The heavens growled above the ruined city of Melgrace, where the Empire’s forces stood in their formation, faced the threat of the Xerxecian Army hastily assembling their own battle lines. A sense of mourning filled the air for the once-splendid city now reduced to ruins.

Melgrace was one of the crown jewels of the Trasidar Empire, stood as a poignant symbol against the dark canvas of Shardon that lies beyond its eastern borders. Its former radiance had dimmed, transformed into naught but a heap of rubble obstructing the path to potential ruin for the entire continent.

The Xerxecian Army loomed ominously, marking the second encounter with a fully realized and evidently trained force. Unease rippled through him, the gravity of this battle transcending the fate of the Empire alone, extending to the entirety of Arumar. Though deemed a mere pawn in the larger scheme unfolding within the city walls, he vowed to be a force that mattered, even if it meant he get to smile facing death.

As rain poured heavy, both armies locked eyes across the battlefield. Aresa, atop his armored steed, surveyed the scene with a fellow general by his side. Breath escaped in small clouds, the biting cold of the weather clear. Despite the beauty he once associated with the scent of rain, it now felt discordant in the face of the impending battlefield.

The atmosphere, a blend of anticipation and foreboding, lingered like an affront to the heavens.

His pulse quickened as memories of the discussion from two weeks prior flooded his mind. Fifteen thousand men, fully mobilized and poised to march towards Melgrace, awaited his command. Alongside Sevidon and Ravaen, he engaged in a crucial planning session.

“Are you sure about this, Aresa?” Tamara voiced her concerns, a warranted expression of anxiety, considering they were the largest distraction in the empire’s history.

It marked his first time leading such a massive army. Despite the weight of responsibility, he reassured Tamara with a confident smile, boasting, “You have nothing to worry about. We’ll even wipe out the Xerxecian army if you want."

Ravaen responded with a knowing smile and a shake of his head. Sevidon then pointed at the forested section of the map, detailing their strategy. “We will take cover here. Once you’re ready to follow us, be sure to pass on the command before going and taking control of the bridge. You’ll have to hold that bridge for as long as you can."

Surveying the map, tucking his dark brownish hair behind his ear, expressed confidence. “Oh, we’ll take that bridge, all right. We’ll even switch places with them.”

Sevidon’s furrowed brows and an exchanged look between Sevidon and Ravaen prompted Ravaen to reiterate, “Do what you must, but the bridge must remain in our control."

From the outset, he had a plan etched in his mind. Upon laying eyes on the battlefield, he knew exactly what steps to take. Confident as he may be at that time, his heart still gave him an uneasy feeling.

“Prepare the cavalry to the right flanks,” he ordered, signaling a bearer to relay commands to the cavalry. “Have one battalion from the second line cover and reinforce the left flank, then have one from the third line reinforce them.” The orders flowed smoothly from his lips, echoed by another signal bearer completing the relay.

Gradually, the lines shifted into position, orchestrating a meticulous dance across the landscape. From his vantage point atop a hill, he observed the intricate machination of the army, resembling giant chess pieces maneuvering on a delicate board. Drawing a deep breath, his heart pounded with an intensity unfamiliar, nerves tingling as he mentally reviewed the plans.

Glancing at the reins in his trembling hands, he grappled with fear, uncertain whether the shivers were induced by the biting cold or the realization of executing the proposed tactic. Dispelling the tension, he clapped his hands, a personal ritual to ease nervousness.

“Alright, let’s begin,” he declared, then turned to the owl handlers with a nod. “Launch the owls now, so we have a clear view of the front.” The handlers responded promptly, sending four owls ahead, while the remaining quartet perched on their shoulders. Moments later, the owls provided an enhanced perspective of the battlefield.

From this elevated position, he asserted control over the unfolding battle. True to expectations, the Xerxecians shattered their ranks immediately after completing their formation, a revelation that brought a smirk to his face, confirming the accuracy of their intelligence.

Swiftly, he commanded the eighth and ninth battalions to advance, forming a concentrated center formation. The two battalions constituting the bulkhead braced themselves for the head-on assault from the Xerxecians attempting to breach their defenses.

