::Previously, on Wayward Son!::
"Alright," Braddock said through gritted teeth, "ALL RIGHT! I'VE COME TOO FAR TO DIE AT THE HANDS OF SOME DAMN GHOSTS!" He brandished his Wolf Beil and crouched down in a defensive axeman's stance. "COME ON, YOU PIECES OF SHIT! GET THE HELL BACK TO YOUR GRAVES!"
As if in response to his challenge, the entire spectral army raised their weapons, and spoke a single word in a language Braddock and his friends had never heard but still understood.
"DIE!"
The horrifying secret of the Reaper's Labyrinth was revealed when Renault and his friends learned it was actually the ruins of an ancient mobile fortress, Shin Erdenkaiser, destroyed during the Scouring! The phantoms of its former inhabitants were the ones who had killed the original Hell's Wall and the Lycian army sent to destroy them, and it looked like the team would be their next victims! With unmatched determination, however, Renault, Braddock, and their comrades fought off the spectral army and reached the bottom floor of the buried fortress…
"You are no mere thieves or grave robbers. You…it is true, we have never seen determination or drive such as yours. You share our hatred…you are like us. You are true warriors, like we were. We pay you homage, warriors…in recognition of your bravery…you shall be the first mortals to leave our tomb alive. We shall send you to where you are needed…"
Impressed by their skill and bravery, the restless souls deemed the Hell's Wall impersonators to be worthy of life, and used their power to teleport them away from the fortress! But their ordeal is far from over…Renault and company have been Warped straight into the middle of a battlefield! Who are they fighting for, and how will they survive? Keep reading to find out!
25: The Siege of Aquleia
Damn, things are going pretty well, thought Yazan to himself as he watched the battle before him progress. It had only been two days and the defenses around Aquleia were already beginning to crack. The defenders seemed determined to hunker down within the walls of their city—no counterattacks had dogged his forces so far. There were several Mages and Sages along the walls who had been annoying them with Bolting spells, and several ballistae, but several rounds of strafing from his Wyvern Knights had killed or frightened off most of the long-range defenses the city had.
Victory was pretty much inevitable. The Wyvern Lord was sitting on Hambrabi's back as he lay contentedly atop a small hillock overlooking the north wall of the city. They'd surrounded it more or less completely—though it was too large for even a force of their size to cut off entirely, Yazan's most capable underlings had stationed themselves in front of the east and south gates as well. They couldn't block off the west, of course, since that faced the sea, but Trunicht and his boats would quickly block off the harbor. Things were looking grim for the Royalists but very good for him.
Of course, things could be going better—he realized this when he looked at the woman standing next to them. Rather than bringing some sort of superweapon which would have taken the city all by itself, as Paptimus had promised, Vyrleena had brought along only a few hundred bedraggled Wyvern Knights and other miscellaneous soldiers to assist in the assault. They'd apparently rushed here as fast as they could—they had arrived at around the second day of the siege, looking incredibly tired, miserable, and demoralized, and when Yazan had asked for an explanation of their sorry state, Vyrleena had only responded that they had been ambushed by bandits. Somehow, Yazan doubted that, but he didn't pry. After all, with things so overwhelmingly in their favor anyways, even having Barbarossa on their side wouldn't have mattered much. He'd heard a lot about Barbarossa, of course, though he'd never risen high enough in military rank to hear more than rumors, but he was confident it wasn't anywhere near as powerful as the gossipers said it was. Probably a glorified ballista or something like that—the Bernese military was more concerned with puffing up their image than actually fighting these days. One reason he was so happy to have left them—he was having a lot more fun right now.
Part of that fun included ribbing the formerly high-ranking woman next to him. "You do know you probably won't have to do much, right?" he asked as he watched yet another huge rock fly from one of the dozens of trebuchets set up a fair distance away from the north wall. The rock smashed into the alabaster stone, creating yet more cracks among the hundreds that already crisscrossed it. Though those walls were apparently capable of taking more abuse than virtually any he'd seen before, it was only a matter of time before they crumbled.
"Me n' my army would've probably been able to take care of this city by ourselves," he continued. "I hate to say it, but you came all this way out here for nothing. Really sorry about that." The smirk on his face indicated his sarcasm, and Hambrabi was staring at the woman with an expression that seemed almost as smug.
Vyrleena, to her credit, didn't rise to the bait, even though her soldiers, who were standing behind her, were steaming. "If that truly is the case, that's fine," she said evenly. "My only concern is that you win this battle. If you do, then simply being able to witness the victory will be cause enough for my men and I to have come here.
"I'd only suggest you not be quite so confident. It can lead to defeat, you know. Don't underestimate these Royalists."
"Hah!" Yazan grunted in disdain. "I bet you'd say that. Well, what do you know? It's not like you're the Wyvern General…not anymore, at least." As he snickered, he was gratified to see her face twitch. "You and yours are just a bunch of exiles, right? I, on the other hand, am one of the commanders of the Revolutionary Army. I think I know how to fight a war better n' you."
"How dare you!" one of Vyrleena's soldiers, a blond-haired Wyvern Rider with a babyface yelled. "You're nothing but a murderer and a criminal! You can't talk to the Wyvern General like that! We ought to bring you back to Bern and execute you! Lady Vyrleena, why are we even listening to this? Let's—"
He was stopped by the green-haired woman quickly raising her hand. "Enough, Carlson. As exiles from Bern, we must obey the commands of the lord we have pledged our loyalty to." She gazed at Yazan with a combination of disdain, disgust, and hatred. "Even if we have to follow the commands of a man like this."
Yazan chuckled. "Glad you understand that, hon." He looked off to the distance, where a Wyvern Knight was approaching. "Oh, hey, looks like we've got some news."
The courier touched down, looking pleased, though he notably gave his report to Vyrleena rather than Yazan—he was one of her men, after all, and all of the Bernese "supplemental forces" hated him. "Lady Vyrleena, our forces at the east wall have almost breached it. Shall they begin the push into the city?"
"No," said Yazan sharply, "Not until somebody's given the order. When Trunicht's forces get here, they'll launch a signal into the air indicating they've arrived. We'll attack then—the synchronized assault from all sides will crush the Royalists. Until then, wait."
Vyrleena nodded to her underling. "I agree. Pass that order onto the forces at the south wall, as well."
"Yes, milady!"
The young knight flew off, and Yazan turned his gaze to the sky, grinning as he waited for Trunicht's signal to appear.
-x-
Things seem to be going as planned, thought Job Trunicht to himself as he stood on the deck of the largest ship of Nerinheit's merchant fleet. The voyage had gone extremely well—the waters had been unexpectedly calm, and no naval forces at all had come to meet them—as Paptimus had expected, the Aquleians had devoted all their resources to preparing against a land attack. This naval assault on their harbor would catch them completely flat-footed.
At least so he hoped. The fleet was almost at their destination—they were very clearly nearing the docks, and Trunicht could get a good view of those. Very impressive, as was the rest of the city—he was almost sorry he and his allies would be visiting such destruction upon it—but the strangest thing he noticed was that it seemed to be much more occupied than he thought it'd be. There were several contingents of archers standing on guard, along with what seemed to be ballistae, though he couldn't quite tell at this distance.
"Hm. How annoying," he muttered to himself, "I suppose I'll have to go belowdecks to tell the men to expect a more than token resistance. I—wait." The Black Knight did something very rare for him—he raised his visor. Though the sunlight hurt his eyes slightly, peering over to the archers on the docks, he thought he saw something very strange.
Even at this distance, he could see something funny about their arrows. They seemed to be…glowing.
"Glowing?" he muttered to himself. "No…no, they're burning. Those archers have loaded flaming arrows to their bows. But why?"
He blinked for a moment, then something in the water caught his eye. As the great wooden merchant ship he and his troop were on continued to sail leisurely towards its destination, along with the other members of its fleet, Trunicht raced over to the wooden railings on the port side to get a better look at what was below him.
It was indeed the water he'd seen—something was definitely wrong with it. All around his ship, it seemed…darker, somehow. And looking at it closely, he noticed a sort of iridescent sheen on its surface. And was it just him, or did he catch a strange smell underneath that of the brine?
"A problem," he said to himself, the tremor in his voice the only thing giving away his panic, "this could definitely be a problem."
