Of Warriors and Victims

Velyann sat atop his horse, pointed towards the north west, the Eternal sitting north, where she had always sat since the beginning of time, unyielding and unmoving, preparing to watch the bloodshed unfold.

Her heat pelted down at him and his army behind him and with it, a soft drizzle pissed onto the plains of Capital, transforming it into a marshy landscape. No place to fight, especially not against barbarians attacking from a higher ground. One should never get entangled into a struggle, if the enemy's position gave him an advantage, which this one certainly did. They would trample them down with little trouble.

But the opportunity to choose the place of this fight had long passed.

The Ravians were behind that hill. How many of them? What were their plans? Their tactics for the imminent charge, if any? Velyann would have loved to know the answers. But he wouldn't. His spies had given him no intelligence about the enemy forces and their movements, less than they did on any other day even.

What were these bastards paid for? The only thing they did was to demand more money for ever worsening work. They were spineless, with no loyalty to anyone except themselves. Shame.

Their deployment was indispensable to any army, yet they had become arrogant in that knowledge and the lack of discipline had only advanced their arrogance.

In the distance, atop the hill that separated his troops and city from the enemy, Veylann could spot a single man, hands folded behind his back, who stared down at the army stationed several miles outside of the walls of Capital. He examined the troops, studied their structure, searched for gaps, incapable soldiers, through which he could break through to annihilate the rest. Or worse yet, to capture them. A truly talented general would do everything imaginable to get the chance to fill his own army with the troops of the enemy.

And Velyann was certain, that the general of the Ravians was talented enough to achieve such a feat. He studied with the best. And now he serve the wrong lord.

He cleared his throat, coughing into his fist, and turned his horse so that he could overlook his soldiers. The first rows were filled with the elite of the Ku, the legendary Three-headed Chimera. They were composed of three warriors, each trained to fulfil a special task. While each single man was a hero by himself, the combination of their skills were a thing of song and legend.

A shield bearer, who carried an enormous metal plate, forged in a way to give it a slight curve and an edge on the bottom, which he would use in conjunction with the other bearers to build a wall in the midst of the battlefield, a smaller shield, to shield his comrades and himself from arrows and even a sword, to fend for himself.

A spearman, who defended the improvised wall from invaders, who tried to mount it, stabbing them dead and building a second wall made up of the corpses of enemies, and at their sides they wore swords, one long, one short, to assert themselves in close quarters.

Lastly there were the archers, who attacked the approaching enemy from the safety of the shield-wall, retreating as soon as the enemy came to close and continuing their attacks together with the regular archers.

Truly, the Chimera was the pride of the Ku's warfare, the tip of the blade, which would allow the rest of the steel to drill into the flesh of any foe. And yet they were only the first defence of this glorious clan. The true backbone of the Ku were the proud, valiant men of the infantry.

Velyann surveyed the nervous mass of warriors. The backbone of the Ku was crooked and broken.

After the long and weary battles against the rebels of the Men, which lead to losses more often than it lead to victories, they were weary of fighting.

The soldiers stood in their lines, but instead of concentrating for what's to come they were talking with one another in hushed whispers, staring of into the skies or picking their noses, like a bunch of common goons, as opposed to the soldiers that they were.

Velyann swore that some of them were frantically looking around in fear, as if they were searching for a way to escape. His gaze fell onto a dark-haired man, who was doing exactly that. He was playing around with the pommel of the sword at his side, staring this way and that, drawing a map in his head of the battlefield no doubt. Velyann glared at him intensely. Of course, he knew the feeling of fear before a battle, he had been in his situation many times before, but a soldier could not let himself be overcome by fear. Escape was never an option for a soldier.

As the soldier finally met Velyann's intense gaze, his jaw dropped slightly. Swallowing, he averted his gaze, putting a stop to his efforts of planning his escape.

Subtly Velyann sighed. The boy was right in any case. This was not the time to fight. All of the factors were set against them. The barbarians had all of the advantages.

