Rex Bellator would prove his worth. More than it, in fact. But there was still much work to be done.
The Vikings were about to Destroy the Last Sanctuary of the Iron Legion. It would befall My Blackstone Legion to save them.
Fact remains. Joining a Legion was quite different than Joining a Guild, or Being recruited by a Warlord.
As a Blackstone Legionnaire, IT would befall us to protect, defend and Judge the people within our borders. Almost daily, Lawbringers, the order with the smallest number in this legion, would go and Judge towns, normally border towns, and if they were worthy, we would give them aid, fortifying their Walls and Filling their ranks.
In the Weeks after joining the Legion, I fought more battles than I'd fought up until that moment. Until one day, Cross called for me.
"We have a Pidgeon from the Iron Fortress, northern Ashfeld" he said. I looked at him incredulously, "I know what the Iron Legion is. What's the situation?"
"Vikings. As per usual. The Iron Legion is about to be routed. We need forces to defend them." Cross said. Then stopped. "You'll be going there with a Force of Three Hundred men. As Soon as Appolyon gives the-" he stopped, as a Man-at-arms brought him a letter. "From Appolyon, Sir!" the poor sod said, stuttering. The Knight rolled his eyes, "Good job. Now get back to your stations."
He opened the scroll, and cursed "Merda! Not even a single man-at-arms?"
I looked at him. wisely not saying anything. Holden could get pissed off, and if he was interrupted in the middle of a rant, it'd be bad for all parties involved.
"Alright, Alright" he said, calming himself. "Maybe she needs the men in the Western Front, against the Dawn Empire. Surely, it can't be that-" he looked at me. "Get your ass to the Iron Fortress. You're going alone."
I blinked. "Alone? Against an entire Viking Army?"
"It's still a Legion" Cross said, rather uncertainly, "Surely they have some men at the ready. All you have to do is help them fight back. Defeat the Vikings, and return. I'll speak to Appolyon as Soon as I can. Hopefully I can still Convince him to send a detachment."
But I couldn't really care. I was just a new guy. I'd been knighted less than a month ago. surely they didn't trust me that much. Which could only mean that Appolyon, our 'Wise and Esteemed Leader', who I'd never seen before, was sending me to my own death.
There are Many Legions. The Iron Legion the most Ancient, and by all accounts the Greatest among them. But in Ashfeld, The Iron Legion was about to be Routed.
Their Commander, a Conqueror named "Stone", needed an Army. From the Carnage I'd seen on my way, he wouldn't do without one. I was the only one Cross could send.
"Blackstone!" From up on the Walls, the Conqueror Yelled, "Where's our Reinforcements?"
I looked at my left, and right. then said brightly, "I'm it!"
"Is this a joke?" The Legionnaire looked at me incredulously, but said "No. Wait. Cross doesn't make Jokes. OPEN THE GATE!"
"Lead us out, Blackstone!" In front of me, the Men at arms and the few Knights they could gather together were Cheering, Ready to Battle. "Good Luck!"
The Gate Opened, an explosion blocking our view for a second.
Then The Army charged.
Sad thing was, the Battle was already Lost. I needed to change that.
In a battle, Duels aren't Common. It's simple stupidity to Focus on one particular man, when War is going on around you. a Random hit could mean your death.
In real Battles, Slaughter is imminent. Both sides know it.
This meant that when a Huge Viking with a Giant Axe, even bigger than Cross', came to challenge me, I couldn't give in. I had to cut off his leg and move on, let him be trampled to death by the Soldiers.
It was Bloody, By My count, I killed at least twenty, and pushed a few more into the water, which would mean death, and that was only pushing the Vikings back, and regaining the Bridge. When we were in the Yard in front of the Fortress, with enough Space for Single Combat to be Possible, I had the chance to make a Difference.
It was Simple. We had the main Front. But the Vikings had Flanked us. We needed to take back the flanks. And with the Hundred-something Soldiers busy fighting for their lives, it fell to me to make that difference.
The First Viking I faced in Single Combat was a Berserk. Or however it is it's pronounced. I'm not a Viking, Okay?
A poorly Armored Man with two Short Axes. He let out a loud war cry and jumped down the Steps of the Tower I needed to Secure for our Archers to be able to work.
He jumped, but I raised my Sword in Defense, and threw him at my left.
The Man Rolled as he fell, and lunged, striking with both his axes in a way I knew would kill me if I hadn't dodged. But my strike could and did land. A Thrust to his leg, I forced him to his knees, bringing down my sword at his neck.
In the Garrison there were more Vikings. At least ten of them, One with a Longsword.
Dodging a Strike with the axe, I drove my sword forward, Hitting his hands.
The Viking Cried, and let go of the ax. That's the bad thing about a Weapon without a Guard. Easy to Disarm.
And a Disarmed Man is a Dead man. rule number one in a Battle.
Taking down the rest of them didn't take much time, A FEW of them were so weak a mere punch would knock them down and a mere Swing would kill them off.
The Garrison was empty. It had to be filled soon. Yelling "Reinforcements!" I waved my sword around like a bloody moron, until a couple of Other Warden got the message, leading a few men off the Battleground.
The Second Garrison was as easy as the first. A Couple of Viking Militia as well as a Man with a Longsword.