His realization came too late. He could only watch in horror when, just as almost his entire fleet had sailed into Aquleia's harbors, the Archers along with their ballistae loosed their ammunition, sending their burning missiles straight into the oil-drenched water the wooden ships were in.
And then everything turned to flame.
-x-
"Ah, there it is!"
Yazan had been waiting, horribly bored, for a few hours before he saw Trunicht's signal clearly in the air, a huge purple sigil floating in the blue sky. The north and south walls had been breached a little earlier, but once again, he'd ordered the forces there to hold off on their full assault until after Trunicht's forces had landed. And since that signal indicated he'd landed successfully, they…
No, wait. Yazan squinted, peering closely at the sigil in the air. It was black and limned with purple flames, but it wasn't circular. Paptimus has said that Trunicht's signal for a successful attack would have been a single, huge circular symbol in the air, but this one seemed to be composed of five smaller circles, arranged in the formation of an X.
That meant…
"Lady Vyrleena!" One of her men came flying over from the southern wall, evidently extremely distressed—he'd been sent there with a courier and seemed to have come back with some very bad news. "This is terrible! Trunicht's ships are retreating! His forces have suffered severe casualties!"
"What?" Yazan didn't bother to hide his surprise and anger. "What the hell happened?"
"The Royalists set fire to the entire harbor! They were expecting Trunicht's attack! They must've dumped every last bit of oil they could find in this city into the sea, then, when the boats floated into it, lit it on fire! The Red Shoulders are getting burned up!"
This caused no small degree of consternation among Yazan's forces, as the men around him began chattering among themselves uneasily. Vyleena more than understood their anxiety.
"We should call off the attack, Yazan," she said. "Things clearly aren't going according to plan."
"With such a weak will, it's REALLY no wonder you lost your position," Yazan snapped in response. "First off, even if the Red Shoulders have been beaten off, we still outnumber the Royalists a whole lot. Besides, all we gotta do is capture the castle, not the whole city. King Galahad's holed up in the Holy Royal Palace wettin' his pants, if we can get even one man into his room to gut him, they Royalists will surrender and the war'll be won. And we wanna win this war NOW. A long fight's gonna be a lot more difficult, and Paptimus doesn't want that. So we're just gonna take that damn castle today, even if we've run into an unexpected setback! To hell with the plan!" He raised his spear and hollered, "EVERYBODY, ATTACK!"
Cheering, yelling, and screaming, the men around him surged forwards, rushing straight into the hole their trebuchets had made in the walls. The word was passed to the troops at the east and south gates, who did the same thing. Yazan, for his part, took to the air, preparing to follow his men into the breach. He sneered down at Vyrleena, telling her, "get on your Wyvern, wench. You wanted to help Paptimus bad enough to get exiled, you can at least make up for failing to bring us our secret weapon if you help us take the castle. Hambrabi, let's go!"
He kicked his mount in the sides, laughing as he left the former Wyvern General in the dust.
-X-
"Damn, this is looking to be easier than I thought it was," Yazan muttered to himself as he flew a few feet above the head of the formation on the ground, heading straight to the Holy Royal Palace. Though there were tens of thousands of them, the city had many wide and straight roads, and almost the entire population seemed to have locked themselves inside their homes, meaning Yazan's men, along with those entering from the east and south sides, found themselves heading straight to the huge castle with very little interference. They weren't bothering with looting and pillaging, either—not because Yazan had forbidden it, obviously, but because they'd have all the time in the world to ransack Aquleia after the King's head was rolling on the ground. Thus, they wanted to get him out of the way as quickly as possible, and then enjoy the rest of what the city had to offer. They knew they outnumbered Aquleia's garrison several times over—the Mage Corps was the main military force of the Royal Army, after all, and most of them had been killed at the Battle of Nerinheit. With just a few thousand well-trained Mages being assisted by what was probably a few more thousand hastily gathered and ill-trained conscripts and draftees, the numerous mercenaries and dedicated, comparatively well-trained soldiers of the Revolutionary Army felt they had very little to fear—Trunicht's Red Shoulders being driven off was a disheartening development, along with Vyrleena's failure to deliver her secret weapon, but the Revolutionaries were so confident in themselves that even this wasn't enough to dissuade them. They were absolutely sure they'd soon capture the Holy Royal Palace and then have all of the capitol of Etruria to play around in.
Still, Yazan had to admit, the complete absence of any response so far was pretty strange. He'd participated in one siege before—back when he was still with the Bernese army, he and his Wyvern Knights had helped capture a city whose lord had rebelled against the King. Even after his men had breached the walls, the defenders had retreated back into the city streets, and there had been a lot of heavy fighting within the city itself before they'd made it to the main castle. After they'd captured that, of course, there had been plenty of raping, pillaging, and all that other fun stuff, but they'd have to fight quite a bit before then. Yazan hated to admit it, but maybe Vyrleena had a point.
There was just one thing that seemed kind of off to him. On top of a lot of houses were a bunch of weird blankets or boxes, like they were covering something up. He couldn't see any of them clearly, but they didn't seem to be too dangerous—probably a bunch of spare crap shoved off outside by the residents who'd had to prepare their entire city for war. Nothing was attacking him from them, so he didn't pay them any heed.
He turned his head to the right when he suddenly saw a flash of light—over in the eastern side of the city, a bolt of thunder had fallen from the sky, despite it being a clear summer day. "Ah, now the battle's starting," he said to himself—his men were about halfway to the Palace, and from the looks of it, it seemed the eastern and southern forces were about that far in as well. They'd quickly overwhelm whatever token resistance they were facing, he was sure.
As his men continued to head straight down the large main road leading to the Holy Royal Palace, ignoring the houses and waterways around them, Yazan noticed that they'd indeed be facing some resistance themselves. Sort of, at least. Below him, standing in front of the thousands of Revolutionary soldiers marching right towards him, Yazan saw a single enemy soldier, standing entirely alone and motionless.
Weird as hell—only one guy? Yazan's curiosity was definitely piqued. "HEY, EVERYBODY," he shouted down, "HOLD UP!" As the army stopped in front of the single man, Yazan spurred his mount, and Hambrabi swooped down to the ground, allowing both him and his master to get a good view of their single foe.
There wasn't much to see. He wasn't a tall man—shorter thanYazan, probably—and he was covered in a thick, drab brown cloak that concealed him entirely. Yazan could only see blackness under his hood, though his large cloak seemed to have a lot of bumps in it that indicated the man underneath was pretty well built.
"One guy? Is this the best the King can send?" Yazan and all his troops broke out into laughter. "Alright, let's just get this over with!" Lazily, Yazan unlimbered one of his Javelins and let it fly.
It hit the man dead-on…but didn't do much. There was a loud CLANG of metal on metal as the spear passed through the cloak and then hit something very, very hard. The weapon fell uselessly to the ground, leaving a small hole in the man's cloak but otherwise doing no damage at all to him—he was still standing, absolutely motionless.
Yazan and his troops were no longer laughing. "Damn," Yazan hollered, "he's got some sort of armor under that cloak! One of you magic-users, fry him for me, would you?"
"Yes sir!" A mercenary Mage standing near the front of the column of troops stepped next to Yazan, brandishing his Elfire tome. "DIE!" As Yazan had seen so many times before, a pair of fireballs flashed upwards from under the mage's feet, coalesced into a single orb in the air, then slammed down on the unfortunate man, burying him within a column of blazing flame. The Wyvern Lord smirked when he saw the single, stupid soldier being burnt to a crisp…
Then found his mouth dropping open in amazement when it turned out the man hadn't been burnt at all.
The wreath of magical flame surrounding him flickered and disappeared, and it seemed the only effect it had was revealing his mysterious form to his enemies. An unseasonably cold wind blew by, banishing the last of the Elfire flames, revealing that the man was still standing, but this time covered by the smoking scraps of burnt cloth that had been his cloak. The strange cold wind quickly blew those away, and Yazan paid almost no attention to the ashes floating through the air when he got a good look at what they'd been hiding.
Yazan was looking at a General. At least, he was fairly certain he was looking at a General. The man's armor was so large, heavy-looking, and all-encompassing that it seemed nobody except a General could possibly wear it, but it was also so utterly strange that Yazan just couldn't be sure.
