The atmosphere hummed with tension, a noticeable charge circulating between two opposing forces on the brink of conflict. On one side, drenched in the muted tones of the veiled sun, Imperial soldiers stood in flawless formation. A legion of approximately three thousand, they occupied the open field, a disciplined display of military might.
Opposite them, a dense realm of forest loomed, concealing the hidden numbers of the Kin's within its depths. A vast kilometer-wide expanse separated the two factions.
At the forest's edge, the Strays strategically positioned themselves, utilizing the natural cover of trees and vegetation, blending almost seamlessly with the slightly uneven terrain. To the Imperials, only the disorganized units at the forefront were visible, unaware that the entirety of 33rd Strays lay concealed just further beyond.
Kin's units readied themselves at the vanguard, eager to charge forth once a breach is made. Support units lingered behind, prepared to follow suit, carrying both the injured and essential supplies. In a bold display, a small group of Strays positioned themselves in the open field, a short 100 meters from the forest's edge. They were the Spearhead Strike Package, prepared for imminent action.
With an official total of 38 knights, excluding Waylen due to his roamer status, everyone was present except for three. Iris and Waylen remained lurking back in the forest. Iris's long-range fighting style rendered her unnecessary at the front lines, with Waylen standing beside as her ever-watchful guard. The absence of the third however was unexpected, Raid, the strike package’s vice, raising concerns among the group as they awaited the pivotal signal to unleash their collective might.
Raid moved with steady, even steps as he journeyed through the dense thicket of men and trees. A presence of suspense and unease enveloped him, so hefty that it felt almost tangible. Hands subtly adjusted their grip on weapons, and a forced calm permeated the air as soldiers tried to steady their racing hearts. And amidst all this, Raid's imposing presence, marked by his uniform, ashen hair, broad shoulders, and confident stride, captured the gaze of many.
As his eyes briefly met those of his comrades, some averted their gaze in nervousness, leaving Raid to grapple with the familiar sting of rejection from even among those who fought alongside him. His gaze remained fixed ahead, deliberately avoiding eye contact to spare them the weight of his piercing stare.
It is said that the 2nd Kundis Allied Army numbered roughly a quarter of a million before the battle. The largest single army ever formed within the Kundishelm, commanded by the Rose. Yet despite such a vast concentration of manpower, the Kin's knights barely numbered three hundred. While seemingly modest, even deemed pathetically low by those less enlightened, this count was not to be understated.
Knight tactics predominantly center around Spate Denial, a strategy focused on knight-on-knight combat. Their destructive prowess meant that only another knight, a skilled farrider, or a competent mage could challenge them. Three hundred knights possessed the capacity to single-handedly dismantle entire armies, clans, or small nations if their adversaries lacked a force similar to their own.
This emphasis on knightly combat arose from the understanding that, as long as knights restrained their own dominance, infantry maintained relevance on the battlefield. The knights' distinctive role, prowess, and constrained numbers forged a particular renown, a mixture of admiration, laced with a more pronounced sense of apprehension. A perpetual attitude of caution, a companion that refused to part ways as long as they existed. And would endure, unaltered, until more straightforward and cost-effective means could be discovered to eliminate them. Raid frowned. He knew he was part of the problem, the generational scarring of men in each war, whether to his own or to others. To produce broken and fearful men, a handicap to society. Survivors who, in their anguish, might inadvertently inflict harm upon their own families, and wallow all the while in torment until their end.
Raid now noticed several scornful looks, some artfully concealed, others more overt and fearless. The contempt was also expected. A knight's fundamental duty was to safeguard allied infantry, at least to some extent in the Empire's case. After all, why else would they counter rival knights with such diligence, even when faced with the most unfavorable odds. Recent failures in upholding this duty had sown seeds of distrust, disappointment, and spite among their brethren. Raid, grappling with the weight of their collective gaze, silently acknowledged their sentiments. The loss of brethren, often amid grieving soldiers and within circumstances beyond their control, tends to spark a fervent quest to assign blame. Knights, their supposed guardians, typically became the most straightforward natural target.
