--- Roric

Some weeks after the interruption of Roric's training, the real war began.

Because captain Ugrin was always busy, Meran and Rata too were accepted among the soldiers even if they didn't have the necessary experience to fight with the core of the company. It was no matter, for there were many side roles they could cover. In fact, a multitude of volunteers was tasked with following the army and provide all kinds of non-combat skills. There were builders and carpenters who were able to repair the fortifications, crews of cooks who kept the defenders on their feet, and so on.

From Roric's point of view, the only option for him was working with the priest. The boy couldn't say to be thrilled by his job, seeing that all the other recruits had joined the ranks, but at least it was within his power and kept his mind away from the miserable state of his training. Yet, every evening and whenever he could, the kid kept building up his strength and technique hoping that it would have been enough for Ugrin to allow him to bear arms one day.

The men of Ekhar had been sighted once again and they looked way more serious than before. A big army held position just across the river, and from their numbers it was clear that they were ready for the main assault. It was on the last days of May that the scouts came back, bringing the news that the enemy was on the move. In the matter of hours the encampment outside the castle was put in motion. Wherever he looked, Roric could see men running left and right, putting on armour and rushing to the craftsmen to get their gear sharp and ready for the fight. After those long months of slumber, the mercenaries were finally called to meet Ekhar on the field.

Their opponents crossed the Rien using one of the most eastern paths, because they wanted to avoid detection until the very last moment. The village of Mublas, completely evacuated by the locals after the previous attack, seemed to be their objective once again. It was located on a route that led South-East, beyond Sinen's domain, but was also a crossroads for goods and merchandise. For that reason, losing that small center would have been a disaster since that way was also used to bring in reinforcements and supplies from some of the other republican Lords.

So, the defenders hastily marched in that direction to occupy Mublas and organize a counter offensive before Ekhar could storm its palisades.

***

Roric walked behind Tolwin's wagon, like he had been told to, with a group of villagers who had volunteered to rescue the wounded and carry them away from the fight. The rest of the recruits, his friends and companions, would have been with captain Wals behind the main army, where they were less at risk. The little orphan would have gladly joined them, but he sadly realized that it was out of the question. He was still too young.

Getting to Mublas took half a day, and in the early afternoon the village appeared on the horizon. It was just a mere pack of buildings but the palisade that surrounded them was sturdy and already guarded by many people. The weather was sunny and the view clear, almost too good for a day of brutality, and from where he stood Roric could also see a second column of soldiers, approaching from South-East.

They must be sent by the neighbouring Lord. This war is important for all the country, after all.

During the following two hours or so, a base camp was set in the center of Mublas while the army aligned outside the walls, on the northern side. Around two thousand footmen were present, supported by a hundred and fifty horsemen, but the warriors of Ekhar were said to possess similar numbers as well.

On the way to the village, Lowan had ordered to split their forces into two, sending an additional two thousand men, the remaining forces at his disposal, to the West. The reason for that move was simple: the enemies were in fact far too few for a full scale offensive and almost certainly the clans were keeping a part of their army hidden as well, planning a pincer maneuver. Just to be sure, the scouts were sent on patrol across the countryside once again, searching for anything unusual. Clearly, you couldn't be too careful when dealing with the kingdom of Ekhar.

Standing on the top of the palisade walkways, Roric and the priest gazed at the horizon.

"So, how are you feeling?" asked the man.

"I'd never thought I'd be seeing a battle this close, a few years ago," replied the young recruit. "We'll be safe, won't we?"

"You don't have to worry. The real fight is going to take place a couple of miles from here. Our task is just to rescue the wounded."

The kid was a bit scared, but he trusted the commander. He had seen him a few hours before and he looked very focused, much more than the usual. Strangely, Lowan seemed less troubled on a battlefield than anywhere else. He managed his forces with unquestionable authority and his lieutenants ran around to carry his every order without any trace of doubt. Within the company everyone respected his judgment and even those who were just temporary allies were ultimately captured by his charisma, becoming obedient pieces on his personal chessboard.

"Who leads the men of Ekhar?" wondered Roric. "In the past year or so, I've always heard that they were a kingdom of great warriors, but I've never managed to learn anything more."

"For starters, they don't have a regular army and the chiefs usually act on their own," explained Tolwin. "The most powerful among them is conventionally called their king, but it's just the one they swear obedience to. Nobody is born a king, in Ekhar."

"So, it's like... Anyone could be the king? Even by taking the power by force?"

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

"Yeah, to put it bluntly," nodded the priest. "Their laws are so simple that it's actually possible. Yet, being the great ruler isn't what all the chiefs aspire to. His second in command, his most loyal and faithful man... The viceroy. The person who actually brings war to their enemies. Being chosen for that role is considered a great honor and ensures and exaggerate amount of privileges and prestige in their society."

"I don't understand," whined the child. "Which is the most important, between the two?"

"That's a good question, and not a stupid one. More often than not, telling who is the most powerful between them is no easy task. All we know for sure is that, beyond the border, success and importance come only from the merits gathered in battle. For this reason, when they aren't busy killing each other, the men of Ekhar invade these lands in search for glory. They are unassailable. Ungovernable. The ultimate Free Kingdom."

Weird folks. They scare me.

