The sound of war drums echoed across the plains, growing louder with each passing moment. The goblin and orc horde surged toward the ruins of Elm’s Root like a tide of death. From the rear of the battlefield, Princess Sophia watched as her brothers’ armies braced for the coming onslaught. She stood with her fifty knights in the rear, led by her trusted Knight Commander.
Phillipe’s army held the northern flank, his 1,200 soldiers forming tight shield walls as the goblins and orcs closed in. Phillipe rode up and down the line, shouting orders, his military experience on display for all to see.
“To me, men!” Phillipe called. “They may outnumber us, but they are nothing compared to the might of the empire! Hold the line!”
To the south, Philonous rallied his own 1,200 soldiers. His voice, though less sharp than his brother’s, carried the weight of determination as he moved among his men, steadying their nerves.
“I’ll pay 50 gold to every survivor!” Philonous shouted, greed glistening in his grey eyes. “We’ll not break!”
The battle erupted with a thunderous clash as the goblins and orcs collided with the human forces. Screams of the wounded mixed with the metallic ring of clashing weapons. Arrows rained down from both sides, and the ground shook with the stampede of wolf riders charging into the fray. The horde fought with savage ferocity, but the imperial soldiers, under the leadership of their kings, held strong.
From her position at the rear of the battlefield, Sophia stood calmly, her eyes closed in concentration. She could feel the fear creeping into the hearts of her soldiers and even into the ranks of her brothers' armies. With a steady breath, she extended her hand.
“Divine Vitality,” Sophia whispered.
A soft golden light rippled outward from her, bathing her brothers’ soldiers and her own guards in its radiance. Instantly, the exhaustion that had begun to settle in lifted, and the soldiers straightened with newfound strength. Their breathing steadied, and their limbs were filled with vitality.
Phillipe’s soldiers, feeling the surge of power, dug their heels into the ground, their shields locking together as they pushed back against the onslaught. On the southern flank, Philonous’ men fought with renewed determination, their swords cutting down goblins and orcs with precision.
Sophia’s guards, though few, were bolstered by the magic, their fear replaced with the calm certainty that they would hold their ground.
Henry, standing at Sophia’s side could feel Demeter’s divinity. Not sense his visit to goddess’ realm had he felt such heavenly aura. Casting a quick glance in astonishment. “You’re in oracle? All this time, I though you were just a priestess.”
Sophia nodded, her eyes still glowing faintly with divine power. Gone was her shy demeanor, replaced now with resplendent aura. “Warden, this is Demeter’s will.” Turning her eyes back to the battle, she said, “I’ll need to heal them soon.”
Meanwhile on the battlefield, the soldiers excitedly shouted: “Oracle!” “God is our side!” “Heaven blesses us!”
Despite the toll on the imperial soldiers, the men fought valiantly. However, they remained outnumbered. Wounded soldiers cried out from both flanks, some struggling to stay on their feet.
Sophia, sensing the shift, raised her hand again. “Divine Healing.”
A wave of soft light spread across the battlefield, flowing into the wounded imperial soldiers. Their cuts sealed, their pain eased, and even the most grievously injured felt the warmth of healing wash over them. Soldiers who had been on the brink of collapse now stood once more, their strength restored.
Phillipe, noticing the sudden resurgence among his men, called out to them. “Fight! The Oracle is with us—do not give them an inch!”
Philonous, too, saw the effect of Sophia’s healing. “Press forward!” he shouted, his voice rising above the chaos. “We are not defeated yet!”
The battle seemed to turn in the humans’ favor, but the celebration was short-lived.
From behind a ridge, hidden from sight, an orc shaman emerged, his eyes glowing with dark magic. Chanting in a guttural voice, he raised his staff and slammed it into the ground. Sickly green energy pulsed outward, spreading like a poison across the battlefield.
The dead began to rise.
The corpses of fallen goblins, orcs, and even imperial soldiers twitched and stirred, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light. They rose to their feet, their wounds still fresh but their bodies animated by the shaman’s dark spell.
A howl of terror swept through the imperial forces as the undead swarmed into the fray. Soldiers who had only just been healed by Sophia’s magic now faced the grim reality of fighting their once-dead comrades.
