An extract from "Historia Zenithis: Cohors Heroum", by Prince Alfonse of Askr,
It had been three years of peace between the nations of Askr and Embla, following the death of the previous emperor after his demise by the end of King Gustav. The two nations had been utterly devastated by the previous conflict (as seen in "Famine and Upheaval, War Economical Estimate of Year 789" by Minister Erik Roddat), but following the peace their economies had begun the slow climb to pre-war prosperity. Though in later years this would only be known by historians as a short reprieve in the larger context of the Askrian/Emblian "Conflict of Bloodlines", both nations at the time felt like this peace was meant to last, and that the final blow had been dealt to any Emblian imperialistic ambition. The death of the Emperor and following Consort regency had plunged the country into political disarray, with candidates from many noble houses contending for the favour of the new ruler; while the exorbitant imposed by King Gustav of Askr had forced the Emblian Queen Regent to implement many unpopular measures that shook the core of the militaristic Emblian society, like the complete disbanding of the Great Emblian Army. (The author will not discuss this arguments further but, were the reader interested in learning more regarding Emblian society and culture during the Three Years Truce, "Youth in the Emblian Court" by Princess Veronica the Brave describes both in great details). Unfortunately, unknown to many, new tensions were rising between the two nations, and a new generation of princes, politicians, soldiers and citizens would soon be trapped in the same war that had swallowed the lives of so many of their predecessors. The final phase of the "Conflict of the Bloodlines" was about to begin, and no one was truly prepared neither for its cost, nor for the new ways in which it would have been fought.
Chapter 1: The Invasion
Year 20 of the rule of Gustav, March 20th;
Fortress of Alfar, base of the Order of Guardians;
The sudden Emblian incursion had caught the Order of Guardians by surprise. Emblians had entered the citadel masked as merchants and, when night had fallen, they had started moving through the soldiers' lodges neutralizing them one by one. Had it not been for the keen eyes of a lone guard, Alfonse and Sharena would have probably been killed while still in their beds, like it had happened for many of the recruits of the Order. Luckily that did not happen, and the two royals had instead found themselves leading a dozen of soldiers away from the barracks. As they move through the streets, Alfonse finds his attention drifting toward the few bodies they come across. He cannot help but linger on each face, even for just a second, praying not to recognize them. In his heart, he fears that he might crumble were he to find one of his friends amongst them. As they pass another corpse, Sharena breaks his revere: "Commander Anna said to rendezvous with her at the Temple. We are not that far, let's pick up the pace."
Alfonse nods in return, resuming his run with renewed vigour, but he barely has time to turn right into another street when an Emblian soldier almost bumps into him. Instinctively, almost mechanically, Fòlkvangr slashes the opponent's blade away leaving him wide open and Sharena's Fensalir follows suit piercing the man's troat. As the surprise subsides and an awkward calm swiftly follows, the royal siblings both feel a shiver in their spines after realizing that they have just killed a man on instinct alone. Around them, fearing an ambush, their escort has already formed a wall, but no other Emblians appear.
"They must have been a deserter... or simply running away."
Sharena voice is now shaking a bit. It is not her first kill, by a wide margin, but Alphonse realizes that she must have never cut down someone that was not actively trying to hurt her before. In that moment he realizes exactly what he should do. He should confort her, he should tell her it's not her fault, he should probably hug her as well but...
"We must press onward", it's all he manages to say. Four somber, pathetic words. He silently curses himself.
They have no further encounters on the way to the temple and proceed in absolute silence. The group enters the plaza leading to their destination, and finds the rests of a chaotic battlefield. Bodies, Askrian and Emblian alike, lie on the floor, while a few wounded are being administered first aid by their fellow soldiers. In front of the temple's gates stands Commander Anna, leaning on her axe in exhaustion an keeping a hand pressed on her left shoulder .As the siblings draw near the woman waves at them with a small, pained, smile.
"Thank the dragon you are both safe. I feared to have lost you too."
She moves like to hug them, but a healer stops her and forces her to have her wound looked at. As they bandage it, Anna turns again to the royal siblings
"From what a couple of prisoners told us, the Emblians are not that many, and some of them are not even proper soldiers. Their plan hoped on taking our leadership out of the fight before we could reorganize"
"But now we are all here right? We can counterattack and drive them back"
Sharena's opinion only causes Anna's smile to shrink further. Her tone speaks of defeat.
"I would agree with you but…" her gaze shifts to the soldiers around them "I don't think we can expect many other soldiers to aid us, many have died and many more have simply run away and those still with us are either exhausted or injured. Also, I must imagine that the enemy forces already know of our location and are converging here as we speak… We have few options, all of them are horrible ones".
Suddenly, Alphonse realizes where they are, and what exactly the Commander is about to ask of them.
"…you want us to unseal Breidablìk and run. Don't you? You want to take your stand here while me and Sharena flee like cowards".
The tone is harsh, full of the cold anger that's shaking the young prince to the bone. Anna meets his gaze, voice like steel as she answers.
"Yes. And that's order. Everyone else, with me, there are more Emblians inbound".
No discussions, no protests, just a few curt nods as the soldiers get in line behind the Commander. In the distance most sounds have subsided, and an ethereal calm has descended on the battlefield. Alfonse can only hear all the responses he could think of dying in his throat, as his mouth refuses to emit a single sound.
The temple, Alfonse noted, must be as old as the city itself. It was a very simple structure, all things considered, just a keep divided by two rows of columns on each flank with walls of the same white stone that the quarries near the city extracted, only adorned by a few golden braziers suspended on the ceiling.