The blame game was an immediate recourse, a simple solution to a combination of complex emotions, grief or otherwise. Knights, entrusted with the protection of infantry, found themselves under intense scrutiny. In the grand scheme of warfare, the equation was clear: knights shielded the infantry, infantry secured victories, and victories shaped the outcome of wars. This concept has been the guiding principle in wars spanning the last few centuries, echoing across every corner of the known world. It encapsulates an essence of trust, a currency so invaluable that, once damaged, seems irreparable. A currency the Kin's knights haven't been able to pay in full since the rearguard.
Reaching the forest edge, Raid took his first steps into the sweeping open field, heading toward his intended destination to join the group of knights already gathered.
“You're late,” Marcus declared with a hint of displeasure as Raid approached.
Nova welcomed him with a subtle smile, delicately tapping the pocket watch borrowed for this operation, showcasing the time.
Raid reciprocated the smile. “Late? If anything this tells me you're early Marcus. Thanks Nova.”
A deeper frown etched across Marcus's face at Nova's apparent support of his lapse in tardiness. However, she met his unspoken reprimand with a measured, joyful nod.
“Nova, how's your reserves?” Raid inquired.
An exasperated sigh escaped Nova. "How many times must you ask? I am fine. My reserves are full, and I'll be ready for the fight. I'm not a child; you don't need to check on me every second. I can manage my own reserves perfectly well, thank you."
"Just ensuring," Raid replied with a hint of amusement.
"Yeah? For the fifth time? I already assured you of my readiness when I woke. No need to keep asking. I'm not foolish enough to squander my aura before a fight."
"And you're not going to ask about my reserves?" Marcus interjected.
Raid's response carried a touch of mockery. "Why bother? You always seem to manage just fine."
"Thanks for the concern..." Marcus muttered under his breath.
Raid grinned. "Glad to be of service. So, what's the situation?"
"See for yourself," Nova said, gesturing ahead. "We've got ourselves a greeting party; It seems they're looking to match us one-on-one."
Raid focused intently on the Imperial formation, enhancing his eyes for a clearer view. His attention intensified on a distant group, standing apart in front of the Imperial lines, echoing their own arrangement but three times larger. Recognition dawned as he discerned the unmistakable uniforms of the opposing group. "Imperial knights?"
“Yeah,” Nova replied, her enthusiasm noticeably lacking. “A big old knight battle, fair and square. That is, if they didn't blatantly outnumber us.”
Raid's gaze remained fixed, arms crossed in contemplation. "So the outcome completely depends on us then? I was hoping they'd have less knights, allow our vanguard the possibility to assist in the breach.”
“Odd. I thought the plan did entirely rely on us?” Nova said.
“It does but I wanted to improvise. We are allowed that privilege. A shame that is no longer possible, it'll sure as hell relieve us some stress, you know, the entire fate of the core kind of stress. Guess we're sticking with the intended plan. It also seems we've acquired quite the audience, let's give a good show. Have any mages spotted?"
“None,” Marcus answered. “Let's keep it that way. While their strength remains uncertain, I'm in no rush to confirm the truth behind the stories and rumors.”
"Oi, lead!" Carter's voice rang with a mischievous grin, sauntering himself into the conversation. "Looks like you've finally graced us with your presence. We were starting to worry you know. Ready for some ethical murders?"
"Ethical what?" Raid inquired, a quizzical expression on his face. "Is that what you call it now?"
"Yeah, I mean... they're attacking us, so we're responding in self-defense, right? It's just."