Roric had wanted to understand those dangerous, aggressive people for quite some time. He had thought about waiting for the right moment to ask Rata for some tales about his homeland, but at that point it was completely possible that some kind of honour pact prevented him from talking about it.

Not that he would want to talk about it, anyway.

It suddenly came to his mind that Rata was fighting his own people. For all the boy knew one of his relatives, even his father could be in the battle. Roric pushed away that horrible thought. Based on what he had just learned, there was a serious possibility that Ekhar's society didn't treat patricide as a crime if it happened in war. According to Tolwin's explanation, potentially Rata could have taken the seat of a chief by murdering every rival on his way. And that was kind of disturbing.

"There they are," announced the old man, with a serious tone. "Look, to the North."

Barely visible, a dark shadow had appeared in the distance. At first Roric had to squeeze his eyes in order to bring it into focus, but just a few minutes later it became so clear that he could see it without any effort. The enemy army was getting closer, and it moved fast. The defenders, aligned in three rectangular shapes, began marching in that direction to the sound of many war horns.

It's about to start.

On his steed, surrounded by the captains, Lowan led the front line forward while the cavalry and the Red Lances took the wings of the formation. Just behind the main infantry divisions, the small group where Frauli, Meran and Rata were advanced as well, following Wals. Their task, Tolwin said, was to help the others by adding their strength if the lines were about to break.

I hope you guys will be alright.

"There will be need for us soon," stated the priest, patting Roric's shoulder. "Come, let's get to the wagons."

The kid gulped and climbed down with him. About ten minutes later, a column of six carts was ready to exit the village and accompany the main army. Even if he knew that their goal was just to transport wounded people, Roric was somewhat anxious and as they went across the door, leaving the safety of the palisade, he couldn't help but feel a shiver. He grabbed his mother's necklace, searching for some courage.

"Nervous?" asked Tolwin, glancing at him. "Be at ease, at the first sign of danger we'll gather as many injured as we can and run back to the village. Again, there won't be any fighting for us."

"Sorry," replied the young recruit. "I've never been in a situation like this. Maybe I'm not ready, after all."

The priest sighed, pushing the horses a bit faster. "Being well prepared for the first battle is a luxury that only the sons of some noblemen can afford. You'll have to bear with it, Roric. Just do what I say and everything will be alright."

Roric nodded, turning his gaze to the horizon once again. Dusty clouds had formed above both sides of the army, signaling that their cavalry was starting the charge. The kid addressed a quick thought to Demios, who was riding with them, praying that he would come back in a single piece, but that also applied to the other recruits. As they got closer, metallic noises and screams coming from the melee became clearer and louder.

My friends are there. Inside that hell.

***

"Keep this wound pressed, Roric! Hurry!" yelled Tolwin, juggling with bloody bandages and pieces of spare cloth.

The child obeyed reluctantly. The wagons had stopped in the middle of the plains, and were completely surrounded by wounded people and volunteers working hard to help them. Since the beginning of the battle, Roric had seen nothing but soldiers slashed, pierced, ripped apart, mutilated and pounded by maces. He was starting to feel so confused that he couldn't even tell how much time had passed.

It's... Way different from what I imagined.

Since the moment he and the priest had set up camp there, the injured had come out from the battle incessantly, in incredible numbers, and some of them were close to unrecognizable. To Roric's young eyes it was essentially a nightmare. At first, he had thought that his experience in Spjaldir would have mitigated the disgust, but he quickly realized how wrong he was. He threw up almost instantly, after witnessing the gruesome wounds of one of the soldiers, who was crying and convulsing on the ground. The smell of blood became so strong to disorient him, just like that night.

This is too much. I can't even look.

Many warriors died before anyone could tend them. Tolwin was giving it his best effort, but his powers had a cost and he could afford to use them only on those who were in desperate need. Moreover, he couldn't be everywhere at the same time. As the hours passed, the multitude of injured grew without stopping.

Meanwhile, the battle kept raging on. Roric really hoped that the lines of the defenders would have held the enemies, otherwise...

If they fall, we are done for. Us and these people. Tolwin said that we would run, but... We are too exposed.

The child tried to keep himself together, pressing with all his might on the hemorrhage that had formed inside the guts of one of the republican footmen. The poor guy was struggling to stay awake.

"Hold on, mister!" yelled the young recruit.

His words were lost in the noise, and a shiver ran up his spine. The last time he had been so close to a dying person was when his mother had sacrificed her life for his own.

This is not the time! Focus! This man needs help!

Roric couldn't give in to the fear. Just about two years before, his old self would have run away at the first sight of blood but he was there to show how much he had changed. At least for the wounded man before him, at least for him.

The last sparks of life were quickly fading from the eyes of the soldier.

No! I... What do I do?

He looked around for Tolwin, praying that the kind priest would have appeared as always to save that terrified person.

Where are you? Where? Where?

The footman had a convulsion and spat out a mix of blood and bile on the grass. Another one, beside him, screamed desperately at two volunteers who were removing a spear from his shoulder.

"Tolwin!" yelled Roric, unable to hold back his tears anymore. "I need you! I need your help!"

Nobody answered. After a few moments of agony, the warrior closed his eyes and stopped moving. The child took a step back, in horror, looking at his own bloody hands.

Is... Is this what I wanted?