After the meeting with the General, Vance and Estrid quickly made for where their regiment was set up-- right at the edge of the camp. The unit was unknown, and its members appeared to be more like a cavalry unit without a horse but armed like infantry, brandishing weapons that looked like they should be carried by any other regiment other than them. Such was the thinking that when the individual charged with laying out where everyone was located in camp, the Dragon Marines were given the furthest place possible, away from the more illustrious units. But, they had sent some camp followers to help set up their tents and other such amenities. Many thought they would see a unit unable to put two sticks together, but what they found instead was a regiment camped in well-ordered tents, each set up perfectly and appeared more comfortable than those given to the regular troops. To many, it seemed as though Vance had gone all out in spoiling his troops, giving them not only the finest uniform in the army but also the best camp materials. Unbeknownst to anyone, the items used were crafted and invented by Lara with the help of the first company.

So shocked were the workers; they didn't know what to do after seeing how quickly the Marines had set camp. It wasn't until the regiment's officer in charge of logistics-- Captain Fuura Xen, a young Captain, sent by the Marshal-- came up to offer them some means of work. After they were assigned new work, Fuura had sought out his own XO, Lieutenant Alexander Demitri, to begin setting up the Colonel's furnishings in the tent.

Ducking through the open tent flap, Vance spotted the two officers, giving them a nod as he walked further inside, "Xen, Alex, how're the Marines?" Vance asked while setting down his helmet.

Xen, an average-sized man whom Vance couldn't help but note, appeared Asian in appearance, appearing close to people found in Indonesia if he were to make a comparison. As someone who had travelled around the world in his past life, he could pick out ancestry based on appearance and tone of voice; it was an odd talent he had, and evidently, one he still had in this life. Pulling off his own helmet to greet the Colonel, Vance quickly noted his short-cropped black hair, with a small scar between the right-hand side of his forehead and scalp-- from what he remembered being told, it was an old wound from when anti-Radriusau protestors had assaulted him. The Republic of Radriusau had always been an enemy of Kendirewen and was the one nation Vance came to know had a far east Asian culture that seemed a mix of Chinese and Japanese.

"They're well enough, Sir. Most are still trying to adjust to the fact we're going to war, but all seem to be in good spirits." He reported, his tone as professional and cold as ever.

"Ah-- well, they're likely going to see action soon." Vance sighed.

"Sir?"

"General Anderson gave us the extreme left flank, so we'll be facing off against the enemy left," Vance said, pulling the orders out from behind his cuirass to illustrate his point.

"Well then, I'll inform the unit then," Xen replied, looking to Alex, who looked confused as to why he was getting looked at.

"Ah! Right, yes, I'll send runners." The Lieutenant quickly scrambled towards the exit, only to stop and salute Vance before rushing out.

Vance chuckled, shaking his head before taking a breath in, his gaze finding the wooden boards that made up the floor. "You should get ready too, Captain. I know you're logistics, but in case we fail, you'll be looked to for leadership in the retreat."

Xen bowed his head, "As you wish. May I leave?"

Nodding in reply, Xen made a quick salute before making his exit, leaving Vance alone to his thoughts. Watching the Captain leave, Vance frowned, turning to look around the tent. Unlike other officer's tents, his had few comforts, as there was not enough time to develop or bring anything of real substance in such a short period. A simple table to act as his desk and dinner table, a single folding chair, a cot, and a tiny stove-- were all he had. The entire space was spartan compared to the other officers, but he was okay with that. The lighter his stuff, the more weapons the wyverns could carry into the sky. But, for now, he dismissed such thoughts aside as he pushed himself away from the table and pulled out a few sheets of paper and a quill from the nearby assortment of small items that had been stuffed into a bag. Recalling the map the Major General had shown him, he drew up the map for his benefit, as he hadn't received one yet. Then, to ensure his regiment's officers and NCO's could traverse the landscape without getting lost, he used all the paper he had to draw up maps for each of his company commanders to be shared amongst the unit. It took a couple of hours to do, just enough time for the Marines to rest up and prepare for the coming battle.

