THE FALLEN KING
The red-haired king tightened his grip on his blade, grimacing. Sweat stung his brown eyes, dripping down his dirty face. Screams of the dying and the thunder of clanging swords filled the corpse-strewn battlefield as King Draigg marches forward, striking down any Caledonian that stood in his way. Things were looking good.
Despite its backwardness, Caledona is a populous country, and could easily crush the kingdom of Ignis if given the time to mobilize its population. Draigg knows that he must defeat his enemies swiftly if he wishes to win. Having previously crushed a larger Caledonian army, Draigg had nonetheless failed to capture or kill the majority of the routed army. As his men marched in pursuit, his scouts managed to locate the defeated Caledonian army in one of the hundreds of fields of the fertile Caledonian kingdom.
The opposing Caledonian army was in tatters, demoralized after a crushing defeat. Despite an exhausting march, Draigg's men are in good spirits, ready for another victory. As the dense clouds cleared the sooty night sky, the battle commenced. The Caledonian archers launched a storm of arrows, obscuring the pale, yellow moon. Despite the rain of arrows, the Ignissian spearmen moved on, shoulder to shoulder, spears ready. Finally reaching the Caledonian army, the spearmen lobbed their spears, drew their swords, and charged. The mêlée begins.
Armor jingled, swords clinked, harnesses chinked, and the real battle began. Caledonian arrows fizzed and buzzed, hitting their intended targets.
Men are dying near Draigg. All around him was nothing but a whirlwind of disorder and violence, a blur of vicious motions. Draigg advances: slashing and stabbing as he moves, vanquishing his foes like a madman. He in inhuman, beast incarnate, ravaging the battlefield in front of him. An axeman blocks Draigg's path, stymieing his advance. Draigg makes a brutal downward chop, with more strength than skill. The swing cuts through the axeman's gambeson, drawing molten-red blood. He finished the man with a blow to the skull, instantly ending his life. One by one, assailants cautiously advance towards Draigg. One by one, they fall, slain by his mighty blade. Wyrmstooth, his blade, gleams in the pale moon light, glistening with the blood of Draigg's enemies.
Draigg inhales the metallic scent. He grins. Unlike his peers, Draigg reveled in the battlefield, finding euphoria in the slaughter of the battlefield. He relishes in the fear of his enemies and he relishes the despair in their faces when they face the savage dragon king. For Draigg, the battlefield promises solace and offers a place to vent his anger and release his stress. As he advances, his foes backpedal slowly, cautiously. He can see it. He can feel it. He can smell it. This battle is his.
Suddenly, a cloud of arrows blot the ebon sky. Without time to shield themselves, soldiers fell one by one, friend or foe. The barbed arrows simply bounced off the heavy armor of Draigg and his royal guard, but the damage was done. How dishonorable, thought Draigg. The weak-willed Caledonians are willing to sacrifice their own companions for a small advantage.
Draigg and his forces continue their advance, pummeling and pounding the Caledonian defenses under the sunless sky. A young man, possibly only in his sixteenth year, comes charging towards Draigg, sword ready. Draigg dodges the blow and hits his assailant with the pommel of his broadsword, incapacitating the swordsman. Men were screaming and crying, as the battlefield became slick with mercury blood. A young spearman manages to hit Draigg, bruising him. Draigg stabs his unprotected body, spilling his innards.
"Disgusting," Draigg muttered. The putrid smell sickens his sensitive sense of smell.
Within an hour of fighting, the Caledonian center falls apart, retreating in terror. Euphoric after another victory, Draigg orders pursuit. Draigg and his men give chase, after the retreating stragglers. The Ignissian warriors abandon formation and charge forward, slaughtering the survivors of the previous battle. But even so, hundreds of Caledonians managed to escape the massacre, fleeing the battlefield in a bout of great panic. The Ignissian lacked cavalry, making chase difficult. Nevertheless, Draigg and his men continue their pursuit.
AaAaaH-OOoOH!
From the hills near his army's right flank, heavy cavalry charge the disorganized Ignissian army. Pandemonium descends upon Draigg's army. They are trapped.
"My lord, it is the Caledonian Royal Army! King Gerste is in command!"
"Gliessen, break out. Take as many men as possible. I will cover the retreat."
"But..."
"Remember Gliessen, no buts. As the ruler of Ignis, it is my duty to protect its people," chides Draigg.
Gliessen protests, "Ignis needs you! Your family needs you! We need you!"
"Do not worry for me, Gliessen. Ignis will continue to prosper without me. As for my family..." Draigg hesitates, "I must put my country before my family."
Gliessen does not respond. He looks at his lord one last time, before departing.
"Those who wish to live, follow Gliessen. Those who wish to die an honorable death, follow me, " declared Draigg.
