charclone
Well-known member
No, they aren't. We are past the point where I'd add a subplot like that.I also wonder if these things may be related...
Chapter 100
charclone
Well-known member
A. N. The big one-double-oh.
Pina pinched the bridge of her nose.
Around her, the remnant senators she trusted enough to advise her, alongside officers that once served her father shifted uncomfortably inside the office. A few of them tugged at their collars, feeling the heat of the fireplace to be oppressive, certainly not out of fear of how Pina might react to such news.
"In short," Pina began to summarize, her voice making a few nobles flinch in anticipation. "My brother has been spreading rumours regarding my… relationship with my knights, disparaging their skill, and attempting to undermine my right to rule?"
"That… is a polite summation of the accusations the agents in service to your brother have made," One noble, braver than the rest, spoke. "The loss of status amongst the Senators has… also created a perception that you do not respect the traditions of our ancestors."
"Is that so?" Pina raised an eyebrow at the comment, drawing upon her father's lessons as she focused on the man. "Is that your opinion, or that of the people in the Empire?"
"Both," The noble stated bluntly. "The plebians have yet to see justice be done, the crimes committed by the senators, or a senate be formed from those that remain clean of criminal action."
"You are suggesting I form a senate from my supporters?" Pina noted. "And that Senate pursue justice against the criminal elements of the accused senators?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Then I shall take it under advisement," Pina nodded. "Is there any other bit of news that you wish to bring forward?"
The room was silent.
"Then I end this court session," Pina announced. "You are dismissed."
As the nobles filed out, her knights filed in. Only a handful; Bozes, Hamilton, Norma, and Grey. The others were busy with duties elsewhere.
"At least our money issues have been resolved, in the short term, thanks to Lord Richard," Grey grunted. "We also started to see support from NATO countries. A train dropped off several letters and packages. In addition to funds that have started to be collected."
"Oh?" Pina blinked.
"Shall I have some people review the letters and prepare responses?" Grey asked.
"I will handle that; thank you, Sir Grey. Hamilton, I believe several of my servants should be available for this task. Please have them sort through the letters under your guidance. They should have picked up on English by now," Pina ordered. "It would seem Richard's friends, and the efforts they asked us to make in support of their mission, have been successful."
"Yes, apparently, the demonstration of my sword skills has already gained worldwide renown!" Bozes' grin split her face. "Over a million people have seen the recording!"
Pina blinked.
"Were you… in full plate when you gave the demonstration?" She asked her blonde knight.
"Ah, no," Bozes, bashful of the lighter regimen she had used, coughed. "It would have… gotten in the way of demonstrating the proper posture and stances."
Pina kept her face smooth. Though in her mind, she could imagine just what sort of audience would gather to see a female knight, partially undressed and going through her physical exercise, would attract. There were probably less than a million people interested in lost sword arts on Earth, after all.
"Well, I am glad for you, but please don't let it interfere with your duties," Pina calmly, without blushing, said. "Now… speaking of Lord Richard, he has encountered a problem with the treasury of the city. That which belonged to the Empire has already been transferred to us, but the rest of the treasury is less clear on its ownership."
"How much is he asking to keep?" Hamilton asked.
"None of it, he is leaving it to me to determine," Pina sighed. "While the additional money would be beneficial, I have no intentions of being seen as a miser. I am tempted to permit him to keep it."
"Does that include the money seized from Imperial merchants?" Bozes asked. "If they were supporting your brother, well, the money would belong to you."
"He has left the merchants alone, an act I support," Pina explained. "Most of the money belongs to the city itself. Given it and the surrounding territories are to be handed over to him after this war…"
"I see your point," Grey nodded. "Well, if it is to be his, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to be magnanimous, but that is just my suggestion, Your Highness."
"Then I shall," Pina ended the topic with a nod. "How goes the training of new recruits for the Order?"
"Most of the nobles we've recruited are well motived," Grey's face shifted as he took on a more formal tone. "Some of the Equestrians have protested training alongside commoners or the relatives of Patricians and have been removed from candidacy. Without the facilities I had when training you and your first groups of knights, I cannot guarantee the same level of competency. However, I am doing my best to remove problem elements."
"I trust that whatever you can present to me will more than live up to my expectations, Grey," Pina gave him an appreciate smile and nod. "Now… Bozes, I understand some of my brother's troops tried to attack estates under our protection on the other side of the mountains?"
"Yes, only two dozen cavalrymen after a light snowfall, acting like bandits," The blonde knight reported. "Vefeater has led a lance to pursue them, as we know where they are operating out of. She has likely already crushed them…"
Rifles barked out over the snowy fields outside Italica. Despite the cold, and the regularity of the event, there were still many spectators watching Pina's forces drill under the watchful eyes of hired instructors from NATO.
In some ways, it reminded Pina of the early days of the knighthood. When she was under the watchful eyes of instructors as they drilled in swordplay and mounted manoeuvres, on top of other classes like etiquette.
Those were fonder, quieter times. When the idea that the Empire was unshakable and was the height of civilisation. When her idea of knighthood was finding the cracks in the Empire and fixing them; fighting bandits, protecting travellers from monsters, and living like the stories of old heroes.
Now, Pina felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Her father was dead, alongside her other brother. She was now, as a result, fighting a war against her eldest brother for the throne, a throne she didn't want. Before the Gate had opened, before NATO had come, she'd have considered anyone telling her it would happen was insane. The Empire had been at its height, she had once thought.
Now, the Empire's aura of invincibility had been shattered. She was slowly realising how backwards her people were compared to those of Earth. The Empire itself teetered on the brink, while people it had enslaved were now free, building a better society.
In the moments of solitude she found, she felt almost lost; when she wasn't struggling towards some solution to her current problems.
Her idea of the Empire as a just place had been shattered, most recently. A fact that she still struggled with, and she found hurt most of all.
As her horse, slowly acclimatising to the sound of gunfire, trotted along through the snowy training fields, Pina realised something.
She was to be Empress if she won. Without a Senate strong enough to oppose her; the seeds of corruption the senate had sown now bore their bitter fruit.
She could impose justice upon the Empire in the aftermath of the civil war, and build it up to what she once imagined it had been.
Pina swallowed at the prospect. Both the possibilities it offered and at the magnitude of the task.
To call it hard would be an understatement.
But… so was training to be a knight.
"Or a soldier," She noted with some amusement to herself, as a drill sergeant verbally laid into a group of recruits for some mistake. "But… that doesn't mean it's the wrong choice."
The half-elf, representing Dimmu's chimeric merchant allies, smiled politely as she was shown a seat across from Richard. A fire blazed merrily in what had once been the Legate's quarters in the city garrison.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," She began, her tone pleasant. "I am particularly grateful that we did not need to… encourage the Saderans to surrender. Such actions would have been costly. We would have done so, had you asked, as with the trade you have aided in that flows to and from Alnus, we are in your debt."
Richard noted her appearance. It was clear that her reason for being the 'face' of the organisation was her looks, though he had learned through Dimmu that she was a member of their leadership through her skills as well.
Given the way she sat and dressed, he suspected that her skills lay, at the very least, in manipulation. Given the organisation was, effectively, a merchant guild in the city, one more willing to reach into politically sensitive or neglected areas, he could imagine how she put those skills to use. They had, after all, avoided any problems with the Saderans for many years; despite openly operating as merchants despite their 'other' status, chimera not being considered human or demi-human.
But he had been forewarned and had prepared for her skills. Even if his counter to her skill was… a tad heavy-handed.
"Still," He said. "I should thank you for agreeing to meet with me over a meal. Though, I should let you know, we are still waiting on another guest."
"Oh?" The woman's smile faltered. "Is Lady Tara - sorry, Empress Tara to join us?"
"No," Richard shook his head, feigning disappointment to hide his anticipation. "She is unfortunately back at Alnus, dealing with some issues."
From the nearby balcony, the sound of leathery wings and scrapping claws striking the stone interrupted their conversation.
The half-elf lost some of her colour as she saw the two juvenile dragons trying to stick their heads in through the door and getting in each other's way.
"Hey!" Richard barked at them, without heat. "Your food is being brought to the courtyard, but if you keep trying to break the stonework, you won't get any."
The blue and red dragons froze, giving him their best attempt at pitiable looks. Which for the winged lizards, this amounted to pulling back to make themselves smaller and staring, causing the half-elf to shift in her seat.
"Go on," Richard shooed them off. "It'll be cooling off soon if you don't get down there."
He shook his head as the pair scrambled off the balcony. An unplanned, but advantageous event, he noted.
"My apologies," Richard resumed speaking to the unsettled representative. "Those two are… energetic about food, much like their master."
"They listen to you more than me," His countermeasure grumbled as she entered, taking the final seat after setting her scythe against a wall. "So, what are we eating?"
The half-elf did her best not to stare at Giselle.
"Something from Earth," Richard informed her with a smile. "A tad late in the season for it, but I was able to get several butterball turkeys."
He didn't tell them they were… not considered high-class food on Earth, but then, here, something slathered in layers upon layers of butter, a product that was hard to make with their level of technology and thus expensive? It was a show of wealth, without the expense. Absolutely a high class ingredient to the representative.
Giselle wouldn't care, as long as it tasted good. Fortunately, there were a few people he could borrow chefs from for this, not that he ended up needing to. However, he was admittedly curious why one of the mid-ranked chefs who used to serve Emperor Molt had chosen to seek his patronage.
"So," He said as the food was brought out. "I understand that your group is not interested in borrowing money from me, nor am I willing to fund expeditions in the spring, but that does leave me at a loss of what you are expecting from me."
The representative seemed to recover some of her control.
"Yes, the weaponsmith guild was begging to forge swords for the Long Patrol, weren't they?" She asked. "I also heard they pushed too hard."
"They pestered me and refused to grasp that the Long Patrol is not in the habit of engaging in close combat," Richard frowned. "The former light cavalry's idiocy notwithstanding."
"Oh?" The half-elf blinked. "What happened?"
Richard shrugged.
"They charged into the retreating Saderan infantry. They lost two horses in the act, and one of my people will never ride again," He grunted. "Something that should have never happened, as they are armed with rifles, to engage at long range. All because their former commander was used to cavalry charges, and he had encouraged the unit to carry swords."
He shook his head.
"They are being reorganised into a Dragoon unit, mounted infantry," Richard informed her. "It will not happen again."
Giselle snorted, as she devoured the mountain of food on her plate with a speed that disturbed both Richard's and the representative's appetites.
"I will do my best not to let it happen again," Richard amended, forcing himself to ignore Giselle's gluttonous behaviour, lamenting his mistake to invite her to a full meal, and took several bites from his own plate.
"Well," The representative coughed, averting her eyes from the blue draconid demigod. "We have no intentions of… requesting more from you when we already owe so much. Rather, we wish to understand how we can best aid your administration of the city, to ensure all parties prosper."
"I see," Richard eyed her for a moment. "Well, I will have to invite you to a meeting in the coming days, with a NATO economic advisor. I will warn you now, the city is going to see significant changes, but ones that can be profited from, if you are willing to remain competitive."
"In what manner of competition?"
"Accepting and integrating new ideas and opportunities," He answered. "Send some people to Alnus, to talk to local shop owners, if you want real examples."
"I shall do so, then," The half-elf tried to smile. It became a flinch when Giselle chose that moment to belch, after draining a large mug.
Pina pinched the bridge of her nose.
Around her, the remnant senators she trusted enough to advise her, alongside officers that once served her father shifted uncomfortably inside the office. A few of them tugged at their collars, feeling the heat of the fireplace to be oppressive, certainly not out of fear of how Pina might react to such news.
"In short," Pina began to summarize, her voice making a few nobles flinch in anticipation. "My brother has been spreading rumours regarding my… relationship with my knights, disparaging their skill, and attempting to undermine my right to rule?"
"That… is a polite summation of the accusations the agents in service to your brother have made," One noble, braver than the rest, spoke. "The loss of status amongst the Senators has… also created a perception that you do not respect the traditions of our ancestors."
"Is that so?" Pina raised an eyebrow at the comment, drawing upon her father's lessons as she focused on the man. "Is that your opinion, or that of the people in the Empire?"
"Both," The noble stated bluntly. "The plebians have yet to see justice be done, the crimes committed by the senators, or a senate be formed from those that remain clean of criminal action."
"You are suggesting I form a senate from my supporters?" Pina noted. "And that Senate pursue justice against the criminal elements of the accused senators?"
"Yes, Your Highness."
"Then I shall take it under advisement," Pina nodded. "Is there any other bit of news that you wish to bring forward?"
The room was silent.
"Then I end this court session," Pina announced. "You are dismissed."
As the nobles filed out, her knights filed in. Only a handful; Bozes, Hamilton, Norma, and Grey. The others were busy with duties elsewhere.
"At least our money issues have been resolved, in the short term, thanks to Lord Richard," Grey grunted. "We also started to see support from NATO countries. A train dropped off several letters and packages. In addition to funds that have started to be collected."
"Oh?" Pina blinked.
"Shall I have some people review the letters and prepare responses?" Grey asked.
"I will handle that; thank you, Sir Grey. Hamilton, I believe several of my servants should be available for this task. Please have them sort through the letters under your guidance. They should have picked up on English by now," Pina ordered. "It would seem Richard's friends, and the efforts they asked us to make in support of their mission, have been successful."
"Yes, apparently, the demonstration of my sword skills has already gained worldwide renown!" Bozes' grin split her face. "Over a million people have seen the recording!"
Pina blinked.
"Were you… in full plate when you gave the demonstration?" She asked her blonde knight.
"Ah, no," Bozes, bashful of the lighter regimen she had used, coughed. "It would have… gotten in the way of demonstrating the proper posture and stances."
Pina kept her face smooth. Though in her mind, she could imagine just what sort of audience would gather to see a female knight, partially undressed and going through her physical exercise, would attract. There were probably less than a million people interested in lost sword arts on Earth, after all.
"Well, I am glad for you, but please don't let it interfere with your duties," Pina calmly, without blushing, said. "Now… speaking of Lord Richard, he has encountered a problem with the treasury of the city. That which belonged to the Empire has already been transferred to us, but the rest of the treasury is less clear on its ownership."
"How much is he asking to keep?" Hamilton asked.
"None of it, he is leaving it to me to determine," Pina sighed. "While the additional money would be beneficial, I have no intentions of being seen as a miser. I am tempted to permit him to keep it."
"Does that include the money seized from Imperial merchants?" Bozes asked. "If they were supporting your brother, well, the money would belong to you."
"He has left the merchants alone, an act I support," Pina explained. "Most of the money belongs to the city itself. Given it and the surrounding territories are to be handed over to him after this war…"
"I see your point," Grey nodded. "Well, if it is to be his, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to be magnanimous, but that is just my suggestion, Your Highness."
"Then I shall," Pina ended the topic with a nod. "How goes the training of new recruits for the Order?"
"Most of the nobles we've recruited are well motived," Grey's face shifted as he took on a more formal tone. "Some of the Equestrians have protested training alongside commoners or the relatives of Patricians and have been removed from candidacy. Without the facilities I had when training you and your first groups of knights, I cannot guarantee the same level of competency. However, I am doing my best to remove problem elements."
"I trust that whatever you can present to me will more than live up to my expectations, Grey," Pina gave him an appreciate smile and nod. "Now… Bozes, I understand some of my brother's troops tried to attack estates under our protection on the other side of the mountains?"
"Yes, only two dozen cavalrymen after a light snowfall, acting like bandits," The blonde knight reported. "Vefeater has led a lance to pursue them, as we know where they are operating out of. She has likely already crushed them…"
Rifles barked out over the snowy fields outside Italica. Despite the cold, and the regularity of the event, there were still many spectators watching Pina's forces drill under the watchful eyes of hired instructors from NATO.
In some ways, it reminded Pina of the early days of the knighthood. When she was under the watchful eyes of instructors as they drilled in swordplay and mounted manoeuvres, on top of other classes like etiquette.
Those were fonder, quieter times. When the idea that the Empire was unshakable and was the height of civilisation. When her idea of knighthood was finding the cracks in the Empire and fixing them; fighting bandits, protecting travellers from monsters, and living like the stories of old heroes.
Now, Pina felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Her father was dead, alongside her other brother. She was now, as a result, fighting a war against her eldest brother for the throne, a throne she didn't want. Before the Gate had opened, before NATO had come, she'd have considered anyone telling her it would happen was insane. The Empire had been at its height, she had once thought.
Now, the Empire's aura of invincibility had been shattered. She was slowly realising how backwards her people were compared to those of Earth. The Empire itself teetered on the brink, while people it had enslaved were now free, building a better society.
In the moments of solitude she found, she felt almost lost; when she wasn't struggling towards some solution to her current problems.
Her idea of the Empire as a just place had been shattered, most recently. A fact that she still struggled with, and she found hurt most of all.
As her horse, slowly acclimatising to the sound of gunfire, trotted along through the snowy training fields, Pina realised something.
She was to be Empress if she won. Without a Senate strong enough to oppose her; the seeds of corruption the senate had sown now bore their bitter fruit.
She could impose justice upon the Empire in the aftermath of the civil war, and build it up to what she once imagined it had been.
Pina swallowed at the prospect. Both the possibilities it offered and at the magnitude of the task.
To call it hard would be an understatement.
But… so was training to be a knight.
"Or a soldier," She noted with some amusement to herself, as a drill sergeant verbally laid into a group of recruits for some mistake. "But… that doesn't mean it's the wrong choice."
The half-elf, representing Dimmu's chimeric merchant allies, smiled politely as she was shown a seat across from Richard. A fire blazed merrily in what had once been the Legate's quarters in the city garrison.
"Thank you for agreeing to meet with us," She began, her tone pleasant. "I am particularly grateful that we did not need to… encourage the Saderans to surrender. Such actions would have been costly. We would have done so, had you asked, as with the trade you have aided in that flows to and from Alnus, we are in your debt."
Richard noted her appearance. It was clear that her reason for being the 'face' of the organisation was her looks, though he had learned through Dimmu that she was a member of their leadership through her skills as well.
Given the way she sat and dressed, he suspected that her skills lay, at the very least, in manipulation. Given the organisation was, effectively, a merchant guild in the city, one more willing to reach into politically sensitive or neglected areas, he could imagine how she put those skills to use. They had, after all, avoided any problems with the Saderans for many years; despite openly operating as merchants despite their 'other' status, chimera not being considered human or demi-human.
But he had been forewarned and had prepared for her skills. Even if his counter to her skill was… a tad heavy-handed.
"Still," He said. "I should thank you for agreeing to meet with me over a meal. Though, I should let you know, we are still waiting on another guest."
"Oh?" The woman's smile faltered. "Is Lady Tara - sorry, Empress Tara to join us?"
"No," Richard shook his head, feigning disappointment to hide his anticipation. "She is unfortunately back at Alnus, dealing with some issues."
From the nearby balcony, the sound of leathery wings and scrapping claws striking the stone interrupted their conversation.
The half-elf lost some of her colour as she saw the two juvenile dragons trying to stick their heads in through the door and getting in each other's way.
"Hey!" Richard barked at them, without heat. "Your food is being brought to the courtyard, but if you keep trying to break the stonework, you won't get any."
The blue and red dragons froze, giving him their best attempt at pitiable looks. Which for the winged lizards, this amounted to pulling back to make themselves smaller and staring, causing the half-elf to shift in her seat.
"Go on," Richard shooed them off. "It'll be cooling off soon if you don't get down there."
