Chapter 10) Shattered Resolve

Blood. Blood was everywhere. Everywhere. In the sand. On the sheets. On the tents. On the people. Fresh and running. Dried and cracked. Everywhere.

"Someone, get me casualty reports!" I snapped, dismounting from my horse. I gave it to someone else to rub down while I strode through the camp. It was chaotic, people desperately trying to survive and save their friends while also bleeding out. Their eyes lit up when they saw me. It made me feel nauseous. "Also get me scouting reports at once!"

"Lady Clara, I'm going to direct the rest of ours to assist with the injured," David called. I glanced back to see him hand off the horses to others. "Do you need me for anything?"

"No, please, assist where you're able!" I longed to do so myself, but I couldn't. I needed that information, and I needed it now if I was to have any chance of turning this around. The problem was… I almost thought we needed to just retreat and take another route. But the other routes were just as deadly, and so many had died here. If I didn't fix this, their lives would've been wasted. Their deaths, for nothing. I had to make it worth something. I had to. This was to save the world, and I had to fix things, or otherwise… otherwise…

It was a relief when the reports did start tumbling in. They helped me not think. For a while. But then the numbers started processing, and instead, I felt even more nauseous. So many dead. So many. We had bodies mummifying in the sun because there was simply no time to retrieve them. Worse, we even lost some bodies due to a freak sandstorm that coated everything, from the corpses to the blood. Impossible to find, even more impossible to dig up.

Then we had the number of enemies. All of the Grimleal seemed to be fighting. Messes upon messes of curses, and their Hierophant, a bastard named Validar, led them with brutal efficiency. They desecrated their own damn dead and walked on the corpses, just to get to ours a little faster. Powerful magic, pragmatism to the point of ruthlessness… we were basically fighting the incarnations of Grima, based on the tales. We absolutely had to win. We couldn't kill the Vessels if we couldn't destroy their soldiers. We had to…

"What a giant mess…" I sighed, resting my face in my hands. I was at some makeshift desk set up for me, trying to make sense of everything. But I couldn't. I couldn't even figure out how the hell… or what the hell… "Argh…!" I leaned back in my chair, throwing my hands up in the air as I glared at the ceiling of the tent. "Gods, you could make our job easier, damn it! We're trying to save the world, here!"

No response. No reply. As could be expected, of course, but it was still annoying.

"Ugh, whatever…" I stretched out my neck carefully, and went back to work, looking over the reports. The casualty ones, though, made me tear up and I had to stop again, breathing in deeply to keep from outright crying.

We were saving the world. Deaths were to be expected. Lofty goals had lofty sacrifices. It made sense. It made sense. But there were just so many dead. So many. Worse than what Adair had said. I wasn't sure if I could fix this. I wondered if I should just cut my losses, but then the ones who died would've died for nothing. Their sacrifices, wasted. I had to keep going. I had to make it worth something.

Besides, maybe the Vessels were really here. Maybe that's why the Grimleal were fighting so desperately. If that was the case, if I could break through, then maybe I could kill the Vessels right now. They were the real target, after all. If they died, then the war was worth it. If they died, we'd save the world.

I absolutely had to break through the enemy lines, then. This battle would determine the war. If I was in any way lucky, it could possibly end it. If we killed the Vessels, then we could use their presence as proof of our justice. We could force King Bran to sit down and negotiate with us, instead of him sending our broken messengers back in pieces.

I took another deep breath, held it, and breathed it out slowly, looking back at the reports. Each death was a sacrifice I'd bear, and I'd bear it until I was at the end. Each drop of blood… it stained me, but I'd endure. For the sake of the world, for the sake of a world where my family would be safe…

I couldn't falter. I had… I had to make it worth something, damn it. Otherwise, I...

I'd spent the better part of an evening determining some sort of battle plan, and the better part of three days or so refining it as we got more reinforcements. In between, I helped out in the infirmary, mostly holding people down as their limbs were amputated. We ran out of numbing and sedation herbs. Even the ones I'd brought with me. Even the ones reinforcements brought with them. Too many injured. Too many crippled.

I got a first hand look as to why that was when we finally went to battle. The long-ranged Mire, the shadow spikes of Ruin… And sorcerers purposely letting themselves be killed to unleash powerful, Vengeance-fueled final strikes. I lost three squads to that alone in the first five minutes.

"Falcon Knights, you're on full healer duty! Stop doing anything else! It cannot be afforded!" I shouted orders through the chaos, barely keeping some semblance of order within it. Formation had fallen apart long ago. "Only fight in retaliation!"

A few spells whizzed by me, and I made myself not flinch. Instead, I stared unblinkingly towards them, knowing that it would make them cower. Make them flinch. If they flinched, they'd be opened. I'd turn their fear against them.

"Cavaliers, just dismount! The ground is far too sandy and shifting for you!" Not to mention that the horses could be better used to get the injured out of the way. "Stop giving the enemy advantages! They have enough!"

A pegasus and wyvern, locked in combat even as they fell, hit the ground next to me. Blood splattered me, and I whirled to cut off the wyvern's head as bloody feathers stuck awkwardly to my face and neck.

"Archers, stop trying to outsnipe the Mire users! Their reach is longer than yours!" I hated that they had so many. It was hard to defend against something that began just out of sight. "Cover your allies! Work on those closer!"