Not that it needs any decoration, he reflects, as it is more of a vault than a place for prayers. And on a small altar on the opposite side of the door stood Breidablìk, the treasure they seek. "Let's hurry, they are all counting on us" Sharena says, leading him by the hand as she crosses the length of the hall with long strides. The prince follows instantly, and the two siblings reach the altar, curtly bowing before it as they had been thought. The sacred weapon glitters in the penumbra of the hall, its shine untouched by the ages. Unwieldy, unconventional, Breidablìk took after no other weapon known to the Askrian people. Many in the past theorized on how it would have been used in a fight, but none had been able to develop a proper fighting style for it. Still, the boy can feel its power boiling, resonating with his sacred blood and filling his nose like exotic incense, the magic of the weapon pulsating through the air and numbing his senses.
"It's as if it can sense us… do you feel it brother? It's as if… As if it is watching us. Daring us, to take it"
Sharena's comment lights up something inside of her brother, and his expression morphs into a scowl. Silently, angrily, he reaches with his hand and takes hold of the weapon, yanking it away from the altar and undoing the sacred seal that only his family could break. A blinding light follows, as a force pushes the prince away from the weapon sending him skidding on the hard floor. Sharena covers eyes just in time and can just see the altar starting to crumble as a weird portal opens before the light overwhelms her too. A sound of steps echoes in the room and, as the glow dims, Alphonse begins to see a white coated figure standing behind the altar, Breidablìk in hand. The person raises a gloved hand, in an awkward gesture of greeting.
"Uhm… Hello? Where am I and what the hell just happened?".
Kiran had been silently pondering what Alfonse and Sharena told him in the temple. The situation was indeed dire, and he imagined that his best bet would have been following the two and help them in any way he could. Ideally, he would have then given them the slip and found a way to get back home, but the two mentioned a prophecy and if Kiran had ever learned something from his youth spent reading Greek mythos and tragedies is that you don't mess around with prophecies. Heck, he thought, if he had been chosen it must have meant that he was somehow equipped with the tools to make it out of this alive.
"Alfose, Sharena, what are you doing?"
As the three had gotten out of the temple, they had found soldiers fighting right on the plaza. Both sides were composed by infantry, with no archers, and the fighting had basically devolved in a frantic, unorganized melee. The fortuitous summoning of Virion ("My my, what a predicament. I am Virion, Archest or Archers, I suppose I'll lend you my skills" such a doofus, Kiran liked him) and Alfonse calculated orders allowed them to slowly isolate and overwhelm the enemy soldiers, turning the tide of the fight.
"Saving you, that's what."
For his part, Kiran himself felt like he had done very little. Breidablìk had revealed itself a sturdy weapon, and it turned out that pointing a magical artefact point blank in the face of a medieval soldier (shush, I don't care if this is fantasyland, it's still medieval) was enough to intimidate some of them enough to have them drop their weapons. Or at least enough to have someone else finish them off.
"Granted, but I ordered you two to run. You should be out of the plaza by now!"
Midway trough the battle, Kiran had the idea to pick up a shield, and so he ended up acting as bait for enemy soldiers, exposing their sides to Virion's arrows. Trying, but effective.
"We can turn this around! With the Weapon on our side we can still win this! We can summon more warriors!"
The rest had been uneventful, so now Kiran was simply sat down catching his breath while Anna and Alfonse shouted at each other. Standing beside him, Sharena gazed between the two, worried.
"Breidablìk has a limited amount of charges. Even if we spent them all to summon heroes, we would not have enough soldiers to tip the balance. It's too risky."
"So we should just run leaving you all here to die?"
"You should do what's best for Askr!"
The shouting match is interrupted as a third voice cuts through, calmly yet sternly.
"I agree", Virion says, placing himself between the two with the mouth brought to a thin line. "As someone once forced to the same decision, I must urge the prince to flee. Once you reach safety, we also could retreat or surrender. Our lives would not certainly be forfeited, and the country would still have both his royals and the Weapon".
The hero's opinion causes young prince to pause, but after a few sharp breaths he turns toward him, ready to argue once again, but he's stopped again.
"Brother… they are right…" Sharena says, "I don't like it either but they are right… we must go".
The tone is pained but looking up at her Kiran can see that she won't budge, determination shining in her eyes. Or maybe it's just the tears. Reading himself for another round of screams, Kiran stands up and looks around hoping to try and find some way to mediate between the two sides, when he notices it. Figures in the air, charging rapidly toward the plaza. By reflex, he points and shouts "Enemy incoming!".
Just as the figures draw near enough to be recognized, Askrian soldiers huddle together in the middle of the plaza. Kiran is brought to the centre of the square, as Anna shouts orders to the soldiers. Horses with wings (pegasi, Kiran amends mentally) and one green dragon (no, a wyvern, he notices again), with armed riders on them surround the plaza by air. They number around twenty, matching man for man the few Askrian remaining. The wyvern slowly descends and lands on one of the roofs that surround the plaza. The rider, donning a striking red armour, speaks curtly:
"Surrender now and you will be spared, I swear it on my homeland of Macedon. Throw down you weapons."
Anna's only answer is to bark more orders. Beside him, Kiran notices Virion knock an arrow, silently taking aim at the wyvern. The rider once again speaks:
"Such is you answer then. By the contract binding us, I am forced to fight you. Whitewings, attack!"
AN: So, this is chapter one. I'll try to update it with a certain frequency, but I haven't been writing in a long while so at the beginning things might progress slowly. Also, while the first few chapters might be a bit too focused on the action, once the order of heroes is properly established there will finally be proper character development. Review if you feel like it and please tell me if I missed some mistakes, my English is a bit rusty. So, hope to see ya next time.