He shook his head as the pair scrambled off the balcony. An unplanned, but advantageous event, he noted.
"My apologies," Richard resumed speaking to the unsettled representative. "Those two are… energetic about food, much like their master."
"They listen to you more than me," His countermeasure grumbled as she entered, taking the final seat after setting her scythe against a wall. "So, what are we eating?"
The half-elf did her best not to stare at Giselle.
"Something from Earth," Richard informed her with a smile. "A tad late in the season for it, but I was able to get several butterball turkeys."
He didn't tell them they were… not considered high-class food on Earth, but then, here, something slathered in layers upon layers of butter, a product that was hard to make with their level of technology and thus expensive? It was a show of wealth, without the expense. Absolutely a high class ingredient to the representative.
Giselle wouldn't care, as long as it tasted good. Fortunately, there were a few people he could borrow chefs from for this, not that he ended up needing to. However, he was admittedly curious why one of the mid-ranked chefs who used to serve Emperor Molt had chosen to seek his patronage.
"So," He said as the food was brought out. "I understand that your group is not interested in borrowing money from me, nor am I willing to fund expeditions in the spring, but that does leave me at a loss of what you are expecting from me."
The representative seemed to recover some of her control.
"Yes, the weaponsmith guild was begging to forge swords for the Long Patrol, weren't they?" She asked. "I also heard they pushed too hard."
"They pestered me and refused to grasp that the Long Patrol is not in the habit of engaging in close combat," Richard frowned. "The former light cavalry's idiocy notwithstanding."
"Oh?" The half-elf blinked. "What happened?"
Richard shrugged.
"They charged into the retreating Saderan infantry. They lost two horses in the act, and one of my people will never ride again," He grunted. "Something that should have never happened, as they are armed with rifles, to engage at long range. All because their former commander was used to cavalry charges, and he had encouraged the unit to carry swords."
He shook his head.
"They are being reorganised into a Dragoon unit, mounted infantry," Richard informed her. "It will not happen again."
Giselle snorted, as she devoured the mountain of food on her plate with a speed that disturbed both Richard's and the representative's appetites.
"I will do my best not to let it happen again," Richard amended, forcing himself to ignore Giselle's gluttonous behaviour, lamenting his mistake to invite her to a full meal, and took several bites from his own plate.
"Well," The representative coughed, averting her eyes from the blue draconid demigod. "We have no intentions of… requesting more from you when we already owe so much. Rather, we wish to understand how we can best aid your administration of the city, to ensure all parties prosper."
"I see," Richard eyed her for a moment. "Well, I will have to invite you to a meeting in the coming days, with a NATO economic advisor. I will warn you now, the city is going to see significant changes, but ones that can be profited from, if you are willing to remain competitive."
"In what manner of competition?"
"Accepting and integrating new ideas and opportunities," He answered. "Send some people to Alnus, to talk to local shop owners, if you want real examples."
"I shall do so, then," The half-elf tried to smile. It became a flinch when Giselle chose that moment to belch, after draining a large mug.
Chapter 101
charclone
Well-known member
A.N. Bleh. Essay due tomorrow that was a lot harder to work on than expected, and I have an exam the next day.
Wish me luck.
Sol's might was at his back as Zorzal stood before the assembled legions. The light and majesty of the sun kept the remaining cold at bay, as the Spring dawned with Winter's inevitable defeat.
If Zorzal had considered himself more of a poet, he might have made some witty phrase about the changing of the seasons mimicking the changing of the Empire, the stifling cold of Molt's reign being burned away by Zorzal's dawn, or some such.
But poetry was not Zorzal's art. He considered himself a warrior. A general.
His art was glory and victory.
Not that there would be victory today, as the legions were granted a final set of honours, his Frumentarii spread amongst them and handed their new weapons. Maybe victory would not come tomorrow. But it would be his.
Behind him, demigods shifted. Some were bored, while others were just impatient, according to Sol. Out of all of them, Zufmuut's demigod attracted Zorzal's attention.
She stood as stiff as the soldiers. Her weapon, made from her heart and blood, or so he heard, was at her side. She lacked the physique he preferred, but he wasn't going to try anything there, even if he fought to keep her crimson eyes out of his head. A brighter shade than Tyuule's, that contrasted nicely with her dress and hair.
Zorzal tugged his attention back to the soldiers.
He had delivered his speech, roused their spirits, enflamed their hearts, and denounced his sister. He didn't believe that she had abandoned the gods, as commented by some advisor who had spread the rumours, not with what Sol had told him.
A battle between gods, with himself as one of the proxies?
It was something out of the oldest myths. It was the sort of thing that made enduring legacies.
When, after a millennium of ruling, he ascended, he looked forward to seeing the praises sung in his name about this war, long after his body was gone.
But before that, he needed to defeat his sister and actually win the civil war.
After she was defeated, her nonsense ended, NATO would be next. There, he believed what he said about them. They were godless barbarians. Cowards, too, unlike his men. Perhaps, at one point, they had been men, but their weapons had made them soft. But it would take time. Bouro's informants had finally gotten through, delivering word that the otherworlders were arming her.
There was disturbing news about mercenaries from Elbe and other former vassals, who would need to be put back in line, joining her banner, even a Warrior Bunny army marching against the port near NATO's territory, but Zorzal dismissed them.
The Warrior Bunnies were not sailors. They had never used ships. So, maybe they'd take the city, then drown when they tried to cross. Still, Zorzal made a mental note to ensure the nearby ports were at least partially defended.
A chill broke through the warmth of Sol's rays.
"I'm headed inside," He announced to his aides, before turning around and walking away. The demigods scattered as he left, each to their own desire. Zufmuut's demigod, Zorzal noticed, headed towards the kitchens.
What was her name again? Zorzal briefly wondered. Maple, wasn't it?
"Mabel Forn," Sol whispered into his ear. "Do not risk insulting your equals. You are Emperor, yes. But an Emperor is below the chosen of the gods. You are equal to them in status. Do not forget that."
Zorzal snorted.
"I am not so arrogant as to think I can trample on those of the gods," He huffed. "Now, if she approached me…"
"A separate issue, Emperor," Sol almost sounded frustrated. "Do not forget that your foe will have demigods, as well."
"They aren't going to interfere unless we are losing, anyway," Zorzal laughed as he entered his study, making no comment at the strange shift in topic. It was mildly amusing, to the young Emperor, how Sol wanted to know as little as possible about Zorzal's carousing. He was tempted to indulge a little, just to annoy him and be contrarian. "We won't lose. So it won't matter. Pina's play knights will be crushed by real soldiers. Her legions are the real threat, and we are better equipped."
"Perhaps, but do not become overconfident," Sol cautioned, with a hint of humour. "Now, I believe Bouro has news for you."
"Bouro," The emperor-demigod called out. "I hope the news you bring is about my father's murderer."
"Sadly, Your Imperial Highness, I do not and can offer no excuses," The snivelling weasel crept out of a shadow, failing to hide his discomfort at being found before he could say anything. "However, I do have new news of your sister."
"Oh?" Zorzal sat down, leaning back. "And where does she plan to march?"
"Through the pass near Italica, and head straight to the Imperial City along the main trade route," Bouro said. "Her forces set out several days ago, according to my messenger. Shall I order wyverns or troops to delay their passage?"
"No," Zorzal grinned. "Make sure the wyverns keep running messages. I want to know how she tries, and fails, to crush the border garrison legions. And how much of her forces were equipped with NATO's weapons."
"As you wish," Bouro nodded. "I will ensure your wishes are carried out."
"Gods, these beasts reek," One legionary complained as they marched. "Why'd the Emperor hire them, anyway?"
"Would you rather face the enemy without some demihumans to take hits?" Another grunted as the column marched. Past them, lines of cavalry rode.
The beasts in question rode amongst them. Kobolds lopping alongside, strange dire wolves commanded by mercenaries, towering ogres, even some centaurs.
Further behind them, their normal auxiliaries marched. Elves and orcs made up the bulk. Those, the soldiers were much more comfortable with, but the new war beasts and demihumans were unknown. Poor reputations and unsightly appearances set the soldiers on edge.
"Whatever the Emperor commands," A third joined the conversation. "I'll obey. Especially with these new weapons!"
The third legionary strokes the tube attached to his spear.
"I'll obey, he's the Emperor," The first snorted. "Not to mention, we have the gods on our side. Just a matter of time until we march back through the Gate and teach the barbarians the error of their arrogance."
The second soldier rolled his eyes.
"Personally, I just want to serve, like my father and his father did."
"An honourable intention," A fourth voice cut in. "But you would do well to serve with distinction and loyalty."
All three of the legionaries flinched as they glanced over at the strangely dressed soldier riding alongside them. The uniform was new, a form of bright, gilded plate mail, with a wolf's head emblem on its breast. A Frumentarii.
"Yes, Frumentarii!" The second legionary barked after a moment of marching in tense silence.
"Carry on," The Frumentarii just shrugged, and galloped ahead to join the rest of his unit.
"We got lucky," The first legionary sighed, the soldiers around them nodding, many pale.
"So, I know they're the eyes and ears of the Emperor, but…" A fourth soldier joined in, his armour polished and his face still with obvious signs of youth. "How bad are they?"
"Their commander is a ruthless bastard," The first grumbled. "But the worst part? I heard they have the authority to order decimation."
A silence fell over the unit.
"Thank the gods we didn't provoke him, then," Fourth sighed in relief. "Would they have…?"
"Maybe, it's just rumours," The second said. "But, well, with what happened to the Patricians and the Equestrians…"
The rest of the march was silent until they made camp for the night.
"Mind if I join you?" The fourth legionary asked the other three, late that night, carrying a bowl of soup.
"Go ahead," The second grunted. "Just don't steal any of the food."
"Wouldn't dream of it," The fourth snorted. "So, what units are you with?"
"Fire spear launchers," The first nodded, adding fuel to their campfire. "Same as this idiot here."
"So am I," The third grinned. "Love at first sight. That fire spear… ah, I'll leave more than a few of those Knights of the Rose in shock at my prowess."
His crude joke was accompanied by a waggling of his eyebrows.
"If your spear is burning, no woman will have you," The second gave him a look. "Go see a healer before you ruin the good whores along the campaign. I hate it when my spear itches."
All four of them burst into laughter.
"So, boy," The first soldier turned to the fourth. "How old are you?"
"Sixteen summers," He replied. "You?"
"Eighteen, with a year's experience out east," The first replied, before nudging the second with his shoulder. "Same as this lug next to me. Oh, and you didn't say what your unit was."
"Fire Spear carriers," The fourth replied. With a proud smile, he added. "I got a citation for the speed of my rearming."
"Well, I look forward to your aid in tending my spear," The third made another bawdy joke, this one earning eyerolls. "Aside from the other two, I served in the town watch before I enlisted. Nineteen."
"Most of the reborn legions are young," The second nodded. "And to correct my friend here, I'm twenty, but I did serve for a year elsewhere before being called to the capital to join the new legions."
"What happened to your old one?" The fourth legionary asked out of curiosity.
He was rewarded with a dark look from all three of the others.
"Sent further East," The first said for himself and the second.
"North," The third said. "The Emperor doesn't trust their commanders, so they were stripped of some cohorts and sent to other garrisons, to free others. I spent most of the winter helping Centurions train new recruits like you."
"Personally," The second said. "To change the topic back to weapons… I prefer to stick my sword into people."
"One sword for the ladies, the other for the foe, and don't mess them up?" The first quoted an old marching song.
"That," The second soldier nodded to his friend. "And because it's how my father and grandfather fought. I'm alright with this fire spear but… I prefer to face my opponent down, rather than from afar."
"I'm content not having to clean blood from my blade," The first soldier said. "But we'll face the foe regardless."
"To the Empire, the Emperor, the gods, and may Emroy take our souls," The third raised a mug in cheers. "We fight as soldiers, bound as a legion."
Wish me luck.
Sol's might was at his back as Zorzal stood before the assembled legions. The light and majesty of the sun kept the remaining cold at bay, as the Spring dawned with Winter's inevitable defeat.
If Zorzal had considered himself more of a poet, he might have made some witty phrase about the changing of the seasons mimicking the changing of the Empire, the stifling cold of Molt's reign being burned away by Zorzal's dawn, or some such.
But poetry was not Zorzal's art. He considered himself a warrior. A general.
His art was glory and victory.
Not that there would be victory today, as the legions were granted a final set of honours, his Frumentarii spread amongst them and handed their new weapons. Maybe victory would not come tomorrow. But it would be his.
Behind him, demigods shifted. Some were bored, while others were just impatient, according to Sol. Out of all of them, Zufmuut's demigod attracted Zorzal's attention.
She stood as stiff as the soldiers. Her weapon, made from her heart and blood, or so he heard, was at her side. She lacked the physique he preferred, but he wasn't going to try anything there, even if he fought to keep her crimson eyes out of his head. A brighter shade than Tyuule's, that contrasted nicely with her dress and hair.
Zorzal tugged his attention back to the soldiers.
He had delivered his speech, roused their spirits, enflamed their hearts, and denounced his sister. He didn't believe that she had abandoned the gods, as commented by some advisor who had spread the rumours, not with what Sol had told him.
A battle between gods, with himself as one of the proxies?
It was something out of the oldest myths. It was the sort of thing that made enduring legacies.
When, after a millennium of ruling, he ascended, he looked forward to seeing the praises sung in his name about this war, long after his body was gone.
But before that, he needed to defeat his sister and actually win the civil war.
After she was defeated, her nonsense ended, NATO would be next. There, he believed what he said about them. They were godless barbarians. Cowards, too, unlike his men. Perhaps, at one point, they had been men, but their weapons had made them soft. But it would take time. Bouro's informants had finally gotten through, delivering word that the otherworlders were arming her.
There was disturbing news about mercenaries from Elbe and other former vassals, who would need to be put back in line, joining her banner, even a Warrior Bunny army marching against the port near NATO's territory, but Zorzal dismissed them.
The Warrior Bunnies were not sailors. They had never used ships. So, maybe they'd take the city, then drown when they tried to cross. Still, Zorzal made a mental note to ensure the nearby ports were at least partially defended.
A chill broke through the warmth of Sol's rays.
"I'm headed inside," He announced to his aides, before turning around and walking away. The demigods scattered as he left, each to their own desire. Zufmuut's demigod, Zorzal noticed, headed towards the kitchens.
What was her name again? Zorzal briefly wondered. Maple, wasn't it?
"Mabel Forn," Sol whispered into his ear. "Do not risk insulting your equals. You are Emperor, yes. But an Emperor is below the chosen of the gods. You are equal to them in status. Do not forget that."
Zorzal snorted.
"I am not so arrogant as to think I can trample on those of the gods," He huffed. "Now, if she approached me…"
"A separate issue, Emperor," Sol almost sounded frustrated. "Do not forget that your foe will have demigods, as well."
"They aren't going to interfere unless we are losing, anyway," Zorzal laughed as he entered his study, making no comment at the strange shift in topic. It was mildly amusing, to the young Emperor, how Sol wanted to know as little as possible about Zorzal's carousing. He was tempted to indulge a little, just to annoy him and be contrarian. "We won't lose. So it won't matter. Pina's play knights will be crushed by real soldiers. Her legions are the real threat, and we are better equipped."
"Perhaps, but do not become overconfident," Sol cautioned, with a hint of humour. "Now, I believe Bouro has news for you."
"Bouro," The emperor-demigod called out. "I hope the news you bring is about my father's murderer."
"Sadly, Your Imperial Highness, I do not and can offer no excuses," The snivelling weasel crept out of a shadow, failing to hide his discomfort at being found before he could say anything. "However, I do have new news of your sister."
"Oh?" Zorzal sat down, leaning back. "And where does she plan to march?"
"Through the pass near Italica, and head straight to the Imperial City along the main trade route," Bouro said. "Her forces set out several days ago, according to my messenger. Shall I order wyverns or troops to delay their passage?"
"No," Zorzal grinned. "Make sure the wyverns keep running messages. I want to know how she tries, and fails, to crush the border garrison legions. And how much of her forces were equipped with NATO's weapons."
"As you wish," Bouro nodded. "I will ensure your wishes are carried out."
"Gods, these beasts reek," One legionary complained as they marched. "Why'd the Emperor hire them, anyway?"
"Would you rather face the enemy without some demihumans to take hits?" Another grunted as the column marched. Past them, lines of cavalry rode.
The beasts in question rode amongst them. Kobolds lopping alongside, strange dire wolves commanded by mercenaries, towering ogres, even some centaurs.
Further behind them, their normal auxiliaries marched. Elves and orcs made up the bulk. Those, the soldiers were much more comfortable with, but the new war beasts and demihumans were unknown. Poor reputations and unsightly appearances set the soldiers on edge.
"Whatever the Emperor commands," A third joined the conversation. "I'll obey. Especially with these new weapons!"
The third legionary strokes the tube attached to his spear.
"I'll obey, he's the Emperor," The first snorted. "Not to mention, we have the gods on our side. Just a matter of time until we march back through the Gate and teach the barbarians the error of their arrogance."
The second soldier rolled his eyes.
"Personally, I just want to serve, like my father and his father did."
"An honourable intention," A fourth voice cut in. "But you would do well to serve with distinction and loyalty."
All three of the legionaries flinched as they glanced over at the strangely dressed soldier riding alongside them. The uniform was new, a form of bright, gilded plate mail, with a wolf's head emblem on its breast. A Frumentarii.
"Yes, Frumentarii!" The second legionary barked after a moment of marching in tense silence.
"Carry on," The Frumentarii just shrugged, and galloped ahead to join the rest of his unit.
"We got lucky," The first legionary sighed, the soldiers around them nodding, many pale.
"So, I know they're the eyes and ears of the Emperor, but…" A fourth soldier joined in, his armour polished and his face still with obvious signs of youth. "How bad are they?"
"Their commander is a ruthless bastard," The first grumbled. "But the worst part? I heard they have the authority to order decimation."
A silence fell over the unit.
"Thank the gods we didn't provoke him, then," Fourth sighed in relief. "Would they have…?"
"Maybe, it's just rumours," The second said. "But, well, with what happened to the Patricians and the Equestrians…"
The rest of the march was silent until they made camp for the night.
"Mind if I join you?" The fourth legionary asked the other three, late that night, carrying a bowl of soup.
"Go ahead," The second grunted. "Just don't steal any of the food."
"Wouldn't dream of it," The fourth snorted. "So, what units are you with?"
"Fire spear launchers," The first nodded, adding fuel to their campfire. "Same as this idiot here."
"So am I," The third grinned. "Love at first sight. That fire spear… ah, I'll leave more than a few of those Knights of the Rose in shock at my prowess."
His crude joke was accompanied by a waggling of his eyebrows.
"If your spear is burning, no woman will have you," The second gave him a look. "Go see a healer before you ruin the good whores along the campaign. I hate it when my spear itches."
All four of them burst into laughter.
"So, boy," The first soldier turned to the fourth. "How old are you?"
"Sixteen summers," He replied. "You?"
"Eighteen, with a year's experience out east," The first replied, before nudging the second with his shoulder. "Same as this lug next to me. Oh, and you didn't say what your unit was."
"Fire Spear carriers," The fourth replied. With a proud smile, he added. "I got a citation for the speed of my rearming."
"Well, I look forward to your aid in tending my spear," The third made another bawdy joke, this one earning eyerolls. "Aside from the other two, I served in the town watch before I enlisted. Nineteen."
"Most of the reborn legions are young," The second nodded. "And to correct my friend here, I'm twenty, but I did serve for a year elsewhere before being called to the capital to join the new legions."