The thick suit of full plate armor covered every single inch of the lone man's body, and every last inch of it was a dark blood-red. From the top of his heavy greaves protruded a pair of thick chains—or maybe they were wires—which terminated into his thigh-pieces, or cuisses. Above his crimson fauld was another pair of wires which led into the large, conspicuous chunk of plate which protected his back. He had no shield, but his right pauldron was a very large, thick, rectangular piece of metal which was long enough to cover his entire arm and the top of his shoulder but shaped well enough as to not impede his movement in any way. It could serve as a shield quite easily, and his left pauldron could serve as a weapon—although it was conventionally shaped, it also had a trio of small spikes jutting out of it, not unlike the sort of thing one could find on a Hero's armor. Of course, it didn't compare to the General's actual weapon—held in his right hand was a decent-sized axe, large enough to be threatening but smaller than a greataxe or halberd. The haft was purple, and from its midpoint extended another black wire which entered into its very top, but the blade itself was yellow—and the air around it shimmered slightly, as if being distorted by great heat.
As outlandish as all this may have been, however, it paled in comparison to the man's helmet. It was as red as the rest of his armor, roughly spherical with a prominent red crest jutting out from its top, and covered his entire head, allowing absolutely nothing of his face to be seen. A strange thing—the helmet had yet another pair of thick wires or cables wrapping around it, attached to what seemed to be a mouthpiece of sorts, but above that was an eyeslit. It should have been possible to see the wearer's eyes and upper face peeking out from within. But there was nothing—only pitch-black darkness.
"Hey, what the hell?" asked Yazan, and he looked at the mage, then back at the soldiers behind him—every single one gave him the same perplexed look. "Is anybody even in that thing?"
As soon as he said that, his question was answered. Yazan pulled back on Hambrabi's reins, trying to calm his mount down when the Wyvern suddenly growled and jerked. He looked at the man standing in front of him to see why—something had apparently happened.
The utter blackness within that strange General's visor had suddenly been broken—with something Yazan had never seen before. In the very center of that visor's blackness appeared a shining red orb, glowing very softly—a single cyclopean eye. Yazan wasn't a cowardly man, not in the least, but he couldn't help feeling a chill run down his spine when he felt from that eye's cold red glow the most malignant, hateful gaze imaginable.
That baleful orb began to move. It panned left, right, before finally centering and stopping on the now distinctly uneasy Yazan and his troops. Though they were a force of several thousand against one man, even the battle-hungry Yazan felt, for the first time in his life, that running away might be preferable to fighting.
That single eye suddenly seemed to glow brighter in recognition, and in that moment Yazan realized that the men standing around and behind him were already dead.
"SHIT!" Not wasting a moment, the Wyvern Lord kicked his mount in the sides, and Hambrabi immediately flapped his wings and sent both of them back into the air. That saved their lives.
Below him, almost faster than he could see, Yazan noticed a flash of red.
Then he saw the General standing directly in front of his army rather than several feet ahead of them. His strange axe was now held in front of him, the air shimmering around it as if it were burning. And next to that solitary fighter, Yazan's Mage, who had burnt his cloak away, was simply standing there with an incredibly shocked, pained expression on his face.
Then, with a disgusting squirt of blood, the Mage's entire body from the waist upwards slid off of his legs and onto the ground with a hideous thump. The man had been sliced cleanly in half.
"SHIT! SHIT!" screamed Yazan to the troops below. "KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"
The Revolutionary Soldiers wasted no time. With a deafening cheer that seemed to shake the ground, all of the thousands of soldiers who had followed him from the north wall this far into Aquleia charged, intending to tear this foolish, upstart General, stupid enough to stand against thousands of enemy troops on his own, to pieces.
That would turn out to be much easier said than done.
Yazan could only watch the spectacle below him in utter shock. As fast as a Swordmaster, the General, in full plate armor, brought his axe down and slashed it to the side. In that single instant, with a flash of orange that was his axe and the wave of heat it gave off, the six Soldiers who had reached him first, spears at the ready, found their bodies sliding to pieces, their blood turning to red steam due to the scorching heat of the General's weapon. But he didn't stop there—so fast had he swung the weapon, it gave him the momentum required to keep swinging, and he spun himself around once again, to the same effect—the next few charging soldiers were blasted apart in a similar fashion. And so fast was this swing that he continued it—he was definitely spinning now, so fast that his features were obscured into nothing more than a swirling mini-tornado of red. And all this happened in a single moment, too quickly for the charging, bloodthirsty Revolutionaries to take note of immediately. For two more, interminably long moments they threw themselves straight onto that spinning red whirlwind, and dozens of them ended up strewn into hundreds of little pieces on the now blood-soaked ground. Only when someone screamed—Yazan couldn't tell who—did the entire charge suddenly stop, soldiers bumping and crashing into each other as the ones in front hastily began backing away, attempting to get as far away from the madman's whirling Dervish dance as possible.
In the space of a few moments, this single man had stopped the advance of Yazan's thousands of troops cold.
And he wasn't done yet.
Just as quickly as he had began, the General stopped his spinning. With an incredible amount of force he slammed one foot straight into the ground, halting his spinning (Yazan could only wonder how he wasn't torn apart by the centrifugal force) but in the split second while the arm holding his axe was still moving, he slammed that into the ground in front of him, with all the force his momentum and his own strength was giving him.
Even in the air, Yazan was blown back several feet by the force of the explosion which surrounded the General. As he struggled to gain control of Hambrabi, he saw that the mysterious General was now standing in the middle of a small crater, his axe embedded deeply within its center, surrounded by the blasted, smoking corpses of over fifty men, with the bodies of several more having been thrown down into the nearby waterways, floating merrily away.
In less than half a minute a single man had slaughtered over a hundred of Yazan's troops.
And he wasn't done yet.
The entire Revolutionary army Yazan commanded stopped in its tracks, staring at the General in complete, astonished bewilderment. Their commander shared their reaction—Yazan had never been so surprised by anything in his long career as he was right now.
That was all the time the General needed. The single Cyclops-eye in his visor glowed brightly again, and he jerked his axe out of the ground as he stood and raised himself up to his full height. He brought his axe over his head and it too glowed brightly, enough for everyone in the immediate area to see.
From behind his strange helmet echoed a voice—distorted by both the metal in front of it and the enchantment placed on the armor it came from, but still recognizable as a man's voice. It was loud enough to be heard across the immediate battlefield, and would have seemed utterly emotionless were it not for a strange, distinct tremor Yazan didn't know what to make of.
It yelled out a single word that seemed to echo across the entire city.
"ATTACK!"
The next moment, all hell broke loose.
Purely on instinct, Yazan jerked on Hambrabi's reins, spurring the Wyvern to flap his wings and veer to the side as quickly as he could. Once again, this saved both their lives, for Yazan managed to avoid a sudden flurry of huge thunderbolts crashing down on his former position, along with half a dozen Ballista bolts. More and more were flying all around him, and it took every ounce of skill he had to guide Hambrabi back and forth, dodging all of them. His eyes widened when he glanced downwards and saw their source.
The weird boxes and blankets on top of the houses he'd seen earlier had been dangerous after all. They were now broken and discarded, revealing hundreds of ballistae, archers, and Mages on the tops of many of the houses, sending arrows, bolts, and magic crashing down upon Yazan's forces—and, judging by the noises which had sprung up all around the rest of the city at the exact same time, down on the eastern and southern gate troops as well. Even worse, Yazan noticed arrows and fireballs shooting out of the windows of the houses themselves. The Revolutionary Army had almost completely ignored the regular business of looting and pillaging in order to get at what they'd assumed to be the poorly defended Holy Royal Palace as soon as possible, but that had proved to be their undoing—the Royalist soldiers, many more than they'd expected—archers and regular troops all, not just the decimated remnants of the Mage Corps—had been hiding within those houses, and now the Revolutionary Army was trapped. All across the city the invading soldiers found themselves being torn down by what seemed to be legions of angry men wielding spears, swords, and axes along with magic bursting from the doors of the many houses, churches, and academies of Aquleia. Beneath him, Yazan could see scores of Knights bursting out of the doors of the houses lining the streets his men were on, shattering his formation's flanks in a wave of spears backed up by heavy armor. They were followed by Fighters, Soldiers, and Myrmidons, all apparently unskilled—most swinging their weapons around as if it was the first time they'd held them—but still managing to score many kills by advantage of catching his men completely off guard. And, of course, they were spurred on by their General.
