The next few days passed in a haze, spent at Castle Terenhiem in the furthest reach of the Middenvale valley; Katia nervously awaited the day when they would depart. The Deputy of what was once Middenvales chief nation, Veranthine, was preparing for a counter offensive to beat back the invaders from the smaller nation of Magweyn. Seeing as the exits to the valley now all existed behind the enemy line, Katia, and her friend Sera, had little choice but to agree to participate in the war on behalf of Veranthine.
It was time now for them to ready themselves on a technical level; having had several days to come to grips with the situation. They now stood in the castle armory. Sera held a heater shield, painted with the Veranthine colors, she was sorting through a rack holding an assortment of long swords, checking the balance of each as she looked for the right one. Katia on the other hand, was at a loss, looking dully at the room full of weapons; none of which she knew how to use. A man stepped up, hands folded behind his back, and a tight smile upon his thin lips.
"Can I assist you?" he asked impatiently, Katia thought for a moment, but said nothing; she didn't know where to even begin. The man sighed, and brought one hand to his chin "Do you even know how to fight?" Katia closed her eyes and shook her head slightly.
"An old man showed me how to use a, er, tree branch" Katia said, lifting her head slightly. The man cocked an eyebrow, and pursed his lips; he walked along the racks of weapons, and snatched one, lifting it up for her to see. It was a long handled mace; capped with a large iron ball. He strode across the room and thrust it at her; she accepted the weapon, peering at it distastefully. Some how, she had a hard time seeing herself clodhopping across a battlefield, caving heads in with a mace.
"You know how to read an enemy?" the armorer asked dully, already knowing the answer, and as expected, she shook her head. The armorer sighed once more, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look at how the grip their weapon, and how they position their feet, it'll tell you how they plan to attack next" he droned, before turning and disappearing amongst the weapons and armor that cluttered the room. Katia knew he wouldn't be returning. She turned to Sera, who had settled upon a broadsword with a straight cross guard. She wore a stiff leather backed mail shirt, that fell in strips past her waist. Leather trousers, and a cloth under shirt, colored in the red, black and white Veranthine. Steel bracers and greaves were strapped to her limbs, and an open faced sallet protected her head. She looked like she belonged, just as the other soldiers.
Katia on the other hand, did not. Her unique anatomy prevented her from receiving new equipment, so they had given her simply a loose fitting surcoat, woven of the correct colors. As they clambered into the back of a wagon with some others, to be taken down to the bulk of the army; Katia thought bitterly about the state of their affairs. Trask Malavaan, rather then helping them to escape, seemed to simply have drafted them as to extra soldiers for his army.
The wagon pulled from the courtyard and began down the road that they had came up days before. At the base of the bluff there was a large expanse of fields and pastures, beyond that sat a small village, peaking out from a clump of woods, near that was camped the Veranthine center army.
The wagon made it's way down the slope at a leisurely pace, Katia took the time to look around a bit. Noting a sizable group of men that seemed to be waiting at the hills base, in front of Caer Oslund; she also examined the faces of the soldiers in the wagon. Some where young, and fresh faced, others as worn and beaten as an old pair of boots, but all of them looked afraid. She felt dread slowly taking hold of her as the reality of her situation really began to sink in. She was going to be in a battle; the fought was horrifying; she didn't want to kill anyone, but then, she also didn't want to die. Honestly she didn't even know what a real battle would entail, she had heard stories of heroes and glorious victories of course, but based on the men around her, she guessed it would be uglier than that.
"You'll be fine you know" Sera said, seemingly sensing her friends discomfort.
"This is hardly my first battle- if you get into too much trouble, well, I'm no stranger to killing." She added, putting a hand on Katia's shoulder. The comment did make her feel a little better, to know she might be a bit safer, but she wasn't to keen on the idea of having Sera babysit her either. The men seemed reassured as well, they may not have been sure what Katia was, but everyone knew what Sera was. A captain in the Black-Brand mercenary company; one of the most well known sell sword bands in Laceria, right beside the Breakers, and the Myrmilion Lancers. But unlike the latter two groups, who were known in turn for fickleness, and ruthlessness; the Black-Brand was known for honor and loyalty.
