid dragon seemed almost bored.

It grinned, showing rows of sharp fangs, as it leaned against a gigantic battle-axe.

With its eyes half-closed it simply watched as a loose ring of shadow runners slowly surrounded it. The azure scales it was covered in sparkled in the tents lighting as its tail swayed back and forth.

For a moment both sides stood still.

It rhythmically flexed the scales on its muscled arm, menacing them with the barbed claws that graced its fingers.

Anticipation laced the air, the tension as sharp as a knife.

Two of her soldiers couldn’t take it anymore. Charging forward they exploded into motion, slashing expertly at the vadrin from opposite sides of the circle. One soldier aimed high, slashing at the creature’s throat, while the other soldier ducked down targeted its knees.

They drew mana to the runes that lined their blades.

The weapons lit up, ethereal flames wreathing the blades in a crimson glow.

They were fast, their magic enhanced muscles accelerating the speed of their blades. Sending them forward faster than the eye could see.

They weren’t fast enough.

Letting go of the axe, it spun in the air radiating a sinuous grace. With preternatural swiftness it used its tail to parry the high slash. Jumping in the air it kicked off from the surprised shadow runner, tackling the soldier who was close to the ground. They briefly rolled, the Vadrin coming up on top.

Venaris winced as the Vadrin ripped the man’s sword arm out of its socket in a welter of gore. Spinning quickly, it dodged a desperate lunge from one of the soldier’s enraged comrades. Slipping around the shadow runner’s side, it smashed the arm into the man’s wolf helmet. The

man fell limply, his helm shattered and his head facing the wrong direction. The lone vadrin crouched in a defensive stance, absent-mindedly taking a few bites out of the arm before losing interest and throwing it away.

The shadow runner’s warily retreated, reforming their original circle around the beast, the vadrin's attitude only serving to fuel their rage.

The vadrin mockingly hissed, tongue lashing over its bloody teeth as it returned to its battle-axe. It picked the axe up off the floor, effortlessly swinging around the massive weapon.

Stillness descended on the room once more. Stillness turned menacing by hum of the axe, and the whimper of the downed soldier leaving a bloody trail as he dragged himself towards the exit.

This time the vadrin made the first move. Sidestepping to face the wounded soldier, weakened from the crossbow bolts. It swung the axe in a lazy arc. The shadow runner didn’t have the flexibility to dodge, so she set her stance and blocked directly with her sword. For a second her strength held, the runes covering her armor exploded in radiance as they sucked in all of her available mana. She screamed in defiance and fear as she fought to resist the vadrin’s awful strength.

Her sword and armor groaned, the runes light dying and weakening as she ran out of mana.

The axe shattered her sword and neatly bisected her body. It fell in two wet pieces with sickening thumps, drenching the axe with her blood.

The vadrin stumbled, dropping the axe, as he was visibly staggered from her unexpected resistance.

That was an opening they desperately needed.

Venaris stood stock-still, carefully watching as the nine remaining soldiers, including Ren, dropped their swords. Drawing their daggers they leapt on and around the vadrin, screaming and stabbing at the chinks between its scales.

The dragon-kin bellowed in anger and blindly lashed out at the crowding shadow runners. Its hands ran red as its barbed claws rent flesh all around it.

Its leg made a solid connection to the knee of the man behind it, he shrieked as his knee shattered. Refusing to let go, he continued to stab, his cry of defiance tight with pain.

A scaled arm ripped off a shadow runner’s helmet. The shadow runner let go staggering, dizzy from the impact.

The tail whipped around with a mind of its own. Stabbing another man through the heart, and slashing up two more before the vadrin was able to clear its surroundings.

Ignoring its many wounds, its mouth lolled open in a grin. It picked up one of her senseless men and tore out his throat with its teeth, gulping down the warm meat.

Hearing a sound it turned.

Blood dribbled off its snout, as it noticed her too late. It spasmed, warbling in pain as Venaris stabbed it through the neck with her sword. The rune-fire tore through its scales like a hot knife through butter, and she smiled relieved.

That smile twisted with disbelief and horror as it gripped her neck with both hands, lifting her up high. Its deep emerald eyes gleamed with a berserker’s madness as it dug its barbed claws into her throat. Her neck armor screeched in protest as the blue-scaled abomination increased the pressure it was gripping her with. Acute pain lanced through her throat freezing her for a second. Desperate and unable to breathe, she gathered up her remaining strength and shoved down on top of her sword. Her muscled bulged and her rune-plate lit the room with a soft radiance as she gave it all the mana she could spare. Acting as a crude lever the sword ripped the vadrin’s head off, spraying the canvas ceiling with golden blood.

She dropped wheezing to the floor. Tearing off her helmet she drew in a shaky breath. Crawling away from the still twitching body, she slowly made her way toward Ren.

Clambering over one of her subordinate’s corpses, she drew herself up next to her cousin.

She felt for any sign of life, and relaxed when she noticed he was still breathing.

She blinked.

Why was he covered in so much fresh blood?

She pawed clumsily at her gorget. Feeling where the dragon’s barbed claws had rent it, bent it inward and tore her throat.

Her armor was slick with blood.

She felt she should be concerned, but she wasn’t. She felt too fuzzy and warm to be concerned.

Lying on the ground like this, she could almost fall asleep.

She blinked again.

When had she fallen on the ground?

The canvas ceiling looked beautiful from this angle. Gold splashes mixed together with red spatters to form a really cool abstract painting.

She frowned in annoyance as it got harder to focus.

Men and women in black armor were crowding around her saying things she couldn’t understand.

She blinked, wondering if she should even care. With mounting horror she realized she was dying and leaving her men in Ren’s care.

Her unit was doomed.

(Mikhail and Ren better not fuck up) She thought (I’ll haunt both their asses until the end of days if they do)

She continued to threaten her friends as darkness enveloped her world.