"What happened to your old one?" The fourth legionary asked out of curiosity.
He was rewarded with a dark look from all three of the others.
"Sent further East," The first said for himself and the second.
"North," The third said. "The Emperor doesn't trust their commanders, so they were stripped of some cohorts and sent to other garrisons, to free others. I spent most of the winter helping Centurions train new recruits like you."
"Personally," The second said. "To change the topic back to weapons… I prefer to stick my sword into people."
"One sword for the ladies, the other for the foe, and don't mess them up?" The first quoted an old marching song.
"That," The second soldier nodded to his friend. "And because it's how my father and grandfather fought. I'm alright with this fire spear but… I prefer to face my opponent down, rather than from afar."
"I'm content not having to clean blood from my blade," The first soldier said. "But we'll face the foe regardless."
"To the Empire, the Emperor, the gods, and may Emroy take our souls," The third raised a mug in cheers. "We fight as soldiers, bound as a legion."
Chapter 102
charclone
Well-known member
"The final count is six cohorts, two of which appear to be auxiliary demihuman," Grey reported, moving pieces on the map between them to outline positions. "They are moving to intercept us at the river, here. We can reach it before them and force them to cross to engage us."
Pina nodded as she followed the lines his finger traced; the result of several reports provided by mounted scouts. It was a long-accepted fact for the kingdoms and empires of Falmart that flying mounts were far more effective as scouts than cavalry. But that did not render cavalry useless in the scout role. They were cheaper and easier to maintain, easier to train, and were less prone to killing riders. Even more so when she had been able to bring vast numbers of horses with her when she went to Italica, for use by her knights. Several of these same horses were then traded for mounts better used for scouts, instead of heavy cavalry.
It was an unfortunate reality that her father had not been able to secure for her the Wyvern Corps, and what NATO had returned to her from the expedition through the Gate had been rendered unfit for warfare. It, and the hundred or so wyverns and small, trainable dragons it had, were firmly in her brother's hands. Much of its strength was situated in the Dumas mountains, a double-edged sword: It had taken many losses there at the hands of NATO, but it also meant the remnants were well positioned to spy on her army as it marched.
But that did still leave Pina with some options. Zorzal's wyverns needed to go back to their headquarters to report their findings. Her mounted scouts needed no such action, thanks to NATO's supplied radios.
This left her with a fast, light scouting force that could keep her updated on what they saw to a degree her brother's forces could not match.
"At present, our scouts are playing with the enemy: keeping them under the illusion that they need to prevent us from reporting back, while also ensuring his own scouts are too busy tracking ours to spy on our army," Grey tapped the map, circling the relative positions of Pina's forces. "If we can bleed them enough, we may be able to break through and get a more concrete look at their compositions. But for now, I am focusing our scout's efforts on maintaining the current stalemate."
"What is our plan to engage my brother's forces?" Pina asked.
"If they do not cross and engage in equal or greater numbers," Grey answered. "Then the other two legions with us can flank them. Crossing here and here in the forests will cover their movements, at least for a short while, letting them maneuver to the enemy's rear."
"Neatly bottling up their entire force," Pina hummed. "No reports from the scouts about any other formations headed towards us?"
"Not that we are aware of," Grey shook his head. "Bozes reported a minor clash with a militia, further to the south. The seventh legion took light casualties, but the militia surrendered after being scattered by her cavalry charge. The town's food stores are intact, but Bozes has refrained from seizing any of it thus far."
"Commend her for that," Pina felt some satisfaction at Bozes using restraint for once. "Our supplies are secure. If the militia will surrender their weapons, they will be released to tend to their fields."
"Yes, your highness," Grey saluted.
"Was there anything else?" She asked. Around her tent, her officers shook their heads. "Thank you. We will prepare to engage the enemy at the river, then, as Grey has outlined. You are dismissed."
Hamilton squeaked as she entered at the exact moment the officers tried to leave, resulting in a minor tangle, as the youngest and longest serving member of Pina's aides forced her way through. The bundle of papers in her hands combined with her lack of decorum spoke of urgency.
"Do you have something for me, Hamilton?" Pina asked her squire. Part of her was tired of the constant string of duties. The rest of her buried itself in them, to avoid thinking about whether she could bring herself to kill her countrymen.
"Ah, yes," The younger girl shifted nervously. "NATO sent a message; another two legions are headed towards us. Your brother is leading them. He may be planning on stripping the fortresses around the capital to pull more legions against you, but they said their spies believe he is looking to attack Italica."
Pina frowned.
"My brother… I'm not surprised he's coming straight for me…" She muttered. "But Italica? NATO would retaliate."
"That is their position," Hamilton nodded. "If he does enter Italica's territory, they will respond to the violation of the treaty."
Pina was tempted to pull back. To bait Zorzal into being slaughtered by NATO.
It would be faster. Easier. NATO would ruin Zorzal's armies and would do little damage to its cities… but she balked at letting NATO do the bloody work for her. Not to mention what a new treaty might cost them.
The princess took a deep breath.
"No," She said, firmly. "We will drive Zorzal back ourselves. Was there anything else NATO sent?"
There was a measure of understanding in Grey's eyes as he stood back, respectfully keeping silent. Hamilton looked as though she wanted to ask why, but she instead answered Pina's question, continuing her report.
"Yes," Hamilton nodded. "They sent several notes on what they have learned about Zorzal's new weapons, and what they may be capable of."
With this, the page placed the stack of sheets on Pina's desk, next to the map.
Wasting no time, Pina began to thumb through them. The details were not pleasant; many of Zorzal's new weapons used an alchemical fire. The fire spears, at least, seemed to have a very limited range, but it at least came with a trade-off of being relatively cheap to hand to soldiers.
Most of the alchemical weapons were not, to her relief. NATO's estimates put the number of actual weapons low, a result of their high cost. Still enough to equip multiple legions, but only in a support role. The images also gave her an idea of what they looked like.
"This is… grim news," She noted. "Was there any note on what units had them?"
"The ones around the capital," Hamilton answered. "But only the ones that Zorzal attached his Frumentarii to. It was in the report."
"Thank you," Pina yawned. "Alright, we are marching fast tomorrow, so both of you, get some sleep. I want the camp ready to move. Grey, when will we need to set out?"
"About three hours before dawn, your highness," Her stalwart teacher and officer informed her. "I will see that everything is prepared."
Pina still felt tired as her troops marched.
As befitting her station and rank, she rode atop a horse, as the troops marched. Mixed between her Saderan troops were mercenaries from a dozen nations, even a handful of demihumans that had accepted her coin.
Left behind had been most of the demihuman forces that had agreed to fight for her, in exchange for noble ranks. A large force of elves was still in the process of rallying, from various communities to the north of Italica, united under a trio of elves; newly made Senators.
It was not that she distrusted them, that she left them behind for this foray. But rather, she knew she could trust them. It was the senators left behind she distrusted. Unlike Richard, Pina hadn't the option to arm her forces with artillery. That meant sieges would be a bloody affair.
But it also meant she needed additional troops.
The fact that she could replace untrustworthy senators with more reliable ones, from groups who were still Imperial vassals, and snub the former vassals that had used NATO to leave, was a double pronged move that she felt her father would be proud of, even if the underhandedness was not a pleasant feeling.
It also meant she would have reserves to garrison or siege the fortresses in her way with.
"Princess, are you well?" One of her knights, a young woman she didn't recall the name of asked her as she rode by. "Your horse came to a stop."
"I am just observing the march," Pina replied. "Carry on."
"Yes, your highness," The woman gave her a concerned glance before nudging her own horse back into a trot to rejoin the formation.
Pina shook her head.
She was trying to distract herself again.
With a kick, she resumed the march.
By the time the dawn broke, they had reached the river. Her troops broke apart under the orders of their officers, forming phalanxes and setting up for a contested crossing. A radio report from the other two legions had confirmed that they were already crossing and prepared to encircle their foe. If the enemy lagged behind only a little, or if she could draw them into a parlay, then it would be enough time.
But first, came the waiting.
A part of soldiering Pina dreaded. A former Centurion, who had helped train the Order of the Rose before retiring, had told her that it was the worst part of any fight. The fighting was bloody, but it happened quick. The waiting, though? It lasted a lifetime, or so it felt.
Pina had learned that at Italica. Waiting for the next attack by the forces of the two sisters. Waiting for the next assault, the enemy having the initiative.
But today, ceding the initiative was to her advantage.
That fact didn't help her anticipation.
She didn't dismount as the troops arranged themselves. She simply sat on her horse as it ate some grass, watching the other riverbank.
The dawn rose higher.
A hush fell over her soldiers as the first of the enemy marched into view.
"Send a signal for parlay!" She ordered.
Her troops leapt to obey.
Part of her hoped that she might convince the legion marching against her to surrender, or even to side with her. But Saderan's had a tradition of not giving up in the face of death. A fact that had cost them legions; but had also snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.
With an unsteady heart, she waited as the flag of parlay was waved.
The enemy, scrambling to match her forces, separated by the river, seemed to pause.
An officer, resplendently garbed, accompanied by an aide, walked forwards towards the river.
With an aide of her own, Hamilton, Pina matched his position on her own side.
"Princess," The officer acknowledged her station with a clipped tone, half-shouted across the river's breadth. "I hope you intend to surrender."
"I hoped to offer your troops the chance to do the same," She replied. "My brother has perverted the office of the Emperor, turned the Senate into a puppet, and-"
"Enough," The officer barked. "You are no better. You have consorted with our enemies, sold out your pride and gods! You and the fools that follow you. Surrender, and they at least may live to see the error of their ways. You will be afforded the full dignity of your rank as a prisoner, but your troops will not receive the same courtesy. Certainly not the beasts you are employing."
Pina eyed the forms amongst the officer's own forces. It would seem that she was not the only one to use demihumans. She expected the auxiliaries, but… she recognised several of the monsters being goaded into positions by beastmasters as the sort dreaded by the commonfolk for their savagery.
The officer opened his mouth to say more, when a winged form hurtled overhead, landing behind his forces' ranks.
A moment later a runner hurtled towards them, stuffing a message into his hand, before spinning around and running back to his wyvern.
The officer read it as the figure departed.
He was silent for a moment.
"I compliment you on your cunning, your highness," He said. "You have quite thoroughly outplayed me and my commander."
"Will you surrender?" She pressed. "There is no glory to be won here."
"No, there is not," The officer agreed. "But I have my duty. And you must ford the river to pursue."
With that he turned and jogged towards his men, barking orders to march for the road at a double pace.
Pina sighed and shook her head, maneuvering her horse back to her forces. She could see what just happened. One of their scouts spotted her flanking legions, and rushed messages to the enemy legion commander, who sent out orders to withdraw, fleeing before they could be surrounded.
Soon, her cavalry was across the river, hurtling after Zorzal's border guard as they desperately tried to flee, and avoid being caught between three legions. The gambit had failed, but Pina's forces were still advancing.
Pina nodded as she followed the lines his finger traced; the result of several reports provided by mounted scouts. It was a long-accepted fact for the kingdoms and empires of Falmart that flying mounts were far more effective as scouts than cavalry. But that did not render cavalry useless in the scout role. They were cheaper and easier to maintain, easier to train, and were less prone to killing riders. Even more so when she had been able to bring vast numbers of horses with her when she went to Italica, for use by her knights. Several of these same horses were then traded for mounts better used for scouts, instead of heavy cavalry.
It was an unfortunate reality that her father had not been able to secure for her the Wyvern Corps, and what NATO had returned to her from the expedition through the Gate had been rendered unfit for warfare. It, and the hundred or so wyverns and small, trainable dragons it had, were firmly in her brother's hands. Much of its strength was situated in the Dumas mountains, a double-edged sword: It had taken many losses there at the hands of NATO, but it also meant the remnants were well positioned to spy on her army as it marched.
But that did still leave Pina with some options. Zorzal's wyverns needed to go back to their headquarters to report their findings. Her mounted scouts needed no such action, thanks to NATO's supplied radios.
This left her with a fast, light scouting force that could keep her updated on what they saw to a degree her brother's forces could not match.
"At present, our scouts are playing with the enemy: keeping them under the illusion that they need to prevent us from reporting back, while also ensuring his own scouts are too busy tracking ours to spy on our army," Grey tapped the map, circling the relative positions of Pina's forces. "If we can bleed them enough, we may be able to break through and get a more concrete look at their compositions. But for now, I am focusing our scout's efforts on maintaining the current stalemate."
"What is our plan to engage my brother's forces?" Pina asked.
"If they do not cross and engage in equal or greater numbers," Grey answered. "Then the other two legions with us can flank them. Crossing here and here in the forests will cover their movements, at least for a short while, letting them maneuver to the enemy's rear."
"Neatly bottling up their entire force," Pina hummed. "No reports from the scouts about any other formations headed towards us?"
"Not that we are aware of," Grey shook his head. "Bozes reported a minor clash with a militia, further to the south. The seventh legion took light casualties, but the militia surrendered after being scattered by her cavalry charge. The town's food stores are intact, but Bozes has refrained from seizing any of it thus far."
"Commend her for that," Pina felt some satisfaction at Bozes using restraint for once. "Our supplies are secure. If the militia will surrender their weapons, they will be released to tend to their fields."
"Yes, your highness," Grey saluted.
"Was there anything else?" She asked. Around her tent, her officers shook their heads. "Thank you. We will prepare to engage the enemy at the river, then, as Grey has outlined. You are dismissed."
Hamilton squeaked as she entered at the exact moment the officers tried to leave, resulting in a minor tangle, as the youngest and longest serving member of Pina's aides forced her way through. The bundle of papers in her hands combined with her lack of decorum spoke of urgency.
"Do you have something for me, Hamilton?" Pina asked her squire. Part of her was tired of the constant string of duties. The rest of her buried itself in them, to avoid thinking about whether she could bring herself to kill her countrymen.
"Ah, yes," The younger girl shifted nervously. "NATO sent a message; another two legions are headed towards us. Your brother is leading them. He may be planning on stripping the fortresses around the capital to pull more legions against you, but they said their spies believe he is looking to attack Italica."
Pina frowned.
"My brother… I'm not surprised he's coming straight for me…" She muttered. "But Italica? NATO would retaliate."
"That is their position," Hamilton nodded. "If he does enter Italica's territory, they will respond to the violation of the treaty."
Pina was tempted to pull back. To bait Zorzal into being slaughtered by NATO.
It would be faster. Easier. NATO would ruin Zorzal's armies and would do little damage to its cities… but she balked at letting NATO do the bloody work for her. Not to mention what a new treaty might cost them.
The princess took a deep breath.
"No," She said, firmly. "We will drive Zorzal back ourselves. Was there anything else NATO sent?"
There was a measure of understanding in Grey's eyes as he stood back, respectfully keeping silent. Hamilton looked as though she wanted to ask why, but she instead answered Pina's question, continuing her report.
"Yes," Hamilton nodded. "They sent several notes on what they have learned about Zorzal's new weapons, and what they may be capable of."
With this, the page placed the stack of sheets on Pina's desk, next to the map.
Wasting no time, Pina began to thumb through them. The details were not pleasant; many of Zorzal's new weapons used an alchemical fire. The fire spears, at least, seemed to have a very limited range, but it at least came with a trade-off of being relatively cheap to hand to soldiers.
Most of the alchemical weapons were not, to her relief. NATO's estimates put the number of actual weapons low, a result of their high cost. Still enough to equip multiple legions, but only in a support role. The images also gave her an idea of what they looked like.
"This is… grim news," She noted. "Was there any note on what units had them?"
"The ones around the capital," Hamilton answered. "But only the ones that Zorzal attached his Frumentarii to. It was in the report."
"Thank you," Pina yawned. "Alright, we are marching fast tomorrow, so both of you, get some sleep. I want the camp ready to move. Grey, when will we need to set out?"
"About three hours before dawn, your highness," Her stalwart teacher and officer informed her. "I will see that everything is prepared."
Pina still felt tired as her troops marched.
As befitting her station and rank, she rode atop a horse, as the troops marched. Mixed between her Saderan troops were mercenaries from a dozen nations, even a handful of demihumans that had accepted her coin.
Left behind had been most of the demihuman forces that had agreed to fight for her, in exchange for noble ranks. A large force of elves was still in the process of rallying, from various communities to the north of Italica, united under a trio of elves; newly made Senators.
It was not that she distrusted them, that she left them behind for this foray. But rather, she knew she could trust them. It was the senators left behind she distrusted. Unlike Richard, Pina hadn't the option to arm her forces with artillery. That meant sieges would be a bloody affair.
But it also meant she needed additional troops.
The fact that she could replace untrustworthy senators with more reliable ones, from groups who were still Imperial vassals, and snub the former vassals that had used NATO to leave, was a double pronged move that she felt her father would be proud of, even if the underhandedness was not a pleasant feeling.
It also meant she would have reserves to garrison or siege the fortresses in her way with.
"Princess, are you well?" One of her knights, a young woman she didn't recall the name of asked her as she rode by. "Your horse came to a stop."
"I am just observing the march," Pina replied. "Carry on."
"Yes, your highness," The woman gave her a concerned glance before nudging her own horse back into a trot to rejoin the formation.
Pina shook her head.
She was trying to distract herself again.
With a kick, she resumed the march.
By the time the dawn broke, they had reached the river. Her troops broke apart under the orders of their officers, forming phalanxes and setting up for a contested crossing. A radio report from the other two legions had confirmed that they were already crossing and prepared to encircle their foe. If the enemy lagged behind only a little, or if she could draw them into a parlay, then it would be enough time.
But first, came the waiting.
A part of soldiering Pina dreaded. A former Centurion, who had helped train the Order of the Rose before retiring, had told her that it was the worst part of any fight. The fighting was bloody, but it happened quick. The waiting, though? It lasted a lifetime, or so it felt.
Pina had learned that at Italica. Waiting for the next attack by the forces of the two sisters. Waiting for the next assault, the enemy having the initiative.
But today, ceding the initiative was to her advantage.
That fact didn't help her anticipation.
She didn't dismount as the troops arranged themselves. She simply sat on her horse as it ate some grass, watching the other riverbank.
The dawn rose higher.
A hush fell over her soldiers as the first of the enemy marched into view.
"Send a signal for parlay!" She ordered.
Her troops leapt to obey.
Part of her hoped that she might convince the legion marching against her to surrender, or even to side with her. But Saderan's had a tradition of not giving up in the face of death. A fact that had cost them legions; but had also snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.
With an unsteady heart, she waited as the flag of parlay was waved.
The enemy, scrambling to match her forces, separated by the river, seemed to pause.
An officer, resplendently garbed, accompanied by an aide, walked forwards towards the river.
With an aide of her own, Hamilton, Pina matched his position on her own side.
"Princess," The officer acknowledged her station with a clipped tone, half-shouted across the river's breadth. "I hope you intend to surrender."
"I hoped to offer your troops the chance to do the same," She replied. "My brother has perverted the office of the Emperor, turned the Senate into a puppet, and-"
"Enough," The officer barked. "You are no better. You have consorted with our enemies, sold out your pride and gods! You and the fools that follow you. Surrender, and they at least may live to see the error of their ways. You will be afforded the full dignity of your rank as a prisoner, but your troops will not receive the same courtesy. Certainly not the beasts you are employing."
Pina eyed the forms amongst the officer's own forces. It would seem that she was not the only one to use demihumans. She expected the auxiliaries, but… she recognised several of the monsters being goaded into positions by beastmasters as the sort dreaded by the commonfolk for their savagery.
