It’s a long march to the Po river, but it's also a surprisingly hopeful one. The soldiers who had served under Antoine previously are quite enthusiastic to be under his command again, and eagerly sing his praises to the new troops. The Pollineux legend spreads quickly, and the march continues with a kind of cheer that I didn’t think was possible. For the first time in my life all those dispatches and after action reports are real. Antoine's very name is like a magic spell that makes men willing to march for him. Which feels unfair to me, I have to ruin my heart to get the same effect.
The army is singing when we finally catch sight of the Magyar standards, and the tens of thousands of men marching beneath them. They’re trying to cross the river, and doing so painfully slowly over a small stone bridge, awkwardly trying to reform around the village on the other end. It’s a tiny village, a hamlet really, one looked over by a nearby estate on a hill, and surrounded by golden fields of wheat. A miniscule slice of a peaceful world, about to be consumed by the world of violence...
Despite the awkwardness of this crossing, the Magyars who have already managed to cross clearly outnumbered us. The ones yet to cross also clearly outnumber us. It’s a bleak scenario, especially since this is only a third of the Magyar forces in Northern Samnia. And yet the troops are undeterred. Antoine is undeterred, watching through a telescope with clear amusement. I fail to see what's so funny about this.
"I swear, they make it too easy sometimes." He offers me the telescope, and with it a laugh. "Give it a looksee, this is an auspicious first step on our reconquest of the Kingdom of Samnia."
I take the telescope, but my eyes are now squarely on Antoine, trying to see what invisible thing is constantly filling him with such confidence. "They outnumber us, brother. If I had to guess I'd say three to one at a minimum. I think we're operating under different definitions of auspicious."
"Oh ye of little faith. I've taught you a lot about theory but today you're going to learn something about practice. Yes, they have a lot more men, but take a look at the men they have." He points at the mass, the horde of white clad figures, and gestures to the telescope.
I take a closer look at our adversary, and I immediately understand two things. One, Antoine has every right to be confident. And two-
"So many men in white, following the beat of the drums and carrying muskets. But tell me, Serena, where is the enemy army?"
This isn't a monster. This is a crowd of people. Scared people, disheveled people. Their muskets all look different, some don't have all their kit. I swear I see one man holding a sharpened stick as if it were a firelock. We are about to kill tens of thousands of people. And Antoine is very, very amused.
"Pay special attention to the men with the taller hats and ribbons on their chests. That is the real army."
It’s difficult to find the 'real army' in this sea of human beings, but eventually I catch sight of them. These men look a great deal more professional, better equipped, better fed, and a great deal fewer. I can only count two regimental standards between them, there might be less than a thousand of the 'real' army here. And I presume pointing them out is mostly for the purposes of targeting them down.
"Our artillery will keep an eye on these troops, the enemy is liable to keep them in reserve until they absolutely have to use them. Having some competent military men keeps the conscripts in line, keeps them afraid. No one wants to be shot for desertion after all."
"... You make it sound like our primary weapon is fear, brother."
"Our primary weapon is always fear. Avernia hardly produces enough cannons or bullets to make anything else viable. So the trick is always in the fear."
I guess there's almost something kind about it. Fleeing conscripts get to live after all, and it’s better than seeing them all in the maw of a monster. Maybe we can get through today without much blood being spilled. Maybe it’s more humane to be a monster.
Lazierte approaches on horseback, having brought her own spyglass and a handful of maps. "I've prepared the cannons, and my regiment has taken position near the manor house, as instructed."
"Very good, Lazierte. Yes, that position will do nicely as an anchor..." Antoine looks over my first best friend with a keen interest, before something reminds him of his earlier assumptions. "You'll be in reserve this time, Lazierte. Hold the Manor and prepare for further orders. Serena, you'll be taking the left flank. Try to get right up in their faces as quickly as possible, give them a fight they aren't prepared for. And always make sure they have an avenue of escape. We're here to make them flee."
Lazierte, contrary to her typical indifference around Antoine, is about ready to slap him upon the giving of those orders. "Antoine, I must object to giving Serena such a dangerous assignment-"
"She is a Pollineux too, Lazierte. Watching her fight, you might learn a thing or two about boldness." There is a chuckle from Antoine there, but it doesn't carry his typical theatrics. "Trust in her just as much as you would trust in me."
"I'm making this objection because I don't trust you!"
"Then trust her more than you trust me. Surely you trust your wife, right?"
"We're not-"
She looks forlornly towards me, and to my shame I cannot meet her gaze. I feel like under better circumstances we'd laugh about something like this. As it stands, my heart is screaming. And for Lazierte’s sake, it must scream alone.