As soon as he'd launched his forces' attack the General had resumed his own personal one, and with speed exceeding an Assassin's he had thrown himself back into the fray. A panicked Revolutionary Knight thrust a spear at him, he deftly sidestepped it and brought his axe down on the Knight's head, slicing him cleanly in half with a single movement. A Revolutionary Archer and another Mage fired an arrow and spell at him moments before being cut down by his new allies. The General didn't even notice—the arrow bonked harmlessly off his spiny left spaulder and the Thunder spell's electricity arced around his armor, leaving the occupant entirely unharmed. The red devil simply continued chopping through Revolutionary soldiers like a reaper through wheat as a hail of arrows skewered the two ranged Rebels foolish enough to strike him.
"A trap," Yazan yelled, still somewhat dumbfounded by astonishment, not caring if anyone besides himself heard, "IT'S A TRAP!"
As he watched the men below him die by the scores (though he was gratified to see that they were comparatively well-trained enough to give almost as good as they got, killing many of the Royalist ambush troops even though they were surprised), as he continued to dodge attack after attack, knowing that this scene was playing out all over the rest of the capitol, for a moment Yazan thought victory here would be impossible.
Until he suddenly heard the flapping of hundreds of more leathery wings, and saw scores of Wyverns pass him by.
"Vyrleena!" he shouted cheerfully, both grateful that the woman had finally shown some initiative. Her Knights were racing across the sky as fast as they could—they'd apparently been just sitting behind the lines after Yazan and his forces made their initial intrusion, but now, after seeing how dire the situation had suddenly become, they had decided to finally join the battle. However, they were also being quickly whittled down by the Bolting spells and Ballista, made even more destructive because many of them were carrying soldiers on the backs of their Wyverns. Given their destination, though, if even a handful of them made it, they could still win.
"TO THE PALACE!" shouted Vyrleena as she and her comrades pushed their Wyverns to the absolute limit, even as scores of them were shot down by magic, arrows, or ballista bolts. "WE HAVE TO GET TO THE PALACE AND TAKE THE KING! IT'S OUR ONLY HOPE OF VICTORY!"
"Now you're talkin', lady! We're not done here yet! YAH!" Yazan kicked Hambrabi in the sides, and the Wyvern quickly took off, pursuing Vyrleena's as fast as he could. He soon caught up to her, staying close to her side as the two of them and their fellow Bernites soared and weaved their way through a hailstorm of arrows, ballista bolts, and Bolting attacks. "DON'T LET THEM GET AWAY!" Yazan heard the crazy General shout from below, and indeed the assault they were subjected to intensified, but the Bernese Wyvern Riders were skilled enough that too few of the spells and projectiles hit their targets to ensure that none reached the Holy Royal Palace.
"Hey, it took you long enough," Yazan yelled to Vyrleena as one of her Knights was blasted out of the air. "Suddenly found your nerve, huh?"
"No!" she yelled back. "I just don't want your poor leadership to spell the end of Paptimus' cause! If you'd predicted this trap like I did, we'd not be having any problems, but at this point, all we can do is take Galahad to prevent this from becoming a total defeat!"
"Whatever," he called back, "At least now we want the same thing!"
And with that, the both of them pressed onwards to the Palace.
-X-
Jerid and his men had to hold. They had to.
Right now, he was more frightened than he'd even been in his entire life, thrusting and feinting with his spear, relying on his Knight's armor to protect him from the foes slashing at him from all around, listening to the screams of dying men coming from all directions. He realized he shouldn't have been that frightened—the plan had actually gone exceedingly well.
Just as the Great General had predicted, the Revolutionary Army would have been too eager to get at the Holy Royal Palace and King Galahad to pay much attention to anything else. This allowed the Royalist forces to lay quite a nasty surprise for them, using the geography of the city to their advantage. Though the Revolutionaries had an heavy advantage in both numbers and the quality of their men, by using armored Knights to block the main streets (as Jerid himself had done when large brawls or mobs occurred in Thagaste's streets), Henken had created chokepoints to obviate somewhat the Revolutionary numbers, and in keeping ballistae, archers, and mages on the rooftops, as well as ambush troops quartered within the houses themselves, the advantages of surprise and terrain were, to an extent, canceling out the superior training and experience of Revolutionary conscripts and mercenaries.
Even so, all that didn't change the fact that Jerid had never participated in any battle even as remotely pitched as this one. Facing down a mob of angry, drunken ruffians wasn't even remotely close to fighting for one's life against a true Revolutionary army. And these guys were the real deal—Jerid would've been dead several times over by now if it wasn't for his armor. The swordsman he was facing off against at the moment swung down his weapon, and Jerid unbuckled his chestplate that doubled as a shield just in time to raise it and defect the attack. With his other hand, he stabbed his Iron Spear upwards, managing to insert its point squarely into the swordsman's neck.
Another first—Jerid had never killed anybody before today. And much to his dismay, he found it wasn't as hard on him as he thought.
Not that he had much time to give it much thought—he and his men might be dying pretty soon themselves. They were doing their best to hold off the enemy, and in Jerid's opinion they were doing the best job they could. On the eastern quadrant they were tasked with defending there was one large main road (used primarily for merchant caravans during peacetime) the invaders were penetrating through, so naturally Henken had assigned Jerid and his Knights to plug up that route. This prevented the invaders from making a straight beeline to the Holy Royal Palace—everyone knew if the enemy reached that, the war was as good as lost, for they couldn't keep going without the King. However, Jerid had also noticed there were many smaller side streets branching off from the main avenue. Breaking from orders somewhat, he diverted a few of his men to guard those streets, ensuring it would be difficult for Revolutionary soldiers to sneak away through those alleyways to get at the Palace or his men from behind—Jerid remembered how much thieves and cutthroats loved those sorts of 'shortcuts' back in Thagaste. It had worked very well, as Revolutionaries who'd hoped to ambush their ambushers by heading through those side-avenues found themselves getting ambushed instead, but even so, it wasn't quite enough.
Jerid had a decent degree of experience with spear and Knight's armor, but the same couldn't be said for most of his men, many of whom had a week's training at most. This point was brought home when Jerid winced, holding his shield in front of him to block an axeman's strike, just as a flash of yellow light exploded to his side, a thunderbolt from a Revolutionary mage incinerating one of his Knights. The Revolutionary forces were simply too well-equipped and too well-trained.
Still, no matter what, they couldn't give up. "EVERYBODY, STAND YOUR GROUND!" Jerid yelled. "IF WE GO DOWN HERE, THEY'RE GOIN' STRAIGHT TO THE CASTLE! WE CAN'T—"
He was cut off, and indeed, both his forces and the enemy's stopped their fighting for a moment when a huge clamor arose from behind them.
Jerid couldn't help from letting out a loud whoop of joy when he saw that reinforcements had arrived.
His men and their allies, a few thousand in total, had been holding off several times that number of Revolutionaries by blocking off the roads while their friends on the rooftops gave them long-range assistance. Now, however, the Revolutionaries found themselves facing an assault from behind as well. It was the second part of Henken's plan.
Chaos reigned among the Revolutionaries as several hundred Cavaliers took them from the rear, trampling the infantry under the hooves of their horses and mowing the rest down with their spears and lances. Once again, none of the cavalrymen seemed particularly strong or well-trained, but with the advantages of surprise and position, they were slaughtering the invaders.
"All right!" Jerid cheered. "Everybody, let's push 'em back!" With another thrust of his spear he gutted the demoralized, surprised axeman in front of him, and his haggard, beaten underlings surged forward, catching their second wind, laying into the invaders with renewed vigor.
The assault from behind broke the back of the Revolutionary formation—after several more minutes of exhausting battle, the last of them finally perished.
"Haaaaaah…haaaaah…." Jerid, so tired he could barely stand, wrenched his bloody spear from the broken corpse of a Revolutionary swordsman beneath him, struggling to keep to his feet on the similarly blood-drenched ground below him. His comrades were in a similar state, but none of them were so worn out that they couldn't offer smiles to their saviors.