As he finished penning the last map, the bugle echoed out across the camp. Snapping over towards the general direction of the horn, Vance breathed in. "Well-- war calls." He whispered.

Emerging from his tent, he saw men and women scrambling past, trying to reach their units before they were given the order to deploy. Then, just as he observed two junior officers rushing past, Xen and Estrid came running up beside him.

"Vance! General's called the army to march." Estrid reported.

"Yeah, I heard the bugle." Then, passing the maps to Xen, "Captain, I need you to pass these out to each of the company commanders. Since we haven't received any maps yet, I took the liberty to draw up a few. Here." Xen grabbed the stack, raising a brow showing his surprise.

"As you wish, sir." Xen replied, turning to Estrid, "Major." He excused himself with a bow of his head and rushed off to quickly carry out Vance's order, leaving his two superior officers alone.

"Ready?"

"Ready when you are," Estrid replied.

Within an hour, the entire army was lurching forward, leaving behind the baggage train and non-combat related tradespeople behind to manage the camp. The sound of thousands of soldiers and horses marching was quickly overtaken by the tune of drum and fife, raising the spirits of those marching to war. Then, for their part in the coming battle, the Dragon Marines were sent off on their own, marching towards their designated area on the battlefield.

Suppose one turned to look at the Marines. In that case, they'd stare in awe at how the armoured soldiers marched in unison, their arms swinging out and back in one fluid motion, creating a powerful image-- though it was the sight of the hundred Wyverns that stomped close behind, tailing the formation of Marines as they marched for war. Vance rode at the head of his regiment, mounting Magic who towered over the other Wyverns. It was a fearsome sight for any to witness, with some units stepping out of line, distracted, only to be reamed out by red-faced sergeants who hurried them back into their respective columns.

Before long, the massed body of soldiers and horse arrived at a wide-open field, wherein only small patches of trees offered any sort of cover. Lines of infantry quickly marched up at double-time, forming the offensive line, carefully considering their spacing and placement in the giant formation arrayed out in front of the Askal's own. Behind them, on an elevated position, 12lbs cast-iron field artillery guns were hurriedly being set up and brought to bear, their barrels aimed out towards the enemy army. Combat mages part of the Kendirewen Artillery Corps quickly rushed up to each artillery piece, carving out runes on each iron ball, ensuring each would have the explosive power necessary to break an enemy formation.

Meanwhile, the six regiments of cavalry split up, three riding off to the left while the other three took the right flank in standard practice. Two battalions of cuirassiers, hussars, and lancers split up, each taking a side to guard the flanks; heavy, medium, and light cavalry would help protect the flanks while also taking advantage of any holes created by their side.

Then there was the extreme left flank, where the only thick covering of forest was located, which would serve as cover for the Marines that hid within, each individual promptly loading a paper cartridge into the breech of their rifles, sliding the bolt closed once done-- ready to fire. Vance, for his part, had dismounted Magic, leaving him behind with the rest of the mounted Wyverns, as he was needed to lead the foot element of his unit. Armed with a simple carbine and his sabre, Vance crouched down behind a nearby tree where Estrid took cover.

"What's it looking like?" Vance asked.

Passing him the looking glass, she pointed towards the enemy centre, "See for yourself, in the centre."

Peering through the scope, his eyes went wide, "Those are some big pigs."

At the centre of the Askal formation was a battalion-sized unit of orcs who trotted forward atop massive warthogs the size of two six-foot men. Vance could hardly believe his eyes but found himself laughing.

Estrid shot him a confused look, "Why're you laughing?"

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"Nothing, it's just-- well, think about it? We have Wyverns, and they have hogs. So it seems they had a few mythological creatures hidden away too." Vance explained.

Estrid couldn't find the humour in it but knew there'd be little merit in trying to understand. "Either way, they're large enough and likely thick enough to tear through the centre." Estrid brought up, bring to light her tactical observation.