Doubtlessly, Velyann could have hid behind his soldiers as they stormed into the fray, retreating as soon as things went adrift, and he was certain that they would, and fast. But it would discourage the soldiers; they would break formation, as soon as it got too dangerous, flee and be massacred in the process.

Hiding simply wasn't an option. No, the only option was to stand at the front, sound the charge and lead it too, fighting and dying alongside the most common of soldiers. It would infuse them with a bit of hope, maybe the bit they needed to tip the scales in their favour.

An alarmed murmur, some frightful moans, filled the air, not just the infantry but the warriors of the Chimera as well. All of them stared at the hill, which hid their fate, mouths agape and eyes staring.

Velyann turned around as well. He wanted to behold the thing monumental enough to fill even the elite with fear.

What he saw made him freeze. He lost any and all control of his body, his jaw dropping, he only just regained control so as to not fall off his horse and piss himself.

Open-mouthed he starred at the giant, that appeared next to the enemy general. He was almost twice as tall as the man standing next to him, his muscles were gigantic, his upper body was completely exposed, save for a few leather straps over his chest and on his head sat a crown, the only comical thing about the man, as it was quite a bit too small for his enormous head.

What a majestic sight.

Kenra, king, leader and hero of the Ravians.

Velyann had never seen the man before, but he had heard many tales of his might, his grit and his brutality in combat. He had always been described as a gigantic man, more beast than man. Velyann had never paid those descriptions any mind, but now that he saw the man standing in the distance, he acknowledged them as true and, in fact, he had to wonder if the descriptions had been an understatement.

He ground his teeth, turning his horse so that his soldiers wouldn't have to behold the sight of their despairing general. Wouldn't have been good for morale.

He hoped to all that was holy, that this monster of a man would not participate in this battle. But the Ravians were known for loving to fight, to flourish in the face of death and their king would lead any and all charges, both the glorious and the inglorious.

This was a leader who survived the dangers of a thousand battles and shared his food with the most common of soldiers.

He had been trying to stay positive, but their chances grew slimmer and slimmer.

But he could not retreat. He wanted to, everything indicated that he should have, but he couldn't, no, he wasn't allowed to do so.

There was a tiny chance of safety. He was told, that a group of cavalry was going to flank the barbarians, saving the day. Nothing specific. He was neither shown the soldiers who would attempt this flanking, nor the officer leading the manoeuvre. All he could do was hope it would happen. If it were to happen, if they would flank the enemy, cutting off their escape route, they might crush them. They would only have to hold the lines. There was no place for strategy in this battle.

Maybe they would be able to kill a great deal of enemies, maybe they could fell the king himself.

Courage filled Velyann's body, a confident smile crept onto his face.

Again, he turned his horse towards his soldiers.

"Proud soldiers of the Ku!", he screamed, his voice booming with the determination he hoped to fill his soldiers with, "This is the day! Our last, glorious battle in this war against these beasts has finally come. We are the last line of defense of Capital, the last line of defense of our clan, the last line of defense of the entirety of our cultured world! If we fall, all of Aestruin will fall!", that wasn't true, as there were enough soldiers still stationed within the walls of Capital to deploy at least two armies of this size, probably more yet. Why the congress decided not to deploy any of these soldiers, and why their Magister Presidentis did not veto this decision, even though Velyann had lead many discussions about it with the man himself, was a question he knew not how to answer.

Why would they mount a defense outside of the city walls, and when everything pointed to a siege as well, when the morale of the enemy has reached its climax and their spirits were sharp?

Did Tunius' Art of Warfare not say that a foe who plans to siege your position is a weak one? Why strengthen their position at all by throwing meat at them to tear into?

Question upon question, none of which he'd get an answer for.

"The lives of our families, our loved ones, lie in our hands! None but us can save them. Only our swords can defend this land from the black barbarians of the burning North!"

Velyann heard a barking laugh, not out of his own ranks, but from his backside. The king of the Ravians laughed about his speech, immediately negating any and all morale it generated. How do you fight an enemy that laughs at your threats?