Grersag, a massive orc champion covered in blood and scars, stood atop a hill, his war axe dripping with gore. He laughed cruelly, his voice booming across the battlefield.
“Look at you, humans!” the Grersag bellowed. “You thought you had won”
The undead attacked with relentless fury, their decaying bodies shrugging off blows that would have felled any living creature. Phillipe’s and Philonous’ armies, now caught between the undead and the living enemy, began to falter. Panic spread as soldiers broke formation, their fear overcoming their training.
In the midst of the chaos, the Grersag carved his way through the imperial ranks, his axe cutting down anyone in his path. His mocking voice rang out again as he struck down Phillipe with a single swing of his weapon.
“One dead king!” the Orc Champion roared, his laugh echoing through the battlefield.
Moments later, he cut down Philonous with equal brutality. “Two dead kings!” he bellowed, emboldening his forces and demoralizing the humans.
The deaths of the kings sent shockwaves through the imperial armies. Confusion reigned as soldiers scattered, unsure who to follow now that their leaders had fallen. The soldiers who days earlier where planning on killing each other, now fought together to fleee.
“Protect the Oracle,” Henry shouted to his knights who looked equally as scared.
Sophia, watching in horror from the rear, knew this was the moment that would decide the fate of the empire. She could feel the despair rising in her troops, the creeping dread that they were fighting a losing battle. But she was not ready to surrender.
With unwavering resolve, she raised her sword high. “Demeter, grant me your strength once more!” she called, her voice cutting through the chaos. “Holy Aura!”
A brilliant light erupted from Sophia, flooding the battlefield. This time, the divine energy flowed not only through her guards but also through the weapons of every human soldier still standing. Swords, spears, and arrows glowed with golden light, empowered to cut through the undead magic animating the fallen.
“Henry, I cannot hold this spell for long. Command the imperial army!”
Henry nodded, then turned to his knight. “Each of you go, rally the fleeing soldiers. Strike them down the enemy, with Demeter’s blessing your weapons will slaughter the undead!”
The knight saluted, riding out on horseback to rally the imperial soldiers. The human soldiers, lead by the Knight Lieutenant Commanders, rallied behind the princess. Their weapons cut through the undead with ease, the enchanted blades severing the dark magic that kept the corpses moving. The panic that had gripped them moments ago was replaced by renewed hope.
Henry, seeing the stalemate in the battle, stepped forward and summoned his own magic. “Summon Guardian,” he murmured, his hands glowing faintly. The earth trembled, and from the shadows, hundreds of large, ethereal spiders appeared, their ghostly forms skittering across the battlefield.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“You called again so soon,” Archnida chittered mockingly, only to cower in fear after feeling Sophia’s divine aura nearby. “Traitor!”
Henry could see her cowering in fear, “That is not for you! It’s for them,” he pointed at the goblins. “Do you like orc meat?”
Archnida, turned around cautiously to view the raging battle on feet away. “Oh, you offer us another banquet? How kind. I apologize for mistrusting you. Lord Brown you are too kind. Already my children speak highly of you. Is this all for us?
“The goblins, wolves, and orcs are yours. Ignore the men,” Henry instructed.
“But orc is a delicacy, but still not as savory as man flesh,” Archnida said disappointedly.
On her command, the spiders attacked the orc and goblin forces with deadly precision, biting into their ranks and tearing through the enemy with frightening speed. Chaos spread among the horde as they struggled to fend off both the divine-empowered humans and the spectral spiders.
The soldiers seeing the reinforcements arrive cheered, “Praise Goddess Demeter. Praise her Oracle and Warden! The Goddess is with us, we cannot lose!”
With tide of the battle turned once again, Grersag shouted in rage, “Concentrate on the Oracle.”
Soon hundreds of undead charged forward, directly towards Sophia. The goblin shaman, smiled wickedly, “Oracle you will die by my hand!”
“Henry, I can’t hold on for much longer,” Sophia pleaded her body turning a paler by the second
Conjuring Dhruvah, Henry pointed at the shaman. “Kill him.”
The ephemeral giant grizzly raced across the battlefield. Dhruvah, ignored the fighting, and spiders feasting to arrive at a horde of undead protecting the shaman.
