The Battle of Oakenfort
Glitnir rode along with his accompanying force of five hundred mercenaries consisting mainly of archers and light spearmen, with a few officers from other units to act as advisors. Having finally broken away from the Lions of War mercenary company that had accompanied him on his chosen pathway.
Ostensibly he was only leading a scouting mission to gain personal honour. But the reality, he just wanted to have the first claim on any plunder available on the route. So far, in the few settlements they had raided, he had gathered some considerable loot which he had already sent back to the main force.
“Sir, I would strongly suggest we return to the main force once we reach the town of Oakenfort.” Glitnir glared at the lieutenant that the leader of the Lions’ had assigned him. The man second-guessed his every decision and seemed intent on undermining his every command.
“Klinox, I will remind you who hired your little company.”
“That may be so, sir,” Klintox replied through gritted teeth. “But Oakenfort is one of the few permanent fortresses in this region. It is highly likely to have a strong garrison. With our forces, we would do well to be cautious when-”
Glitnir held up a hand, stopping him mid-sentence. “Very well… I suppose we can turn around after a quick peruse of the town's bounty.”
“Please, sir, we should not even be this far from the-”
“Tch… I have made my decision. You are to follow my orders, not question me at every turn… Am. I. Clear?” Klintox nodded, ignoring the condescending tone Glitnir had taken.
“As you command, sir.”
Seeing Klintox capitulate, Glitnir couldn’t help but let a smirk spread across his face.
Turning to one of the other officers, Glitnir snapped his fingers, breaking the man’s concentration.
“How close are we?”
“Huh? Oh, should just be beyond the ridge of that hill, sir.”
“Sir, I would like to advise caution as Lieutenant Klintox has,” the mage officer attached to the unit suggested.
“I will not go through the whole discussion with you either!”
“Of course not, sir… it’s just the mana in the air is far thicker than it should be.”
“Thicker?” Glitnir repeated with an arched brow.
“Yes sir… typically, it could mean there is a mana vein in the ground. But it might also mean a large area spell has been cast.”
“At this range?” Klintox asked incredulously. “This range is beyond a City Class mage’s range. Surely the enemy does not have someone superior in range to Lord Mithgarth?”
“I cannot say; it is likely just a mana vein. ‘Horses and Centaurs’ as they say. But I would still advise caution.”
“Understood. Would you be willing to reconsider, sir?” Klintox asked, almost pleading they were too far ahead of the main force. They would not have reinforcements to call upon if they got into a fight.
“I hold you under a binding blood contract. I will invoke its rights should you continue to insist.”
Klintox lowered his head as his grip around the reins tightened, causing his gloves to creak. “I understand, sir. Continue ahead, men!”
Breaking over the crest of the hill, the detached force could finally see Oaken Fort Town. A small town nestled at the bottom of the hill overlooked by a fortress that seemed to radiate an ominous aura.
“Ok, Michaels, take a couple of men and scout the town. See if there are any locals or even troops. At first sight of the enemy retreat.”
“Yes, sir!” Michaels replied with a salute as he rode off on his horse with a couple of men towards the town. While they waited, the remaining officers dismounted their horses to let them rest while the men on foot settled into defensive positions.
“While we wait for their report, do we have any intelligence on this location?” In response to Klintox’s question Glitnir sneered.
“I see I shall deign to educate you rabble. This town is a hub and trade route town. A lot of the wealth and goods bound for Greed’s domain are held here for a while before moving onto South Bridgeton.”
Klintox reflexively pinched the bridge of his nose, hearing this. He knew full well why Glitnir even knew such details. His actions in the past few settlements clarified his goals in this crusade. “I see…”
Looking over the town itself, the place seemed relatively peaceful. From their vantage point, they could even see clearly down the main road to the town square, where a genuinely gargantuan Oak Tree stood tall and proud.
As they looked, they could see a trio of horses leave the town and ride their way. Quickly dismounting his horse, Michaels stood in front of the assembled officers as he breathlessly saluted before relaying his observations.
“I don’t see any troops, sir.”
Klintox’s face twisted in confusion. “None?”
“See Klintox… you were just being a coward. Now men full ahead, we shall rest here for the evening. Any plunder shall be divided equally amongst you after my cut!”