"The blood of our ancestors drives us and our descendants will long remember our heroic deeds! Our bravery, our fortitude, our love for our wonderful clan! I believe in each and every one of you. You're not just the elite of the Ku, no", before he finished his sentence he got off his horse, stroking its brown muzzle and stroking its dark mane, before clapping it on the backside and making it run away from the slaughter that was to ensue. He had no need for a horse, not with the tactic he chose, but he hadn't the time to lead it back into the fortress. At least he could save one life from this senseless slaughter.

Then he pulled his sword out of its sheathe and stabbed it into the air, a wonderful rapier with gemstones worked into its hilt, "You are the most fearsome, the most dangerous and most honourable warriors of all of Aestruin!"

A timid battlecry came as an answer, but they followed his example and stabbed their weapons up into the air.

"I do not care for my life. I will gladly die, if it means that my clan, my family, lives on. I will NOT allow these barbarians to destroy us, whatever kind of deity they claim to serve! Even if it would mean blaspheming the Gods. I. Will. NOT. Give up. I will fight until the last droplet of my blood has been spilled. And if I die, so be it!"

He was roaring now as he has never roared before. No other battle has ever demanded this amount of energy from him before it had even started. Many he had spent in his chair, watching the predictable victory, which had been laid before the first blade had even been drawn. But this one was going to be wholly different. He roared like the heroes did in stories of old, fighting against hordes of enemies, with a disadvantage in numbers and bloodlust, hoping that his roar would inspire his soldiers. He took any chance he could to raise morale.

"For honour! For glory! For the Ku!"

But even so, it seemed like he was only a beggar, trying to steal crumbs from a king's buffet. He was stealing all the crumbs he could, but did it make any difference at all? Would the king even realize his crumbs were gone, in between his feast?

Even with the crumbs he managed to get, he would surely starve, leaving the king more than enough for another meal.

Velyann turned around, this time on foot, like any of his men. Kenra still stood facting them, his arms crossed in front of his chest, his axe rammed into the ground next to him. The smaller man, the general of the Ra, stood next to him, back turned to his enemy. He gestured, his voice no more than an ominous conjecture in the air. He wasn't screaming or trying to excite his troops, instead he seemed to be explaining something. Velyann would've loved to hear his words, but he couldn't.

A woman appeared next to the man, but she didn't look like all the other barbarians Velyann had seen. Her skin was lighter, as opposed to the dark skin the barbarians had. In fact, it looked a lot like the colour of the skin a midlander might have had. In her hand she held a long, thick stick. It looked nothing like a weapon, not one that was fit for a battlefield at least. She talked to the commander, who disrupted his speech to talk to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. After a while of back and forth she walked away and the general carried on with his speech.

He waited for all of this to pass. The chilling silence before the fatal storm. He could have demanded for the banging of the drums, the blowing of the horn, but he wanted to wait. He was ready to rush into battle, but they were the defenders. They couldn't storm at an enemy that was sitting on top of a hill, especially since the grassy plains were turned into fields of mud. They had to wait.

The general now turned, gesturing towards his king, who tore the axe from the ground, ramming it into the air, as if it weren't any heavier than a regular butter knife.

"Honour in death!", he bellowed.

His roar was so loud, so blood-curdling, Velyann reckoned every single one of his soldiers could hear him, maybe even the city of Capital, several miles back.

Velyann's heart was in his boot and he had trouble getting it back to where it belonged.

Then the first drum hit, shortly after the second filled the air.

But the third one never happened. No horn was sounded either. Instead, Kenra gave another blood-curdling scream and started running. Little by little the Ravians appeared across the hill behind him, all of them were screaming, storming.

Men and women, their faces plastered in blood.

Velyann didn't anticipate them to charge like that, not from such a distance. He had miscalculated them completely.

"Shit. Drums! Horn!"

The drums were beaten and the horn of the Ku was sound. The elongated groan of the horn filled the plain, trying to fight the barbaric battle cry. To no avail.

