Chapter Twenty-Eight

"Some souls are connected by an ancient calling beyond worlds"

…

"That is a huge camp. Are you boys sure that you want to challenge that all on your own?" Matthias has to resist the urge to roll his eyes and smack the doubtful leader of the Katari twelve. The poor sod hasn't taken the news about the Seven Seas Alliance not coming well. In his expert opinion, Arendelle simply isn't enough alone to win against the barbarian bastards.

"You are free to retreat if you want Signor Katari. I'm sure no one will doubt your bravery," snarks Matthias not hiding his disdain of the man. As a Winged Hussar, the very idea of cowardice is an anathema to him.

He can almost hear the man gritting his teeth in anger at the reply before turning to his second-in-command, Rodney, commonly called Sir Rodney since he is one of the few active knights of Arendelle before volunteering to be part of the Winged Hussars.

"Have you located our targets yet?" he asks looking at the younger man.

"Yes, there, three meters to the ruined tent is a stockpile of goods, oil mostly and grease plus an assortment of wine that they must have looted from one of the empty houses," points out Rodney guiding Matthias' view through the spyglass.

"Yes, I see it," removing the spyglass off his eye, Matthias turns towards his twenty man team, all Winged Hussars and an assortment of Lescannians rebels (more like militia) under the command of Pac.

Currently they are employing Silvanna's general plan of "Death by a Thousand Cuts" to the enemy. As General Horst explains it during the briefing yesterday, they would be doing non-stop raids on the enemy targeting supplies, key leaders, freeing Lescannanian slave survivors and generally simply causing mayhem. Basically they would be making a nuisance of themselves that the Nogrodions would be driven mad and hungry. When they are all weak and famished then the Arendellians can finally finish them off in a pitched battle of their own choosing.

"Have the other teams finished getting into position?"

"We have no way of knowing sir," responds Rodney with a grimace making Matthias bite off a curse under his breath as he returns his attention to the sprawling mass below them.

The large army from Nogrod according to Pac Katari is moving from one town or city to another like a swarm of locusts looting what's left of Lescanna, gathering supplies and slaves. At first impression, a Nogrodian soldier is nothing impressive. Dressed with nothing from the waist up other than impressive runic white paintings all over their body, with their cow skin shield, spear, axe and club, they are not that intimidating. Matthias however erred on the side of caution. The strength of Nogrod is not in their armour or weaponry, no. The strength of the Nogrodions have always been in their numbers. With a hundred thousand screaming barbarians like them, forged by survival of the heat of their desert home, they are more than a match for any well-equipped army.

In a way he admits that Silvanna is right. Even with the might of the Seven Seas Alliance together, facing such a force in an up close face to face and personal combat as they are today is just asking for disaster. At best like before, they would win be able to drive off the Nogrodions with heavy casualties on their side. At worst, the Nogrodions would simply steam roll over them easily. No, this way is better. While the strength of Nogrod is in their numbers, it is also their Achilles Heel. Such a large army needs a lot of provender for it to keep going. Cut off the food and water supply and their numbers would be their downfall.

"Of course such an action is futile when a rich land like Lescanna is the playground of the battlefield. The bastards would simply hunt and forage," mutters Matthias beneath his breath.

"Did you say something sir?"

"Nothing," Matthias sighs as he puts on his helmet before turning on his men. "Alright men, our target is simple. We get in, break, smash and destroy those storage jars and chests that our Rodney here has pointed out. You, Wallace, I want you ready with flint and the torch. You're in charge of the fire. We've got some oil components in our target boys. Make sure you light the bastards up," a few chuckles emit from the gathered riders at that.

"Now remember! We do not fight here! We charge, break down those in our way, finish our objectives and get out. I know the temptation might be great for you men to charge in and mow them down at full speed. Don't do that! As admiring it is to watch some of you go out in a blaze of glory; we have a bigger mission ahead of us. There are a hundred more like these to repeat. So I need all of you alive. Understand?!"

"Yes, sir!" the chorus of hushed voices repeated.