As the ground rumbled beneath and the rain intensified its fury, the Xerxecians descended upon the shields and spears with a thunderous crash. Arrows rained down upon the Xerxecian horde without a moment’s pause. The bulkhead, unwavering, continued to hold its ground, systematically diminishing the enemy’s ranks.

So far so good, he thought in his mind. Abruptly, the disconcerting screech of Shardonian flying creatures, the Hedgetross, tore through the air.

“Summon the winged squadron to the battlefield!” he commanded, and without delay, the winged units from the reserves in the second line took flight. A harmonious mix of Falconkind and a touch of Eaglekind immediately engaged the Hedgetross units, skillfully maneuvering in mid-air. As if they danced with their wings and blades across the canvas of lightning etched skies.

As he observed the ongoing battle, he drew a deep breath, reassured despite the relentless rain that the winged squadron could hold their own against the enemy in an aerial combat.

On the left flank, some Xerxecians attempted to break their lines, but the spearmen and swordsmen held their ground resolutely. A stout wall against an unstoppable wave. The archers lent crucial support, adding their arrows to fortify the defense.

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Meanwhile, the approaching terengus and kragens posed a formidable challenge for the bulkhead. The battalions strategically scattered while maintaining their positions to avoid easy hits.

As the conflict within the bulkhead escalated, the Xerxecians successfully breached the ranks of the tenth battalion on the right flank. Cold sweat mixed with the biting rain dripped down, prompting urgency. The situation could quickly turn against them.

“Quickly! Have the second line to fortify the breach!” he commanded without hesitation.

The second line swiftly moved to reinforce the overwhelmed tenth battalion, which was under ruthless assault from the enemy forces.

“Archers and Magisters, stand at the ready! Reinforce the right flanks! Bring down the Kragens and Terengus!” he roared once more. The archers and magisters within the ranks focused their efforts on the Kragens, aiming to thwart their advance.

Although the Kragens proved to be a formidable foe, the collective efforts gradually subdued some of them. He sighed in relief. His grip loosened, grappling with the challenge of neutralizing them without the support of cavalry was no easy feat. He was glad that they managed to do so, but under some losses.

“Let us show them what we are made of,” he declared, signaling the heavy magisters in their ranks. These elite units levitated into the air, casting spells on the enemy’s right side, further diminishing their numbers.

“General, I entrust the command to you. Initiate the formation and steadfastly hold the line,” he directed the general, issuing his final commands as the battle continued to unfold.

The general hesitated at first, but then answered. “We shall uphold your iron-fortress formation,” affirmed the general.

With urgency, he galloped toward the cavalry, witnessing the army seamlessly adopt the formation conceived just two weeks prior.

The battle unfolded as planned, yet an undercurrent of concern lingered. The audacity of the chosen formation hinted at peril, a sentiment voiced by Aderon as he reminisced about the discussion two weeks prior.

“That’s a bold—yet stupid plan,” Aderon remarked with a furrowed brow.

Glaivel echoed the skepticism, voicing his own concerns. “Are you truly going to let him proceed with this?”

In defense of his strategy, he passionately argued, “This is our only chance to secure that bridge. We can’t hold it if we’re on the other side. Crown Princess Tamara, this is the only way to ensure control over their retreat.”

“And what if they overwhelm you?” Tamara pointed out with a stern look at her face.

Doubt lingered as Tamara questioned the potential overwhelm. Unfazed, he gestured towards Kaira. “That won’t happen.”

“You say that as if that is a certainty.” Kaira remarked. He sensed a hint of belittlement from them, although he understood they were expressing concern for his well-being.

“I’ve encountered them once before with the Prince himself. I know what I’m doing. Give me a chance to prove it,” he asserted with confidence.

Amused, Kaira laughed as she repeatedly smacked her in the back. There was a little force, but he felt that this was a friendly gesture from her. “I like you.” She said as she held her smile, then put her arms around his shoulders, he felt his slightly furred skin against his neck. “I’ll be sure to remember you when you die in battle.” She whispered, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

Tamara intervened, “Enough, Princess Kaira. No one will be dying.” She said as she sighed, as though regret was soon to follow. “I’ll allow it.”