The officer opened his mouth to say more, when a winged form hurtled overhead, landing behind his forces' ranks.
A moment later a runner hurtled towards them, stuffing a message into his hand, before spinning around and running back to his wyvern.
The officer read it as the figure departed.
He was silent for a moment.
"I compliment you on your cunning, your highness," He said. "You have quite thoroughly outplayed me and my commander."
"Will you surrender?" She pressed. "There is no glory to be won here."
"No, there is not," The officer agreed. "But I have my duty. And you must ford the river to pursue."
With that he turned and jogged towards his men, barking orders to march for the road at a double pace.
Pina sighed and shook her head, maneuvering her horse back to her forces. She could see what just happened. One of their scouts spotted her flanking legions, and rushed messages to the enemy legion commander, who sent out orders to withdraw, fleeing before they could be surrounded.
Soon, her cavalry was across the river, hurtling after Zorzal's border guard as they desperately tried to flee, and avoid being caught between three legions. The gambit had failed, but Pina's forces were still advancing.
Last edited:
charclone
Well-known member
Lack of training and supply lines, on top of being a very new technology for Pina and her people.
Same reason Richard doesn't use them, despite the fact that he knows about them better.
Oh, and replacement parts/recharging is kinda hard in a medieval army. Less of a problem for Richard, but he has a focus on getting his people equipped and trained first of all.
Still should use them in coming campaign.At least for 105mm guns.
Chapter 103
charclone
Well-known member
"You are a strange human, you know that?" A strangely familiar voice said.
Richard blinked and looked around, his body feeling strange. He found himself surrounded by a black, fathomless void. The last thing he remembered was going to sleep, after confirming the ships were loaded and ready to head out in the morning and that the weather report from NATO hadn't changed.
Turning to the source of the voice, he saw a pale, raven-haired elf, sitting in a bone-white, elegantly shaped chair. Her dress was an indistinct dark shape that draped itself across her torso and hid her legs, yet somehow distinct from the dark void around them. Across from her, another chair sat empty.
"Welcome to my realm," The elf said, before beckoning Richard to the empty chair. "Please, have a seat."
Crossing the distance to the chair took only a moment's thought. He found it a strange sensation; to move without moving.
"Who are you?" He blinked as he stared at the elf.
She smiled. Dark eyes stared back at him.
"While we have never met… you saw my end before I was reborn," She said. "I am Hardy's consort. I am Faerel, goddess of Apocryph, my dominion is that which lies outside the Gate, between worlds."
The name meant nothing to him, a fact that seemed to disappoint the newly named Faerel. But he did, however, now recognise her.
"The female Elf from the visions, near… what was it? The Huntress-Queen sanctuary? Temple?" Richard shook his head. "Where are we?"
"Temple would be the most apt descriptor," The goddess shrugged. "And we are in my realm, as I said. Few mortals are invited to these places, sanctums of the gods. To answer your next question, I brought you here to speak."
At Richard's confused silence, she continued.
"Any god may claim a demigod," She began before Richard interrupted her.
"No thank you," He rejected the offer out of hand. Then he cringed. Insulting a god while you were in their realm might not be the smartest move.
"I had to ask," She shrugged, unconcerned as if she expected the refusal. "But part of this war is also whether or not I am permitted to exist. In Zufmuut's eyes, I should not exist. No god should control Apocryph. But I do. Worse, I was dead when Hardy used the power taken from the dead god that I helped her kill to make me a god."
Richard caught on immediately.
"He's afraid that you might kill him," He said, half a realisation, half a question. "But what does that have to do with me? Aside from already being dragged into the war."
"Gratitude," Faerel said. "Both for aiding me, and for helping kill the Huntress-Queen. I helped forge your blade, to aid you in this war, but that was at the request of Hardy, in her repayment to you."
The elf summoned the sword with a flick of her wrist, the blade floating in the air between them. Its edge blended into the darkness around them as if it were part of the realm.
Which it could very well be, Richard realised.
"As a reward… I will tell you this: the blade can kill gods. I forged it in Apocryph, infusing its essence with the opposite of divinity. Anything it kills will stay dead," She said, staring at the floating sword. "Now, do you have any questions for me?"
Richard blinked, floundering.
"No?" The goddess smirked. "Then you had best wake up."
Piercing light forced his eyes to open as he found himself in his bed. Next to him, Tara grumbled. A moment later, his alarm began to blare its wake-up call.
With a groan, Tara sat up.
"Time to set sail," She grunted, noticing he was awake. "Are you alright?"
"… so, kinda a weird situation…" He struggled to figure out how to explain what might have been a dream.
Still uncertain and unnerved by the dream, if that was what it was, Richard carried on. The ships, a mix of local vessels with steel plates added to their hulls, merchant vessels that had been captured in port, and the four ugly ironclad screw sloops he had commissioned using engines bought on Earth, had all been loaded during the night and early morning, were now ready to set out.
Aboard one, dubbed Thunder Child, he waited as the wind-driven ships made their way out of port.
He paced in his quarters, hands clasped behind his back. The ship was loaded, it was merely a matter of waiting for the other ships to set sail and clear the harbour. But that left him time to think.
He felt… bothered at the lack of agency he felt. Being used as a puppet was certainly not pleasant. The sword, now that he had a better idea of what it was capable of, also made him uneasy. He would have liked to talk more with Tara about it, having only had the chance to tell her about the dream before they had to head in separate directions.
But Tara on another of the screw sloops, the Boudica, to ensure the chain of command survived, would leave just after his ship did.
Part of Richard wished she was on the same ship as him, so he could talk with her more about what he had seen, but he understood why it shouldn't be done.
The Elbish man he had hired as admiral, a former captain of a trade ship, knocked on the door to his quarters.
"Lord Richard?" He said. If he had any comments regarding the way his employer was pacing back and forth, he kept them to himself. "We are ready to depart."
"Should be about two days sailing, or thereabouts," The Elban captain told him, as they stood on the bridge, a short while later. "These ships could do it in half the time, but the other ships… they're slowed by the armour and cargo."
Richard nodded as he took in the sight of dozens of sails spread across the horizon around the Thunder Child. It was a tad intimidating, to know that this large fleet was under his command. True, it was antiquated; the vast majority were powered by sails, but there was still a large number of ships and people.
"Weather should hold," The captain carried on, unaware of Richard's thoughts. "And no pirate would dare attack us here."
A hushed whisper fell over the bridge crew as a demigod entered.
"How long until we eat?" Giselle asked, disregarding looks from the crew. Sailors from other ships the Thunder Child passed blatantly stared at her form.
Richard blinked as he came to his senses. Giselle would probably be able to answer his questions.
"Not for some time yet," He told her, stepping forward to guide her out of the bridge. "Plus, we're on ship rations, which limits our ability to indulge you."
The draconian woman narrowed her eyes into a glare at him.
"Just because I can't die of starvation, doesn't mean it's pleasant," Her scythe came closer to his neck from where it sat on her shoulders.
"What I mean," He replied firmly. "is that you will be getting the same amount of food as the rest of us. Plus whatever you can con out of the locals."
"Oh," Her tone shifted from accusatory to disappointed in an instant. "I guess that's fair."
She blinked.
"What do you mean con!?" She shouted. Then she continued haughtily. "It would be a willing donation from the faithful."
Richard just rolled her eyes.
"You enjoy food, don't you," He chuckled. "That what you plan to be a god of?"
"Eh, not really," Giselle shrugged, her wings mimicking her shoulders in the motion. "Haven't decided on that. I have loads of years before I need to."
"Speaking of gods…" Richard took a breath, steeling himself to ask her about the dream and Faerel. Then blinked as water hit his face.
"Rain?" He blinked, looking towards the horizon. "Shit."
"No," Giselle growled, her scythe coming to a ready position. "It's not natural… damnit. Someone's breaking the rules."
"A demigod?"
"No," Giselle sighed, shaking her head. "There's probably one coming, but the storm was made by their patron god. Probably that goddess of Piracy. She sided with Zufmuut."
"I'll have to ask you to explain that later," Richard grunted as he saw the wall of the storm closing, growing with each breath. Then he turned back into the bridge. "Captain, radio the rest of the fleet. That storm is a god's doing. Maintain radio contact, stick together, and if separated, head back to our port!"
Even as fast as it appeared, the storm hit them faster than Richard had expected. They quickly lost sight of the other ships, tossed about by the titanic waves.
"Report from NATO!" A shout came from the radio room behind the bridge. "They got a plane over the eye! It's stable, but there are ships waiting there!"
The captain didn't wait for Richard's reaction.
"Radio the other ships, tell them to head straight for the eye!" He barked. "Only safe place to go!"
A wave crashed against the side of the ship, rocking it to one side. Giselle, looking greener than normal, groaned. Richard simply held onto the doorframe with a grim look.
The engine below the hull roared as the small engineering team poured more power through it, making the vessel crash through the dark waters of the storm.
Tension seemed to grow aboard the ship, as the crew silently did their duties. Lightning and thunder spoke out as their vessel fought through the waves.
The wall of the eye grew ahead of them; a wall of rain and wind.
The ship burst through it before they had a chance to utter a word.
Richard flinched at the light on the other side. As he blinked, a call from a lookout over the intercom, thankfully still working, came.
The captain snorted.
"Servants of the Black Heart," He spat to the side onto the wooden floor. "Pirates sworn to a dark god. That explains the storm, but I've never heard of them coming this far West."
"Battlestations, captain?" Richard asked the experienced sailor.
"Aye, aye," The captain gave him a nod, then looked to his first mate. "Battlestations. Time to sink these pirates."
"What's the status of the fleet?" Richard turned to the radio.
"Ah… ships are still scattered," The radio operator replied. "Looks like… hang on, Boudica just reported they got through the wall."
Richard sighed in relief. Tara's ship was safe, then.
"Two ships against a pirate fleet," He snorted, glancing out the windows of the Thunder Child's Bridge. The crew hurriedly checked the Oerlikons and the handful of recoilless rifles attached to the deck. "This will be a slaughter. Here's hoping they surrender."
Giselle, on unsteady legs, pushed herself up against the wall.
"They won't," She grunted. "Fanatical zealots."
The captain gave a grim smile.
"Good," He said. "Less scum in the ocean then. Helm, take us in, full speed. All guns, prepare to fire once we enter range. Let's see how they like being prey."
Richard blinked and looked around, his body feeling strange. He found himself surrounded by a black, fathomless void. The last thing he remembered was going to sleep, after confirming the ships were loaded and ready to head out in the morning and that the weather report from NATO hadn't changed.
Turning to the source of the voice, he saw a pale, raven-haired elf, sitting in a bone-white, elegantly shaped chair. Her dress was an indistinct dark shape that draped itself across her torso and hid her legs, yet somehow distinct from the dark void around them. Across from her, another chair sat empty.
"Welcome to my realm," The elf said, before beckoning Richard to the empty chair. "Please, have a seat."
Crossing the distance to the chair took only a moment's thought. He found it a strange sensation; to move without moving.
"Who are you?" He blinked as he stared at the elf.
She smiled. Dark eyes stared back at him.
"While we have never met… you saw my end before I was reborn," She said. "I am Hardy's consort. I am Faerel, goddess of Apocryph, my dominion is that which lies outside the Gate, between worlds."
The name meant nothing to him, a fact that seemed to disappoint the newly named Faerel. But he did, however, now recognise her.
"The female Elf from the visions, near… what was it? The Huntress-Queen sanctuary? Temple?" Richard shook his head. "Where are we?"
"Temple would be the most apt descriptor," The goddess shrugged. "And we are in my realm, as I said. Few mortals are invited to these places, sanctums of the gods. To answer your next question, I brought you here to speak."
At Richard's confused silence, she continued.
"Any god may claim a demigod," She began before Richard interrupted her.
"No thank you," He rejected the offer out of hand. Then he cringed. Insulting a god while you were in their realm might not be the smartest move.
"I had to ask," She shrugged, unconcerned as if she expected the refusal. "But part of this war is also whether or not I am permitted to exist. In Zufmuut's eyes, I should not exist. No god should control Apocryph. But I do. Worse, I was dead when Hardy used the power taken from the dead god that I helped her kill to make me a god."
Richard caught on immediately.
"He's afraid that you might kill him," He said, half a realisation, half a question. "But what does that have to do with me? Aside from already being dragged into the war."
"Gratitude," Faerel said. "Both for aiding me, and for helping kill the Huntress-Queen. I helped forge your blade, to aid you in this war, but that was at the request of Hardy, in her repayment to you."
The elf summoned the sword with a flick of her wrist, the blade floating in the air between them. Its edge blended into the darkness around them as if it were part of the realm.
Which it could very well be, Richard realised.
"As a reward… I will tell you this: the blade can kill gods. I forged it in Apocryph, infusing its essence with the opposite of divinity. Anything it kills will stay dead," She said, staring at the floating sword. "Now, do you have any questions for me?"
Richard blinked, floundering.
"No?" The goddess smirked. "Then you had best wake up."
Piercing light forced his eyes to open as he found himself in his bed. Next to him, Tara grumbled. A moment later, his alarm began to blare its wake-up call.
With a groan, Tara sat up.
"Time to set sail," She grunted, noticing he was awake. "Are you alright?"
"… so, kinda a weird situation…" He struggled to figure out how to explain what might have been a dream.
Still uncertain and unnerved by the dream, if that was what it was, Richard carried on. The ships, a mix of local vessels with steel plates added to their hulls, merchant vessels that had been captured in port, and the four ugly ironclad screw sloops he had commissioned using engines bought on Earth, had all been loaded during the night and early morning, were now ready to set out.
Aboard one, dubbed Thunder Child, he waited as the wind-driven ships made their way out of port.
He paced in his quarters, hands clasped behind his back. The ship was loaded, it was merely a matter of waiting for the other ships to set sail and clear the harbour. But that left him time to think.
He felt… bothered at the lack of agency he felt. Being used as a puppet was certainly not pleasant. The sword, now that he had a better idea of what it was capable of, also made him uneasy. He would have liked to talk more with Tara about it, having only had the chance to tell her about the dream before they had to head in separate directions.
But Tara on another of the screw sloops, the Boudica, to ensure the chain of command survived, would leave just after his ship did.
Part of Richard wished she was on the same ship as him, so he could talk with her more about what he had seen, but he understood why it shouldn't be done.
The Elbish man he had hired as admiral, a former captain of a trade ship, knocked on the door to his quarters.
"Lord Richard?" He said. If he had any comments regarding the way his employer was pacing back and forth, he kept them to himself. "We are ready to depart."
"Should be about two days sailing, or thereabouts," The Elban captain told him, as they stood on the bridge, a short while later. "These ships could do it in half the time, but the other ships… they're slowed by the armour and cargo."
Richard nodded as he took in the sight of dozens of sails spread across the horizon around the Thunder Child. It was a tad intimidating, to know that this large fleet was under his command. True, it was antiquated; the vast majority were powered by sails, but there was still a large number of ships and people.
"Weather should hold," The captain carried on, unaware of Richard's thoughts. "And no pirate would dare attack us here."
A hushed whisper fell over the bridge crew as a demigod entered.
"How long until we eat?" Giselle asked, disregarding looks from the crew. Sailors from other ships the Thunder Child passed blatantly stared at her form.
Richard blinked as he came to his senses. Giselle would probably be able to answer his questions.
"Not for some time yet," He told her, stepping forward to guide her out of the bridge. "Plus, we're on ship rations, which limits our ability to indulge you."
The draconian woman narrowed her eyes into a glare at him.
"Just because I can't die of starvation, doesn't mean it's pleasant," Her scythe came closer to his neck from where it sat on her shoulders.
"What I mean," He replied firmly. "is that you will be getting the same amount of food as the rest of us. Plus whatever you can con out of the locals."
"Oh," Her tone shifted from accusatory to disappointed in an instant. "I guess that's fair."
She blinked.
"What do you mean con!?" She shouted. Then she continued haughtily. "It would be a willing donation from the faithful."
Richard just rolled her eyes.
"You enjoy food, don't you," He chuckled. "That what you plan to be a god of?"
"Eh, not really," Giselle shrugged, her wings mimicking her shoulders in the motion. "Haven't decided on that. I have loads of years before I need to."
"Speaking of gods…" Richard took a breath, steeling himself to ask her about the dream and Faerel. Then blinked as water hit his face.
"Rain?" He blinked, looking towards the horizon. "Shit."
"No," Giselle growled, her scythe coming to a ready position. "It's not natural… damnit. Someone's breaking the rules."
"A demigod?"
"No," Giselle sighed, shaking her head. "There's probably one coming, but the storm was made by their patron god. Probably that goddess of Piracy. She sided with Zufmuut."
"I'll have to ask you to explain that later," Richard grunted as he saw the wall of the storm closing, growing with each breath. Then he turned back into the bridge. "Captain, radio the rest of the fleet. That storm is a god's doing. Maintain radio contact, stick together, and if separated, head back to our port!"
Even as fast as it appeared, the storm hit them faster than Richard had expected. They quickly lost sight of the other ships, tossed about by the titanic waves.
"Report from NATO!" A shout came from the radio room behind the bridge. "They got a plane over the eye! It's stable, but there are ships waiting there!"
The captain didn't wait for Richard's reaction.
"Radio the other ships, tell them to head straight for the eye!" He barked. "Only safe place to go!"
A wave crashed against the side of the ship, rocking it to one side. Giselle, looking greener than normal, groaned. Richard simply held onto the doorframe with a grim look.
The engine below the hull roared as the small engineering team poured more power through it, making the vessel crash through the dark waters of the storm.
Tension seemed to grow aboard the ship, as the crew silently did their duties. Lightning and thunder spoke out as their vessel fought through the waves.
The wall of the eye grew ahead of them; a wall of rain and wind.
The ship burst through it before they had a chance to utter a word.
Richard flinched at the light on the other side. As he blinked, a call from a lookout over the intercom, thankfully still working, came.
The captain snorted.
"Servants of the Black Heart," He spat to the side onto the wooden floor. "Pirates sworn to a dark god. That explains the storm, but I've never heard of them coming this far West."
"Battlestations, captain?" Richard asked the experienced sailor.
"Aye, aye," The captain gave him a nod, then looked to his first mate. "Battlestations. Time to sink these pirates."
"What's the status of the fleet?" Richard turned to the radio.
"Ah… ships are still scattered," The radio operator replied. "Looks like… hang on, Boudica just reported they got through the wall."
Richard sighed in relief. Tara's ship was safe, then.
"Two ships against a pirate fleet," He snorted, glancing out the windows of the Thunder Child's Bridge. The crew hurriedly checked the Oerlikons and the handful of recoilless rifles attached to the deck. "This will be a slaughter. Here's hoping they surrender."
Giselle, on unsteady legs, pushed herself up against the wall.
"They won't," She grunted. "Fanatical zealots."
The captain gave a grim smile.
"Good," He said. "Less scum in the ocean then. Helm, take us in, full speed. All guns, prepare to fire once we enter range. Let's see how they like being prey."
Chapter 104
charclone
Well-known member
"Despite having veteran soldiers, despite my sister only having her pretend knights and my father's castoffs, despite my sister's inexperience, you chose not to contest their crossing of the border?" Zorzal glowered at the man. "Remind me, what was the purpose of your post?"
"To guard the border of the Empire," The Legate, who had fled before the enemy, lamely replied, making no attempt to excuse himself before the Emperor.