"And as for you Pac, you bring your men to bear on that isolated camp of prisoners that you scout out," Matthias commands. "Free them and make it quick. If you get your asses captured, there would be no rescue party,"

"We understand Signor. You focus on your job and we'll focus on ours, si?"

"Good," Matthias nods taking the reins of his horse before climbing atop it. Taking the familiar lance of his, he smiles at his men through his helmet. "We get the first honour of dealing the first blow in this war boys, let's not disappoint shall we?"

Not waiting for their response, Matthias immediately urges his horse towards the slope heading straight towards the side of the Nogrodion camp. He scoffs at the sight of two guards down below. The morons are overconfident of their victory over Lescanna that they have not truly organized their camp well. Well, their loss.

"Hiyah!" he urges his horse forward down the slope whose movements turn to a quick canter and increasing immediately to a steady gallop. He can hear the sounds of his men behind him following.

As expected, the sudden acceleration makes enough sound for the guards to wake up from their doze to see what's going the ruckus. The first one gets a thundering spear on the chest while the other unlucky fool gets trampled under the hooves with a pained yelp.

By then, the death throes of the men have alerted the camp. Many poke through their cown skin tents in curiosity while those that are standing pulls out their weapons and tries to stop the charging heavy cavalry. It is to no avail though, the charging horsemen are now at full half-gallop trampling anyone in their way; batting off clumsy blows of the few Nogrodions that make a stand.

Reaching the stockpiled materials, Matthias immediately pulls out the hammer, added by the quartermaster on his usual equipment. Two large jars and a dozen covered ceramic bowls are broken spilling milk, medicine, herbs and water on the ground. Around him, the sounds of fighting, more bowls breaking and a "whooshing" sound followed by a wave of heat indicating that Wallace have succeeded on his mission on "lighting the bastards up".

"Winged Hussars! To me! Fall back to the rally point!" Matthias shouts loudly urging his horse away from the roaring fire started by Wallace on the oil jars which are slowly starting to spread from tent to tent.

Already this part of the camp is awake as the Nogrodions start realizing that they are under attack. Men are running this way and back trying to salvage the tents lit up by the fires. Shouts are thrown everywhere as Nogrodions try to make sense of what's going on and no clear leadership is shown. One of them tries to stand and initiate some sort of leadership but a flying spear from the gloom stops whatever speech he is planning to make as he is impaled by it and goes crashing down to one of the burning tents.

The Nogrodions indeed would be successful on putting out the fires. By then it would be too late. The Winged Hussars are gone leaving nothing but broken food and water containers on their wake. For the first raid, it is a mission accomplished.

….

At the southern side of the Nogrodion camp, another attack is on the way. Led by General Horst, the attackers are mostly composed of teams of archers supported by some Nords who simply can't stand sitting around and have elected to accompany him in this raid.

Their mission is actually quite simple. Barges from the main city of Lescanna containing loot, slaves and food are being shipped on this barony via one of Lescanna's rivers. General Horst plans to burn them. The more the Nogrodions are inconvenienced, the better. Take away their food, their property, their pleasantries, and you get a lot of hot-tempered Nogrodions milling around in an that overlarge camp wanting to pick a fight yet having no one to fight ( thus probably causing incidents along the way).

"Alright men, steady your bows. Remember, we have less than a few seconds of releasing before they zero in on us. By then, we must be gone and dusted else we're dead men, understood?" Horst looks at the fifty man archer team he is leading.

"Other teams are also zeroing on the other boat; our target is the biggest one in the lead. Make your shots count boys, don't miss," he urges as he peeks through the marsh reeds seeing the large barge leading the convoy approaching.

"Our target is here, ready. Arrows knock!" he whispers hearing the silent clinking of wood upon wood. Thankfully the men are taking every precaution to make as less sound as possible. Nobody after all wants the entirety of the Nogrodion army crashing down on their heads. "Light it up," the torches are passed from one line to the other, five in all. "Draw," the sound of wood touting under the strain of the bowstring follows. "LOOSE!" Horst shouts estimating the range just in time.