The wagon slowed to a halt as it reached the base of the slope, having been hailed by the group of men who had been waiting. Two of the men approached the wagon, Katia recognized one as Victor Hesspian, the other however, was a stranger. He was rather tall, and possessed a firm build. He wore a white and red tunic over a dress of mail, woolen trousers and leather boots. The only plate armor that Katia could see were two steel bracers on his forearms. The hood of his mail was thrown back, revealing his long black hair, rough beard and well worn appearance. Most notable though, was his clearly ill mood, and the way he gazed disapprovingly at Victor as they strode towards the wagon full of soldiers.
"Your orders are in." Victor said, without even a greeting "You are to head east, and face last of the traitors in battle" the men looked around confused and Sera narrowed her eyes
"You told us we would be clearing a path to an path from the valley, so we could leave" Sera said in a flat, irritated tone. The soldiers, and the stranger all turned their eyes to Victor. Sera was used to giving orders, not taking them, and the natural authority slipped through in her speech, though, only when addressing those whom she did not like.
"You were told you would leave when the war is over. A fight rages in the east; you will go With captain Braddock, and deal with it. You will follow orders in this army!" Victor spat, trying to replicate the sense of leadership that Sera possessed, though he came up short.
"Look" the second man, apparently Captain Braddock, began "Hess here is takin' his boys down with Deputy lord Malavaan to meet Prince Baldor's army, facing some rebels in the hills will be much safer for your friend there" He said in a confident tone. Sera fumed internally for a brief moment, but deciding that the captain was right, conceited defeat. Victor looked hard at the wagon, then at Captain Braddock; hearing no more argument, he turned and strode back to the soldiers he had came with, mumbling under his breath.
Once Victor was out of sight, the captain addressed the men in the wagon as he mounted a large brown war horse.
"My name is Mercer Braddock, I, eh, will be your captain for the time being… we'll be headed up to a village with some reinforcements. From there, we pick through the area and destroy what rebels we find"
Katia looked to Sera, but Sera said nothing, she just leaned back against the edge of the wagon and closed her eyes; it would take them some time to reach wherever they were headed, and the way she saw it, that time might as well serve as an extra few hours of sleep; killing was rather taxing after all. Katia on the other hand, couldn't even think of sleeping; she didn't know if she'd be able to kill when the time came. Maybe if they're all dicks or something, it'll be easier she thought hopefully, half wondering if her new 'respectable' situation was really better than the one she held with quill-weave in Tamriel.
"So, uh, about these rebels, they're a bunch of assholes right?" she asked slowly, timidly addressing Captain Braddock as he rode along side the wagon, he cocked an eyebrow at the inquiry
"To say the least" he said simply, eyes locked on the hills in the distance. "Their leader, Count Percival Blackwell used to be Veranthines chief enforcer, if the Magweyni or the peasantry got out of line, it was always on Count Blackwell's iron fist to… correct them" he added slowly "Well, Blackwell, and that great brute of a knight" he finished
"What knight?" Katia asked nervously, not liking that someone she could soon be encountering could be described using the words 'great' or 'brute'
"His name, is Johann Alrich; he hails from outside the valley, they say that he loves battle as a much as a normal man loves his children, and that he cut his own tongue out, so he can never talk down and enemy" the Captain explained, Katia swallowed hard
"I-is that all" she said shakily, Braddock thought for a moment, then added
"He wears a cape made from the hide of a man he once killed" Katia winced, wishing dearly to be home; she may have been trapped in an attic with a giant imp corpse, but at least it did not wear clothes mad out of people!
"Don't listen to that nonsense" Sera mumbled quietly, shifting slightly in her position on the bench. Katia hoped that Sera was right, but all of a sudden didn't feel like talking to Captain Braddock anymore. As the day went on, they made rapid progress, the wagon and accompanying riders moving swiftly along the road they followed, eventually meeting up with another wagon, and small columns of marching halberdiers and a few crossbowmen; all in all Katia guessed there were probably around fifty soldiers as they reached the edge of hills the trees slowly began to grow closer to each other, until by the time they had been in the hills for an hour or so they were in a thick forest, that grew to the very edge of the dirt road, threatening to overwhelm it; the wagons came to a halt, and their occupants were instructed to disembark. The sky that peaked through the canopy was streaked with orange, and darkening rapidly. Sera blinked the sleep from her eyes as she took a spot near Katia in the loose column, a moderate ways down the road, where they could not see, a large plume of smoke could be seen against the fading light of the night sky
"What's that way?" Sera asked sleepily as Katia looked on, a sick feeling creeping over her.
"The village" Braddock said plainly, his brow furrowed.