At least Antoine’s orders give me a chance to protect her. "Lazierte, it's okay."
"He wants you to charge headlong into an army of Magyars, Serena! That isn't okay-"
"That's just what soldiers do." It's what monsters like me are built for. "And that is what I am. I’ll keep you safe, Lazierte. I promise."
"... You promised me that you'd never, ever die."
I swallow audibly, she looks so hurt. I’m protecting her, acting without restraint would only hurt her more. “So did you. And I will make sure you keep that promise.”
"... Damnit, Serena." She's pouting. She turns her attention to Antoine, her steel having returned. "The second anything goes wrong, the 505th and I will come rushing in to save you. Understood."
Antoine gives her a smile, a condolence. "I’ll leave her in your hands then."
"You damn well better."
We linger like this for a little while longer, paralyzed by this awkward feeling. I want to take it all back, I want to hold Lazierte, I want to make her laugh her dumb little laugh and hold her hand and tell her I’ll be okay... But monsters aren't capable of warmth, and if I am anything else I’ll ruin the lives of everyone I love. It’s all Serena Pollineux seems capable of doing. I mount my horse and make my way to my troops without another word. I hate this, I want to be away from all this pain and awkwardness I cause. I’m almost eager to enter the world of violence…
I can see Lazierte and Antoine exchanging maps, and salutes as I ride away, though Lazierte returns her salute with only one finger. I’m trying not to laugh, I’m terrified that I’ll be Serena again if I laugh at Lazierte’s antics. She doesn’t know it, but she’s relying on me not being Serena, on not being her best friend who loves her so… Antoine is relying on me too, I’ve been given the left wing of the army and I must use it well. We’re peers in this, aren’t we? Fellow generals. At least here on this field, we are equals. Which means he needs a monster.
It’s a painfully long ride back to my lines, but when I arrive I am pleasantly surprised. Pasche has done an excellent job keeping my soldiers in line while my brother and I were observing the enemy. I wonder if she could keep doing this, even if I died on this field. Or the next one, or the next one, or the next one. She looks happy to see me return and take command again, but I’m sure her reluctance to command can be trained out of her. She’s as reliable an officer as she is a best friend. I wish I could love her for it.
"I've gotten the men into formation. I must say, it's a lot easier when they know what they're doing." Pasche almost looks proud of our blue-clad boys, assembled in perfect column formation facing the enemy. "What's the plan, General?"
General, not Serena. A general is exactly what I am, Pasche is right to call me so. "We want to draw their professional troops out into the open. Once they fall, the conscripts will collapse around them."
"They'll probably be keeping those troops in reserve, in case of an emergency."
"Then we give them an emergency. Their forces are overextended, if our infantry make contact with them in the middle of the left flank it will threaten to cut them in half, and they’ll have to deploy their professional troops to keep their line from dissolving. Then Xena and her cannons can shell them for maximum effect."
"That makes sense I think? … But what do you want me and the cavalry doing?"
"I’ll need you at the extreme left flank, to support the Manor house. They might try to mount an assault on it, and if they take that then our infantry will be outflanked." And if they attack there, they might hurt Lazierte. “Once we’re certain that their morale has broken down entirely you can join us in chasing the Magyars back across their bridge so we can secure a crossing.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
"Understood.” She looks a little disappointed, I think she might have wanted to fight alongside me, to ensure my safety personally. “Well then, I’ll see you on the other side, Serena-"
"General." I am not Serena Pollineux.
"... I will see you on the other side, General."
Pasche gives a much more professional salute than my brother had managed, before riding off to join the cavalry... She'd best get out of this alive. She'd better take care of herself, that's something a monster can’t do.
I ride to join the infantry and pass my horse off to an enthusiastic-looking valet. These men look professional, but professional soldiers are just the thing we're trying to break. If they need my magic, I want to be close enough to provide it. The men... Cheer as they see me approach. An ensign salutes me, a captain says something I don't quite catch, but I think I'm supposed to laugh. I do so, it's the polite thing to do. They're eager to be part of my behemoth. They’re ready to follow me.
They will follow me into the world of violence.
Our columns descend upon the Magyars, our cannons fire from behind us, the shells tearing through men in white uniforms. But the world hasn’t changed. I smell powder smoke, see blood, but the world hasn’t changed... It's almost enough to provoke anxiety itself, but I manage to keep my breathing under control. Monsters don't feel anxiety. Of course being a human on a battlefield feels different than this. The soldiers seem to understand this implicitly, heads held high and standards held higher.
Across the field, the Magyars look practically wretched in comparison, scrambling to form up to meet us head-on. Officers screaming at their men to take their positions, men staring in horror at their comrades who were torn apart by the solid shot of the cannons... They won't be able to provide any meaningful resistance, not like this.