A boisterous cheer rose from the mercenaries at Glitnirs order. They had seen the sheer amount of wealth being plundered, and due to the contracts between Glitnir and their company, he could withhold their rights to it. But finally, they would be given a chance to claim some of the vast wealth for their own.
Hastening their march, the five hundred men entered the sleepy little town. Looking around, it was clear it had been entirely abandoned. The doors and windows were flung open, and not even the furniture remained inside, let alone any valuables.
“This house appears to be empty as well, sir!” Michaels declared after peeking his head through the doorway. “Barren as a sand-golem-whore’s ‘you-know-what’.”
“Dammit!” Glitnir roared, smashing his fist into the back of his horse’s head, causing it to stir in a minor panic. “I was told this was a trade hub… were are the valuables?!”
“Sir, please treat your mount with respect. That is Lord Leo’s personal horse,” Klintox pleaded.
Glitnir turned his fiery gaze towards Klintox. “I shall treat anything and anyone I have ownership of as I so wish. Do not assume to be immune from such a distinction, Lieutenant,” Glitnir replied, uttering the rank as if an insult.
“Perhaps these are just the poorer buildings. Maybe near ‘The Great Father Oak’ where the richer properties are, we may still find loot, sir,” one of the nearby officers suggested hoping to calm their employer's vitriol.
“Very well, lead the way.”
Continuing down the main road, they finally came upon the town square. Towering far above them, sheltering the entire square in the shade of its branches, stood ‘The Great Father Oak’. Said to be the oldest and possibly the first oak tree in the world.
The remnants of what appeared to have been a market could still be seen. With stalls upturned and a scattering of broken wooden structures all across the square.
“Whatever happened, they certainly left in a hurry,” Klintox observed, keeping his eyes on his surroundings. Only every building they passed was as empty as the first.
“The mana is getting thicker, sir,” the mage officer said, looking around with worry evident on his face.
“Maybe the tree is the source? It’d make sense that if a tree grew on top of a man vein, it’d grow so big,” Michaels suggested.
“I hope so.”
Glitnir looked around, dissatisfaction clear on his face. “So they fled in the face of the holy crusade? Pah! Cowards!”
“Sir, please calm down. We still have to be cautious, regardless. Oakenfort is up on the hill, and if they send a force out now, we will be at a disadvantage.”
“Are you as cowardly as they are, Klintox?!”
“Sir Glitnir, please… you have already secured such wealth that-”
“So it’s Glitnir then?” An unfamiliar voice asked from the branches of the tree.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Looking to the source, the assembled mercenaries readied their spears, pointing them up at the suspicious figure. To their surprise, the figure was casually sitting on a branch, swinging his legs back and forth as if it were a pleasant day.
“I am out ten large golds now. I mean… Seriously Mithgarth was clearly the right choice. I was even looking forward to trading magical blows… Out of wonder, which route did Mithgarth take?”
“Do you expect me to answer that?” Klintox asked, feeling his heart rate begin to quicken as he finally recognised the man. It was someone Leo had explicitly ordered him never to engage.
“Ah, the Jack of Diamonds!” Glitnir said, his usual sinister sneer spreading across his face. “Your bounty shall more than pay for my campaign costs. I will even be able to claim the loot thus far as profit.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. I had such a friendly chat with the big bastard.”
“Jarnvidr was a fool for letting someone like you leave!”
“Wow… I kind of pity the guy now being saddled with someone like you. Tell me, Glitnir… were you born an insufferable shitheel, or did you have to practice?”
In response, Glitnir began to sputter, needing a moment to regain his composure. “I shall enjoy the suffering you will endure at the Theocracy’s hands. Now come down here and surrender peacefully!”
“Sir, please reconsider. He was waiting here for us. We have obviously marched right into a trap!”
“Enough!” Glitnir’s roar silenced even the song of the birds in the surrounding area. “I am tired of being questioned! I am tired of having you and everyone else not doing as they are told! I am the boss! I am your employer! I am your owner! You will obey me, or so help me, I will engage the clause of disloyalty in the blood contract you all signed! Now erase the dishonour Jarnvidr brought upon me and seize him!”
Klintox went wide-eyed at the threat. “Y-you would dare, sir? A blood contract would cause severe physical harm and maybe even death if you did that! We signed that to prove our loyalty, not to let you use it as a leash to force us to follow you!”