The wind whistled softly through the trees, as Johann Alrich crouched in the tree line and watched as greasy flames licked greedily at the collection of wooden buildings that made up the village before him, producing a massive cloud of black smoke that poured into the evening sky. Like a moth to a flame the men of Veranthine will come. But they will find themselves burned by the heat. He was a tall man, taller than most. He wore a red and black quartered surcoat over a dented steel cuirass, the breast plate, along with thick plated gauntlets, bracers and boots were the only pieces of the suit that he wore, leaving his upper arms and legs, along with his neck to be protected instead by mail, for freer movement. His dark eyes peered fiercely out from the visor of a closed helm, and form his shoulders hung a red and black cape, trimmed in shaggy dark brown fur. Against him leaned his weapon pf choice, a hand-and-a-half sword, with a black hilt and cross guard. In the woods around him , surrounding the village were gathered many soldiers; count Blackwell's best men, elite soldiers, vanguards and skirmishers. They favored mail over cumbersome plate, and wore only mail hauberks and trousers beneath their red and black surcoats. On their heads were light great helms, that capped the top of their head and face, but left the sides and back exposed. With them they carried two-handed swords and spears. They waited patiently, for their prey to arrive.
Johann stood silently as he took in the sight of the burning village, when one of his men, a scout approached him quietly
"I have seen the enemy, they outnumber us by a small margin" the scout reported as quietly as he could manage, Johann turned his head slowly to scout
"It matters not how many there are" the large man growled, his voice muffled by his helmet
"There is another thing, some…thing that is with them" the scout continued "Something that is not human"
"What manner of being is it then?" Johann replied, finding that he was now interested in the scouts report
"I-it walks and speaks like a person, and possesses the curves of a woman, bit the features and fur of a cat" the man finished, in a wavering tone
"Such a creature may be of use, Count Blackwell would no doubt like to present it to Prince Baldor when he visits us, to check on his new forces… take it captive if you're able, if not. The body will do" Johann said icily. The scout bowed, the hurried off to relay the instructions to the others, leaving Johan Alrich to his thoughts once more. He felt the eyes of his first officer, a man called Franz Uller on him, but the man did not speak; it had been a long time since he had, So Johann returned to watching the fires, pleased. In his eyes, justice had been served here. The villagers had helped a group of slavers near by, they gave them food and blankets, and worst of all, tolerated their existence; though they had not helped directly. That was the reason they had been shown mercy; the mercy of quick deaths, more than the slavers had received, who were not afforded the luxury of death before their bodies were burned. He wondered now, how the men who would soon be arriving would face their deaths, on their feet like the sentries, or on their knees like the villagers. Not that it mattered he supposed, death was still death, and those soldiers had made the unfortunate mistake of picking a side that was not his. And so die they must. Movement caught his eye first, then the red and white of the Veranthine soldiers. A light grin played at Johann Alrich's lips as he quiet grabbed his sword and rose to his feet.
Katia was at a loss for words as they entered the clearing, and she took in the sight before her. The village was engulfed in flames, several of the buildings had collapsed already, and as the band of soldiers neared the center, they came upon several stacked piles of bodies. The villagers, burning along side their village. Sera looked around anxiously, and Katia understood why, it wasn't right, not the village, but something else, they were being watched; she knew it, she remembered the feeling from when the red rider had been tailing them.
Two sounds confirmed her suspicions; the sudden blast of a horn, and the coarse cry of many red and black clad warriors, who were now breaking from the tree line, surrounding the men in the village.
"Katia run!" Sera shouted coarsely, raising her shield, but it was too late; the trap had been sprung, and they were surrounded, nothing left to do but brace for battle.
Smoke filled the air, as the night echoed with the ringing of steel against steel, and the cries of the fallen and the triumphant. The metallic scent of blood filled Katia's nose as the rebels cut through the outlying soldiers, pressing closer to the center group where she was. The battle was not organized, not like she had thought, there was no time for a formation, and Blackwell's soldiers had little need, as the Veranthine infantry reeled from the sudden attack, so the fighting was pitched and frantic, man against man. And it was not going well.