"General Pollineux, shouldn't we be forming lines by now?" A colonel, likely trying to be helpful, pulls up alongside me to break my train of thought. "We're almost in musket range..."
"Why would we bother wasting bullets on them? Maintain column formation, charge their lines, and send them reeling before they can even deploy. They'll break, and then we can reform to deal with their professional troops."
"... Bold." Apparently I've impressed whoever this colonel is, and he quickly relays the order to an adjutant, who relays the order to the musicians, who start to play for a charge.
It takes a moment for the troops to entirely comprehend what is being asked of them. It isn't precisely conventional, they aren’t trained to do this... But they adapt quickly, and soon they are pressing right into the center of the enemy. A confused enemy, who barely manages a half-hearted handful of shots before breaking, not even able to maintain discipline long enough for our troops to connect. They simply die out of position, unable to escape the lions of Avernia at full sprint, and even the handful of conscripts who manage to flee fast enough are to our advantage, their flight from the field is disrupting the movements of Magyar troops trying to deploy against us. It has worked frighteningly well… This is the power of a monster.
"General Pollineux, the Magyars are sending their regulars to try to push us back!" A keen eyed scout gives the report quite breathlessly, he's gotten quite the work-out keeping up with the soldiery.
All is going according to plan, this is almost too easy. Presumably the opposing general has finished his officer's education in its entirety, are the last two years of schooling a treatise on how to fail and die on a battlefield? Sheep in wolves clothing, even if these men won't flee they'll simply die standing up rather than beneath our boots. And then we can rejoin Antoine in the center, and sweep the Magyars from our field. I call for an adjutant to give the order to the musicians. Line formation. We'll drown the troopers in lead.
The Magyar troopers arrive in good order, form into lines in good order... And they are able to resist the urge to fire from the edge of their effective range. These men are professional soldiers, they manage to hold their ranks until we’ve advanced close enough for their volley to strike true. Lions fall around me, the man beside me catches a bullet and crumples to the ground. He’s soon walked over as we advance, there aren’t enough professional Magyar troops to stop our advance. We return fire, and Wolves die in droves. They manage to reform just in time for the cannons to sing again, and tear their lines to pieces with solid shot again... They're wavering.
The sound is like a stampede of horses. I turn my head, and find thousands of men in white coats charging right at us. Conscripts. Ones that have found their courage, or had it found for them. They are converging upon us, in numbers like this they could trample us into dust, no matter our discipline.
The professional troops, emboldened by their reinforcements, make a desperate charge at our lines in an attempt to break us. And I will not allow it. I throw out my magic and catch my soldiers, not a man of them will run. The conscripts hit our flank, the Wolves hit our front. My men don’t run. They die.
One of the conscripts, a young looking man with brown hair and the first little hints of a mustache charges at me. I shoot him and he falls, and the next brown haired, peach-fuzzed conscript jumps over his body to charge at me. I slash that one across the chest and he falls, and the next brown haired, peach fuzzed conscript awkwardly navigates the bodies to attack me. I stab him, throwing him to the ground upon his comrades. My heart hurts.
The fear that I deny my soldiers is tearing into me, it makes it hard to hold up my sword. The smell is starting to get to me, the noise of screams and clashes. At least the Lions in their bravery die silently, but that means I have to bear their screams on my heart. As I struggle with disorientation and pain, another conscript, a graying old man who struggles to even shamble towards me, raises his bayonet, eager to end me. And if I die, the fear returns to my men. They’ll flee. I can’t let them flee.
I raise my sword as best I can… And the conscript falls to the ground, blood spilling from a hole in his chest. The conscripts are running, or falling in droves. What’s… Happening?
“Serena!”
I feel Pasche crash against my body before I see or hear her, or indeed the cavalry crashing into the Magyar conscripts, sending them flying. They had broken formation to charge us, they were but lambs to the slaughter for trained cavalry. The Wolves, the professional soldiers of the Magyar army, were fleeing for their lives, abandoned by their conscript reinforcements they realized they couldn’t win and they shattered. The Lions chase them down, and my magic’s grip upon them wanes. Their fear is their own again, but so is their thirst for payback.
Oh, and Pasche is holding me. She’s holding me tightly.
“Serena, say something. Serena!” She’s shaking me, does she think I’m dead?
“Pasche…”
“Oh thank gods!”
She squeezes me tightly, her face buried in my neck. I can feel tears forming in her eyes. And I, Serena Pollineux, holds her back. I cry, I’m not a monster any longer- Wait.
“Pasche… What happened at the Manor House? Is it safe?”