"Came just in the nick of time," said Jerid, looking up at the man who was apparently the leader of the Cavaliers. He was a older fellow, several years older than Jerid, with graying orange hair.
The Cavalier smiled. "Yep," he said, his accent, though slight, giving him away as a man from the northern part of the country, "but it's our Great General who deserves th' lion's share o' the credit. We didn't manage to spring up many Cavaliers, but he asked us to hold our forces in reserve, outside the city, near the south…guess he knew there wouldn't be an attack comin' from that direction. So after the Revolutionaries got themselves all set up, then breached the castle, then got themselves well and trapped in here, like this—thanks to y' for holdin' 'em off, by th' way—it was our turn to ride in here and take 'em from the back. Looks like it worked pretty well, eh? Now, the battle ought to be over for you, but you lads oughta stay here to keep watch against any more Revolutionaries tryin' to sneak by. Me 'n the rest are gonna—"
"Sir Gafgarion!" cried a Cavalier, rushing towards them, "It's terrible! They enemy's reached the Palace!"
"What?" Jerid was shocked. "We didn't let any through! Have they broken through the north or east—"
"No, it's reinforcements! A few hundred Wyvern Knights! The ballistas picked off most of 'em, but there's about two hundred who managed to make it to the Palace. They're led by a couple of absolute monsters, and our men are getting slaughtered! They've already broken in, at this rate they're gonna get to the King!"
Gafgarion and Jerid looked at each other—they both knew they could NOT allow that to happen. But Gafgarion was the only one who could make it in time. "You stay here," he said, "your men aren't fast enough to do much good. Me 'n the boys'll bail out the Palace! YAH!"
Without waiting for a response, he spurred his horse in the side and raised his spear. "EVERYBODY, FOLLOW ME! WE GOTTA GET TO THE PALACE!
-x-
We really can win, Yazan thought gleefully to himself.
"HAHA!" He dove downwards with Hambrabi, his spear plunging through the chest of a ballistician while Hambrabi's jaws took a chunk out of the neck of the Sage standing next to him. Nearby, Vyrleena did much the same, soaring downwards and slamming her spear into a ballista with such force that the entire machine was blown into thousands of little pieces, along with its operator.
They were currently fighting right in front of the Holy Royal Castle. The fact that they were on wyvernback (along with the infantry they were carrying, in many cases) allowed Yazan, Vyrleena, and their allies to soar right over the Palace gates and straight to the main structure itself, the Holy Royal Castle in the center of the Palace as a whole. It was well-defended, but not quite well enough to really stand against a blitzkrieg like this—none of the defenders were expecting to be set upon by Wyvern Knights this soon. The Bernites and the men they'd carried with them had taken care of most of the archers, mages, and ballistae on the palace walls, and now the palace grounds themselves were full of Wyverns rising and falling as they spilled the blood of the Palace Guards.
"YES!" Yazan shouted as he swung his spear to deflect a couple of arrows heading for him, "WE'VE ALMOST WON!" Below him, the front doors of the Castle had been blown wide open by a Bernite mage hitching a ride on a Wyvern Knight's back. Both of them were shot out of the sky by a ballista bolt, but the damage had already been done—dozens of Wyvern Knights swiftly descended, any allies riding on their mounts as well hopping off, and made straight for that door. Several took more direct routes, crashing through windows. In any case, however, the Royal Palace had been compromised…meaning King Galahad's death was close at hand, and with it, the ultimate victory of the Revolutionary cause. All that seemed absolutely certain…
Until a flash of white light accompanied by the distinct smell of ozone turned everything around.
-X-X-X-
"Guh!"
Renault hit the ground with a hard thud. Earlier in his life, he probably would have remained disoriented for a while longer, but his experiences in the Reaper's Labyrinth had impressed upon him very strongly that few enemies would allow him much time to gather his bearings. Thus, when he heard something whooshing down on him from above, he didn't even bother to think about the fact he couldn't yet see it clearly, or even understand where exactly he was. He just got out of the way.
This saved his life, for a spear dug into the ground where he'd been lying. He quickly got to his feet—still unsteady, but serviceable—and looked at who he was fighting and where he was.
Everything was so confusing it didn't really help much. He was standing in the plaza within the Holy Royal Palace, in front of the Holy Royal Castle. All around him, however, were Wyvern Knights—many of whom he got the distinct impression of having seen before, back in Lycia. They were flying all over the place, destroying the ballistae on the walls and picking off the archers, magic-users, and royal guardsmen milling about in a panic—apparently, Hell's Wall had been teleported straight into a massive battle for Aquleia, and the Palace Guards had been taken by complete surprise.
As if to demonstrate that thought, a bowman wearing Royal colors nearby looked to where he'd saw the flash, and saw almost a dozen strange new warriors right behind him."AHHH! MORE ENEMIES!" he screamed, aiming his weapon on them. Fortunately, Khyron, standing nearby, put a stop to all this.
"I AM THE MAGE GENERAL!" he shouted, loud enough to be heard over the great din of battle, "AND THESE MEN AND WOMEN ARE UNDER MY COMMAND! NOW TELL ME WHAT'S GOING ON!"
"L-Lord Khyron?" The astonished bowman lowered his weapon. "H-How'd you get here?"
"Watch out, kid!" The bowman turned to face behind him just as Braddock jumped in front of him and sliced off the neck of a charging Wyvern, the same one who'd attacked Renault a few seconds ago, dispatching its rider with the next stroke. "Just explain what's going on!"
"Th-The Revolutionary Army's invaded Aquleia! They've got all these Wyvern Knights with them, and they've broken into the Castle! You have to help us! King Galahad's still in there!"
"DAMMIT!" yelled Khyron, casting a Fimbulvetr spell at a Wyvern descending dangerously close to them. Renault glanced back at him to see Rosamia at his side, firing off Elfire spells as quickly as she could, Braddock fending off more Wyvern Knights with his axe, Apolli picking off Wyverns with his bow, and Harvery knifing through a pack of Bernite Fighters led by an axe-wielding Hero. Renault himself grimaced as he brought his Steel Sword in front of his face to ward off an arrow, then unsheathed his Runesword to send the Bernite Archer falling to the ground, screaming as a sextet of black orbs stole his life away.
He wasn't dead, but Renault would have to finish him off later—Khyron had plans. "DAMMIT," he shouted again as he cast another spell, "SECURING THE PALACE TAKES PRIORITY! BRADDOCK, HARVERY, AND APOLLI WILL RESCUE THE KING, ME AND ROSAMIA WILL SECURE THE THRONE ROOM, AND RENAULT AND THE PEGASUS KNIGHTS WILL TAKE CARE OF THIS OUTER AREA! MOVE!"
Renault and all his comrades had no sooner nodded their heads in agreement when the plan their leader had just made unraveled slightly. "AAAAH!" The Archer who'd greeted them screamed as a hole was blown clean through his chest from the force of a Wyvern Lord's javelin.
Hovering in front of them on the back of a familiar black Wyvern was a Bernite with familiar poofy blond hair. "Where the hell did you guys come from?" asked Yazan in his deep, growling voice. "Well, I—"
He was cut off when Hambrabi jerked back and flapped his wings, bringing both of them back into the air to avoid the flash of white which had dived down upon them. Both Yazan and the rest of Hell's Wall appeared somewhat surprised to see who it was.
"Hey, Kasha," Yazan shouted happily, "Is that you? Damn, you sure know how to make an entrance!"
"And you love it, don't you?" Kasha cackled wildly. "Now, WE GOT UNFINISHED BUSINESS!"
"Haha, whenever you want, girl!" Yazan unlimbered his lance to block Kasha's attack as she flew past him, and he kicked Hambrabi in the side to turn him to back north, motioning for Kasha to follow.
"C'MON, LET'S GO!"
"Hey, don't think you can escape so easily!" Kasha completely forgot about the battle raging around her in front of the Palace in order to pursue her old friend, spurring her own mount and heading north as well, attempting to catch up to Yazan while he was busy dodging arrows and spells.
"KASHA! THE PLAN!" screamed Khyron, but it was already far too late—she couldn't hear them.