Katia looked about frantically, she couldn't find any sign of Sera or Captain Braddock, near her, a rebel soldier cut down an allied halberdier, then turned his eyes to her. The man carried a spear, and held it out in front of him as he rounded on her, his eyes glinting angrily from the slats on his helm. With a wild cry he charged forwards, Katia dodged to the side, missing he point of his weapon, but not him; he collided into her, hard. The soldier dropped his spear, and frantically tried to draw his short sword from his belt, Katia didn't know what else to do so she grasped her mace in both hands, and tried to smash him over the head, hopping slightly, just as she had with the branch in Kvatch. Her hit was as heavy as she could manage, but aimed poorly, and connected with his shoulder instead. he let out a satisfying cry, then balled his fist and punched Katia in the stomach, a blow that drove the air from her lungs, and left her on her knees; before he could follow up however, a slender metal spike, the end of a halberd, was driven through him from behind, and he fell to the ground with a pained cry.
Frantic to be able to defend her self, Katia grabbed the first weapon she saw, the slain soldiers short sword, and snatched it, holding it out awkwardly in front of her self. Think like a witch hunter, eh, shit! They aren't witches. She thought, trying to find a plan that would not end in her death; another spear wielding soldier charged at her, sprinting at full tilt, as soon as she could see his eyes, she blasted him with eye of fear, and the man changed directions so swiftly that his feet came from under him and he tumbled to the ground; an action not unnoticed as a Veranthine soldier sprang forward and drove his sword into the fallen mans chest immediately. Katia squeezed her eyes shut; this was terrible, she felt her knees tremble slightly. I made him die. He fell because of me, and died because of it. Soon however, the fear of her own death drove the thoughts from her mind, as o e soldier tackled another, crashing to the ground only a foot or so away.
As she scurried away from the two, a lone soldier caught her eye, a young man, he had lost him helmet and his shield, but in it's place he held a small timber from one of the houses, it's end covered in cloying flames. He swung the makeshift torch to and fro desperately as a rebel soldier stood, sword in hand, just out of reach, another rebel ran up from behind him as it donned on Katia people are scared of fire. The second soldier jumped slightly, his boot coming down on the back of the young mans leg, sending him sprawling to the hard earth, as the soldier raised his sword, Katia sent a fire ball whizzing past his face, as she had hoped, the man jumped back instantly; letting go of his weapon in the process. The two looked at her, and she threw another bolt of flame their direction, missing on purpose, but they didn't need to know that.
"Pyromancer!" on screamed, and they both made a hasty retreat to the other side of the building. The young man climbed to his feet; he said nothing but his eyes held a look of gratitude that no one had ever give Katia before, and it filled her chest with warmth. A feeling that was quickly replaced with a hot, pulsing anger as another rebel sprung from seemingly nowhere and slashed the man from shoulder to hip across his back. I saved him!
"You fucker!" she screamed, a bit more shrilly than she had intended. The warrior cocked his head to the side, and edged closer, holding his weapon, a claymore, oddly angled so the flat of the blade was facing Katia, as her eyes darted around to see if anyone would help her, she noticed two things. That the battle was clearly going in the rebels favor, and a flash, of Sera's blonde ponytail, whipping around as she fought fiercely against her opponent, a huge soldier, with a cape trimmed in shaggy brown fur.
The soldier picked up his pace, and jolted closer, Katia hurled a fire ball at him, and though he ducked away, he did not drop his weapon, he did not cry out, and he did not run. He slashed his sword swiftly at her torso, and though she tried to parry it got past her guard. As she braced for the cut, the man twisted his body violently, causing the weapon to miss by a hairs breadth. He stepped forward and she leapt upon him, grabbing at his neck and head, she heard his ragged breath, and gazed straight into his grey eyes, but did not hear him speak. She was clearly, hopelessly outmatched, he swatted away her noddle arms, and pressed his hand to her chest and shoved her back, he swung his sword hard, as Katia tried to jump away, causing the flat of the blade to strike her hard on her hindquarters,
"HEY!" she shouted, wincing from the stinging blow, he brought the sword back up and she caught his eyes again, what little of his brow she could see knotted in frustration. He whapped the flat of his sword down upon the top of her head, an ocean of stars sprang into her vision and she fell back, landing hard on her backside; she moved back as he came forward, bracing on of her feet against his chest as he leaned forward, reaching out with a gloved hand
"What are you?! NO!" she stammered, kicking him with her free foot in his chin, the impact knocked his helm free and sent him staggering back. She got a look at his exposed face, gaunt, and shaved bald, with a long jagged scar across his throat. There was a fresh gash on the left side of his face, made by the helm when they parted ways. She almost thought he grinned, before he sprung forward with surprising quickness, bring to point of his sword to where it just barely touched the under side of her chin. She looked on helplessly as she heard a woman's voice call out hoarsely, she angled her head just enough to see Sera on the ground, clutching her leg, as the knight stepped forward and placed a huge boot on her stomach, he pointed his sword at her face, and though Katia could not hear him, she could tell by the movement of his head that he was speaking.