Fifty bows relaxes in unison sending fifty flaming arrows soaring high over the air before being pulled down by gravity straight to the unsuspecting members of the barge. Screams and yells immediately appear as Nogrodions panicked at the realization of being under attack. Fire spreads all over the barge as their cargoes burst into flames. Many are carrying basic essentials covered by oiled leather to prevent water from making them bad. Unfortunately, the leather is extremely flammable and it is not hard for a spark to light up like a bonfire when it gets into contact with one.

Horst just blinks as the entirety of the barge turns into a floating bonfire. He has planned for a double volley , instead it seems that it is no longer needed. Men are jumping off from the flaming barge to the waters, some still with arrows lodged into them. Horst just simply gestures for the archers under his command to use the last of their arrows at the idiots flailing in the water. Most Nogrodions can't swim due to their home being sand. That doesn't mean though that some can't get lucky.

Screams of the dead and dying soon follow the sound of the whooshing of fire inside the barge as archers stick the floating men with arrows. General Horst simply looks at the other barges trailing after their first one. Flaming arrows appear every now and then lighting up a barge or two causing the same explosions like theirs. Nogrodions are also jumping out of the water in a futile effort to ran away from their flaming floating transports.

Horst just nods at his men to bail out. Sounds of horns are coming from the camp. It is a small victory but important nevertheless. A thousand of these and the Nogrodions would be an army without a supply soon. As the Arendellians left, they leave nothing but burning wreckages of the barges behind ; their mission accomplished.

….

At the open fields of the camp, another attack is on-going though. Led by Lord Vikor, the Baron of the Silver Mines leads a hundred of his Death Dealers straight towards the flocks of goats, sheep, and horses. Unlike the first two attacks, the Nogrodions have ample warning this time due to the lack of cover despite it being the night. However they are not massed together, the only hope of infantry against cavalry. Armed lightly, They are also armed lightly, some in fact are only holding staves and staffs as they respond to the threat. It is clear that they did not expect to see human enemies and are simply around mostly to deal with easier assailants like the local wildlife. That is their undoing.

Like hot knife through butter, the light cavalry of Death Dealers smash through the mockery of a battle line of the farmers and lightly armoured Nogrodions. True to their name, they dealt death on those that dare face them on the battlefield. Not all of them stayed and fight though. The objective is not the men but the large flocks idly milling unsure as to how to the respond of all the violence that is going on around them.

The Death Dealers make that decision for them. A crossbow bolt "twangs" from one of the riders and a ram crashed on the ground dead, the bolt piercing its head, skull and reaching its brain. It does not take long for the herds to squawk and panic running around at all directions. Lord Viktor only looks in approval as his men scatter the livestock to the twelve winds. Some of the Death Dealers even get a little inventive turning to crack in half the chicken and duck coops releasing the birds in a symphony of sounds. Of course with their newly acquired freedom, the former food supply of Nogrod immediately begins to make beelines of cover under the woods, as Viktor predicted.

Domesticated animals as they are, they won't survive the wilds. Viktor made sure to ask Lord Blackwall of the geography, botany and plants around Lescanna before conducting this raid. While Lescanna is an island kingdom, it contains many deep mountain forests that host a plethora of unique predators that evolved here. Said predators of course would never refuse an easy meal like a wandering goat, sheep, horse, chicken or duck. By the end of the night, most of those domesticated animals that ran to the woods would be dead meat.

Raising a bugle to his lips, Viktor blows out the signal for his men to fall back. By a single attack alone, they have dealt a massive blow to the Nogrodions. As he rides away, the Lord of Silver Mines can't help but admit that the plans proposed by their beloved Knightess sure do have merit. He wonders how she and his half-sister are doing right now.

…

The sound of steel clanging against steel echoes on the training ground set up at the camp of Arendelle. Men who wish to train their skills, mostly Nords, some skirmishers, Winged Hussars and the occasional foot soldier are the usual ones present on the field. Today however there is a different pair on the field trading blows with one another.

"Move faster Amelia, those who stands like a stone end up dead!" advices Silvanna making a spear thrust at her squire who clumsily tries to block the attack with the flat of her sword.