He smiled as he finally got his chance. “Thank you,” he acknowledged, but Tamara imposed conditions. “General Foras, if the troops dip below fifty percent, you are to retreat.”

Protesting, he attempted to negotiate, “Oh come now, Princess Tamara, that is not—”

Tamara’s unwavering stance, however, remained undeterred. “I will make no further exemptions. I will not risk the only son of the Lakan Datos of Remolus.”

Despite the escape clause, his singular focus remained on securing victory for Huertian and the continent, aiding in Tamiron’s retrieval. Galloping towards the hidden cavalry, he joined them, positioned at the unit’s forefront.

Observing the ongoing clash, he clenched his fist, signaling the cavalry to form ranks. The distant echoes of clashing metal, shields, and the eerie cries of creatures filled the air. Grateful for the absence of ollufandes on their end, he harbored concerns about the enemy’s numerical advantage.

“Ready!” he shouted, met with a resounding war cry from his men. “Charge!”

Amidst the relentless rain, the cavalry thundered forward, spearheads aimed at the exposed flanks of the unprepared Xerxecian forces. Blaring horns signaled the imperial army’s coordinated advance, catching the enemy off guard as they struggled to form a defense.

Amidst a discord of crashing sounds and the anguished cries of the enemy, they forcefully plowed through the Xerxecian ranks. His focus shifted to the bridge, leading his cavalry forward as they formed a decisive line to seize control. The rest of the army roared against the rain as they now begin the second phase of their battle.

Arriving at the bridge with his trusted men, they swiftly dismounted, preparing to confront the small group defending it. Confronting a Xerxecian soldier head-on, he deftly dodged its attack. Swiftly moving, he lunged toward its back, targeting its legs to bring it down. A precise stab to the back, where its heart should be, ensured its demise. He withdrew his sword from the lifeless body, declaring, “We will not let them reclaim this bridge!"

A resounding battle cry echoed as they braced for the impending Xerxecian assault. In a sudden turn, a huge whirling gust of wind swept through the charging enemy, halting them in their tracks. the wind stopped mid-way for Graveloth emerged, accompanied by a group of enigmatic figures in iron masks, evening the odds. Kaira, Sevidon, and Glaivel joined the fray, lending crucial support.

“Go now!” he bellowed, hurling his spear through the head of an armedigor before drawing his sword. “We’ll handle the rest from here!"

“Your crazy idea worked!” Ravaen shouted as he buried his spear in the back of a kragen as Aderon aimed and sliced the neck, then did the same for the legs.

Ravaen and Aderon swiftly dispatched enemies, their coordinated efforts proving effective. Sevidon rallied them, shouting, “Let’s go!” as they headed toward the city.

“Be careful, okay? Once we’re done, we’ll try to help out,” Everess urged.

“No,” he insisted, shaking his head. “Focus on waking up Prince Tamiron. We’ll handle them.” Addressing the signal bearer, he commanded, “Close in now! We will wipe them out!"

As Aresa watched the rest of Everess’ group disappear into the city, a complex tapestry of emotions unraveled within him. Pride mingled with a tinge of anxiety, a concern for the well-being of those he considered comrades. The rain, relentless in its assault, mirrored the storm of conflict that they were about to face.

The determination that had fueled his actions on the battlefield now gave way to a quieter introspection. He felt a sense of responsibility, not just for the immediate battle at hand, but for the overarching conflict that enveloped the continent. His gaze turned forward upon the battlefield, as they now had the tide in their favor. All he had to do now, is ensure victory.

The distant sounds of battle carried through the rain, a symphony of chaos that only heightened his senses. He stood there, along with his brave men, feet firmly planted upon the saksoni bridge, watching the turbulent dance of elements mixed in with the gold and green tapestry of his army and the vicious onslaught of the enemy.

“Leave none alive!” he shouted as the troops roared once more.

End of Chapter XXX