A sudden clattering noise snapped Katia back to her own situation, as she saw that the sword at her throat had been knocked away, by captain Braddock.
"See how you like to fight a real warrior" Braddock taunted, the bald soldier curled his lip, but said nothing. The two then sprung at each other, an met in pitched combat; a impressive showing, a match between two clearly expert swordsmen. Braddock swung his sword hard and slow, while the bald man was light and fast, with less attacks that followed through across the width of his body, preferring short, chopping motions. Katia staggered to her feet, but felt a new wave of dizziness come over her, and could scarcely take a step Braddock was slowly getting the upper hand, the two locked blades, both men glaring into the others eyes, and Braddock removed one hand from the hilt of his sword and landed a heavy punch on the side of the bald mans face, sending him stumbling back. Katia cried out in glee that the bald man had lost. Then time seemed to slow to a sluggish pace as Katia looked on. Braddock grasped his sword in both hands, and turned on his heel, twisting his whole body for a heavy strike, bit the second his back was turned, the bald man whipped is claymore loosely, clipping into Braddock's side, Braddock turned once more to face his enemy, mouth open in shock. The bald man stepped forward, gripping his weapon firmly, and drove it's blade through the center of Mercer Braddock's chest. He wrenched the sword free, and swinging it over his head, slashed once more. Braddock's body fell to the left. His head fell to the right.
Katia turned, She saw the large knight, still pinning Sera to the ground, and made for him. She aimed to knock him free, so Sera could get up, and save the, both, but a powerful arm wrapped around her midriff, and held her back. She shook her head back and forth and tried to buck the soldier off, bit managed only a glimpse of her captor; it was the bald man, he grabbed her arm in his free hand, apparently having dropped his sword, and held it behind her back. It was too much, she was too tired and he was too strong, so she sank to her knees and began to cry. She wanted Sera to live, she wanted to live, it was so unfair, that her ill luck should get the last laugh like this.
"Well done Franz" the knight said, his deep voice muffled and metallic through his visor.
"What has become of their brave leader?" the knight inquired, the bald man just jerked his head in the direction of Braddock's body, and the knight nodded approvingly. Katia noticed a crowd surrounding them; a crowd in black and red surcoats.
"It seems the mighty Mercer Braddock has met his end at the hands of our own captain Uller!" the knight declared loudly, and the men around them cheered, shaking their swords and spears, and pounding mailed fists against their chests.
"These two" he said again, gesturing to Sera and Katia with his sword "Are the two who don't belong… the rest belong in hell!" as he finished speaking the soldiers began to comb the battlefield, making sure that Veranthine held no survivors. A man trotted up to the huge knight, a man not covered in the blood and dirt of battle
"Prince Baldor sends word. He has shattered the Veranthine army at the valleys center, Duke Malavaan pulls back with his remaining forces to Caer Oslund… in wake of his victory, he means to stop here, to collect men for the siege." The knight nodded and shoed the man off
"Franz, prepare the prisoners for Baldor's arrival, he'll want to meet the cat, and the woman from Aranough" he moved to leave then, but Sera grasped his leg.
"Johann Alrich" she said through clinched teeth.
"Indeed that is my name" the knight answered, Sera grinned painfully, and cast a quick, relieved look at Katia.
"Well fought I might say, but I must ask, what is your cape made from?" The knight and Uller exchanged looks, and both chuckled
"The rumors are only half true I'm afraid, the fur is taken from the pelt of a lycanthrope, not a man" Johann said, before adding more quietly "You preformed… admirably" the he was gone, leaving the two women alone, with the rearmed Uller. Katia closed her eyes, she would meet a prince, there was little avoiding the fact, but she did not care. She faced a battle and lived, on of the only two to do so, she did not care that she was purposefully taken prisoner, she viewed this as a huge sign that the hope she had felt in Kvatch was not entirely misplaced. And besides, with the horror that was that battle, prince or no, tomorrow held no hope of being worse than today, and that was the best feeling she had had in some time.