"It doesn't matter, Master!" yelled Rosamia. "Let's just go with what we have!"
"Me n' the Ilians will take care of things out here," said Renault, shoving his Steel Sword into a Bernite Soldier's face, "You guys get back into the castle and save that stupid King! I don't want Paptimus to win this war because somebody gutted Galahad while he was busy wetting his pants!"
Khyron was about to let out a blistering retort, but Rosamia stopped him, saying, "Save your anger for the Bernites trying to kill our liege! LET'S JUST GO!"
That convinced him. While Renault and the remaining three Pegasus Knights struggled for their lives outside, Braddock, Harvery, Apolli, Khyron, and Rosamia ran as fast as they could through the Castle's broken front doors and into its confines, hoping to rescue the King.
-x-
When Braddock first stepped into the Castle's confines, he thought they might have already been too late.
Blood and bodies were everywhere. Corpses of the Royal Guards were piled on top of Bernese infantrymen and the scaly bodies of Wyverns, the carnage drawing away all attention from the castle's gorgeous interior architecture. And it seemed to be everywhere.
"No time to waste!" shouted Khyron. "Everyone, follow me!"
He knew the layout of the castle best, so naturally nobody raised any objections. Braddock, Rosamia, Apolli, and Harvery followed the Mage General through the winding halls as he led them with such ease that it seemed he knew the castle's entire layout by heart. They didn't make their journey unopposed, of course—as they ran, Khyron and Rosamia flung their spells as fast as they could, incinerating and freezing rampaging Wyverns and their riders in the large great halls, while Harvery blew forwards like a swift wind, and whenever he passed by a Bernese swordsman or fighter, the invader would crumple to the ground with an astonished look on their face, not knowing where the gashes on his neck came from. Apolli even managed to fire off a few arrows while running, that Orion's Bolt from the labyrinth apparently having increased his dexterity greatly, and finally, Braddock's raw power came in quite handy—even Wyverns weren't able to stand against it. As his group neared one staircase, a Wyvern Rider came barreling out of a door to their side towards them. Braddock didn't even slow down. Shouting angrily, he just slammed into the beast with all his strength, knocking it back. Both it and its rider had time to look surprised before the Ostian spilled the Wyvern's guts across the ground and took a chunk out of the man's head with his Wolf Beil.
"Quickly, up these stairs!" Khyron yelled, not wanting to waste a moment. His friends quickly followed him, all running as fast as they could. There was too much adrenaline running through Braddock's body to make him feel tired, even though he ought to have been utterly exhausted after everything he'd been through. Judging by how his comrades moved, they felt the same way. The steps seemed to flash under them, and none of them stumbled once, though Braddock did have to reach out a grab a wall to keep from tripping over the bloody body of one unfortunate guard.
They reached the second floor…and kept going upwards. Didn't take the exit to the third floor, but when they reached the fourth, Khyron made a hasty exit from the stairwell and went down a hallway leading to the east. He was heading towards another large stairwell this time, but one that went only upwards—Braddock realized it must have led to the fifth level of the castle, where the King's personal chambers were located. And judging from the sounds coming from above them, the King was in trouble.
"QUICKLY!" Khyron shouted. They ascended the stairs to get a good view of the battle. A single short entryway terminated in the door to the King's room, and it was currently being defended by one man—a nondescript fellow clad in full armor and carrying a spear, not too tall but apparently very brave—he was standing alone, the corpses of two Sages next to him, facing off against a Wyvern Lord, two Mercenaries, and three Fighters. He would have been slaughtered if it hadn't been for the timely arrival of Khyron and his group.
"YAAAAH!" Khyron and Rosamia led things off when the Bernite invaders turned from the sole spearmen to the new arrivals. The magic-users blasted away the two Mercenaries, and in the split second after the effects of their spells had dissipated, Apolli sent a pair of arrows into the eyes of both the Wyvern Lord and his mount. Before the remaining Fighters had time to react, Braddock and Harvery leapt forward, each cutting down a single man.
"Thanks!" the spearman shouted as he took care of the remaining Fighter, the Bernite collapsing with a curse as the guard thrust an Iron Spear through his chest. "I really owe you one," he said after this, panting in exhaustion as he leaned on his bloody spear. His saviors smiled in response—the sounds of battle were dying away downstairs as reinforcements had apparently arrived, and no more Wyverns, Bernites, or Revolutionaries seemed to be crashing in on them. For now, the battle was over, or at least cooling down.
Khyron, however, didn't even notice. "THE KING! I MUST SEE THE KING! OUT OF THE WAY!"
He shoved the surprised guardsman out of the way and opened the thick doors he'd been guarding, barging right into Galahad's room. "Uh, don't take it too personally," said Braddock, still panting heavily from his previous exertions as he looked at the guard sympathetically. "Khyron's like that all the time." With that, he and his friends followed the Sage into the King's personal chambers—and found, to their mild satisfaction, that Khyron had gotten at least a bit of comeuppance.
"Mrf!" The Sage sputtered as he was hit in the face with what appeared to be a soft, luxurious purple cushion.
"GET OUT!" screamed the man who'd thrown it. He was a short, rather unimpressive older-looking fellow huddled in the bed in the other side of the room, being held by a rather buxom black-haired woman. Braddock remembered the man from standing in front of him at Court several years ago—it was King Galahad. He had no idea who the woman was, and was actually somewhat happy to see neither of them was naked—the thought of a man like Galahad enjoying carnal relations was one he'd be much better off never entertaining.
"B-BERNESE SCUM!" Galahad continued to yell, and he was crying as well—his companion was too, in fact. "W-WHAT HAVE WE EVER DONE TO YOU?"
"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH MY GALAHAD!" screamed the woman. "M-MY PRECIOUS GALAHAD! OH, ELIMINE PRESERVE US!" She picked up another pillow and tossed it at Khyron, who continued to sputter indignantly.
"I can't believe we went through all this trouble to save this guy," deadpanned Braddock. From the expressions on Harvery, Apolli, and even Rosamia's faces, all them agreed.
None of that mattered to Khyron. "Y-Your Majesty! Don't you recognize me?" he stuttered.
This managed to bring some sense back to the terrified King of Etruria. "Who…who? You mean you're not a Bernite?"
"No! My liege, I serve only you, as my brother did!"
That was enough to tell him. "KHYRON!" Galahad had gone from weeping in fear to shouting with joy. "WE'RE SAVED! MALONDA, WE'RE SAVED!" The woman had stopped crying, but judging by how her expression of recognition had a distinct sour tint to it, Braddock got the impression she'd rather have been saved by someone else besides Khyron.
Galahad didn't take note of it. He leapt up from his opulent bed and leapt straight at Khyron, hugging the Sage in a desperate, tearful embrace. In most other occasions this would have been cause for the onlookers to smile, but Braddock and his companions really couldn't convince themselves that such behavior from the man who was supposed to be leading their kingdom was at all a good thing.
Shaking his head, Braddock turned and stepped back out of the room—Khyron didn't notice, and Rosamia and Apolli were occupied with looking at Galahad awkwardly. The Ostian smiled again when he saw the brave lone spearman, who was still standing outside, seemingly confused (it was hard to tell from his expression—the armor and helmet he wore was more encompassing than an ordinary Soldier's, covering his entire face).
"You did good," said Braddock. "If it wasn't for you, we probably would've arrived too late to save Galahad. Any more enemies coming?"
"Nope, none that I've seen," said the spearman, still sounding very tired. "Think we've driven off the Bernites from the Palace."
"Really? Yeah, I hope so." Braddock took a few steps towards one of the broken windows in the hallway and gazed outside. The battle was indeed dying down—the grounds were filled with Cavaliers, actually—some backup forces the Red Comet had in reserve for situations like this, the Ostian surmised. There were a few hundred of them, and they'd quickly bailed out the beleaguered defenders—now, they were busying themselves throwing Javelins at the few scattered and demoralized Wyvern Riders left in the air.
Braddock sighed. In all that chaos, he couldn't catch a single glimpse of Renault—he had no idea where the youth from Thagaste could be. So the only thing he could do was hope, with all his heart, that his best friend was alright.