Bodies were everywhere. Blood was everywhere. But I could actually see the end. We weren't far from Dragon's Table. We were slowly eroding them, even though we lost large chunks of ourselves along the way. Just a bit more… just a bit more, and we could win this. I knew we could, and then the dead could rest and…

"Lady Clara!" It happened too fast. One second…. No, one blink everything was fine. The next, a powerful spell of purple-black fire raced for me. The third, someone was in front of me. The fourth, there was blood everywhere and their body was falling.

I caught the body instinctively, kneeling down to cradle them as I tried to piece together what happened. But by the time I realized it was David and that David had intercepted a spell for me, that David had shielded me from death… he'd passed. He was dead. He had a smile on his face. His body was already cooling.

I looked up slowly, feeling like I was swimming through ice water. Cold, far too cold, and in so much pain that I couldn't even scream. Hazy from it all, really. My eyes swept over the area, hunting for the one who cast that spell. I figured it out quickly, perhaps too quickly.

Though everyone else had faded away to shadows, mushy bits of red and black and white, he stood out. He was solid, smirking, the same man from before. Red eyes glittering with keen intelligence. Lean body with sharp features. Dark hair, as black as the shadows. The strange headdress. Hierophant Validar.

A… scream? Shriek? Screech? Howl? Bellow? I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure of the word for the sound I loosed. Raw rage, pain, frustration… everything I felt overwhelmed me, and echoed off the corpses and sand as I lunged forward, blade out, straight for Validar. Spells whipped past me, arrows. Lances and swords and axes clanged against my armor. Arrows fell on me, shredding my cape. Destroying my hair tie so that my hair fell awkwardly, clinging painfully to my neck and armor because of all the blood.

I didn't care, though. I charged forward, breaking through their front lines. Leaping over soldiers and slamming them down on their own weapons. Ducking and weaving while keeping my straight course, so that they destroyed their own allies. All so that I could reach him sooner. That damn smirking man who… who…

He waited. He waited for me, with that insufferable smirk, and brought up his hand when I was close, to strike me down at point-blank range. In that split-second, I decided that he wasn't going to be my first target. Mages were helpless without their tomes, after all, so I dodged, the spell flickering past me, and I had the sheer pleasure of seeing his eyes widen and that smirk fall before I threw all my strength and weight into a single strike to his damn tome.

It erupted into black fire as soon as I did, black ink spiraling out like blood as it flew from his hand. I caught it, ignoring the pain the flames caused, and dropped it to strike down a second time. The sword went through the cover, the first few pages… the second few… the third… the fourth… slowly but surely, black ink seeping from the ruined pages and black fire ripping through the air, me, and Validar.

When I got about halfway, it more or less exploded, the shockwave sending me flying back, the breath knocked out of me even as I scrambled to my feet. Coughing, throat raw from screaming, I managed to draw myself up and brought up my sword. But it was broken, fragile. I could track my flight by looking at the shards left behind. But that was fine. That was fine, because while I was burnt and bruised, clanging because of how dented my armor was… Validar, who wore no armor, was bleeding, badly. Those nearby were bleeding out, their life's breaths escaping. The tome itself laid still, empty, in a puddle of black ink so thick and vile that the sand didn't want to claim it.

I coughed again, this time tasting blood. It was possibly just from my throat. It was possibly from internal injuries. It was possibly just from biting my tongue too hard or something. But I didn't care. I walked forward, holding myself as high as I could while everything throbbed, towards Validar, broken sword in hand. He watched me, glaring, like he couldn't believe I dared do that. Dared hurt him. Dared to do more.

"Lord Validar, you must retreat!" One Grimleal, robes half-falling off because of all the blood, knelt by Validar then. "Not just for yourself," they hissed, strangely insistent. What bits I could see of their face was ashen. "Lady Raven… your children…"

"What?" Validar looked to the other, eyes narrowed. "What of them?" he asked. It was hard to say if his tone was annoyed or worried. "They should be below. They're safe."

"They're missing."

"…How?"

"We don't know."

"…Fine." Validar stood slowly, eyeing me warily. I held up my broken sword, ready to use it. Even a broken sword was sharp. "You are… such a strange woman. Fighting fate as you do. It's already written."

"Well, I never claimed to be a smart woman," I retorted. I lunged to strike, but the Grimeal shielded him without a second thought. I faltered as they fell, remembering David, the hilt clattering from my hand. The rest of the blade had snapped off in their chest. "That…"

"You win this battle, Holy Swordsman," Validar murmured. He smirked despite the pain, eyes glinting in triumph despite my supposed victory. "You win this war, really. I hope you enjoy your… precious victory."

He disappeared then, wrapping in shadows and vanishing from sight. The Grimleal retreated almost immediately afterwards, leaving the way open to Plegia's capital. But that way was lined with broken corpses. Their life's blood pooling and seeping into the sands. I stood there, dripping with blood, in the middle of a battlefield filling with sobbing screams, shrieking wails, Thinking of his words. Victory. We'd won. I should be happy. We'd won. We could win this war.

But I stared at everything, heard everything, and I couldn't help but wonder. Could someone really save the world with so many corpses in their wake? So much blood? I had no answer. No answer, at least, that could satisfy the echoing silence the corpses left.

'Enjoy your precious victory'. But never had victory felt so draining, so bitter. Was it worth it? Was this something I could fix? I didn't know. I didn't.

Author's note: I'm going to remind everyone here. This is not meant to be a long story; we're 8~ chapters from the end, give or take. This is also not going to be a happy story. It's not going to be a happy one at all.

Validar's wife is never named in game, so I picked the name 'Raven' to match 'Robin' (and 'Kestrel').

Next Chapter – Fractured