"Chimeras! Move out! Construct the walls! Hurry!"

Officers and captains along the rows transferred the orders of their general and the Chimeras moved out, running as fast as they could, the shield bearers struggling under the weight of the metallic shield. Their deployment was a very finicky matter. He couldn't have them build the wall before the battle started, but if he had them do it when the enemy was too close they would all certainly die. He had not expected the enemy to charge like this. Every second counted.

The bearers rammed their shields into the ground, creating an improvised wall some hundred feet in front of them, the spearmen stood along the wall, building another wall of spears and the archers drew their bows, shooting several volleys into the approaching threat.

The arrows disappeared into the body of the hostile army, Velyann could not spot if any of them hit their marks, but the first few volleys were not meant to drastically shrink the enemy's numbers, they were supposed to decelerate the enemy, buy the shield bearers more time.

"Archers! Fire!"

These volleys were meant for decimation. The archers of the Chimera withdrew from the wall, as a gigantic cloud of arrows shot out above them, hailing down onto the barbarians.

"Reload!", he waited for a moment to give the archers time to comply, holding his sword up high before swinging it, "Fire!"

This time the volleys did significant damage. Velyann saw barbarians falling over, tumbling over each other, but the charge just kept going, some of them didn't stop even as arrows pierced their bodies.

They were close now. Velyann had trained for this scenario, he had executed it in the field, he's even taught it to younger generations. It was time for the glorious charge.

"Horn! Infantry! Charge!"

Again the horn was blown and this time, the infantry advanced, Velyann leading them at its head.

This was his moment. He felt his heart beat in his chest, its pounding filled his ears, overshadowing the drums, the screaming of the soldiers and the trampling of their charge. Just like it did in any other battle. He felt the fear of death, which followed him into every struggle. But what was worse by far was the fear he felt of disappointing his clan. Because every battle he fought, he fought for his clan.

"Don't pause! Make haste, comrades! Don't let them climb the wall!"

Velyann slowed down, just a bit so as to let the others catch up, waving them forth. He had no intentions to be the first at the wall. But he also had no intentions of falling back. He was going to fight at the front. They would remember him heroically.

He ran on, same as his subordinates, his brothers-in-arms.

Their morale reached its peak, they were screaming, bellowing, none of them tried to flee, they followed his example. Velyann might have just stolen a crump off the table of morale, but it was feeding his entire army.

The Ra collapsed onto the Ku, as a wave would break onto the coastline, mighty, but without any effect.

For the moment.

The first rows of Ra were stabbed to death, but the wall of shields did not hold for half as long as Velyann had hoped. In the muddy ground it was pressed aside, crushing the poor souls struggling to hold it up. The barbarians were breaking through the wall.

"No retreat!", Velyann screamed between each stroke of his blade, killing barbarians that tried to get over the improvised wall, "Let them struggle for every drop of blood!"

It almost seemed too easy. None of them truly tried to attack him with the intention of killing him, instead either ignoring him completely or turning to kill another man.

All of a sudden he stood in front of the man he did not want to have to meet, though Velyann doubted he was the only one who had this wish. Kenra, king of the Ravians, deadliest warrior of all the world. Now that Velyann saw him up close he seemed even bigger, mightier than from a distance. The king was casually mowing down enemies with his axe, even cutting some of them in half with each stroke, laughing like a madman all the while. Then his gaze fell onto Velyann.

"For the Ku!"

A clumsy strike, easily blocked, a whack of the axe, which launched the rapier out of Velyann's hand.

This was the end.

But instead of bringing his life to a violent closing, the barbarian king tried to grasp at him. Two of Velyann's subordinates jumped the king at the last moment, saving their general at the cost of their lives. Velyann fell over, landing awkwardly onto his ass, but they had still bought Velyann a precious moment.

He retreated, crawling through the chaotic mess of soldiers, stabbing at one another. He didn't mean to flee. He just needed a weapon.