-x-
"They don't pay me enough for this," grunted Renault as he deftly sidestepped a Bernese Hero's thrust of his sword. The man was definitely skilled, one of the most skilled warriors Renault had dealt with in the past few days, in fact—he'd left a sizable gash on the sellsword's chest just a few moments earlier; only Renault's quick jerking away had prevented the wound from being fatal. But the sellsword was no slouch either, and the Hero had gotten the worst of their encounter—a deep gash on his leg and shield arm meant he couldn't move or block attacks easily. Renault pressed this advantage—he brought his sword over his head and slashed downwards with all his strength, and the Hero couldn't dodge, only bring up his own sword to block the blow with the flat of the blade. But the force of Renault's swing was too much for a one-handed block, and he couldn't maintain his grip on the weapon—when Renault hit it, he grimaced as it fell from his hand.
"End of the line for you," smiled Renault as he immediately brought his sword up again, slicing open the Hero's neck cleanly. Still smiling, he surveyed the battlefield for his next victim. He saw one in a Wyvern Rider soaring through the air, aiming his Javelin at an unsuspecting Royalist manning one of the ballistae on the walls. Renault sheathed his Steel Sword and brought out his Runesword, smiling even more widely when he pointed it at the Bernite and saw the six black orbs leaving his body. The invader, surprised, jerked, which threw off his aim—the Javelin passed harmlessly over the head of the ballistician, and the Sage standing next to him blasted the Wyvern Rider to pieces with a well-timed and well-aimed Thunder spell. For Renault's part, all he cared about was that the wound on his chest had stopped bleeding thanks to the sword's magic.
Things don't seem to be going that bad, he thought to himself when he looked above, where his three Ilian comrades, Kelitha, Keith, and Hiyu were tearing through the Bernites. Keith seemed to be the most enthusiastic, passing between two Wyvern Riders and simultaneously knocking them both off their mounts. Kelitha and Hiyu kept close to the walls, both foiling the plots of any more Wyvern Riders to inflict further casualties upon the ballisticians and magic-users, and also descending down every now and then to help the defenders on the ground. Though there were only four of them, it seemed they'd blunted the Revolutionary attack on the castle, or at least prevented any more soldiers from gaining entrance.
However, Renault also realized he wouldn't be able to fight forever. If the Revolutionaries had any more reinforcements, the castle was as good as theirs if they put even more pressure on it. And, of course, there was the matter of the soldiers who'd already managed to infiltrate the castle—he could only hope Braddock and his other comrades were doing well.
This point was brought home—brutally—when Renault heard a piercing scream from above him.
He looked up to see what seemed to be a rain of red liquid. It took him a second to realize it was blood. When a few red-tinged white feathers drifted down along with it, he realized it had used to be a Pegasus Knight. And when a large black shape swooped downwards through it, he realized it was a Wyvern Lord who'd done her in.
"HIYU!" Keith and Kelitha screamed simultaneously, as the green-haired Wyvern Lord who'd torn her literally to pieces alighted on the ground in front of Renault, her spear dripping with gore. When she turned around to look at the foe to her back, both her eyes and Renault's widened in recognition.
She had long green hair and a heart-shaped face that would have been pretty were it not for the prominent scar on it—and the blood streaming all over it. One of her eyes was closed, and her left arm, not holding her lance, was hanging limply by her side; peppered with several arrows. Her mount wasn't doing much better, burns evident all over its belly and several arrows stuck in its hide. It was a testament to her skill, then, that she was still more than capable of fighting.
"S-Shit," Renault stammered, "You're that lady from Lycia! The one with Barbarossa!"
"You!" she responded, her shock matching her exhaustion. "How the…how are you still alive? And how'd you get all the way from the Reaper's Labyrinth over to the capitol of Etruria?"
Renault had recovered enough of his composure to give a witty reply to the woman's question. "Like I told you last time, we're Hell's Wall! Nobody who crosses us lives to tell about it! And if it means traveling all the way over to Etruria to keep you from escapin' our grasp, that's just what we're gonna do! NOW DIE!"
Renault pointed his Runesword at her, hoping to do some damage—and was very disappointed when he saw her shift her body just slightly to the side, resulting in the six life-draining orbs converging on empty air and returning to him with nothing.
He knew then and there this woman wouldn't be as easy to defeat as her underlings.
She kicked her black Wyvern in the sides and spurred it to charge towards him, her spear and its fangs leading the way. Renault quickly dropped and rolled to the side, underneath one of the charging wyvern's outstretched wings. He thought he evaded her thrust easily…until he felt a sharp flare of pain in his side, and staggered to his feet while looking at the gash which had suddenly opened up in his torso.
When she turned back to him, he realized what had happened—it was that strange spear of hers. It was apparently a heavily enchanted weapon, for tiny gusts of wind blew around it constantly, whipping to and fro like miniature tornados. Though the spear itself had thankfully missed him, one of the miniature hurricanes must have slashed him. A direct hit probably would have ripped him up—he now knew what had happened to Hiyu.
She thrust the spear into the air, and the gusts of wind prevented Keith and Kelitha from getting too close to her. "Mere bandits like you are no match for the Royal Spear, Rex Hasta," she said grimly, readying herself to charge again at Renault. "Now—"
The sellsword was saved at the last minute by the arrival of friendly reinforcements—a small horde of Cavaliers crashed through the Palace gates and into the plaza, wearing Royal colors. "What?" exclaimed the Bernese woman as she turned her head to see her fellow invaders falling under a hail of hooves and thrown Javelins.
"Damn! We've failed!" she cursed. Slashing her spear in the air around her again to keep the Pegasus Knights away, she took off.
"YOU'RE NOT GETTING AWAY!" Renault shouted. Just as her Wyvern passed over his head, he sheathed his Runesword and jumped up, as high as he could, and managed to grab on to something:
Her Wyvern's back legs.
"What the—" she exclaimed as her mount suddenly found it much harder to maneuver. To its credit and that of its rider, it managed to stay in air, but it took everything the woman had to keep it that way—Keith and Kelitha knew an opportunity when they saw one, and as the Bernite's wyvern continued to chug clumsily through the air, they used the superior speed of their Pegasi to dart in as close to her as possible, looking for an opening. She fended them off well, continuing to sweep her magic Rex Hasta around in wide arcs, using its powerful wind enchantment to keep them at bay. This also had the added benefit of blowing away the arrows coming at her from below, though she still had to dodge the ballista and Thunder bolts.
However, while she was able to deal with the Ilians, she found herself unable to get a good bead on her unexpected passenger. "Damn you!" she yelled, looking down. Since Renault was clinging to her Wyvern's legs, right below her, she couldn't stab at him without injuring her own mount.
However, that didn't mean the Wyvern couldn't take care of things itself. "GRAWR!" It craned its long neck downwards and snarled at Renault, so close to him he could smell its horribly fetid breath.
After everything he'd experienced, though, he wasn't even close to intimidated. "Think you're a tough boy, huh? Let's see if those scales of yours are as hard as Barbarossa's!"
Grinning madly, he let go of one of the Wyvern's legs with his right hand, while still gripping the other with his left. With his free hand he unsheathed the Steel Sword at his hip and whipped it out in one single motion—which ended with the Wyvern's jaws hanging limply away from each other, streaming blood downwards as Renault's blade split its mouth apart.
"NO!" screamed the Bernite as her dead mount began to plummet downwards. Lucky for her (and Renault) they didn't fall far—not even a dozen feet below them was the roof of a house where the wreckage of a ballista and its operator lay, having been destroyed by one of her fellow Wyvern Riders earlier.
"Ooof!" cried Renault as he let go of the dead beast's leg and tumbled onto the roof, rolling gracelessly but otherwise managing to avoid injury. The Bernite, for her part, hadn't been injured (more than she already was), but perhaps not quite right in her mind—when he looked up, Renault saw her off her saddle, kneeling next to her Wyvern's body, shouting "Minerva! MINERVA!"
"That your Wyvern's name?" grunted Renault right before he reached to his belt and unclasped a Vulnerary, taking a swig and basking in the recovery of his wounds. "Yeah, well, in a minute you're gonna be as dead as she is!"
She turned to stare at him, her face contorted with raw fury. "YOU SCUM! DIE!"