Henry watched as the massive spectral bear, Dhruvah, bounded across the battlefield, a hulking blur of ghostly fur and claws. The undead horde surrounding the shaman barely had time to react before Dhruvah was upon them. With a thunderous roar, the grizzly tore through the rotting bodies, scattering bones and decayed limbs as it charged toward its target.
The goblin shaman’s wicked smile faltered as he saw the beast approaching. “No!” he screeched, attempting to call upon his dark magic, but it was too late. Dhruvah, with a ferocious growl, slammed into the shaman, claws rending through his staff and chest in one fluid motion. The shaman let out a final, gurgling cry before his body collapsed to the ground, lifeless.
The moment the shaman fell, the undead he had summoned faltered. The eerie yellow glow in their eyes dimmed, and one by one, they collapsed back to the ground, lifeless once more.
Almost at the same time, Sophia collapsed exhaustedly into Henry’s arms. “Sophia,” Henry called worriedly, taking out a recovery potion Heather made from his inventory ring. Popping the vial’s cork, he gently glided the potion between her lips.
Seconds later, a pale Sophia opened her eyes weakly, “I’ll be fine.” Before falling back asleep.
Henry’s eyes narrowed, his thoughts racing. He needed to protect her at all costs. “Goddess protect her,” Henry prayed, laying her on the ground to recover.
Meanwhile, the spiders—Archnida’s children—continued their feast. With the shaman dead and Dhruvah wreaking havoc among the orcs, the goblin and orc forces crumbled, their lines breaking under the combined assault of human soldiers and the spectral creatures. The once overwhelming horde was reduced to chaos.
In the distance, Grersag, the orc general, watched in fury as his forces crumbled. His mighty fists clenched, veins pulsing in his massive arms. “No!” he roared, slamming his fist into the ground. “This cannot be!”
With a primal scream, Grersag rallied the few remaining orcs and charged toward the human lines, his massive axe swinging wildly. He fought with the desperation of a warrior whose defeat was now inevitable, cutting down any soldier in his path.
Henry saw the orc general approaching, his fury like a storm killing humans and spiders alike. Seeing the oncoming devastation, Henry ordered his knights to fall back.
Grersag stormed forward, his eyes locking onto Henry. “You think you’ve won, Twilight Commander. With the imperial heirs gone, your soldiers are leaderless, this battle is a draw. Come let’s end this now, I challenge you to one-on-one combat,” he snarled, swinging his axe with terrifying force.
The imperial soldiers looked at Henry, the imperial capital’s knight commander curiously. Likewise, Henry could see the exhaustion and fear on their faces. With the Sophia asleep, the buffs she applied were gone causing the imperial soldiers to despair.
With the spiders, Henry could easily sit back and let them lead him to victory, But the Knight Commander had cunningly asked him to battle one-on-one. If he declined, the imperial soldiers would likely turn on him. This was quite the enigma. Would the soldiers fight for a commander who would not fight for them? Especially if that commander did not belong to the empire. Henry knew this put him in a precarious situation.
“Boy, are you scared? Their lives are nothing but a game to you,” Grersag taunted.
“Annoyed, more like it,” Henry answered honestly. “I could easily kill you and your army with my summoned spiders. Why fight, what are your terms?”
“Terms?” Grersag laughed. “What terms? You kill or I kill you”
“And what of the empress?” Henry asked.
The soldiers hearing empress began to gossip. Only just then had they realized, the princess was the sole surviving heir.
“Empress?” Grersag thought momentarily. “I’ll allow her to live as my slave. It’s been too long since I had a plaything to relive my frustration.”
“Knight Commander, you should decline. Why battle when we have the upper hand,” declared Duke Alaric.
“He’s right. Do not consider this farce,” agreed Duke Orleans.
The other nobles raised their voices in agreement. With the war of succession over, the embolden nobles knew now was to gain Henry’s favorability. As the Empress Sophia’s man, a word from him could lead to ruin or reward.
Henry could see the soldiers turn sour at the two-faced nobles response. These nobles ran to the rear when the fighting was tough and returned to front when battle stopped. These nobles also encourage Henry to not fight, while simultaneously wishing for him to die.
“So, Twilight Commander, what will you do?” Grersag asked mockingly.