"Which you failed!" Zorzal growled. "Now, because of your cowardice, instead of putting my sister to flight and ending her rebellion by crushing Italica, my army needs to chase her across the countryside."
He sighed and slumped back into his throne.
"Return to your command," He ordered. "Your forces will be at the vanguard."
"Yes, my emperor," The Legate saluted, then left as he was dismissed.
Zorzal sighed and motioned for a servant to approach and pour him a glass of wine.
Luxuries were harder to get on the march, as Zorzal was with his army, but he made do. As Emperor, he had the authority to send wyverns to fetch quality supplies, a fact he had recently discovered, to his enjoyment.
The servant wasn't too bad looking, either.
"My Emperor," An officer saluted as they intruded upon Zorzal's quiet moment of leisure.
"What is it?" He grunted in response. "News from the scouts?"
"No, sire," The officer shook his head, stepping forward to kneel. "A report from the sentries. Mounted scouts carrying the emblems of the second legion were sighted, not far from camp. They have likely seen us."
"I see," Zorzal hummed, sipping the wine. "Well? Have they been captured?"
"Ah, no, Your Majesty," The officer coughed. "The sentries lost them shortly afterwards. With your permission, I will order the light cavalry to hunt them down."
"Send the wyverns, too," Zorzal waved the wineglass at the officer. "And don't pester me with needing my permission to move your soldiers."
"Yessir."
"Say," Zorzal continued, rather than dismissing the man. "How far are we from my sister's last location?"
"Ah," The officer rubbed their chin, still kneeling, in thought. "I would say three days by horse. Six by foot, five if she has drilled her soldiers well and started moving towards us as soon as she saw our wyverns overhead."
"So, call it seven?" Zorzal snorted.
"As you say, Your Majesty."
"Summon my generals and maps," Zorzal grinned. "If her scouts have gotten away, let them come. We'll bring her to battle faster and crush her."
"The scouts report that Zorzal's main army, composed of three legions, is here," An officer traced his finger on the map. "Here and here are other forces, we believe it to be at least a legion each, plus mercenaries. Mostly demihumans who are cheaply used as fodder. Orcs and beast masters with a wide variety of monsters."
"Hmm," Grey hummed as he stared at the map. "If we could lure his forces here, we'd be evenly matched. The marsh on our flank would prevent him from getting reinforcements, delaying them for days."
"Perhaps," The officer nodded. "But if Zorzal marches North, we'd risk being cut off. Not to mention massing our forces would make our movements obvious, as is the case with Zorzal's army."
"What about this ridge?" Grey suggested. "It would let us anchor our formation, and the winds off of the mountain would shield one of our legions as they moved to the flanks. We could hold out long enough against three legions."
"If this map from NATO is accurate, those woods are too thick for cavalry. I'm not certain our reinforcements would get to us in time. It would be bloody."
"Princess?" Grey glanced at her. "Are you alright?"
"I am fine, Grey," Pina sighed. "Just dreading the fight. Even if we won with a single battle, the cost… Imperial citizens and subjects will die when we finally clash."
She stared down at the map, rather than meet Grey's sympathetic look.
"What if we baited Zorzal here, near these hills?" She tapped the elevated position on the map. "The Eastern slopes appear to be rather steep. It would give us a good vantage point to fire on Zorzal's forces, and we could sally cavalry from the sides. In addition, Zorzal's other legions are spread out. They would have to either navigate the marshes here or cross several rivers to reach us."
"It would depend on how easily duped your brother is, your highness," The officer said. "Our own reinforcements would also be delayed by the terrain."
"It's not a bad position, your highness," Grey agreed. "But Zorzal has several experienced officers, and we are looking at a disadvantage of three against five."
"We need every advantage we can get," The officer agreed. "But we have time to look into our options."
"If only we could convince Zorzal to surrender," Pina sighed. "Rather than have to slaughter our countrymen because of his paranoia and ego."
"Wyvern scouts indicate Pina is moving here," One of the generals tapped a pointer on the map to indicate his sister's army on the third day after her scouts saw them. "We believe she is trying to bait us to fight here near these swamps, likely to separate us from our reinforcements."
"How pedestrian," Zorzal snorted. "I assume we will not be doing that?"
"We have dispatched orders to have the Reborn Third Legion move here," Another general tapped on the map with his pointer. "Letting them bypass the swamp and strike Pina's rear."
Zorzal stared at the map, bored. Meetings like these were always boring. But he recognised they were necessary if one wanted to actually fight. The map itself was a pretty thing, though it should be, given it was originally a decoration. There just weren't enough quality maps of the region, but by chance, Zorzal had realised a wall hanging covered the area, an old map from the Arctic War that had been copied into a decoration and could serve its purpose well enough.
Pina was not as stupid as the Warrior Bunnies, who refused to stand on the field after their first defeat. Nor did she have a convenient city he could force her to defend where he could crush her.
"So, we march towards her, letting her bait us in, then spring the trap back on her?" Zorzal asked, having lost interest in the generals' explanations. "An acceptable plan."
The generals saluted, before setting out to execute it.
"Zorzal's forces are trying to surround us," Grey grunted as he rode alongside Pina. "An hour ago, his Third Legion pivoted to try and flank us."
"Could our sister legions intervene?" Pina asked, her horse nickering beneath her.
"No," Grey shook his head. "One of them might be able to reinforce us if we pulled back to the ridge, however. The other could be covered in their approach by the mountains and the winds to keep wyverns from seeing them."
"Do it," Pina ordered. "Make sure the scouts keep on Zorzal's forces."
"We should have caught them by now," Zorzal grunted, a day after his estimate of how long it would take to clash. "How are they able to evade us?"
"Their scouts are expertly using the terrain to their advantage," One general offered. "She may be employing her knights' mounts to bolster her scouts, spreading them out to constantly be aware of our positions."
"That would leave her cavalry fighting on foot," Another pointed out. "Unless she purchased a large bulk of cavalry from other sources."
Zorzal frowned in thought for a moment.
"With how many mercenaries she seems to have hired, I doubt it," He waved his hand dismissively. "No, I suspect her bleeding-hearted knights accepted the loss of their mounts to be able to evade us. Where are her other legions?"
"Here and here based on yesterday's reports," One general outlined the map. "Both marching East-by-Northeast."
"That would leave them covered by the ridge, here," Another general added. "If I may make a guess, I would say that she is trying to bait us into a trap, while her other legions try to use the ridge and the air currents to evade our scouts."
"What about these plains here?" Zorzal asked, pointing to a nearby section. "If we were to pivot, she would have to scramble to reposition. She could get there first, but it would leave her at a disadvantage, where we could leverage our numbers, and she'd have no cover for her reinforcements against our wyverns."
"A brilliant suggestion, Your Highness," One of the generals said. "While not an ideal battlefield… leveraging our advantages is probably the best we can accept at this point. Our other units are out of position to support us for at least another day, but I will ensure messages are sent to them as soon as possible."
"Zorzal's forces seem to be headed towards the hills," The voice of the scout came through the radio. "They pivoted and started marching in that direction."
"Thank you," Grey said to the man on the other end, before turning to Pina. "They also saw a dozen wyverns each headed to his other forces."
"But why?" Pina blinked. "We could get there before him, and those rivers would delay his troops without slowing ours as much. Not to mention how out of position his forces are, now."
Grey frowned as he pulled the map onto the table next to the radio.
Clear, perfectly drawn lines marked the elevations of the hills and rivers, to a degree most mapmakers would be hard-pressed to achieve.
"His maps might be wrong," Grey suggested. "Or his scouts delivered inaccurate information."
"Radios are proving to be a greater advantage than I expected," Pina said with a wry, tired smile. "Alright. We can get the other two legions marching before Zorzal's forces even receive their orders. Tell them to press hard for those hills and to avoid combat until then."
"We fight him on the hills, then?" Grey asked.
"I guess we are," Pina sighed. "My brother has made a mistake, and everyone is going to pay for it. I just hope this will be the only battle."
Zorzal glowered at his sister's position at the top of a hill. A hill, surrounded by many others, that were not on his map.
"At least the hills will hide our camp from her, and our scouts can easily observe hers," The one general brave enough to accompany him offered. "She can't slip away without us noticing now, and we still have a greater numerical advantage."
Zorzal said nothing, instead storming back to his tent.
In the distance, across the battlefield, Pina lowered her borrowed binoculars as her brother disappeared from sight.
With an unsteady breath and a weary look, she turned to Grey.
"Order our skirmishers to assault his flanks just after nightfall while his troops are still tired from marching," She said. "No guns, just old tactics. I want his troops tired, and none of mine dead."
"I'll lead them myself, Your Highness," Grey promised. "We'll make it back in one piece. Zorzal's goods and levies will be shaking in their boots."
"To guard the border of the Empire," The Legate, who had fled before the enemy, lamely replied, making no attempt to excuse himself before the Emperor.
"Which you failed!" Zorzal growled. "Now, because of your cowardice, instead of putting my sister to flight and ending her rebellion by crushing Italica, my army needs to chase her across the countryside."
He sighed and slumped back into his throne.
"Return to your command," He ordered. "Your forces will be at the vanguard."
"Yes, my emperor," The Legate saluted, then left as he was dismissed.
Zorzal sighed and motioned for a servant to approach and pour him a glass of wine.
Luxuries were harder to get on the march, as Zorzal was with his army, but he made do. As Emperor, he had the authority to send wyverns to fetch quality supplies, a fact he had recently discovered, to his enjoyment.
The servant wasn't too bad looking, either.
"My Emperor," An officer saluted as they intruded upon Zorzal's quiet moment of leisure.
"What is it?" He grunted in response. "News from the scouts?"
"No, sire," The officer shook his head, stepping forward to kneel. "A report from the sentries. Mounted scouts carrying the emblems of the second legion were sighted, not far from camp. They have likely seen us."
"I see," Zorzal hummed, sipping the wine. "Well? Have they been captured?"
"Ah, no, Your Majesty," The officer coughed. "The sentries lost them shortly afterwards. With your permission, I will order the light cavalry to hunt them down."
"Send the wyverns, too," Zorzal waved the wineglass at the officer. "And don't pester me with needing my permission to move your soldiers."
"Yessir."
"Say," Zorzal continued, rather than dismissing the man. "How far are we from my sister's last location?"
"Ah," The officer rubbed their chin, still kneeling, in thought. "I would say three days by horse. Six by foot, five if she has drilled her soldiers well and started moving towards us as soon as she saw our wyverns overhead."
"So, call it seven?" Zorzal snorted.
"As you say, Your Majesty."
"Summon my generals and maps," Zorzal grinned. "If her scouts have gotten away, let them come. We'll bring her to battle faster and crush her."
"The scouts report that Zorzal's main army, composed of three legions, is here," An officer traced his finger on the map. "Here and here are other forces, we believe it to be at least a legion each, plus mercenaries. Mostly demihumans who are cheaply used as fodder. Orcs and beast masters with a wide variety of monsters."
"Hmm," Grey hummed as he stared at the map. "If we could lure his forces here, we'd be evenly matched. The marsh on our flank would prevent him from getting reinforcements, delaying them for days."
"Perhaps," The officer nodded. "But if Zorzal marches North, we'd risk being cut off. Not to mention massing our forces would make our movements obvious, as is the case with Zorzal's army."
"What about this ridge?" Grey suggested. "It would let us anchor our formation, and the winds off of the mountain would shield one of our legions as they moved to the flanks. We could hold out long enough against three legions."
"If this map from NATO is accurate, those woods are too thick for cavalry. I'm not certain our reinforcements would get to us in time. It would be bloody."
"Princess?" Grey glanced at her. "Are you alright?"
"I am fine, Grey," Pina sighed. "Just dreading the fight. Even if we won with a single battle, the cost… Imperial citizens and subjects will die when we finally clash."
She stared down at the map, rather than meet Grey's sympathetic look.
"What if we baited Zorzal here, near these hills?" She tapped the elevated position on the map. "The Eastern slopes appear to be rather steep. It would give us a good vantage point to fire on Zorzal's forces, and we could sally cavalry from the sides. In addition, Zorzal's other legions are spread out. They would have to either navigate the marshes here or cross several rivers to reach us."
"It would depend on how easily duped your brother is, your highness," The officer said. "Our own reinforcements would also be delayed by the terrain."
"It's not a bad position, your highness," Grey agreed. "But Zorzal has several experienced officers, and we are looking at a disadvantage of three against five."
"We need every advantage we can get," The officer agreed. "But we have time to look into our options."
"If only we could convince Zorzal to surrender," Pina sighed. "Rather than have to slaughter our countrymen because of his paranoia and ego."
"Wyvern scouts indicate Pina is moving here," One of the generals tapped a pointer on the map to indicate his sister's army on the third day after her scouts saw them. "We believe she is trying to bait us to fight here near these swamps, likely to separate us from our reinforcements."
"How pedestrian," Zorzal snorted. "I assume we will not be doing that?"
"We have dispatched orders to have the Reborn Third Legion move here," Another general tapped on the map with his pointer. "Letting them bypass the swamp and strike Pina's rear."
Zorzal stared at the map, bored. Meetings like these were always boring. But he recognised they were necessary if one wanted to actually fight. The map itself was a pretty thing, though it should be, given it was originally a decoration. There just weren't enough quality maps of the region, but by chance, Zorzal had realised a wall hanging covered the area, an old map from the Arctic War that had been copied into a decoration and could serve its purpose well enough.
Pina was not as stupid as the Warrior Bunnies, who refused to stand on the field after their first defeat. Nor did she have a convenient city he could force her to defend where he could crush her.
"So, we march towards her, letting her bait us in, then spring the trap back on her?" Zorzal asked, having lost interest in the generals' explanations. "An acceptable plan."
The generals saluted, before setting out to execute it.
"Zorzal's forces are trying to surround us," Grey grunted as he rode alongside Pina. "An hour ago, his Third Legion pivoted to try and flank us."
"Could our sister legions intervene?" Pina asked, her horse nickering beneath her.
"No," Grey shook his head. "One of them might be able to reinforce us if we pulled back to the ridge, however. The other could be covered in their approach by the mountains and the winds to keep wyverns from seeing them."
"Do it," Pina ordered. "Make sure the scouts keep on Zorzal's forces."
"We should have caught them by now," Zorzal grunted, a day after his estimate of how long it would take to clash. "How are they able to evade us?"
"Their scouts are expertly using the terrain to their advantage," One general offered. "She may be employing her knights' mounts to bolster her scouts, spreading them out to constantly be aware of our positions."
"That would leave her cavalry fighting on foot," Another pointed out. "Unless she purchased a large bulk of cavalry from other sources."
Zorzal frowned in thought for a moment.
"With how many mercenaries she seems to have hired, I doubt it," He waved his hand dismissively. "No, I suspect her bleeding-hearted knights accepted the loss of their mounts to be able to evade us. Where are her other legions?"
"Here and here based on yesterday's reports," One general outlined the map. "Both marching East-by-Northeast."
"That would leave them covered by the ridge, here," Another general added. "If I may make a guess, I would say that she is trying to bait us into a trap, while her other legions try to use the ridge and the air currents to evade our scouts."
"What about these plains here?" Zorzal asked, pointing to a nearby section. "If we were to pivot, she would have to scramble to reposition. She could get there first, but it would leave her at a disadvantage, where we could leverage our numbers, and she'd have no cover for her reinforcements against our wyverns."
"A brilliant suggestion, Your Highness," One of the generals said. "While not an ideal battlefield… leveraging our advantages is probably the best we can accept at this point. Our other units are out of position to support us for at least another day, but I will ensure messages are sent to them as soon as possible."
"Zorzal's forces seem to be headed towards the hills," The voice of the scout came through the radio. "They pivoted and started marching in that direction."
"Thank you," Grey said to the man on the other end, before turning to Pina. "They also saw a dozen wyverns each headed to his other forces."
"But why?" Pina blinked. "We could get there before him, and those rivers would delay his troops without slowing ours as much. Not to mention how out of position his forces are, now."
Grey frowned as he pulled the map onto the table next to the radio.
Clear, perfectly drawn lines marked the elevations of the hills and rivers, to a degree most mapmakers would be hard-pressed to achieve.
"His maps might be wrong," Grey suggested. "Or his scouts delivered inaccurate information."
"Radios are proving to be a greater advantage than I expected," Pina said with a wry, tired smile. "Alright. We can get the other two legions marching before Zorzal's forces even receive their orders. Tell them to press hard for those hills and to avoid combat until then."
"We fight him on the hills, then?" Grey asked.
"I guess we are," Pina sighed. "My brother has made a mistake, and everyone is going to pay for it. I just hope this will be the only battle."
Zorzal glowered at his sister's position at the top of a hill. A hill, surrounded by many others, that were not on his map.
"At least the hills will hide our camp from her, and our scouts can easily observe hers," The one general brave enough to accompany him offered. "She can't slip away without us noticing now, and we still have a greater numerical advantage."
Zorzal said nothing, instead storming back to his tent.
In the distance, across the battlefield, Pina lowered her borrowed binoculars as her brother disappeared from sight.
With an unsteady breath and a weary look, she turned to Grey.
"Order our skirmishers to assault his flanks just after nightfall while his troops are still tired from marching," She said. "No guns, just old tactics. I want his troops tired, and none of mine dead."
"I'll lead them myself, Your Highness," Grey promised. "We'll make it back in one piece. Zorzal's goods and levies will be shaking in their boots."
Chapter 105
New
charclone
Well-known member
Early in the morning, dressed in fine robes and sitting upon his throne within his tent, Zorzal felt a pattern forming—a pattern that he was not pleased with.
"I am growing quite tired of hearing of incompetence and cowardice," He growled. "Were your soldiers left to grow lax and found asleep at their posts?"
At the captain's sputtered denials, Zorzal's scowl deepened.
"Get out!" He barked. "A unit of Frumentarii will replace your losses and ensure the rest of your troops are properly motivated."
As the idiot, or perhaps luckless fool, was escorted out, Zorzal slumped on the throne, contemplating the news.
A nighttime raid by Pina's forces. They had slipped past the sentries and started fires in supply tents at the camp of a cohort. The losses were minimal, the food could be easily replaced and they had plenty more fire pots, but it was an annoyance. Worse, Zorzal found his forces failing him.
"Pardon the intrusion, Your Majesty," A voice called. "But may I speak with you?"
Zorzal blinked. In a fit of pique, he almost denied the man, before he recognised him.
"Enter," He commanded. "What news do you bring, general?"
The general of the Frumentarii saluted as he entered, stopping before the raised platform the throne rested on.
"It regards the task you set for me," The general's tone was cautious and hushed. "Only preliminary findings, but… they are ill news."
"There seems to be no shortage of that," Zorzal sighed. "What has Bouro been up to?"
"Putting his fingers in every remaining Patrician family, and quite a few Equestrian families, too. Concubines, blackmail, disguised half-breeds," The man made a face of disgust. "I do not yet know his aim, but I fear his goal. I have also found evidence that suggests he has gone beyond what you commanded him to do, in weeding out traitors."
"How far?"
"Do you recognise these names, Your Highness?" The general offered a slip of paper. Zorzal reached out, then skimmed them. "They were, by Bouro's orders under your authority, put to death."
"I recognise a few," Zorzal replied as he skimmed the list. "But… no. He was supposed to take command of the twelfth… I never ordered her death…"
The list crumpled in his grip.
"What do you recommend?" The question was aimed both at the general, and Sol.