"Don't do that," Silvanna scolds swatting the edge of the bastard sword away looking at Amelia seriously. "When dealing with one holding a spear or even a sword, don't try to block a thrust. That would lead to your sword either damaged or broken. If I put even much more strength on that thrust, you would have found yourself with a broken blade,"

"So what should I do?" asks Amelia panting, her black leathers soaked with sweat.

"Parry instead. Jump to the right or left. However your enemy would be expecting that. Do it instead like this," Silvanna readies in a guard stance before gesturing to Amelia to attack her. She smiles inwardly as the other woman charges forward in a thrust without hesitation. Other soldiers would have balked at the order of attacking their own commander, not Amelia though. She is indeed serious about getting better.

Moving her body sideways to avoid the blow, Silvanna lets the edge of her spear skitter with the blade of the sword for a second before using Amelia's momentum to push her sideward causing her to stumble from the loss of balance. Before she can recover, Silvanna has the tip of her spear planted at the vein of Amelia's neck.

"Yield?"

"I-I yield," Amelia says in surrender making Silvanna smile as she helps the young woman back to her feet.

Being left out of the events of the raids occurring has made Silvanna a bit a bored. Thus after a quick deliberation on what to do in her spare time, she decides on testing out her new squire. Amelia is acceptable to say the least. Apparently despite the stigma about women not fighting as a norm, Lord Viktor has obviously allowed her sister to train and fight. She is a little above average in her skill with the sword but she has a keen eye on that crossbow of hers. Not bad in Silvanna's opinion. Plus she's a looker in that black leather of hers.

"How did you do that? That move is so flawlessly executed," asks Amelia putting her sword back at her scabbard before resting at one of the side benches wiping the sweat off her brow handed by one of the servants.

"Non-stop practice Amelia, and hundreds of repetitions," Silvanna answers with a laugh remembering in her previous life the non-stop evasion training of the Marine Corps.

"That is still dangerous though," points out Amelia. "You'll be betting your life on the line every time you execute that maneuver,"

"Such is all battles unfortunately," Silvanna simply shrugs. "At each fight there is always a risk for injury or worse. That is the sad truth about us who chose the path of the warrior,"

Amelia simply looks at her with a little bit of awe with her darkened eyes. "If that is the truth as you sau my lady, then why did you choose such a path,"

"Why indeed?" Silvanna stares at the grey clouds gathering above them indicating that rain is about to fall. "A warrior who simply wields his or her weapon simply for the sake of it is nothing more than a brute Amelia. A true warrior knows that it is not simply about drawing your sword. It is finding good reason to draw your sword in the first place. For me, I guess I found something precious worth defending. That is why; I do what I do,"

"And is this precious thing worth your life?"

Silvanna only smiles remembering the beautiful face of Elsa looking at her in wonder.

"Absolutely, now get up; break time's over. We need to practice that parrying manoeuvre more," gestures Silvanna as the two of them stands up and go back to their previous positions.

Amelia however has her face scrunched up in a thoughtful expression. "I have a question my lady. About this manoeuvre; what happens when you fail your parry?" she asks.

Silvanna only smiles predatorily at her as she readies her spear, levelled at Amelia's direction.

"Simple, Amelia. You die,"

…

"Your highness, I would get up but unfortunately I can't," the sick man says trying and failing to move from his covered cot looking at their regent looking down at him through the screen of cloth that the healers have set up.

"It's okay Ralph, you don't need to bow. Just rest; you will be up and running soon I'm sure," Elsa tries and fails to hide the break on her voice as she stares down at one of her personal guards suffering from the Malichor.

Things have gone downhill overnight. Apparently one of Elsa's servants has contracted the ugly disease. She is working at the kitchens. Bottom line is, a lot of people got infected before they even know it. Thus the castle of Arendelle has been put into lockdown with the entire staff put into observation. Elsa herself has been transferred to the official main office of the Winter Bank. It belongs to Silvanna but the managers of the bank allows her to it since apparently Silvanna has given standby instructions that Elsa and Kaldita be given refuge there in the case that the castle of Arendelle becomes hazardous for its Crown princess.