"Sword, axe, something!", Velyann muttered, crawling in any which direction he could through the charging, elbowing mess of warriors, on a panicked hunt to find something, anything, he could use to defend himself with. Finally, he saw a sword, lying in the limp grasp of a fallen warriors bloody hand and grasped at it.

As he stood up he heard a horn. Not the Ku's Horn, not the barbarian's battlecry. A third. A new one.

He looked to the west. For a moment the battlefield fell silent, everyone wanting to see the source of the horn.

Then, over the horizon, came a cavalry, riding towards the two armies.

"Who's that?"

"They're here to save us!"

So it was true. Their back-up came, just as they were told. Velyann sighed happily. They would turn this battle around. They would crush the barbarians in their midst.

Another horn was sound, this time it was the enemy's. The Ravians were getting ready for retreat, as their king bellowed, gazing at Velyann.

"We're not done here! Hold fast!"

Their retreat stopped, just like that. Velyann grit his teeth.

"Retreat! Retreaaat!"

He screamed at his men, as the riders approached. He needed to make space, so they could trample over the barbarians, but keep casualties at a minimum.

But his troops showed none of the restraint and solidarity that the barbarian's did.

They pushed one another to get ahead, using whoever was behind them as a shield, sacrificing their comrades for naught more but a chance at life.

"Keep calm! Keep order!"

Velyanns cries didn't reach their targets. They ran, all of them, every single one wanted to be the first one out. But if everyone aimed to be first, then nobody would be.

As Velyann turned around to guess how long the cavalry would take to reach them, he was immediately rammed by a horse, thrown several feet through the air, landing like plump sack of shit, the sword flying from his hand and cutting into the muddy ground next to him.

Horses were rushing past them, crashing into barbarian and Ku alike, slicing open anyone they could get their blades on.

A severed head flew through the air, landing next to Velyann, before its skull was swiftly crushed under a galloping horse, covering him in guts and blood.

"Fuck me", Velyann moaned, as he tried to get up between the rampaging horses.

The next moment a hoof trampled over his sword hand, making him cry out in agony. Despite the pain he got up, his hand hanging limp at the end of his arm. He could do nothing else but stare at the horse that was now coming right at him, the rider giving a satisfied grin, as he lifted his blade to finally end Velyann's life.

Just then he felt an arm wrap around him, that spun him around, shielding him, as he heard the sound of a blade piercing through flesh. As he looked up he saw his saviour. None other than the king of the Ra.

"Retreat now!", the king growled, not out of fear or an actual desire to retreat, but because he had to, "We've got what we came for!"

Of course, he was worth a lot more to the enemy alive than dead. They wanted to take him prisoner. Torture him no doubt for information on their army, their treasury and their intelligence.

With these words the Ra ploughed through the rear of the cavalry, who have almost finished their path through the armies, already turning to dash through the remaining soldiers.

The Ra were fast and certain in their movements, whereas the Ku were floundering, trying to get away, fleeing haphazardly.

This wasn't a loss, as he hoped it would be, a heroic sacrifice, it was a complete and utter massacre, a catastrophe. He was captured and his troops were almost completely liquidated.

He couldn't let it end like this.

"Warriors of the Ku! Fight!", he wailed, still in the arms of the giant.

His soldiers didn't react and the few that did, didn't seem convinced.

Understandable, as it looked like he was being brought to safety, whereas they were dying on the field. But the enemy wouldn't treat him well, there would be no tea and crackers.

Velyann pulled out a small knife, which he kept hidden away on his person for just such a situation. His hands were tied now, all that was left to do was to pass along the crumb of morale, that he had stolen before.

"Fight to the death! Don't let them take this day!", he screamed, as he plunged the knife into his throat, blood pouring out all over his neck and his battered armour.

All he could do was hope, that this action would turn the course of this battle, that the intensity of his actions would spur his men on to fight for what's right.

He died as he lived. For the Ku. Because every battle he fought, he had fought for his clan.