The god was quiet, a fact that unsettled Zorzal. He was… uncertain what to do. He knew how to play the conqueror, to act the hedonistic fool, to play up the might and glory of a soldier, but this… this was what he had relied on Diabo for… and then he turned to rely on Bouro… and Sol had warned him of someone close to him being a threat…
"Could Bouro have had Diabo assassinated?" The words came almost unbidden from his mouth. Fear and suspicion were in control of his faculties. "Did he?"
The general paled, their mouth snapping shut, silencing their previous comment before it had been voiced.
"I… do not know, Your Majesty," He seemed to shake in fear of the implications as he replied. Or perhaps it was Zorzal who was the one shaking in rage. "But I will find out. Do you wish for me to capture Bouro, and wring it out of him?"
"No!" Zorzal shouted, startling the both of them, as he lunged forward. With quivering limbs, Zorzal leaned back on his throne. "No. Do nothing to arouse his suspicions. I want… I want you to find out if he did. Use whatever means are necessary but find out. You have full access to the treasury. Let nothing stop you."
The rest of the morning was a blur. The coming battle and the fallout of the raid became footnotes. Zorzal's mind entirely focused on what came after he removed Pina from the board. If it had been Bouro who had killed Diabo… what was his plan?
Zorzal felt like a fool. While he had played the Senate for fools by playing the hedonist, Bouro had been creeping in the shadows.
Suddenly, he realised just how many of his decisions had been made with some input from Bouro. Officers, soldiers, deployments. The security of his camp seemed diminished.
And the incompetence of some of his troops became clearer. How many were in Bouro's pocket? Not real soldiers, but spies and cowards?
Unaware of his liege's shaken mind, the general rode with his men from the camp, back to the capital. Part of him was terrified of the revelation that Prince Diabo might have been murdered by a conspiracy with the chimeric-demi-human at the centre of it. The rest of him focused on duty.
Even before he had ridden for a full day, his mind was already making plans. Who to question, who to ensure were loyal. Which of his loyal men could be relied upon to report back.
He never noticed the pair of eyes watching him from the shadows. From grasses, trees, or rocks. Despite the speed of the horses, the beady, dark eyes kept pace. Focused, intent, and loyal to a different master than the new Emperor.
"My lady?" A soldier said. "Sir Grey has returned."
"Send him in," Pina ordered as she picked at the food. NATO had been quite willing to help supply her forces, and she refused to eat anything but what her soldiers were being fed. Logistics aside, it also gave her a good idea of why soldiers complained about food constantly. "And have food brought for Grey, too."
The tension that had settled in her gut subsided, once Grey was sat before her, a package of hot food in hand.
"I'm sorry it's nothing fancy," Pina told him, feeling more lighthearted. "Only one of NATO's MREs, but they aren't bad."
"Compared to the mouldy bread and rotten meat we used to be fed on campaign," Grey laughed. "it's practically a feast. Though I must apologise for being so late to return. Our position is more exposed than I realised, so it took my troops some time to slip around Zorzal's sentries."
"Your people are safe, that's more than enough," Pina dismissed his apology. "Now, eat. The battle, I'm told, will begin soon."
"Mhm," Grey grunted and nodded as he took a mouthful of food from the package. "Zorzal's troops were marshalling when I glanced down the hill. It will probably just be a light skirmish as they test our forces and position, but your brother could get impatient after the running back and forth."
He picked up the package, his eyes focusing on the strange lettering.
"Strange how NATO got this to heat up the water poured into it so easily," The bald knight grunted. "The taste is slightly different, no flavouring from the wood, but the heat… I could swear this was taken from a fire."
"Speaking of NATO," Pina ate the last of her own breakfast. "We don't have enough guns to equip our entire force. Most of our troops are using their old gear. That leaves me… worried."
"Deploy it only where it will make a difference," Grey advised her. "For a skirmish like this? Send out some good infantry, and some skirmishers. Casualties will be light, and we'll come off well thanks to NATO's medicine."
"Still, we are outnumbered three-to-one," Pina sighed. "I assume the plan will not change from before you sallied out; hold the gaps between hills, and leverage the steep slopes to funnel Zorzal's forces to our formations?"
"It should," Grey advised her. "The slopes are too steep to climb. The shallow sides are easier, but we already control those. Any word on the other legions?"
"Bozes is only two days out," Pina told him. "Vefeater is further out, at five days, but they are both headed here."
"Zorzal's reinforcements are at least six days away," Grey nodded, chewing. "Even if he pushes them hard. The snow melt has swelled the rivers."
Before Pina could continue the conversation, a cry came from outside the tent. Zorzal's forces were sallying out of their camp, coming over their protective hills.
Pina was forced to watch, as the two sides clashed. She knew she had to trust her commanders, but that didn't stop the worry or pain from seeing Saderans slaughter each other.
The forces advanced towards each other as phalanx. A probe from Zorzal, while her own forces countered. Her forces stopped in the valley between two hills, as Zorzal's men closed upon them.
It was a strange sight, Pina noted. Zorzal's forces were mostly younger men, bright, cheerful faces dressed in new armour that gleamed. In contrast, her troops were older, grizzled veterans in old gear. Not so old that they would have been retired, but certainly old enough that they had seen warfare before.
A signal from Zorzal's camp, a trumpet blown to signal the attack, sent the phalanx into a charge, the tight block of men smashing into her own. Then the archers revealed themselves, clambering up the opposite slopes from Pina, to stand on the top with their bows ready.
A poor showing from Zorzal, Pina noted. Her archers were out of range, and by clashing with her forces, his archers couldn't fire on her infantry.
No cavalry appeared, and it seemed Zorzal was content to keep his auxiliaries and beasts for use later.
The archers were thus left to simply sit and watch.
Her infantry were slowly pushed back by Zorzal's troops. Step-by-step. Blow-by-blow. Her troops kept themselves from over-extending, seemingly content to keep their shields up and be battered by Zorzal's troops.
Slowly, they were pushed back towards her camp.
Through her binoculars, she could see the crush of both sides, wavering back and forth as the soldiers pushed to try and force the other side to break formation, even slightly. Occasionally, a soldier would take advantage of a misstep and try to stab with their blade or spear, the bright metal catching the early light of the sun.
Their commander strode up next to her.
"A terrible sight," He said to her. "It always is."
"The cost of your trap?" Pina asked. "Or the cost Zorzal and the Empire will pay?"
"Both," The captain replied. "Even a glorious victory comes at a price. A fact your brother seems to not care about. Ah, it would appear to be time, Your Highness."
With that, he raised a horn to his lips and blew.
Concealed by another set of hills near where the clashing infantry had moved towards, closer to Pina's camp, archers and more infantry exposed themselves, the other part of the trap, the infantry acting as bait. Zorzal's archers found themselves peppered by a sudden salvo of arrows, sending them into a panicked retreat back down the slopes to avoid the hissing arrows.
Zorzal's infantry found themselves flanked and surrounded in short order. Those that tried to break and run were focused down by the archers.
Pina winced as she saw a young soldier transfixed by a shaft through his neck.
The remainder shifted their positions, pulling themselves into a tight circle as her infantry pressed in on all sides. No longer a crush of bodies, her infantry kept their foes in their tight formation by the tips of their spears, prisoners by force of arms and fact, if not yet officially.
"It seems Prince Zorzal has deigned not to send cavalry out to rescue the lost infantry," The captain noted. "I expect tomorrow, they will launch a full assault. By your leave, Princess, I will see to the welfare of our new prisoners."
Pina waved him off, her gaze settling on the hills hiding Zorzal's camp. A knot settled itself in her gut as she began to count down towards the next clash.
"I am growing quite tired of hearing of incompetence and cowardice," He growled. "Were your soldiers left to grow lax and found asleep at their posts?"
At the captain's sputtered denials, Zorzal's scowl deepened.
"Get out!" He barked. "A unit of Frumentarii will replace your losses and ensure the rest of your troops are properly motivated."
As the idiot, or perhaps luckless fool, was escorted out, Zorzal slumped on the throne, contemplating the news.
A nighttime raid by Pina's forces. They had slipped past the sentries and started fires in supply tents at the camp of a cohort. The losses were minimal, the food could be easily replaced and they had plenty more fire pots, but it was an annoyance. Worse, Zorzal found his forces failing him.
"Pardon the intrusion, Your Majesty," A voice called. "But may I speak with you?"
Zorzal blinked. In a fit of pique, he almost denied the man, before he recognised him.
"Enter," He commanded. "What news do you bring, general?"
The general of the Frumentarii saluted as he entered, stopping before the raised platform the throne rested on.
"It regards the task you set for me," The general's tone was cautious and hushed. "Only preliminary findings, but… they are ill news."
"There seems to be no shortage of that," Zorzal sighed. "What has Bouro been up to?"
"Putting his fingers in every remaining Patrician family, and quite a few Equestrian families, too. Concubines, blackmail, disguised half-breeds," The man made a face of disgust. "I do not yet know his aim, but I fear his goal. I have also found evidence that suggests he has gone beyond what you commanded him to do, in weeding out traitors."
"How far?"
"Do you recognise these names, Your Highness?" The general offered a slip of paper. Zorzal reached out, then skimmed them. "They were, by Bouro's orders under your authority, put to death."
"I recognise a few," Zorzal replied as he skimmed the list. "But… no. He was supposed to take command of the twelfth… I never ordered her death…"
The list crumpled in his grip.
"What do you recommend?" The question was aimed both at the general, and Sol.
The god was quiet, a fact that unsettled Zorzal. He was… uncertain what to do. He knew how to play the conqueror, to act the hedonistic fool, to play up the might and glory of a soldier, but this… this was what he had relied on Diabo for… and then he turned to rely on Bouro… and Sol had warned him of someone close to him being a threat…
"Could Bouro have had Diabo assassinated?" The words came almost unbidden from his mouth. Fear and suspicion were in control of his faculties. "Did he?"
The general paled, their mouth snapping shut, silencing their previous comment before it had been voiced.
"I… do not know, Your Majesty," He seemed to shake in fear of the implications as he replied. Or perhaps it was Zorzal who was the one shaking in rage. "But I will find out. Do you wish for me to capture Bouro, and wring it out of him?"
"No!" Zorzal shouted, startling the both of them, as he lunged forward. With quivering limbs, Zorzal leaned back on his throne. "No. Do nothing to arouse his suspicions. I want… I want you to find out if he did. Use whatever means are necessary but find out. You have full access to the treasury. Let nothing stop you."
The rest of the morning was a blur. The coming battle and the fallout of the raid became footnotes. Zorzal's mind entirely focused on what came after he removed Pina from the board. If it had been Bouro who had killed Diabo… what was his plan?
Zorzal felt like a fool. While he had played the Senate for fools by playing the hedonist, Bouro had been creeping in the shadows.
Suddenly, he realised just how many of his decisions had been made with some input from Bouro. Officers, soldiers, deployments. The security of his camp seemed diminished.
And the incompetence of some of his troops became clearer. How many were in Bouro's pocket? Not real soldiers, but spies and cowards?
Unaware of his liege's shaken mind, the general rode with his men from the camp, back to the capital. Part of him was terrified of the revelation that Prince Diabo might have been murdered by a conspiracy with the chimeric-demi-human at the centre of it. The rest of him focused on duty.
Even before he had ridden for a full day, his mind was already making plans. Who to question, who to ensure were loyal. Which of his loyal men could be relied upon to report back.
He never noticed the pair of eyes watching him from the shadows. From grasses, trees, or rocks. Despite the speed of the horses, the beady, dark eyes kept pace. Focused, intent, and loyal to a different master than the new Emperor.
"My lady?" A soldier said. "Sir Grey has returned."
"Send him in," Pina ordered as she picked at the food. NATO had been quite willing to help supply her forces, and she refused to eat anything but what her soldiers were being fed. Logistics aside, it also gave her a good idea of why soldiers complained about food constantly. "And have food brought for Grey, too."
The tension that had settled in her gut subsided, once Grey was sat before her, a package of hot food in hand.
"I'm sorry it's nothing fancy," Pina told him, feeling more lighthearted. "Only one of NATO's MREs, but they aren't bad."
"Compared to the mouldy bread and rotten meat we used to be fed on campaign," Grey laughed. "it's practically a feast. Though I must apologise for being so late to return. Our position is more exposed than I realised, so it took my troops some time to slip around Zorzal's sentries."
"Your people are safe, that's more than enough," Pina dismissed his apology. "Now, eat. The battle, I'm told, will begin soon."
"Mhm," Grey grunted and nodded as he took a mouthful of food from the package. "Zorzal's troops were marshalling when I glanced down the hill. It will probably just be a light skirmish as they test our forces and position, but your brother could get impatient after the running back and forth."
He picked up the package, his eyes focusing on the strange lettering.
"Strange how NATO got this to heat up the water poured into it so easily," The bald knight grunted. "The taste is slightly different, no flavouring from the wood, but the heat… I could swear this was taken from a fire."
"Speaking of NATO," Pina ate the last of her own breakfast. "We don't have enough guns to equip our entire force. Most of our troops are using their old gear. That leaves me… worried."
"Deploy it only where it will make a difference," Grey advised her. "For a skirmish like this? Send out some good infantry, and some skirmishers. Casualties will be light, and we'll come off well thanks to NATO's medicine."
"Still, we are outnumbered three-to-one," Pina sighed. "I assume the plan will not change from before you sallied out; hold the gaps between hills, and leverage the steep slopes to funnel Zorzal's forces to our formations?"
"It should," Grey advised her. "The slopes are too steep to climb. The shallow sides are easier, but we already control those. Any word on the other legions?"
"Bozes is only two days out," Pina told him. "Vefeater is further out, at five days, but they are both headed here."
"Zorzal's reinforcements are at least six days away," Grey nodded, chewing. "Even if he pushes them hard. The snow melt has swelled the rivers."
Before Pina could continue the conversation, a cry came from outside the tent. Zorzal's forces were sallying out of their camp, coming over their protective hills.
Pina was forced to watch, as the two sides clashed. She knew she had to trust her commanders, but that didn't stop the worry or pain from seeing Saderans slaughter each other.
The forces advanced towards each other as phalanx. A probe from Zorzal, while her own forces countered. Her forces stopped in the valley between two hills, as Zorzal's men closed upon them.
It was a strange sight, Pina noted. Zorzal's forces were mostly younger men, bright, cheerful faces dressed in new armour that gleamed. In contrast, her troops were older, grizzled veterans in old gear. Not so old that they would have been retired, but certainly old enough that they had seen warfare before.
A signal from Zorzal's camp, a trumpet blown to signal the attack, sent the phalanx into a charge, the tight block of men smashing into her own. Then the archers revealed themselves, clambering up the opposite slopes from Pina, to stand on the top with their bows ready.
A poor showing from Zorzal, Pina noted. Her archers were out of range, and by clashing with her forces, his archers couldn't fire on her infantry.
No cavalry appeared, and it seemed Zorzal was content to keep his auxiliaries and beasts for use later.
The archers were thus left to simply sit and watch.
Her infantry were slowly pushed back by Zorzal's troops. Step-by-step. Blow-by-blow. Her troops kept themselves from over-extending, seemingly content to keep their shields up and be battered by Zorzal's troops.
Slowly, they were pushed back towards her camp.
Through her binoculars, she could see the crush of both sides, wavering back and forth as the soldiers pushed to try and force the other side to break formation, even slightly. Occasionally, a soldier would take advantage of a misstep and try to stab with their blade or spear, the bright metal catching the early light of the sun.
Their commander strode up next to her.
"A terrible sight," He said to her. "It always is."
"The cost of your trap?" Pina asked. "Or the cost Zorzal and the Empire will pay?"
"Both," The captain replied. "Even a glorious victory comes at a price. A fact your brother seems to not care about. Ah, it would appear to be time, Your Highness."
With that, he raised a horn to his lips and blew.
Concealed by another set of hills near where the clashing infantry had moved towards, closer to Pina's camp, archers and more infantry exposed themselves, the other part of the trap, the infantry acting as bait. Zorzal's archers found themselves peppered by a sudden salvo of arrows, sending them into a panicked retreat back down the slopes to avoid the hissing arrows.
Zorzal's infantry found themselves flanked and surrounded in short order. Those that tried to break and run were focused down by the archers.
Pina winced as she saw a young soldier transfixed by a shaft through his neck.
The remainder shifted their positions, pulling themselves into a tight circle as her infantry pressed in on all sides. No longer a crush of bodies, her infantry kept their foes in their tight formation by the tips of their spears, prisoners by force of arms and fact, if not yet officially.
"It seems Prince Zorzal has deigned not to send cavalry out to rescue the lost infantry," The captain noted. "I expect tomorrow, they will launch a full assault. By your leave, Princess, I will see to the welfare of our new prisoners."
Pina waved him off, her gaze settling on the hills hiding Zorzal's camp. A knot settled itself in her gut as she began to count down towards the next clash.
Chapter 106
New
charclone
Well-known member
In contrast to his sister the previous day, Zorzal was less concerned with the battle. In his mind, it was almost already won. His concern was still on the news from the previous day.
Suspicion ruled his mind.
Doubts about his officers plagued his consciousness.
And annoyance harried his thoughts.
He sat, alone in his tent, upon his throne, brooding. Dark, fearful thoughts clouded his vision, even as he waited.
As the time reached just after an hour past dawn, the guards permitted his generals to enter.
"Your Majesty," The senior general led them. "We are ready to commence the attack on your command."
Zorzal studied the man for a moment. Searching his face for… something. Some signs of betrayal or loyalty. There was… only confusion at the Emperor's silence.
"You may commence the attack at your discretion," Zorzal announced. "I leave the command to you."
There was a flicker of surprise in the senior general's face as he accepted the command. The generals then all saluted, before marching out. Once more, Zorzal was left alone.
Pina saw the troops march from Zorzal's camps as they reached the zeniths of the hills. Splendid formations, tight in disciplined phalanxes, marching over the slopes, armour and weapons flashing in the sunlight of the early dawn.
The troops moved under the flags of the Empire, though their standards were new to her. Their flags fluttered in the light breeze.
Her own troops carried the Imperial flag, accompanied by the banner of her knighthood order to mark their allegiance. Their phalanxes weren't as quite as tight, but they all marched in a steady rhythm, no faster or slower than the other phalanx. As they pivoted and wheeled into formation, Pina could make out the grim, determined faces of the veterans in her forces, standing in stark contrast to the younger faces in her brother's cohorts.
She lowered her binoculars as she heard one of her officers call for her.
"Your Highness? We are prepared to begin."
She sighed in dread.
"Very well," She let the binoculars fall to her chest, clattering against her breastplate as they hung from their strap. Then she turned and followed the officer into the tent. "What is Zorzal's current deployment compared to our own?"
"He has deployed auxiliaries in a skirmishing formation to both flanks," Grey answered her as she took her place at the head of the map-covered table. "The bulk of his heavy infantry are massed at the centre, with the rest of them massed to both flanks behind the skirmishers. Not a standard formation, but not a completely unwise one either. No sign of his cavalry, and we know for certain that he has kept a large force in reserve."
Placed upon the map of the region were a mix of pointed wood and plastic markers, representing the various forces on the field. Grey pointed each of them out.
"Now, these hills here and here block sightlines to these areas from the most likely vantage point he is commanding from. If he is relying on runners, or Wyverns to observe and report back from above, then we have a significant advantage with radios," Grey continued. "We received a messenger from Bozes a short while ago, Princess, while you were observing the armies. She is a few hours away."