"Is that how it works?" Nova chimed, her tone laced with sarcasm. She stood with a quiet confidence, an enigma to many in the gathering. Nova had not appeared at the meetup between the 76th and the 3rd in the Ver Den, her face was new to many here. While the 3rd Knights had grown accustomed to her presence, the same could not be said for the 76th. Her ashen hair complemented her complexion, and a dignified, noble-like spirit enveloped her, evident in her demeanor. Nova's very being demanded attention, captivating and holding the gazes of many around her, almost enchanting in its allure.
"That's exactly how it works, isn't that right, Mason?" Carter called upon his newfound friend from the 76th, seeking affirmation.
"Don't drag me into this," Marcus said, nervously scratching his head. "I am not even precisely sure what ethical means. It's not a term tossed around in my circles all too often. I just want this breakout done and over with. A few rounds to drink and a nap between some woman's legs, two preferably. No offense, Lady Fable."
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
"None taken," Nova replied with a gracious smile. "Speak your mind, I am not so sensitive. But if you feel the need to apologize beforehand, then perhaps silence is the better course when addressing before a lady?"
"I'll try to exercise more discretion, my lady," Mason acknowledged with a modest smile, accompanied by a measured, respectful nod.
"See, Raid. This is how you should act," Nova remarked.
"Oh please, spare me," Raid said. "I'll try and perform a full-fledged bow to you next time, to the point my dearest head touches the fucking ground."
"No need to go too far," Nova smiled. "Mason, do you drink well? Perhaps you can teach these fool's a thing or two, always manage to get themselves into trouble."
"Hey," Marcus chimed. "It isn't that bad. And how are you going to have any fun being all soft anyways?"
"You want me to find you stripped in an alley again Marcus? It wasn't pretty I'll tell you. Raid, don't laugh, I have a few stories of you as well."
"If I may speak," Mason said. "While I can't say for the girls, you'll have a hard time finding any knight who considers himself a man, to withhold oneself from drinking in an unrefined manner."
"Well said boy," Marcus declared proudly.
"And while we're on the topic," Mason added. "Carter, what about you? Got any plans? Maybe you'd like to join me if we survive."
"Not really. My only plan is to stick around for a very long time, in fact, I'll outlive all you fucks, be sure of it. I'll take you up on the drinks though, Mason, but I'll hold off on the women. Need to know how drunk I am before I say yes to the whole... thing."
"Mind your words," Marcus cautioned. "Don't forget that the Fair Maid favor those who linger about the future too much."
"Don't those with a lady in waiting at home fall into that category as well?" Raid pondered aloud, before he suddenly shouted. "Hey! Joseph! Weren't you recently engaged?!"
"Yeah! Why?!" Joseph shouted back from the far side of the group.
"Did you catch that?" Raid smirked. "This is why you don't brag about your girl, especially in such gatherings."
"Are you suggesting he's some sort of death flag?" Nova asked. "Should we exercise caution around him during the battle, fearing he might spontaneously combust at any moment?"
Raid nonchalantly shrugged. "I'm not suggesting anything. It's just a superstition."
"Officer Raiden!" Miles called, interrupting the banter. "Get over here! What are you doing back there, you're the vice!"
"Well, I am off," Raid declared, his departure accompanied by a wry smile. "You all enjoy yourselves. I'll be out front, basking in the sun's warmth, should you need me."
“Not much of a sun, it's all cloudy here. Take care, I'll see you in a bit,” Nova remarked in parting.
Raid made his way to the forefront of the group, where Miles stood, clad in battle-worn steel plates. The armor, a testament to countless clashes, bore dents and scratch marks, each telling its own story. The evident signs of repair on the armor, where compromise had once been made, hinted at Mile's indifference to a pristine appearance. Instead of investing extra for a uniform look, a choice that more self-conscious individuals might prioritize, Miles inclined solely toward the practical task of repair. It reflected his pragmatic approach, emphasizing functionality over aesthetics. He gripped a hefty rounded shield on his left and wielded a great axe on his right, exuding strength that commanded respect. His unwavering focus remained fixed on the enemy ahead, disregarding the idle chatter surrounding him.