Vance nodded in agreement, "Mhm, you'd be right to assume so, Major. However, if I'm right, the General likely spotted them and already has the artillery aimed at them."

"So you hope."

"So, I hope."

Shifting to his left, he looked to see who they were up against and noted two regiments of orcish line infantry. White uniformed men marched at the beat of war drums, their colours flapping proudly in the warm afternoon breeze. A known fact about the Askal armed forces was their reluctance to allow women to join the army, believing instead they should remain home to rear children and run the household while the men went off to fight. Each nation had its societal weakness, it seemed.

Collapsing the scope closed, he returned it to Estrid as he turned to face her and the rest of his regiment, who too were taking a knee. Then, waving over the officers and SNCO's forward to him, a dozen men and women came forward, giving a curt nod to their CO.

"What's the plan, sir?" Asked an elven captain.

"A few things spring to mind, but the most immediate one would be to have our skirmishers move forward and hold the tree-line here while the first and second company advance to contact as a V until we draw in close enough to form a line. From there, the third and fourth will pepper pod in. First and second will continue to lay down a base of fire on the enemy, allowing the others to move forward at a steady pace." Vance started, drawing out the plan in the dirt, "it's likely the enemy will continue to advance, despite the losses, so we need to be aware of the distance. The rifles they're using have an effective range of one hundred yards. That distance is going to close fast, so we've got to start taking heads soon." Vance said, pausing to look over his shoulder.

"Won't the General be pissed if we fire before the rest of the army?" Asked another Captain.

Vance shrugged, "Maybe? I don't know the General well enough to guess how she'll treat us opening fire before the two close ranks. But the more damage we can inflict, the better. So, start taking positions." Almost immediately, the group dispersed, returning to their units to issue the given orders.

A few minutes later, a company of the regiment's best shooters came rushing up, taking steady aim down the field. Vance watched, leaning against the tree. "Take out the officers and NCO's. First shots should hit the flag bearers. That should send them into a minor panic, allowing you to spot the officers and NCO's." Vance told the skirmishers who peered through long slim brass scopes that gave the sharpshooters a clear advantage of range and accuracy.

Rifles peaked out through the trees as silence soon filled the air around them. A strange calm washed over the shooters as they picked out targets, each taking steady aim, remembering all that was taught to them in the months leading up to this moment. Short steady breaths, fingers hovering over the trigger, mind clear of all thought save the mental math of making a thousand-yard shot.

"Fire when ready..."

The crack of rifles rang out, echoing out like thunder. Across the field, a hundred orcs fell or slumped forward. Some died instantly; others screamed out in pain, but it was the sudden deaths of their flag bearers that caused the pause. Peering through their rifles, the shooters found nothing but success as they promptly pulled the bolt action slides back, slipping in another round. Another volley of shots rang out, another hundred fell, this time, the officers rushed forward, mustering their regiment forward, spurring them towards the line. Another crack of thunder, but this time, the heads, limbs, and torsos of orcish officers blew up, their lifeless bodies slumping into pools of their blood.

Vance couldn't help but watch with cold indifference from his spot as his plan was working better than he had initially thought it would as the two regiments of line paused, looking for guidance. Then, Vance turned to the Captain in command, giving him a nod to continue firing.

A curt nod was made in reply before the hunter refocused his sight through the thin brass tube. Another crack, more cries rang out, the panic in the formation became more evident as some started to back away, fear getting the best of them as round after round slammed into the mass of soldiery.

This felt like cheating, or rather, it was cheating. Vance saw two whole regiments of line infantry pause and quickly crumbled away by only a minute worth of volleys from extreme range. Otherwise known as the Luna Longarms, the chassepot copycats could fire eight to fifteen rounds a minute at thirteen hundred yards. The marksmen rifles exceeded that at sixteen hundred yards. Peering down the field, more men died as more shots were fired.

"This... is too much." So Vance thought, shaking his head at the slaughter before him.