"That still leaves us outnumbered," Pina noted before gesturing to the map. "I assume we will be holding these passes here and here, holding the cavalry and rifles in reserve, to funnel Zorzal's forces?"
"Yes, your Highness. We have deployed our infantry to counter the flanks, while our archers defend our camp from the slopes," A general replied. "I am confident we can hold for several days if need be."
Pina nodded, both relieved to hear that and emboldened by the general's faith in the forces she had amassed. Yet, uncertainty lingered at the edges of her mind. Zorzal's new weapons, despite NATO's warnings, were still unknowns.
One of the radio operators in the tent spoke up.
"Report from the third cohort: Zorzal's forces have begun their attack."
The air was filled with a sense of excitement, as the fresh-faced troops marched towards their foes. Their decurion was less pleased, still unsure of the new weapons and displeased at how green his troops were.
They had passed the battered remnants of the vanguard, fodder auxiliaries and skirmishers with exhausted ammunition, as they closed with the enemy. It was now time for real soldiers to fight.
At his command, they came to a stop. Then the front ranks kneeled behind their shields. The fuses were lit. Spears were aimed at the enemy ranks.
And the small metal barrels attached to the spears erupted into fire and fury. The decurion flinched, despite being prepared for it.
Lead death was spat at the enemy, and all could see the shocked pain on the faces of their foe as their shields and armour failed them.
The decurion was less than impressed by the effectiveness, noting none of them were felled, being pulled or limping back behind their lines as the formation parted in a disciplined manner to withdraw the wounded. They had inflicted less casualties than the auxiliaries had.
But it put them on the backfoot, and forced them to attack, he noted with some satisfaction, ordering his forces to lock shields for a more standard clash.
"Firearms?" Pina gaped, before groaning. "… the fire lances NATO warned us about."
"So it would seem," Grey mulled the report they had just been given over in his head. "Zorzal's forces have better range. NATO must have gotten the range estimates wrong if I remember the weapon report correctly."
"Be that as it may," Pina said, fear for the sake of her soldiers making her hands tighten their grip on the table's edge. "What can we do about it?"
"At this point, princess, there is little we can do," An officer advised. "Our frontline is committed, the wounded are being withdrawn, and casualties are light."
"But we can warn the reserves and focus our troops on avoiding straight lines of sight. In the future, we may want to try and fight in woods, instead," Another senior officer offered. "In addition, our reserves should be informed and prepared. If we can bait them into firing at long range, it sounds like that has reduced effectiveness as well."
"Have it done," Pina ordered.
Zorzal glared at his sister's camp as his forces clashed.
As the minutes had stretched into hours, his forces failing to break the old men who fought for Pina despite having the new weapons, his frustration grew. Eventually, it grew to the point where, combined with his growing distrust of his officers, he abandoned his tent to see the battle himself.
In the distance, the troops still clashed, much of the fighting slipping behind hills and into valleys. In days past, the battle might have excited the young Emperor, but not now. Now, he feared his officers more than the enemy.
His enemy, or rather his sister, was at least honest about why she was opposed to him, even if they were foolish reasons.
"Have the other weapons deployed on the hills directly overlooking the battle," He ordered a nearby officer. One of his Frumentarii, so he was confident that they were trustworthy. "Let's see if Pina can tolerate seeing her soldiers burn."
There was the sound of pottery shattering, followed by a scream of pain and the sound of flames.
It was followed by another attack from Zorzal's forces. Set upon their high vantage points, oversized crossbows, mounted on stands, launched carefully prepared clay pots, filled with an alchemical liquid, towards their foe.
On the ground, it was another surprise for Pina's forces, this one far more dangerous than the first.
The force of the pots was enough to kill a man if they struck him directly, breaking skulls and ribs with the impact. As they burst apart, they sprayed their liquid about, which having been left to gestate for weeks, turned to an incendiary material that soaked the cloth, leather, and skin of a soldier, burning all with an intense heat that was difficult to douse with dirt and cloth.
The men so afflicted panicked, breaking ranks. It was the first time that Zorzal's forces had forced Pina's to do so and made their morale soar. The Emperor's forces soon gleefully closed again, where they had parted, and pushed all the harder, against the diminished ranks of Pina's troops.
"Pull our forces back," Pina ordered. "Break our lines of sight with those weapons."
"Your Highness, perhaps now we should deploy our riflemen?" An officer asked.
"No," Pina denied. "Not yet. We have other options, and Bozes' forces should be only an hour out by now."
"Radio report from Lady Bozes," The radio operator chimed in. "She reports she is less than two hours away."
"Excellent," Pina smiled. "Now, can we pull our forces back? Bait my brother's troops into a position where we can strike them with our cavalry, covered by our rifles?"
Grey hummed at the idea.
"It has merit," He agreed. "Striking from two directions could put his forces in disarray… but what of his reserves? What if he sees the ruse and doesn't overextend?"
"We do not exactly have other options," An officer pointed out. "Our reinforcements will arrive, soon. The other legion should be right behind Bozes, so we have deeper reserves than he does, especially if we catch him by surprise."
"Then we will commit to it," Another officer agreed. "Your Highness, I support your plan, if we can confirm the support of our third Legion."
"There!" Zorzal shouted to his officers. "Again, you fail to capitalise on Pina's forces being pushed back!"
Whether in embarrassment, shame, or concealed treason, his generals remained silent.
Zorzal didn't bother looking at them. His opinion of them had fallen as the battle progressed.
"Send in our reserves!" He snarled the order. "The resting units, too! Crush her here and end this farce."
"My Emperor," One started to protest. "There was word from a scout about…"
"I don't care," The Emperor retorted with a vulgar expression. "Crush my sister. Now."
Mentally, Zorzal had realised that he needed new officers. One not under Bouro's thumb. But… to replace every officer… he had not nearly enough to put in place.
"We shall see it done!" A Frumentarii officer stepped forward. "What shall we do with those that do not comply?"
"Treat them as traitors," Zorzal replied, surprised and satisfied at the solution that had presented itself. "Regardless of their rank."
"Your Highness… are you certain about this?" Grey frowned as he helped her mount her horse.
"Zorzal isn't likely to make an appearance on the field," She told him. "And with the maddened rush he's putting out, my appearance is needed to bolster our flagging moral."
Grey grunted in response, unable to counter her point.
"At least you are remembering your helmet," He snorted, after a moment.
She smiled at him, before closing the helm and signaling the rest of her knights to join her.
"I leave the command of our rifles to you," She told him. "Silence the weapons lured into range, and shatter whatever the cavalry can't!"
He gave her a salute as she sped off, her knights streaming along the path through the camp towards the sloped exit.
Zorzal didn't miss when the cavalry came streaming down from Pina's camp. Knights in their gilded armour, swords and lances flashing in the sun.
As he saw them crash into an infantry formation, he suddenly felt helpless. Somehow, his sister had far more horses than he had thought (or were the officers to blame?) and they had in a single move, routed a unit, with him unable to do anything.
His mind leapt back in time to Kati's death and the complex feelings he had felt there.
Bile surged in his gorge. Forcing it down, he shook himself and screamed for his forces to stop the Knights of the Rose.
Then, the report arrived of another legion smashing into their flanks, their approach covered by winds and hills.
Zorzal's forces were caught in a pincer. Officers barked orders to form counters, messengers were dispatched, carrying orders and questions.
Then the rifles barked from atop several hills, as Pina's riflemen revealed themselves. The eclectic collection of rifles, a wide mix of weapons firing 5.56 NATO from wherever Pina could get them at a cheap price, cracked out. Her forces were not well experienced with them, despite months of training through the winter under NATO trainers.
But they had massed numbers.
Messengers, briefly confused by the sudden swarms of flying insects around them that they could not see, were cut down.
Infantry formations found individual members struck by bullets, outside the range of a bow.
Cavalry that tried to intercept Pina's knights as they rampaged through panicking infantry found their mounts wounded or cut down from under them, their armour barely more than useless.
And Zorzal's artillery, based on ancient designs, found themselves outmatched. One position had a pot struck by a bullet, dousing the crew and weapon itself in the incendiary fluid.
As Bozes' knights began to crush the flank, panic began to spread amongst every rank within Zorzal's army.
The young Emperor's hands found a nearby officer.
"How many firepots do we have left!?" He demanded. Through his fear, a surge of defiance burned. He was a demigod, chosen by Sol. He would not yield nor falter when lesser men failed.
The officer flinched.
"Uh… only a hundred or so, I think…" He stuttered in reply.
"Find me the exact number and get every wyvern and dragon we have!" He yelled, a desperate plan in mind. "Frumentarii! I want cowards back on the line! Kill any that try to run! Pin Pina's forces in place!"
Her lance was torn from her grip as her horse thundered beneath her. Its tip was buried behind her in the torso of a shocked youth, no older than she was.
Despite the heat and tremor she felt in her heart, Pina found her hands steady as they replaced her lost lance with her sword, the metal blade coming free of the scabbard easily.
Her throat was dry from shouted orders, even as her body felt like it was drowning in sweat.
Her sword flashed out in an arc as she struck a passing soldier, another trampled under the hooves of her mount. She raised her bloodied blade to signal at nearby troops carrying her standard, rallying them.
Around her, her sisters and brothers in arms, more of the former than the latter, within the Knights of the Rose rode with her. Lances exhausted into the bodies of their countrymen fighting under Zorzal, a fact that still made her heart ache.
Her lance kept pace with two others, forming the three-pronged advance as they ascended a hill.
At the top, a troop of archers broke and fled.
Pina let them go, instead, she turned her gaze towards a troop of infantry in strange uniforms forcing some of Zorzal's retreating infantry back into the fight. They were just at the bottom of the slope, hadn't seen them yet, and weren't protected by any spearmen.
An easy target for a cavalry force.
With a shout, Pina directed her knights into a charge.
"Princess! Above!" Someone cried.
Pina stole a glance up, as her forces thundered down the slope.
At first, Pina was confused by the shout. There were a few wyverns, but that wasn't unusual. It was fairly standard for the Imperial Army to use them as messengers and scouts. They had been over the battlefield for the entire battle, including her own few, running interference and causing problems where they could.
But then Pina realised, with dawning horror, that it was not a few wyverns at all. Zorzal had sent up his entire aerial force, carrying clay pots in their talons.
It wasn't unheard of for wyverns to drop boiling oil from above, or massed metal darts.
But she had a sinking feeling, as she saw that they were too committed to abort the charge, that they were carrying more of Zorzal's alchemical weapons. If they could be fired from artillery, why not drop them?
Pina clenched her teeth as blood pounded in her ears, steeling herself as the enemy formation drew before them at the bottom of the slope, and prayed.
A shadow passed over her force as they struck. Some infantry were thrown bodily by the impact.
She heard a cheer from somewhere as her sword struck an officer's passing head, the impact rattling her arm and leaving it sore.
Then, something struck her horse's head before her and burst into flame as she was thrown from the saddle.
Suspicion ruled his mind.
Doubts about his officers plagued his consciousness.
And annoyance harried his thoughts.
He sat, alone in his tent, upon his throne, brooding. Dark, fearful thoughts clouded his vision, even as he waited.
As the time reached just after an hour past dawn, the guards permitted his generals to enter.
"Your Majesty," The senior general led them. "We are ready to commence the attack on your command."
Zorzal studied the man for a moment. Searching his face for… something. Some signs of betrayal or loyalty. There was… only confusion at the Emperor's silence.
"You may commence the attack at your discretion," Zorzal announced. "I leave the command to you."
There was a flicker of surprise in the senior general's face as he accepted the command. The generals then all saluted, before marching out. Once more, Zorzal was left alone.
Pina saw the troops march from Zorzal's camps as they reached the zeniths of the hills. Splendid formations, tight in disciplined phalanxes, marching over the slopes, armour and weapons flashing in the sunlight of the early dawn.
The troops moved under the flags of the Empire, though their standards were new to her. Their flags fluttered in the light breeze.
Her own troops carried the Imperial flag, accompanied by the banner of her knighthood order to mark their allegiance. Their phalanxes weren't as quite as tight, but they all marched in a steady rhythm, no faster or slower than the other phalanx. As they pivoted and wheeled into formation, Pina could make out the grim, determined faces of the veterans in her forces, standing in stark contrast to the younger faces in her brother's cohorts.
She lowered her binoculars as she heard one of her officers call for her.
"Your Highness? We are prepared to begin."
She sighed in dread.
"Very well," She let the binoculars fall to her chest, clattering against her breastplate as they hung from their strap. Then she turned and followed the officer into the tent. "What is Zorzal's current deployment compared to our own?"
"He has deployed auxiliaries in a skirmishing formation to both flanks," Grey answered her as she took her place at the head of the map-covered table. "The bulk of his heavy infantry are massed at the centre, with the rest of them massed to both flanks behind the skirmishers. Not a standard formation, but not a completely unwise one either. No sign of his cavalry, and we know for certain that he has kept a large force in reserve."
Placed upon the map of the region were a mix of pointed wood and plastic markers, representing the various forces on the field. Grey pointed each of them out.
"Now, these hills here and here block sightlines to these areas from the most likely vantage point he is commanding from. If he is relying on runners, or Wyverns to observe and report back from above, then we have a significant advantage with radios," Grey continued. "We received a messenger from Bozes a short while ago, Princess, while you were observing the armies. She is a few hours away."
"That still leaves us outnumbered," Pina noted before gesturing to the map. "I assume we will be holding these passes here and here, holding the cavalry and rifles in reserve, to funnel Zorzal's forces?"
"Yes, your Highness. We have deployed our infantry to counter the flanks, while our archers defend our camp from the slopes," A general replied. "I am confident we can hold for several days if need be."
Pina nodded, both relieved to hear that and emboldened by the general's faith in the forces she had amassed. Yet, uncertainty lingered at the edges of her mind. Zorzal's new weapons, despite NATO's warnings, were still unknowns.
One of the radio operators in the tent spoke up.
"Report from the third cohort: Zorzal's forces have begun their attack."
The air was filled with a sense of excitement, as the fresh-faced troops marched towards their foes. Their decurion was less pleased, still unsure of the new weapons and displeased at how green his troops were.
They had passed the battered remnants of the vanguard, fodder auxiliaries and skirmishers with exhausted ammunition, as they closed with the enemy. It was now time for real soldiers to fight.
At his command, they came to a stop. Then the front ranks kneeled behind their shields. The fuses were lit. Spears were aimed at the enemy ranks.
And the small metal barrels attached to the spears erupted into fire and fury. The decurion flinched, despite being prepared for it.
Lead death was spat at the enemy, and all could see the shocked pain on the faces of their foe as their shields and armour failed them.
The decurion was less than impressed by the effectiveness, noting none of them were felled, being pulled or limping back behind their lines as the formation parted in a disciplined manner to withdraw the wounded. They had inflicted less casualties than the auxiliaries had.
But it put them on the backfoot, and forced them to attack, he noted with some satisfaction, ordering his forces to lock shields for a more standard clash.
"Firearms?" Pina gaped, before groaning. "… the fire lances NATO warned us about."
"So it would seem," Grey mulled the report they had just been given over in his head. "Zorzal's forces have better range. NATO must have gotten the range estimates wrong if I remember the weapon report correctly."
"Be that as it may," Pina said, fear for the sake of her soldiers making her hands tighten their grip on the table's edge. "What can we do about it?"
"At this point, princess, there is little we can do," An officer advised. "Our frontline is committed, the wounded are being withdrawn, and casualties are light."
"But we can warn the reserves and focus our troops on avoiding straight lines of sight. In the future, we may want to try and fight in woods, instead," Another senior officer offered. "In addition, our reserves should be informed and prepared. If we can bait them into firing at long range, it sounds like that has reduced effectiveness as well."
"Have it done," Pina ordered.
Zorzal glared at his sister's camp as his forces clashed.
As the minutes had stretched into hours, his forces failing to break the old men who fought for Pina despite having the new weapons, his frustration grew. Eventually, it grew to the point where, combined with his growing distrust of his officers, he abandoned his tent to see the battle himself.
In the distance, the troops still clashed, much of the fighting slipping behind hills and into valleys. In days past, the battle might have excited the young Emperor, but not now. Now, he feared his officers more than the enemy.
His enemy, or rather his sister, was at least honest about why she was opposed to him, even if they were foolish reasons.
"Have the other weapons deployed on the hills directly overlooking the battle," He ordered a nearby officer. One of his Frumentarii, so he was confident that they were trustworthy. "Let's see if Pina can tolerate seeing her soldiers burn."
There was the sound of pottery shattering, followed by a scream of pain and the sound of flames.
It was followed by another attack from Zorzal's forces. Set upon their high vantage points, oversized crossbows, mounted on stands, launched carefully prepared clay pots, filled with an alchemical liquid, towards their foe.
On the ground, it was another surprise for Pina's forces, this one far more dangerous than the first.
The force of the pots was enough to kill a man if they struck him directly, breaking skulls and ribs with the impact. As they burst apart, they sprayed their liquid about, which having been left to gestate for weeks, turned to an incendiary material that soaked the cloth, leather, and skin of a soldier, burning all with an intense heat that was difficult to douse with dirt and cloth.
The men so afflicted panicked, breaking ranks. It was the first time that Zorzal's forces had forced Pina's to do so and made their morale soar. The Emperor's forces soon gleefully closed again, where they had parted, and pushed all the harder, against the diminished ranks of Pina's troops.
"Pull our forces back," Pina ordered. "Break our lines of sight with those weapons."
"Your Highness, perhaps now we should deploy our riflemen?" An officer asked.
"No," Pina denied. "Not yet. We have other options, and Bozes' forces should be only an hour out by now."
"Radio report from Lady Bozes," The radio operator chimed in. "She reports she is less than two hours away."
"Excellent," Pina smiled. "Now, can we pull our forces back? Bait my brother's troops into a position where we can strike them with our cavalry, covered by our rifles?"
Grey hummed at the idea.
"It has merit," He agreed. "Striking from two directions could put his forces in disarray… but what of his reserves? What if he sees the ruse and doesn't overextend?"
"We do not exactly have other options," An officer pointed out. "Our reinforcements will arrive, soon. The other legion should be right behind Bozes, so we have deeper reserves than he does, especially if we catch him by surprise."
"Then we will commit to it," Another officer agreed. "Your Highness, I support your plan, if we can confirm the support of our third Legion."
"There!" Zorzal shouted to his officers. "Again, you fail to capitalise on Pina's forces being pushed back!"
Whether in embarrassment, shame, or concealed treason, his generals remained silent.
Zorzal didn't bother looking at them. His opinion of them had fallen as the battle progressed.
"Send in our reserves!" He snarled the order. "The resting units, too! Crush her here and end this farce."
"My Emperor," One started to protest. "There was word from a scout about…"
"I don't care," The Emperor retorted with a vulgar expression. "Crush my sister. Now."
Mentally, Zorzal had realised that he needed new officers. One not under Bouro's thumb. But… to replace every officer… he had not nearly enough to put in place.
"We shall see it done!" A Frumentarii officer stepped forward. "What shall we do with those that do not comply?"
"Treat them as traitors," Zorzal replied, surprised and satisfied at the solution that had presented itself. "Regardless of their rank."
"Your Highness… are you certain about this?" Grey frowned as he helped her mount her horse.
"Zorzal isn't likely to make an appearance on the field," She told him. "And with the maddened rush he's putting out, my appearance is needed to bolster our flagging moral."
Grey grunted in response, unable to counter her point.
"At least you are remembering your helmet," He snorted, after a moment.
She smiled at him, before closing the helm and signaling the rest of her knights to join her.