“Wow… Just wow. I pity you, Klintox Magnolia; I truly do, to die for such a despicable man…” the Jack of Diamonds said, jumping down from his perch. Klintox froze upon hearing his family name. Only Leo should’ve known that he had a family name.
“Klintox…” Glitnir glared at the mercenary. Letting out a resigned sigh Klintox dismounted his horse and slowly approached the man.
“Stop!” The Jack of Diamonds said, holding out his hands. “First introductions. I am Alexander Guntherian. Third Apprentice of Lord Sloth. Head of the magic circles' department of ‘The Academy’ and your soon-to-be executioner.” Finishing his declaration, he gave a theatrical bow to the mercenaries.
“You think you can best five hundred men?” Glitnir asked incredulously. Klintox wished he could declare he very much could.
“Yes, I do,” Alex replied, bobbing his shoulders as if he were starting to dance.
“W-what is he doing?” Glitnir asked, confused.
“Some spells require movement. Perhaps he is getting ready to cast something?” the mage officer offered. Finally, they began to notice what he was doing. The buildings around them looked like they were melting into a technicolour goop.
“An illusion spell?” the mage officer muttered, confused.
“Klintox cut him down! I don’t care if the bounty is reduced if he is dead!”
For the first time since they had detached from the main force, Klitnox agreed with Glitnir. Without hesitation, he drew his broadsword and slashed at Alex’s neck. Only for it to pass through cleanly as the image before him rippled as if it were made out of smoke. In response, the image of Alex smiled at Klintox and pointed behind him.
Following his finger, Klintox could see Alex dancing just as he had in the square on the balcony of a sizeable mansion-like building. Turning back to the original image, he saw it had entirely dissipated.
“Archers fire!” Klintox ordered.
In response, a number of the archers all nocked arrows onto their bows and fired a volley. All arrows struck, lodging themselves into the wall behind the dancing image.
Seeing this, Glitnir clicked his tongue. “Tch, another illusion!”
Once again, the image swung its fingers to point down the square where a dart of smoke seemed to shoot. Soon a fresh image took shape into the still dancing form of Alex.
“Keep your eyes open. A mage is limited in range, so he must be nearby!” the mage officer shouted as the unnerved force began looking around.
Keeping an eye on the dancing image they could see, he mimed the drawing of an arrow and bow as if to mock the archers who had just failed to hit him. Only the second he released the imaginary string, a dull thud echoed around the square. Looking at the source, the unit could see half a dozen men impaled to the wall of a building impaled by a ballista bolt.
“Shit!” Klintox cursed, seeing this was not a distraction but an attack in earnest.
With a darting motion, a bolt of smoke shot out from the image of Alex appearing in the middle of the light infantry. Still moving with a dancing step as if not even noticing the troops around him.
“Spear him!” a panicked cry came out from one of the soldiers as they all thrust their spears into the image.
To their surprise, they felt like they were hitting something as the figure now looked pained as a black ichor began to seep out of the wounds they had inflicted.
“Did we get him?” In response to the question, the image grinned, stood up and spun around in a pirouette. All at once the light troops surrounding him were bisected by an unseen force, leaving only Alex cackling like a madman.
“M-monster!” Glitnir cried out in terror.
“Sir, we need to retreat!” Klintox shouted, jumping onto his horse.
“Uh-uh-uh!” Tutting while wagging his finger as if to tell off a naughty child. “I gave you the ultimatum. I even told you I was going to kill all of you. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t follow up with a promise?”
Holding out his pointer finger at the group of officers on their mounts, he began to mime as if he were firing hand bows, letting them move back as if experiencing recoil. Without a second’s delay, all the horses fell to the ground, deep wounds in their chests where something had hit them.
“T-this is impossible! No magic can do this!” the mage officer cried out, raising his staff as he began to chant his spell. Seeing this, Alex grinned, shot out and appeared behind the panicking mage.
“You sure about that?” Without even waiting for an answer, the mage’s torso split diagonally from should to hip.
“Full retreat!” Klintox ordered, trying to regain any semblance of order.
Glitnir ran around in panic, crying out for a horse.
“Well, now that is rather rude,” finally stopping his dance, Alex stomped on the ground, followed by a loud rumbling that shook the ground. In the distance, the terrified soldiers could see stone walls rise from the earth on the town's perimeter.
“Can’t have you running so soon…. Where’s the fun in that?!” The unhinged tone of his voice only served to increase the terror being inflicted upon them.