“I assume you're a fort?” Raid inquired.
“What gave it away?” Miles replied rhetorically, a hint of wry amusement in his tone.
“Why the plate? It does nothing but offer discomfort. Everyone else is in leather except you, is there a reason for it?”
“This might surprise you, but up north, knights deck themselves in plates. Perhaps a concept too foreign for you."
“But you're a Rose. What ties do you have with the north? Unless you've fulfilled your obligation?”
“I have, and a few of your kind as well during my service. How much do you truly know about the north, Raid?”
“Almost nothing. The winters are harsher, the wolves howl louder, and almirs sing. Then there's the Stellaris Pact and the Eternal War. What else am I missing?”
“They call it Hendadraga's War there, a sentiment they hold vehemently. The clans in Northern Sunda seldom engage in major conflicts, and when they do, it's fleeting, hence why you may see the map changes little there. Only the Eternal War matters. It might sound peculiar, but knights frequently exhaust their aura there, the hordes of almirs are endless. And sometimes, this armor,” Miles freed his right hand by resting the great axe against himself, then tapped his gauntlet against his chest plate thrice with a proud smile, “is the only thing standing between you and the abyss.”
“Didn't have to give me a whole story. Could've said this armor is a habit from your obligation."
“I am old, allow me some decency you brat. We revel in our tales. Who else do we regale with all this experience if not others?”
“Regale is one way to put it. Maybe save a few for yourself, you don't seem too bored with it,” Raid said casually, his attention shifting to the opposing group of Imperial knights protesting their breakout. Many wielded bows, and he noted, “They have quite a few slingshots. Might pose a problem.”
"Ours are better, if a few," Miles stated with confidence.
"Wouldn't it be ideal for them if we just stare at each other the whole day until their main army arrives."
"We won't be staring for long, we'll be out before their mistress appears, don't you worry. But what's the time? When's the attack signal going to come?"
"No idea, I am not the one with the watch. Probably soon though. We were close to time when I last saw."
"What's the plan?" an unfamiliar man asked, strolling toward them from behind. He appeared mature, possibly in his early thirties.
“Raid, meet 2nd Sergeant Jace Rose. He was on shift during the meetup so he couldn't attend.”
“Pleasure to meet you. You must be our vice,” Jace greeted, extending his hand. “You look quite young for a 2nd Officer.”
"The privileges of commission, I enlisted early and was fast tracked,” Raid said, extending his in turn, and they shook hands. "I still consider myself inexperienced, and I hope you'd make up for it."
“The best I can,” Jace replied, smiling graciously. “I lead team two by the way. Just seeking clarity on the battle strategy.”
“There's nothing to seek because we haven't decided on one yet,” Miles replied. “That's why I wanted your opinion, Raid, as our vice, since Lady Fae isn't present. Not that it matters much, most of her plans involve charging in and hoping for the best. My idea is to disperse, force their numbers apart. It may complicate mutual support, but it'll prevent a concentrated battleground. If they have those purple artforms on field, then we'll take collateral. Given their numerical advantage, minimizing casualties from area-of-effect attacks would be ideal. Any casualties we take would weigh a lot more than theirs."
“I respectfully disagree,” Jace interjected. “Staying together is key, mutual support is our strength. If we spread out, they'll pick us off one by one. Plus, with their slingshots, our own will be too preoccupied to provide us any ranged support. That only means we'll be on our own if we spread out.”
“I’ll have to agree with Jace,” Raid said. “We stick together, stay close. We charge in, create a mobile fortress. They'll want to go for attrition, and we won't let them. As long as we maintain formation, we'll try to end the fight swiftly as possible. They have the aura advantage, they have the numbers, attrition won't go well for us.”
Jace smiled. “They're banking on attrition. But if they show caution, we need to shift, play more aggressively, let our flankers widen the field.”
“Alright then, but we stay close only if they lack the boulder,” Miles said. “If we lose the range duel or if they have decent grenadiers, especially those purple ones, we spread.”