"I leave the command of our rifles to you," She told him. "Silence the weapons lured into range, and shatter whatever the cavalry can't!"
He gave her a salute as she sped off, her knights streaming along the path through the camp towards the sloped exit.
Zorzal didn't miss when the cavalry came streaming down from Pina's camp. Knights in their gilded armour, swords and lances flashing in the sun.
As he saw them crash into an infantry formation, he suddenly felt helpless. Somehow, his sister had far more horses than he had thought (or were the officers to blame?) and they had in a single move, routed a unit, with him unable to do anything.
His mind leapt back in time to Kati's death and the complex feelings he had felt there.
Bile surged in his gorge. Forcing it down, he shook himself and screamed for his forces to stop the Knights of the Rose.
Then, the report arrived of another legion smashing into their flanks, their approach covered by winds and hills.
Zorzal's forces were caught in a pincer. Officers barked orders to form counters, messengers were dispatched, carrying orders and questions.
Then the rifles barked from atop several hills, as Pina's riflemen revealed themselves. The eclectic collection of rifles, a wide mix of weapons firing 5.56 NATO from wherever Pina could get them at a cheap price, cracked out. Her forces were not well experienced with them, despite months of training through the winter under NATO trainers.
But they had massed numbers.
Messengers, briefly confused by the sudden swarms of flying insects around them that they could not see, were cut down.
Infantry formations found individual members struck by bullets, outside the range of a bow.
Cavalry that tried to intercept Pina's knights as they rampaged through panicking infantry found their mounts wounded or cut down from under them, their armour barely more than useless.
And Zorzal's artillery, based on ancient designs, found themselves outmatched. One position had a pot struck by a bullet, dousing the crew and weapon itself in the incendiary fluid.
As Bozes' knights began to crush the flank, panic began to spread amongst every rank within Zorzal's army.
The young Emperor's hands found a nearby officer.
"How many firepots do we have left!?" He demanded. Through his fear, a surge of defiance burned. He was a demigod, chosen by Sol. He would not yield nor falter when lesser men failed.
The officer flinched.
"Uh… only a hundred or so, I think…" He stuttered in reply.
"Find me the exact number and get every wyvern and dragon we have!" He yelled, a desperate plan in mind. "Frumentarii! I want cowards back on the line! Kill any that try to run! Pin Pina's forces in place!"
Her lance was torn from her grip as her horse thundered beneath her. Its tip was buried behind her in the torso of a shocked youth, no older than she was.
Despite the heat and tremor she felt in her heart, Pina found her hands steady as they replaced her lost lance with her sword, the metal blade coming free of the scabbard easily.
Her throat was dry from shouted orders, even as her body felt like it was drowning in sweat.
Her sword flashed out in an arc as she struck a passing soldier, another trampled under the hooves of her mount. She raised her bloodied blade to signal at nearby troops carrying her standard, rallying them.
Around her, her sisters and brothers in arms, more of the former than the latter, within the Knights of the Rose rode with her. Lances exhausted into the bodies of their countrymen fighting under Zorzal, a fact that still made her heart ache.
Her lance kept pace with two others, forming the three-pronged advance as they ascended a hill.
At the top, a troop of archers broke and fled.
Pina let them go, instead, she turned her gaze towards a troop of infantry in strange uniforms forcing some of Zorzal's retreating infantry back into the fight. They were just at the bottom of the slope, hadn't seen them yet, and weren't protected by any spearmen.
An easy target for a cavalry force.
With a shout, Pina directed her knights into a charge.
"Princess! Above!" Someone cried.
Pina stole a glance up, as her forces thundered down the slope.
At first, Pina was confused by the shout. There were a few wyverns, but that wasn't unusual. It was fairly standard for the Imperial Army to use them as messengers and scouts. They had been over the battlefield for the entire battle, including her own few, running interference and causing problems where they could.
But then Pina realised, with dawning horror, that it was not a few wyverns at all. Zorzal had sent up his entire aerial force, carrying clay pots in their talons.
It wasn't unheard of for wyverns to drop boiling oil from above, or massed metal darts.
But she had a sinking feeling, as she saw that they were too committed to abort the charge, that they were carrying more of Zorzal's alchemical weapons. If they could be fired from artillery, why not drop them?
Pina clenched her teeth as blood pounded in her ears, steeling herself as the enemy formation drew before them at the bottom of the slope, and prayed.
A shadow passed over her force as they struck. Some infantry were thrown bodily by the impact.
She heard a cheer from somewhere as her sword struck an officer's passing head, the impact rattling her arm and leaving it sore.
Then, something struck her horse's head before her and burst into flame as she was thrown from the saddle.
Chapter 107
New
charclone
Well-known member
Awareness slowly returned to Pina, as she felt herself being carried. Her face felt hot, burning even, yet simultaneously, very cold.
Blinking and biting back a groan of pain, she realised her helmet had been torn from her head in her fall. Her first thought after that was that Grey would chastise her for not securing it properly.
Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. She lay in a crude stretcher, made from a cloak and a pair of spears, carried by a pair of soldiers. Her throat felt dry, and her tongue swollen, as she stared at her rescuers. The pain was the only thing that kept her leaden eyelids from drooping back closed.
A moment later, they came to a stop. Someone said something, but Pina found a ringing in her ears that drowned it out. Then, her stretcher was set down. She realised her helmet lay beside her on it, as it was knocked against her.
She pushed herself up, fighting against the strange feeling of comfort the stretcher offered, an act that caused alarm amongst the soldiers. One, dressed in a manner that denoted a Decurion, pushed his way through, kneeling beside her.
"Princess," She read his lips, with some difficulty. "Are you alright?"
"As I can be," She replied, her voice sounding strange and the skin around her mouth tugged oddly. "How goes the battle?"
The Decurion glanced away from where with a grimace.
As he turned back to her, he licked his lips.
"I… do not know," He said, his face suggesting that it wasn't the full truth. "But the demigod of Emroy may know more."
She followed his gaze as he looked past her.
Rory, dressed in her black and red outfit, spattered in blood and gore, strode towards them, her axe in hand.
Pina, though disturbed by both the viscera and the deeply satisfied look on the demigod's face, was relieved by the girlish figure's appearance.
"Hail, Rory," She called, before attempting to stand. The Decurion offered his arm to help support her as she found her limbs leaden. "How fare's the battle? Well, I take it, if you are permitted to intervene."
"Your idiot brother loosed all his fire pots against your troops, missing most of them as they marched. His own troops were also caught by some of the falling weapons," Came the reply, the bloodthirsty demigod almost giggling. "When he realised Bozes was attacking his flank, alongside another of your legions, while his own were in disarray and panicking, he started to pull back. If he has any sense, he'll retreat."
Rory stopped in front of her, smiling up at her.
"But we can talk about it later," She said. "Based on that burn and the way you are slurring your words; I think we should get you to a healer. But I am curious about something."
Her gaze shifted to the Decurion and his men.
"Why would a group of Zorzal's soldiers be escorting you towards your camp?"
It suddenly dawned on Pina how nervous the Decurion and his men looked under the demigod's gaze.
"Your Holiness, Your Highness," The Decurion licked his lips. "The Princess' cavalry charge saved our lives from Zorzal's Frumentarii. Our officer ordered us to fall back out of range of your… fire staves and the Frumentarii objected to the point of violence. More of us are dead at their hands, including our officers, and we are servants of the Emperor and Empire. Zorzal… twice those near him died under mysterious circumstances, while the Emperor trusted you to negotiate on behalf of the Empire. In addition…"
The Decurion straightened himself as he looked into Pina's eyes.
"I fought the Warrior Bunnies under Zorzal's command. It was a slaughter. No tactics or strategy. If our foes hadn't been so ill-disciplined as to leave themselves open to an easy flanking attack, I fear few of the legions would have come home, even in victory."
Pina blinked.
"I see," She muttered in reply. "I appreciate your candour and integrity. It shall be compensated appropriately. Now, I had best return to my camp, as Her Holiness suggested. Shall we resume our path?"
The Decurion barked at his men, putting them back into marching order, taking her words with grace.
As they marched, Pina's wounded, woozy mind belatedly finished processing the Decurion's words, sparking an idea in the recesses of her mind, one she set aside until she was more recovered to fully explore.
The healers' tents were filled with the sounds of wounded soldiers. But by some miracle, perhaps the rushed training NATO provided alongside the medicines and sanitized bandages coupled with a large helping of a force of volunteers from Italica to handle and manage the staffing of the healers, those that were destined to die went to Emroy on the field, well before reaching the tents. Those that arrived would greet the Lord of War another day, another battle.
Pina, for her part, found the smell of disinfectants unpleasant. But she tolerated them as the feeling of a poultice to heal the burns on her face caused far more discomfort. A stinging, burning sensation that stabbed through her face like a blade.
When the pot had struck her horse and unmounted her, sending her through the air, part of the flaming liquid had splashed on her helmet. The heat had been so great as to warp it, burning her skin beneath. It was only by the chance that it came loose that saved her greater agony and injury.
Once the healer moved away, Pina looked over at Grey, who stood at attention by the bedside with a long-practised expression of patience.
She could have put the debriefing off, citing the bone deep exhaustion. Grey would have understood. But Pina felt that would not have been right. She could rest properly once she knew.
"How bad are our losses?" Was the first question she asked him. She kept her voice low, so as not to attract attention from the other wounded. She didn't need moral collapsing from rumours.
"Higher than we'd like," Grey told her. "But they are also high for Zorzal. A few spies informed us that he had depleted the stocks of his new weapons, as well. He probably can make more, but that takes time."
Pina gave a pained sigh.
"It will take us time to regroup, too," She pointed out. "… we have reserves at Italica, at least. Has Lord Richard been able to cause trouble in the South?"
Grey shook his head.
"There have been no messages from NATO about him," The old soldier said. "To be honest, I am worried that some disaster has struck. I doubt he'd betray us, not with the Warrior Bunnies eager to attack the Empire, but… NATO mentioned a storm. If it foundered his ships…"
Pina winced.
"I see… ask them if there is any news," She ordered, laying her head against the pillow. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes," Grey smiled. "Zorzal has decamped and withdrawn from the field. He is in retreat."
"Then we are withdrawing back to whatever fortifications we can, and are to contact Italica," Pina ordered. "We need our reserves and allies readied as soon as possible."
Zorzal was furious and afraid.
His officers had failed him. Either by treachery or incompetence, allowing the enemy to flank him. His Frumentarii had failed to prevent a route. His new weapons had not been anywhere near as effective as he had hoped.
As the carriage shook while the horses drew it forward down the road back towards Sadera, amidst the tattered, battered form of his army, the Emperor fumed within.
He needed a new plan. New weapons. His sister's forces were smaller than his, though she was obviously better equipped. The losses here meant that, with her bleeding heart, she wouldn't be likely to press the attack. But that only meant he had some time.
It was not a glorious victory. No honour won. Only bitter defeat and the satisfaction that it was not a victory for his enemy.
Zorzal bit his knuckle as he tried to think of a plan.
Zorzal snarled.
He… needed to remove those disloyal from power. But to do that without alerting them… he would need to transfer them. Concentrate his loyalists at Sadera and place Frumentarii in outward units to ensure loyalty.
More Frumentarii would be needed to secure the Capitol, and collect taxes given the corruption exposed, but…
Zorzal paused. The corruption. With how widespread it had been… surely the other nobles were related? Even if they weren't… they were guilty of other crimes. Their fortunes could be seized… and taxes reduced on the commoners.
Zorzal smiled as a plan slowly formed.
The commoners could be easily bought, the remaining nobles arrested, and new armies raised quickly. The new weapons… they had their place, but he had relied on them too much. From today, he would double down on the ancestral method of fighting: men clashing with shields, spears, and armour against their foe. Noble civilisation crushing the flighty savage under disciplined lines.
Vast numbers could be raised if he whipped up their religious, pious fervour, as devoted commoners gladly volunteered to fight for their gods and Emperor, with the promises of vast wealth to come with victory.
Best of all, it was simply an expansion of what he had already been doing.
Zorzal leaned back in his carriage, resting on the arranged cushions and pelts, confident that this new plan would secure victory.
Blinking and biting back a groan of pain, she realised her helmet had been torn from her head in her fall. Her first thought after that was that Grey would chastise her for not securing it properly.
Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. She lay in a crude stretcher, made from a cloak and a pair of spears, carried by a pair of soldiers. Her throat felt dry, and her tongue swollen, as she stared at her rescuers. The pain was the only thing that kept her leaden eyelids from drooping back closed.
A moment later, they came to a stop. Someone said something, but Pina found a ringing in her ears that drowned it out. Then, her stretcher was set down. She realised her helmet lay beside her on it, as it was knocked against her.
She pushed herself up, fighting against the strange feeling of comfort the stretcher offered, an act that caused alarm amongst the soldiers. One, dressed in a manner that denoted a Decurion, pushed his way through, kneeling beside her.
"Princess," She read his lips, with some difficulty. "Are you alright?"
"As I can be," She replied, her voice sounding strange and the skin around her mouth tugged oddly. "How goes the battle?"
The Decurion glanced away from where with a grimace.
As he turned back to her, he licked his lips.
"I… do not know," He said, his face suggesting that it wasn't the full truth. "But the demigod of Emroy may know more."
She followed his gaze as he looked past her.
Rory, dressed in her black and red outfit, spattered in blood and gore, strode towards them, her axe in hand.
Pina, though disturbed by both the viscera and the deeply satisfied look on the demigod's face, was relieved by the girlish figure's appearance.
"Hail, Rory," She called, before attempting to stand. The Decurion offered his arm to help support her as she found her limbs leaden. "How fare's the battle? Well, I take it, if you are permitted to intervene."
"Your idiot brother loosed all his fire pots against your troops, missing most of them as they marched. His own troops were also caught by some of the falling weapons," Came the reply, the bloodthirsty demigod almost giggling. "When he realised Bozes was attacking his flank, alongside another of your legions, while his own were in disarray and panicking, he started to pull back. If he has any sense, he'll retreat."
Rory stopped in front of her, smiling up at her.
"But we can talk about it later," She said. "Based on that burn and the way you are slurring your words; I think we should get you to a healer. But I am curious about something."
Her gaze shifted to the Decurion and his men.
"Why would a group of Zorzal's soldiers be escorting you towards your camp?"
It suddenly dawned on Pina how nervous the Decurion and his men looked under the demigod's gaze.
"Your Holiness, Your Highness," The Decurion licked his lips. "The Princess' cavalry charge saved our lives from Zorzal's Frumentarii. Our officer ordered us to fall back out of range of your… fire staves and the Frumentarii objected to the point of violence. More of us are dead at their hands, including our officers, and we are servants of the Emperor and Empire. Zorzal… twice those near him died under mysterious circumstances, while the Emperor trusted you to negotiate on behalf of the Empire. In addition…"
The Decurion straightened himself as he looked into Pina's eyes.
"I fought the Warrior Bunnies under Zorzal's command. It was a slaughter. No tactics or strategy. If our foes hadn't been so ill-disciplined as to leave themselves open to an easy flanking attack, I fear few of the legions would have come home, even in victory."
Pina blinked.
"I see," She muttered in reply. "I appreciate your candour and integrity. It shall be compensated appropriately. Now, I had best return to my camp, as Her Holiness suggested. Shall we resume our path?"
The Decurion barked at his men, putting them back into marching order, taking her words with grace.
As they marched, Pina's wounded, woozy mind belatedly finished processing the Decurion's words, sparking an idea in the recesses of her mind, one she set aside until she was more recovered to fully explore.
The healers' tents were filled with the sounds of wounded soldiers. But by some miracle, perhaps the rushed training NATO provided alongside the medicines and sanitized bandages coupled with a large helping of a force of volunteers from Italica to handle and manage the staffing of the healers, those that were destined to die went to Emroy on the field, well before reaching the tents. Those that arrived would greet the Lord of War another day, another battle.
Pina, for her part, found the smell of disinfectants unpleasant. But she tolerated them as the feeling of a poultice to heal the burns on her face caused far more discomfort. A stinging, burning sensation that stabbed through her face like a blade.
When the pot had struck her horse and unmounted her, sending her through the air, part of the flaming liquid had splashed on her helmet. The heat had been so great as to warp it, burning her skin beneath. It was only by the chance that it came loose that saved her greater agony and injury.
Once the healer moved away, Pina looked over at Grey, who stood at attention by the bedside with a long-practised expression of patience.
She could have put the debriefing off, citing the bone deep exhaustion. Grey would have understood. But Pina felt that would not have been right. She could rest properly once she knew.
"How bad are our losses?" Was the first question she asked him. She kept her voice low, so as not to attract attention from the other wounded. She didn't need moral collapsing from rumours.
"Higher than we'd like," Grey told her. "But they are also high for Zorzal. A few spies informed us that he had depleted the stocks of his new weapons, as well. He probably can make more, but that takes time."
Pina gave a pained sigh.
"It will take us time to regroup, too," She pointed out. "… we have reserves at Italica, at least. Has Lord Richard been able to cause trouble in the South?"
Grey shook his head.
"There have been no messages from NATO about him," The old soldier said. "To be honest, I am worried that some disaster has struck. I doubt he'd betray us, not with the Warrior Bunnies eager to attack the Empire, but… NATO mentioned a storm. If it foundered his ships…"
Pina winced.
"I see… ask them if there is any news," She ordered, laying her head against the pillow. "Is there anything else?"
"Yes," Grey smiled. "Zorzal has decamped and withdrawn from the field. He is in retreat."
"Then we are withdrawing back to whatever fortifications we can, and are to contact Italica," Pina ordered. "We need our reserves and allies readied as soon as possible."
Zorzal was furious and afraid.
His officers had failed him. Either by treachery or incompetence, allowing the enemy to flank him. His Frumentarii had failed to prevent a route. His new weapons had not been anywhere near as effective as he had hoped.
As the carriage shook while the horses drew it forward down the road back towards Sadera, amidst the tattered, battered form of his army, the Emperor fumed within.
He needed a new plan. New weapons. His sister's forces were smaller than his, though she was obviously better equipped. The losses here meant that, with her bleeding heart, she wouldn't be likely to press the attack. But that only meant he had some time.
It was not a glorious victory. No honour won. Only bitter defeat and the satisfaction that it was not a victory for his enemy.
Zorzal bit his knuckle as he tried to think of a plan.
Zorzal snarled.
He… needed to remove those disloyal from power. But to do that without alerting them… he would need to transfer them. Concentrate his loyalists at Sadera and place Frumentarii in outward units to ensure loyalty.
More Frumentarii would be needed to secure the Capitol, and collect taxes given the corruption exposed, but…
Zorzal paused. The corruption. With how widespread it had been… surely the other nobles were related? Even if they weren't… they were guilty of other crimes. Their fortunes could be seized… and taxes reduced on the commoners.
Zorzal smiled as a plan slowly formed.
The commoners could be easily bought, the remaining nobles arrested, and new armies raised quickly. The new weapons… they had their place, but he had relied on them too much. From today, he would double down on the ancestral method of fighting: men clashing with shields, spears, and armour against their foe. Noble civilisation crushing the flighty savage under disciplined lines.
Vast numbers could be raised if he whipped up their religious, pious fervour, as devoted commoners gladly volunteered to fight for their gods and Emperor, with the promises of vast wealth to come with victory.
Best of all, it was simply an expansion of what he had already been doing.
Zorzal leaned back in his carriage, resting on the arranged cushions and pelts, confident that this new plan would secure victory.