Within moments, what remained of the two lines of foot were broken and running away. No officer or NCO to keep them in line, and if there were, they were far too afraid to make themselves known to the ghosts that fired from the tree-line. With the marksmen job done, Vance stood up, pulling his sabre free from its sheath.

"Marines! Forward! Push the enemy!"

The sound of six hundred men and women rising as one quickly filled the air before they emerged from the safety of the woods, resplendent in their armour, the sun's light bouncing off their cuirasses as the first two company's emerged.

"Advance at the ready!" Vance bellowed.

The two hundred men and women brought their weapons up to a fire ready stance as they took to a V-formation while advancing. Suddenly, the sound of artillery came ripping through the air. Vance snapped his head over to spot the Kendirewen artillery open up, spewing rune balls of iron towards the massed formation of warthogs that began to make their steady advance up the centre. Askal replied in turn, firing their own cannon towards the marching mass of Kendirewen line.

Swiftly focusing on his front, Vance found the rest of the Askal army marching in tandem behind their mythical cavalry. Rushing forward, Vance waved the Dragon Marines forward into a double-quick. Given the wide-open expanse, there was no way the enemy couldn't see the shape of hundreds of armoured individuals rushing the exposed left flank, and a horn sounded off in the distance, prompting a whole wing of infantry to turn and face towards the Marines.

The Marines quickly formed two lines, one kneeling and the other standing, taking advantage of their superior weapons range. Each individual took careful aim as the enemy came within a few hundred yards, hundreds of massed rifles sounded as one, powder smoke quickly rising up as more rounds were loaded, the sound of bolts locking in place clicking out like a wave to Vance. The latter stood at the end of the formation now.

"Fire at will!" Vance barked down the line.

More shots rang out as one as the second volley erupted, sending more orcs crumbling to the ground. Each soldier began to fire and load at their own pace, some faster than others, all while Vance watched on, trying to gauge the distance and situation of the battle as it continued to unfold.

Another horn sounds off, this time followed closely by drums that beat to a tune unfamiliar to him, but not for long as he brought his gaze to see the hogs charge forward towards the centre. Seeing the situation, Vance grabbed the nearby Ensign.

"Signal the Wyvern riders! Have them engage the enemy cavalry!" Vance ordered, quickly rushing along and behind the two companies of infantry.

"Marines! Fire and advance. Keep the base of fire on them!" As he began to examine and watch the centre explode in plumps of dirt, flame, and smoke, he cried out the order to move.

But, despite the withering fire being brought upon them, the enemy charged on, seemingly undeterred. No fear at all, no hesitation could be seen in the enemy wedge that rushed faster than a horse towards the unprepared infantry still trying to prepare.

"Form square damn you... form square!" Vance found himself saying, begging, but it was too late. The orc cavalry smashed into the centre, carving a bloody path through the unprepared purple mass of soldiers.

Vance turned away, closing his eyes at the brutal sight; his Wyverns would need to fly hard and fast to cover the breach created by the orcs who charged onward down the line, only stopped by the reckless bravery of a handful of infantry. Such a sight would likely break the spirit of any army, but the courage of that regiment kept the army intact. Just as all hope was dashed, emerged a hundred Wyverns. Commanding the formation was Richard, who was the one and only person other than himself who could lead a troop of riders. Sweeping in low, the mounted riders quickly brought their carbines to bear, firing into the skulls of the hogs, the rune inscribed weapons easily tearing through flesh and bone, ending rider and beast with a single shot. The sight of his riders was enough to spark a cheer as a troop of Grenadiers rushed forward with bayonets fixed, killing and wounding the riders.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Vance turned to his own command, watching as they continued their withering fire upon the enemy, not taking a moment of pause as the enemy continued on. "Focus fire on the commanders!" Vance barked as he rushed up, bringing his carbine up.

Levelling his weapon on his forearm, he aimed and squeezed the trigger. His shot rang out in unison with the rest; an orc who had been waving and pointing in his direction soon threw his arms up, like crying out in pain as he fell to his knees, only for a second shot to blow clean his head off, spewing gore and debris on his nearby soldiers who began to break apart.