She charged straight at him in a blind rage, clutching her Rex Hasta with her one good hand. In the split second he had, Renault realized there was very little he could do—he was standing near the edge of the roof, so he couldn't run, there was no way he could block her weapon with his sword, and he wouldn't be able to dodge to the sides without getting slashed by those gusts of wind.
So he went down.
The woman could only stutter "W-what?" as the point of her Rex Hasta passed cleanly over his head, managing only to slice off a few of his hairs with its wind.
Renault had fallen straight onto his back, lying on the rooftop so his head just passed over its edge. As she rushed at him, the spear that had been aimed at his chest reached only empty air, and in the same move as he'd fallen, Renault brought one of his legs up in a kick.
"OOOF!" It caught the Bernite right in the crotch, with enough force to propel her slightly into the air…right over Renault and over the roof's edge.
"HAHA! YES!" Quickly sitting up and then getting to his feet, Renault peered downwards to see where she'd fallen. She apparently wasn't dead—the house they'd landed on was close to one of the canals criss-crossing the city, and she'd been thrown in—from here, he could see her flailing and thrashing in the water, being carried away by the current.
He smirked. In that armor, it was only a matter of time before she drowned.
Renault turned back, breathing heavily, and took one more swig from his Vulnerary, tossing the empty flask behind him when he was done. Something caught his eye on the rooftop below him—glinting slightly in the sunlight. He reached down to pick it up, and retrieved a golden amulet of sorts—his smirk turned into a wide smile when he recognized it as a Talisman, an enchanted bauble which protected the user against magical attacks. The female Wyvern commander must've dropped it.
"Finder's keepers," he chuckled to himself. He then heard the flapping of wings and glanced up to see Keith and Kelitha had alighting in front of him him, looking at him in amazement.
"S-Sir Renault," stammered Keith, "That was amazing!"
When did I become a 'Sir?' thought Renault to himself, before thinking it was just some Ilian quirk. Not that it mattered, anyways. "Yeah, it really was, I guess," he smirked. "Not surprised you Ilians would be impressed."
The sellsword's condescension passed cleanly over Keith's head, though Kelitha's expression did darken slightly. "It's an honor to be fighting besides you, Sir Renault!" the younger sister gushed. "Ever since you saved me back in the Reaper's Labyrinth, I thought you were a great warrior, but you just keep proving it! There's no way we can lose with you on our side!"
"Uh-uh…yeah?" Renault didn't quite know what to say for that. Despite his disdain for Ilians, he had to admit it felt pretty good to hear someone complimenting him so profusely. He appreciated it coming from her a lot more than he did coming from people like Lisse—at least she was actually useful in a fight, so praise from a Knight, even an Ilian knight, seemed to count for more than an innkeeper's clinginess. Thus, he didn't quite know how to respond. "Uh, thanks," he said, blushing slightly and looking away. "Well, let's get back to the Palace. Braddock's a great warrior too, right? We don't wanna keep him worried."
"Sure thing!" The battle around them seemed to be winding down. Below them, the invading forces seemed to be in full retreat, and the sounds of men dying, weapons clashing, and spells going off seemed to be growing fainter by the minute. Thus, both Renault and his friends knew it was time to at least rendezvous with their friends before they attempted to find out what exactly was going on, and where (and when) they'd been warped by the residents of the Reaper's Labyrinth. As Keith continued to gush excitedly about their victory, Renault hopped on to the back of her Pegasus, and together, the two of them and Kelitha began their flight back to the Holy Royal Castle.
-x-
Kasha hadn't had this much fun in years.
Well, actually, it was more like a few hours, since she'd enjoyed the fight against those Knight Puppet thingies so much. The thought was the same, though.
She laughed wildly as she spurred her Pegasus to produce a burst of speed, bringing her over Yazan's head. As she passed she quickly jabbed her spear at him, but the experienced veteran hastily descended and slowed in response, her spear barely missing him, and responded with his own thrust upwards, forcing her to break away to keep her mount's vulnerable underside from being pierced.
That didn't stop her, of course. She took a moment to regain her position in the air above him, and then resumed her attack."I'M SO GLAD YOU DIDN'T FORGET ME!" she yelled as she dove down right as Yazan banked to the left, missing his Wyvern's wing by a hair.
"Hey, there's no way I could forget you, hon," he laughed right back at her as a Ballista bolt whizzed by his head. "I've been looking forward to finishin' things up with you for months!"
"Awwww, you remembered? I'm such a lucky girl!" she cackled. "Between you and Renault, I think I just might have too much on my plate!"
"Hey! Renault?" Yazan shouted—he didn't sound angry, but he did sound a bit amused. That didn't stop Hambrabi from offering another great flap of his wings, giving Yazan enough extra speed to both allow him to dodge the two Ballista bolts heading for him and bring him close enough to Kasha to poke at her Pegasus, nicking one of its hooves. "I thought I was the only guy in your life!"
"Aw, c'mon, don't be silly!" Kasha suddenly swooped downwards and around in a fairly impressive display of skill, managing to bring her Pegasus below Yazan, this time—right under his Wyvern's vulnerable belly. "A girl like me's got to keep her options open, after all!" She thrust her spear upwards, smiling viciously as she expected to score a fatal blow upon the Wyvern, bringing his rider down to the ground.
She would be sorely disappointed. Yazan didn't even try to dodge the attack—rather, he shouted, "CATCH IT, HAMBRABI!" With a growl, the Wyvern jerked to the side, almost dismounting his rider, but allowing him to kick out with his powerful hind legs. Kasha definitely wasn't expecting that, and she could only gasp in surprise as the ebony beast's scaly foot connected with her spear, deflecting her attack and knocking the weapon out of her grasp, down to the ground below.
"Hah hah! Nice going, Hambrabi!" Yazan cheered, but stopped abruptly and shouted when he was hit by another ballista bolt—not a direct hit, but one which clipped his shoulder, leaving a large, bloody wound. "Damn!" He turned his wyvern and spurred him to increase his speed, staying low and veering to the right and left to avoid the attacks which were still coming at him with great consistency from the soldiers below, turned back to the north and began flying back to the city's walls as quickly as he could.
"HEY!" screamed Kasha indignantly as her Pegasus hovered behind him. "WHERE'RE YOU GOING? I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO FINISH THIS!"
"SORRY, HON!" he called back, pointing to the ground. She turned her eyes in that direction to see what he was talking about—Revolutionaries could be seen in the streets below, running back to the gates as quickly as they could. "WE'VE LOST THIS BATTLE! I DON'T WANNA STICK AROUND ANY LONGER! WE'LL FINISH THINGS NEXT TIME, I PROMISE!"
And with that, he soared off into the northern horizon, trailed by arrows and Bolting spells all the way.
"Grrrr!" Kasha considered giving chase, but then remembered her good weapon had been knocked away. "Ah, well," she muttered, "next time. There's always next time! Well, looks like the battle's finished. I wonder how Renault's doing? I'd better check up on him…hope he hasn't been having too much fun without me!"
With a loud cackle, the crazy Ilian turned her mount and began flying south, back to the Castle.
This battle for Aquleia may have finished, she knew, but there would be plenty, plenty more in the future.
::Next time, on Wayward Son!::
Renault and his comrades have single-handedly faced down a small Bernite army, their mutated Wyvern super-weapon, and an entire army of phantoms guarding an ancient mobile fortress! Now, after managing to live through the siege of Aquleia, they're just about at their limits. It's time for them to receive a break…but, of course, in this war, even that's not as easy as it sounds! Stay tuned for Chapter 26 of Wayward Son: A Well-Earned Respite! Look forward to it on the first of October!
::Linear Notes::
All right! I hope this chapter kept up the AWESOME, my friends. I also hope the Red Comet's entrance was sufficiently impressive ;) Inspiration for his appearance was given by my good friend CO Raptor, who made a lot of mecha generals for FESS, back in the day. As he said, "Generals don't need mecha…they ARE MECHA!"
Also, I hope the Rex Hasta was cool enough…I wanted to do something special with it, since it was an S-ranked weapon after all :D Anyways, as the NEXT CHAPTER PREVIEW intimates, the follow-up to this one will be a bit more sedate (Renault and co. REALLY need a break, after all), but after that, expect things to heat up again!
Thanks to Enilas for beta-ing, as usual ^^