“I’ll agree to your terms Night Commander,” Henry agreed. Watching secretly, as the nobles felt relieved.
“Idiot!” Grersag yelled charging forward.
Henry blocked the first strike with his axe, but the force of the blow pushed him back. Grersag was monstrously strong, his blows heavy and relentless. But Henry was fast, parrying the orc’s strikes with calculated precision, looking for an opening.
With a growl, Grersag swung his axe in a wide arc, aiming to cleave Henry in two. But ducked low and rolled to the side, polymorphing into a Bearman and slashing horizontally with his axe. The blade caught Grersag in the side, drawing a thick line of blood. The orc howled in pain and rage, his eyes blazing with hatred.
“Bearman, you will die for that!” Grersag roared, lifting his axe again.
The two warriors clashed in a brutal duel, their weapons ringing out with each strike. The Orc Champion’s strength was immense, but Henry fought with precision and skill. Both were experienced in war. Soldiers and nobility alike were stunned by the display of prowess. The dueling axes moved too fast for them to view. All they could see were blurred images to frightening to watch.
With one swift movement, Henry sidestepped the orc’s next strike and drove his axe deep into Grersag’s chest. The orc general gasped, his eyes wide in shock as he staggered back, clutching the wound.
Grersag collapsed to his knees, the life draining from his body. With one final, rasping breath, the orc general fell to the ground, defeated.
The remaining orcs, seeing their leader slain, fled in disarray, chased by chittering spiders. The now united imperial army let out a triumphant cheer as the last of their enemies were vanquished.
Henry walked back to Sophia, who stood weakly, color slowly returning to her face. Knelling, before her. As he knelt, a wave of soldiers and nobles behind did so as well. Until only Sophia stood.
“Empress you are victorious,” he declared triumphantly.”
“Rise, Lord Commander,” Sophia ordered weakly holding out her arm. Henry stood and held her arm, helping her to stabilize. Supporting her, Henry saw her eyes heavy with exhaustion, but a small appreciative smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you, Lord Brown… I couldn’t have done this without you.”
Then she turned to the kneeling soldiers, bloodied but victorious, their loyalty, once divided, was now united. Sophia straightened, summoning what little strength she had left. “Rise,” she commanded softly.
“Long live Empress!” Henry shouted, raising his axe high.
“Long live the Empress!”
“Long live the Empress!”
“Long live the Empress!”
Chanted the imperial army, filled with newfound hope and determination.
Seeing this development, caused the nobility concern. None of the nobles had back the empress. Feeling slighted, she might label them a traitor and imprison them, strip their nobility, seize their property, banish them, or raise their taxes. Moreover, the empress’ Knight Commander was too strong, they would have to pay him much deference. No noble wanted a late-night visit from the Knight Commander. With the Knight Commander by her side, Empress Sophia’s would reign from a position of power. Without a doubt, the empire was hers and they would have to grovel at her feet to stay alive.
At once, the nobles rushed over the the empress and bathing her in lavish praise. Obsequious in their devotion, Henry thought they resembled lap dogs.
Ignoring the nobles’ praise, Henry turned to his lieutenant commander and ordered, “Have your soldiers rest, then burry the dead. At dawn, we’ll march to the capital.”
Sophia, standing amid the aftermath of the battle, gazed across the field of fallen soldiers and survivors. Her heart ached for the men who had fallen. With both Phillipe and Philonous dead, she was the sole surviving heir to the empire. The weight of the empire that was now hers to lead, settled heavily on her shoulders.
As night began to fall over the battlefield, the surviving soldiers set up camp amidst the ruins of Elm’s Root. The bodies of the dead were gathered, and pyres were lit to honor the fallen. The glow of the fires flickered against the crumbling walls; a somber reminder of the price that had been paid for victory.
Henry sat by himself eating a piece of jerky when a messenger disguised in military uniform. While the messenger dressed in military gear, Henry could tell this person had never seen combat. He was too fresh face and relaxed, almost cheerful even.
Badly saluting and handing him an envelope, the messenger said, “Well done Urs Majoris.”
“Promoted?” Henry asked, his voice laced with curiosity, only for disbelief to settle in a moment later when he read the letter. “Wait… is this really true?”
“Afraid so,” nodded the messenger.