"Ensign! Wave Estrid forward!" He ordered, the young junior officer quickly running up, signal flag in hand.

Waving a pattern into the air, two more Marine companies emerged from the woods, with Estrid at the head, her sabre drawn as she waved her force forward. The reason for calling them up had to do with the sight that forced a shiver down Vance's spine-- cavalry.

This time, the standard Askalian heavy cavalry. This unit he knew-- or at least heard stories about during his time as a conscript. The Askalian Heavy Sabres, a battalion of royal guard cavalry that protected the Sultan, known for brandished large two-handed sabres that looked almost like machetes. Each rider was said to be seven feet tall and had the build capable of cleaving men in two with a single swing of a blade. Such stories were just that, though-- stories. But as they crested a small hill, Vance could tell they weren't just stories anymore.

"Holy... by the Gods, they're huge!" Exclaimed one Marine, who paused to gawk.

"Don't focus on them; keep firing on that enemy before they get any closer. Kill them all if you have to!" Vance barked.

He was correct, though-- they were huge.

"Shit..." Turning to face the new threat, he had to come up with something fast.

They were going to be here in moments and likely tear through his unit with ease. He couldn't order his men to focus fire on them either, not with what seemed like a whole division marching towards them, drawing ever closer. He would need Estrid to take the weight off of him, but she was still a ways away. Frowning, his options were quickly starting to fade, but he kept his cool, his mind not dwelling on the impending death before him. Seeing no other alternatives, he peered down at his sabre, nodding to himself. He'd need to charge them. A risky if not an entirely suicidal plan of attack, but it'd likely buy him and his Marines enough time to push the enemy back. No, such thinking would probably earn him the scorn of his friends if he survived.

Just as he was lost in thought, a bugle sounded off, this one coming from behind him. Twisting around, Vance saw the three regiments of cavalry come charging out and past Estrid's unit, swinging around the left flank.

"Haha! Fuck yeah!" Vance cried out as he watched the three regiments take on one large massed wedge formation.

Charging past Vance's unit, the two massed body of cavalry quickly closed the distance, smashing into a tangled mess of blood and gore. The cries and screams of men and women in battle came coursing out as the two massed formations clashed. Vance had his life saved and now he had his time. Turning to face the oncoming division of foot, Vance spotted his Wvyerns come swooping in, spewing hot lead down upon the enemy threatening their commander.

The enemy faltered, not sure what to do, and as the rest of the Kendirewen army came up the centre and right flank, the massed volley of thousands of muskets cried as one. The orcs began to falter, offering back a paltry volley in reply, trying desperately to beat back the enemy that now began to overwhelm them. Seeing his chance as Estrid's unit grouped up with his, he seized the initiative.

"Marines! Fire and advance as we move to charge!" He cried out, thrusting his sabre into the air.

The four companies of Dragon Marines quickly began to fix bayonets, the fear and excitement evident in their faces as the call to reckless action was made. The final move that would break the enemy. Vance didn't want to waste this chance, not when victory seemed so near. Just as he prepared to advance with his unit, the cries of men grew louder, bringing his attention over to the far right flank, where the Askalian line was. Much to his surprise, the entire Askalian right was gone, wiped out by a valiant charge by the Kendirewen cavalry there.

It seemed Anderson had played her hand, making another gamble. Seeing the left collapse and her centre reformed with the aid of Vance, she made a quick, calculated gamble that the enemy right would be weaker, likely and rightly believing the enemy would relocate some units to shore up the defences on the left. As the rest of the army joined, the Askalian army could do little in response. After five minutes of continuous fire and renewed cavalry charges, the entire Askalian force was put to a complete route as thousands of Askalian soldiers fled the field.

The Marines let out a ragged but joyous cheer as they watched the enemy flee. The enemy was defeated this day, and Kendirewen was safe-- for now.