Falling to his knees, Glitnir held his arms above in a prayer pose. “Gods, please protect me!”
As if to answer his plea, thunder began to shake the air around them as flashes of lightning shot in the clouds above. Slowly but surely, they began to part, revealing a pair of giant hands reaching down from the sky above.
“Nooo…” Alex cursed, looking at the hands descending from the heavens.
Seeing this, Glitnir rose back to his feet, finally feeling confidence return to him. “Y-yes! The Gods have answered my prayers! This crusade is truly a work for the gods!”
“Men fall into formation!” Klintox barked, seeing a chance to regain the initiative.
Following his command, the remaining soldiers, who the plethora of unseen strikes had not hit, formed up, locking their shields to face the mad mage who was raging against divine intervention.
“Surrender now, and we will guarantee your safety!” Glitnir snarled, seeing a chance to claim the larger bounty again.
“As you have the gods on your side…” Alex began, seeming ready to resign himself to their mercy. “I’ll have to see no!” spinning around to reveal both hands with their middle fingers up. Looking up to the sky, they could see the pair of hands that had, till this very moment, signalled hope now mimicked his gesture.
“Let’s finish this!” with a sweep of his hands, an entire row of men was sliced in two, their shields clattering to the ground in pieces. At the same time, another line was struck by a bolt launched from nowhere.
“K-k-kill him!” Glitnir cried out as his trousers began to darken rapidly.
Klintox seeing little other option, charged the mage, sword at the ready, only to feel all the air in his lungs forced out as a bolt struck his breastplate, launching him backwards through a wall.
Lying on the ground, coughing up blood from what he could tell was a punctured lung. Looking around the room that seemed to be a store of some sort, he could see he had landed in a building that had appeared empty when they first arrived. But now appeared to have siege weapons mounted to the floor.
“I… see…” Klintox wheezed out, realising the empty buildings were an illusion to begin with. “Heh…” Letting out a pained chuckle at his fate, Klintox breathed his last.
Glitnir looked in the direction the Klintox had flown with wide-eyed terror. “Klintox!”
“I think this is enough…” Alex muttered, looking bored with the remaining troops before him.
“W-Wait! I S-surrender! Kill them all if you want… but spare me. I can be a valuable hostage!”
“You…” Alex looked at Glitnir like someone would look at a pile of excrement. “I already said everyone who crosses the Seraphim walls will die. You are included. I am done with this farce,” with a loud clap of his hands, the walls surrounding the town began to protrude sharp blade-like outcroppings.
“Enjoy your death… I shall be watching it from the hill,” with a little salute, the image vanished.
“T-top of the hill?” Glitnir repeated in shock. That distance meant that the Jack of Diamonds was a City Class mage at the very least. However, Glitnir had little time to ponder this as the walls began to spin rapidly. Slowly but surely, closing in on the trapped mercenaries.
“I am Glitnir the Golden! I shall not die here!” With one final roar reclaiming what little courage he had left.
The wall was unsympathetic as it shredded men and buildings alike. Soon enough, the only place of retreat was into the Oak Tree’s branches. The gore happening below him only made Glitnir feel numb.
“Hey, don’t shake the branch!” Glitnir snarled, struggling to keep balance.
“This is all your fault!” one of the mercenaries in the tree snarled.
“You were too greedy!” another shouted. Slowly approaching Glitnir, they had murder in their eyes.
“Hold on. You cannot kill me. We have a contract!”
“Aye sir, we do. The terms were if we turned on you and killed you, the entire company’s lives would be forfeit.”
“Good, so stay back there,” Glitnir’s face contorted in agony as he felt a burning sensation in his thigh. Looking at the leg, he could see an arrow protruding from it.
“H-how?”
“That wound is not fatal, sir. Painful, yes… but not fatal. The reason we don’t put a no-harm clause is war can be messy,” one of the slowly encroaching mercenaries explained.
“The wound may not be fatal, but that,” he gestured to the whirling blades beneath them. “That certainly is,” with a scowl, the mercenary jumped on the branch that was holding them, causing it to shake.
Trying his hardest to keep balance, Glitnir felt a fresh pang of terror as his injured leg could no longer adequately support him. Falling from the branch, he felt the breeze of the blades that would bring his end. Closing his eyes, he had no choice but to accept his fate and curse the mercenaries for betraying him.
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