Dodging the first Block, I blocked left, and thrusted straight at his throat. With a giant Sword like that, 'Thrusted Straight at his Throat' essentially means a very painful Decapitation.
I'm sure they'd've done something like that to us if they had the chance. In fact, I knew they would. I'd seen what they left in their wake.
This Garrison had the High Ground. The most essential thing for any Archer Squad. Which meant It would be necessary to fill it to the brim with Sharpshooters.
As soon as the Archer Squad was in the garrison, I was on my way to the last Garrison, the final key to holding the Flanks.
The Vikings seemed to know a bit about Warfare too. The Last Garrison had some archers. Which would be bad.
I had to take care of the archers before they'd become a real threat.
Climbing the Ladder, I looked at the five Vikings.
Badly armored, not even good with their weapons.
The Vikings weren't that serious about this Fort. They just needed us busy. But for what?
The archers were down. But now a Giant Man with a Giant Sword was looking at me, extremely pissed off. "Merda!" I swore, as I dodged a particularly strong attack.
Block Left! Dodge! Block and Slam at the Wall! I bashed the Man with my shoulder, slamming him at the Giant Lighthouse Fire in the middle of the Garrison.
He cried as he broke his back.
It would be a mercy to kill him. a mercy I wasn't about to give.
Walking out of the Tower, I smiled. We had the Upper Hand now. Time to push them back. "PUSH FORWARD!" I ordered, pointing my sword at the Vikings. "LET'S GET THESE SAVAGES OUT OF OUR CITADEL!"
The Fort finally out of risk, Stone led another Cohort of his men out, leaving command to his second. And joined the Front.
I could finally see him work. And he was good.
Stone was a Conqueror. One of the Few who hadn't been forcibly drifted. He just loved bashing things, it seemed. But he was one of the best I'd ever seen. You don't normally see a man Block a Daneax with the chains of his Morning star. Or knock off a man's head with a nonchalant strike.
"I have to say," he said, when he found himself next to me, pushing back the Last of the Vikings out of the Citadel. "I'm impressed, Warden. Cross knew what he was doing!"
The last of the Vikings were out. And we were there to make sure they weren't getting in anytime soon.
But then, out of the fallen trees, Climbed a Woman. A Viking woman, with a Round Shield and a Spear.
"STOP!" she bellowed, the charisma of her tone forcibly stopping the last of the skirmishes.
The Vikings cleared the Field, and allowed her to step forward, "I'll deal with this one!"
At least, I hope she said something like that. I don't speak Dane. Or Norsk.
It'd be humiliating if she was, for example, wondering if she'd left her favorite spear home or something.
Stepping forwards, she prepared for a fight, and I readied my sword.
If it was a fight she wanted, a Fight She Would Get.
The Viking, whatever she was supposed to be dressing like, was better armored than most of those I'd faced.
She had a full Leather Armor, and a Light Helmet. Still not Plate, but for a Spearman (Or Spearwoman, I suppose), Agility is more important than Defense. If they know what they're doing a weapon won't even hit them.
And that shield made it worse. my weapon was slow. No matter how fast and strong I was, I'd never be as fast as a Spear. And the pointy end meant that if the weapon punctured my armor, I'd be dead in a minute.
I had to handle my armor. It was times like this when I wondered why the Wardens didn't wear Plate armor like the Lawbringers did.
Not showing any of my inner Fears, I stepped forward, circling the Savage, ready to strike.
Since neither of us would understand what the other could say, there was no need for Boasting. Our Skill would show itself.
She Attacked First. I wasn't fast enough to dodge right, so I Dropped my left shoulder to let the Plate take the hit.
Sparks let out, but my armor was still fine. And she had an opening. I slammed the Hilt of my Sword at the Viking's Helmed Face. She staggered back, spitting out blood, not dropping this small advantage, I charged straight in. with a swing from the dull side of my blade I tried to Sweep her and throw her off her feet.
The Viking jumped back, before pointing her shield at me, and charging straight in.
The Shield-bash pushed me back to one of the trees, staggered, but right as the Viking was bringing her Spear down to end me, I dodged.
This time, Successfully. And striked at her side again.
Swing Left! Strike Right! Thrust Straight! Sweep! And after an onslaught of attacks, she was finally down. I bashed her with my Shoulder Plate, and Bashed her in the Face with the Hilt of my Sword, the Backhand Strike felling her, and ending the Duel.
The Viking fell to her knees, and then to the side, bleeding, dead.
The Vikings began escaping. One of them wasn't fast enough.
Stone bashed his face in with his Shield, throwing him off his feet. The man crawled towards his sword, but the Conqueror calmly stepped on his hand, the crack of the bones clear for all to hear.
He readied his Morning Star, and I looked away.
Blood founted from where his Head should have been.
I walked towards him. without turning, he said "Not Bad, Blackstone."
"Not bad at all!" He snickered, "Pretty sure I could've done it myself, but…" he turned towards me, hand raised.
I shook it. he had a firm Grip. Not painful, like Cross, but still firm.
I'd Done it.
The Single Man alone had been enough to turn the tides.
A.N:
And the First Actual Level of the game is done.
It really surprised me. In Old times, one guy didn't normally change the battle all by himself. But well, what do I know. In the game you do essentially kill about a hundred enemies every level all by yourself…
Alright, Until Next Chapter,
Davoid Signing off!