“The Manor House?” Pasche looks confused that I’d even ask, awkwardly scratching the back of her head. “I mean, I think they were mounting an attack on it but… You needed me. Certainly more than Lazierte and her 505th did-”
“You… You left her alone?!”
“She can handle herself, she doesn't need me! You did- Serena!”
I rise to my feet, I have to rally the troops, I need to send them to support… They’ve all gone forward without me, not waiting for their commanding officer to finish cuddling a cuirassier in chasing down the fleeing Magyars… Then I’ll just need to rescue Lazierte alone! Pasche quickly scrambles to her feet to follow me, looking at me quizzically.
My sword is in my hand, I’m ready. “I need to go rescue Lazierte. I need to protect her-”
“Serena, you need to be taken to a Cotton Tent. You’re covered in blood-”
“It’s not mine! But it’ll be Lazierte’s blood on my hands if my abandonment gets her killed, Pasche! … I can’t bear that. I need to save her.”
Pasche sighs, and gets back on her horse, offering me a hand up. “Then I guess we need to save her. Come on.”
I feel reluctant to take Pasche’s hand. I’m dragging her into this rescue too, putting her in danger. But I’m not going to be able to run back to the Manor House on my own, and also I’m a solitary person who is hardly going to accomplish anything charging at Magyar conscripts on my own. Pasche has cavalry at her back, ones that were patient enough to wait for her to finish cuddling a useless failure of General in a field. I’ll need them.
I sheathe my sword and accept Pasche’s hand, and am pulled onto her horse, seated behind her. She rides off at a full gallop, and I have to hold her closely to stay upright. I can feel more little holes and dents in her cuirass against my chest… I can feel warmth and softness where my arms wrap around Pasche’s waist. She smells nice, even caked in sweat as she is, or possibly because of it, and leaning in and pressing my cheek against her upper back I can feel her hair. It feels nice. This feels nice… I like the feeling of touching her. I want more. I want much more.
I have become shameless in the absence of my goddess, these are not thoughts a monster, a General should be having! These thoughts might kill her. Or might make her push me away.
As the Manor House approaches and I feel the horse begin to slow I throw myself off it, rolling when I fall and coming out of it mostly unscathed. I couldn’t let myself be absorbed by Pasche, I had to be a General again.
I am met by hundreds of corpses. Many Avernians, but many, many more Magyars. Of the troops under Lazierte’s regiment, the 505th, there couldn’t have been more than two survivors out of every five. They fought to the death, and the survivors don’t look even the least bit unsettled. Any other men would have run, unless under the influence of some magic.
I am soon met by Lazierte, who rushes over to see me. She’s… She’s okay! I run over to greet her, it’s not even a conscious process. I run… And then I trip on a dead conscript, a man who appears to have been blasted to pieces by a grenade. Lazierte reaches me and offers me a hand to help me up from among the dead folks. I take it, and she pulls me into an embrace. Oh no, I need to stop this right now… But I already know that Lazierte can hold me tightly, too tightly for me to escape. And too sweetly for me to resist. Shamefully, I return the embrace. I can almost feel Lazierte’s smile, and I can hear it in her voice.
“You’re… You’re safe! Thank the gods you are safe! When I saw the conscripts charging at your position I was so worried, but I couldn’t do anything! We were being pressed here and… I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you.”
… My failure would have provoked her into the thick of the fighting, would have made her abandon her post if she were able. And I felt so confident before, so in command. I almost hurt her. She is smiling for my safety, but I want to weep for almost causing her pain.
Pasche rides up beside us, dismounting her horse while trying not to trample the bodies beneath our feet. “Oh good, everyone’s safe, do you girls want to get out of the corpse yard now?”
Lazierte lets me free from her embrace, but takes my hand in hers, and addresses Pasche with a very awkward pout. “Yes, that’s a good idea… Thank you, Mademoiselle Pasche. For protecting Serena when I couldn’t.”
“You’re welcome I guess. Hehe, all in the work of a brave and noble knight, y’know?”
“... Right.”
Lazierte and Pasche accompany me away from the corpses, away from the Manor. Lazierte gives it a fond look as we make her leave, before returning her attention solely to me.
Looking back at the main battle from our vantage point, the Magyars have collapsed into a total rout. We’ve won, the Magyars are so eager to flee that they are fighting each other just to fit on the narrow stone bridge. Others jump into the river and try to swim across, often failing. And the men on the other side of the bridge retreat, abandoning the chaos ahead of them. The Magyar commanders don’t much care what becomes of their conscripts apparently, so long as they themselves are able to withdraw in good order.
There are so many bodies.
The sight is worthy of a monster.