Thousands of infantrymen flock towards Gliessen, thanking the king for his generosity. But for every ten men that marches towards retreat, one stays behind for eternal martyrdom. Thankfully, the royal guard stays behind, for they swore to protect their lord with their lives. Draigg and his three thousand companions move into formation and prepare for their last stand.
The Caledonian army outnumbers the defenders thirty to one. However, the iron weapons of the Caledonian footmen could not effectively damage the steel-clad Ignissian royal guard. The Ignissian remnants fight for their lives, for their honor, and for their comrades. All around, people fell, innards spilled, and bodies bled.
The fighting continues, but exhaustion cripples the Ignissian forces. They have been fighting and marching for weeks, and the previous pursuit drained Draigg's men. Their opponents, the fully mobilized Caledonian army, are fresh and thirsting for victory. There was no doubt about who would win. The steel blades of the Ignissian infantrymen, dull from constant use, do little damage against the fresh Caledonian troops.
One by one, the infantrymen fall. Footmen who stray too far from the formation are surrounded and ripped apart. Barbed arrows pierce the chinks in the armor of the unlucky guardsman. Exhaustion takes even the strongest of Draigg's warriors. Even the peerless royal guards fall, butchered in an impossible fight. But despite the exhaustion, despite the slaughter, despite the futility, and despite the fatigue, they fight on.
By the time the sun rises, only Draigg remains, bathed in a pool of blood. Barely standing, crimson ichor oozes from his gaping wounds. He fights to remain conscious. Pain from a dozen wounds barely register, drowned out by the thoughts in Draigg's pained mind.
"Igneel... Atlas..." gurgled the king, "Daddy's here."
Draigg coughed, blood staining his bleeding lips. His right arm is numb, hanging uselessly by his side. He no longer has the strength to walk, much less wave a sword around. It took all his willpower to simply stand.
Around him were thousands of Caledonians, ready to tear Draigg apart.
A man, on his white stallion, approaches Draigg. He grins, amused.
"My, my, if it isn't the great Draigg Dragneel!" laughed Gerste of House Roggen, King of Caledonia.
"You look pitiful! I thought you were the one who vowed to raze Caledona to the ground!" grinned Gerste, "Any last words?"
"Kill... me... please..."
"And grant you a honorable death? Nay, we know you Ignissian scum regard that value highly. Oh, great fire king, I do mean no harm; I just want to see you suffer. "
Draigg did not hear his words. In his mind, he has already entered Valhalla. In front of him was an ebony haired woman, one he held dearly.
"Elmira, you're here, " whispered Draigg, "that means..."
She simply nods, smiling.
"But our sons, what about them? Gods, they are so young, how will they survive with no more parents?"
"My husband, they are strong. Believe in their strength, I beg of you." Elmira offers a hand, "Follow me. Valhalla welcomes the brave!"
Speechless, the fire king takes his wife's hand. Draigg, without strength, gives up on the world of the living. He resigns himself to fate.
Unconscious and bleeding out, Draigg leaves Caledona, leaves Alakitasia, leaves Earthland, and leaves this realm.
The remnants of Gerste's forces loot the undead, like the black birds that prey on the undead. The Caledonians vandalize the fire king's body, beheading the monarch. Bagging the grisly organ, Gerste leaves the Ignissian court a little gift.
Author's Notes
Some important words.
Draigg - father to Igneel and Atlas.
Caledona - a country in central Alakitasia. Due to its fertility, Caledona is the most populous country in the region. However, due to its central location, warfare is constant and reinforces the decentralization of power in the country. In contrast to Ignis (see below), the King is relatively weak politically, relying on the support of local barons and lords. Also in contrast to Ignis, Caledona has no concept of slavery, unless one considers serfdom slavery. The aristocratic families in Caledona often fight amongst themselves as well.
Ignis - country west of Caledona. Ignis comes from the name of its first ruler, Ignis Dragneel. Once a tiny and impoverished principality, warfare and reforms brought the country great prestige (and infamy). The country was founded by soldiers, and as a result, is deemed by many scholars to be "an army that happens to have a kingdom".
Gambeson - for you history buffs out there. A Gambeson is a cloth tunic often worn by medieval Knights underneath their armor, but poor footmen would just use it as a form of armor.
Gliessen - Head of the Ignissian royal guard and Draigg's lieutenant.
Gerste Roggen - Had a field day with this guy. Name literally means "Barley Rye" in German, in reference to his rule of Caledona, an agricultural nation. I tried to make him not that much of an ass, but I guess that kinda backfired.
Elmira - Draigg's wife. She is important, but is kinda dead.
Flank - literally just the left or right side of anything, such as a person or a group of people
Author's Notes Pt2
In this AU, canonically no human is able to wield magic.
Thank you for reading. Comments are greatly apperciated!