“Don't miscount their mystics and mages either,” Jace cautioned.
“I think mystics only exist in the Sundahelm,” Raid replied. “At least I've never heard of such a case beyond, but I am young, what do I know? Keep an eye out for their mages though. The moment they appear, if they appear, we improvise. I know nothing about magic, so I won't even try to plan.”
“Same here. What it is or how it works is a mystery to me,” Miles said. “My team will lead. We have three forts total, including me, and some skilled dancers. Jace, your team takes the right, while Raid takes the left, with Magnus as support. Sounds good?”
“Sure,” Raid replied. “I'm happy with that. You're the one with the most experience. I'll trust your judgment. We'll watch each other's backs, since this is our first time fighting together, so be alert for mistakes.”
"You didn't trust my judgment when I proposed a dispersal now did you?" Miles frowned.
"Well... We'll just count that as creative differences and leave it at that."
Meanwhile, back in the quiet depths of the forest, far removed from the group, Alice, Iris, and Waylen stood atop one of the tallest trees, each claiming a different branch, overlooking the expansive field ahead. Alice, her gaze lowered, clasped a watch in her left hand, its minute hand tracing the hours as it marked 16:29.
“Iris,” Alice called gently, “we're close enough, you may start. Everyone is ready and in position. Kindly begin our introductions.”
Without waiting for a reply, Alice advanced, her right foot poised to dance upon air. A graceful leap off the branch, and she descended from the canopy, her landing resonating with a pronounced thud. Iris responded with a serene smile, her gaze absorbed upon the canvas that was the largely clouded sky.
“Waylen,” she called, expecting no reply and showing no inclination to turn towards the man standing in silent observance far behind her. “Let's make a good first impression, shall we?”
Iris's right hand ascended with elegance, reaching for the boundless sky. Her smile deepened as orbs of golden light materialized around her, transforming the daylight into a celestial display of stars.
“Fate guide me,” Iris whispered, her words a sacred invocation. “I will shepherd your dear lambs, cradle them, and bestow upon them death.”
On the Imperial side, a clandestine assembly of mages positioned behind their defensive lines, a mere fifteen souls, watched with bewilderment at the celestial spectacle unfolding above.
“By the void, what is that?” a mage asked, puzzled. “Is that magic?”
At the forefront stood First Lieutenant Luis Castillo of the 34th Mulberry Mage Platoon, though not officially in charge of the entire Imperial force stationed here, he was certainly the one most responsible for its success. He grimaced, squinting to discern the numerous tiny golden lights. “Since when did those northern wretches lay claim to such sorcery?”
In an instant, the orbs hurtled toward them, painting the sky with vivid streaks of light, reminiscent of a meteor shower.
“Shields!” Luis bellowed, urgency in his voice. “Quickly! Safeguard our position; it approaches! We cannot permit a breach!”
All the mages began casting their spells except Luis. Their faces contorted to various levels of pain as their tolerance struggled to catch up to the sudden rush within them, mana coursing throughout their bodies. A protective shroud of magic cloaked the Imperial lines, several sphere-shaped barriers overlapped each other, shimmering in faint blue hues like a mirage. Bending light around their edges, rendering them nearly imperceptible to the unaided eye. Casting such a spell hastily, with no prior preparation, left some mages stumbling under the weight of sudden fatigue and searing pain, their thoughts muddled.
The orbs collided moments later, smashing into the protective spheres in their hundreds. Blue and gold erupted in dazzling bursts as mana and aura repelled one another, creating a duotone show above the Imperial lines. This light show colored a small area of sky above them, followed by the deafening impact of the orbs, announcing the beginning of the battle, much like the curtains on a stage.
An array of colors ignited from both sides as all knights linked their aura. And with that, the battlefield was now entrusted to the hands of creatures dressed in sheep's skin, hiding their fangs beneath blades, ready for imminent combat.