"No need to lie to me your highness. I know what this disease means, I thank you for giving me a moment of your time," chuckles Ralph, his face showing ugly black veins, the sign of the Malichor in its final stage.

"You have served me well Ralph and Arendelle as a whole. Take a rest now. We will soon find a remedy for this plague," Elsa responds with a small smile as she stands up leaving the man to rest.

Standing up, Elsa looks around at the rows of the sick and the dying. Her heart clenches at the sight of them. There are too many, too many that are sick. She has never felt this helpless. Walking out of the tents, Elsa follows the healer leading her out. No one other than her and the healers are allowed to see the sick and the dying. Apparently not even the screen can totally block the sickness from spreading. Elsa on the other hand despite being exposed many times is fine. Ashe confidentially speculates to her that it must be her powers keeping the sickness off.

That is why Elsa is a bit nervous as she walks out of the tent where other concerned citizens of Arendelle that have relatives or family inside have gathered. Eyes follow her alongside the murmurs as she heads back to the Winter Bank. More than one is giving her shady looks and Elsa can't help but walk a little faster under their gazes. One of the remaining Rangers had left behind a note last night saying that there is a large margin of Arendellians wondering as to why their Crown Princess remains Malichor free despite being in constant contact with the patients. The more superstitious ones are wondering if she is a witch in disguise and even have the audacity to assume that the Malichor is because of her due to the fact that the epidemic started the moment she took hold of the reins of the kingdom.

Normally such rumours would be quelled with the might of the entire Ranger Corps. However with the majority of the Corps away for the war, the best that the five remaining Rangers can do are to monitor the situation and make some counter propaganda in disguise.

Elsa of course is unnerved with all of this. One of her greatest fears is to be branded a witch and burned at the stake due to her powers. Unfortunately this situation is becoming close to that reality that Elsa has to resist the urge to run back to her room and close the door, hoping for everything to return to normal as she remain in hiding. The only reason she does not do that is because of the fact that she knows Silvanna would disapprove of the course of action. Arendelle is left to her care and Silvanna has put a lot of time and effort to make sure that Elsa knows how to govern it. The last thing that Elsa wants to happen is Silvanna returning in triumph only to find that Arendelle is in shambles under Elsa's care.

"Penny for your thoughts?" a familiar voice sounds making Elsa turn to see the form of Lady De Sardet walking towards her still clad in the same way as her official garments last night.

"Lady De Sardet? I thought you're in investigation right now?" asks Elsa blinking at the sight of the Legate of the Congregation of Merchants.

"I am, I've been just at the healers' tents taking samples of blood infected by the Malichor. Constantin is back at our tents comparing some of the samples we brought and that of the ones infected here. We are trying to ascertain the differences between the two so that we will have a baseline on what to do next about finding the source,"

"I-I see, uhmm good work Lady De Sardet," Elsa stammers blushing due to her implication beforehand that the Legate is simply lazing around.

"No worries," the other woman simply waves off the concern with a smile. "I understand how you feel right now. The pressure as your people fall prey to this disease as you can stand by helpless, unable to do anything. That desperation of a cure in order to make it all stop,"

"Are you talking about-,"

"Yes, the original Malichor back home at Teer Fradee, my homeland. Millions fell under it as we tried our damnest to find a cure," answers the other woman walking beside her.

"Lady De Sardet-,"

"Rose, just call me Rose," smiles the Teer Fradeen. "Most people call me De Sardet, my first name is Rose,"

"Very well, Rose," Elsa likes how the name rolls off her tongue. "Can you tell me about your homeland as we walk to the bank? It would help me get my mind off things,"

"Alright, you see Teer Fradee is not that green compared to Arendelle…..," the two women walks in companionship back towards the Winter Bank under in a city covered by plague.

….

Atop one of the darker hills of Lescanna, a slouching figure covered in a combination of boiled leather, cow skin and fur stands waiting. Overlooking the raised knoll, the entirety of the forces of the Nogrodion army camp stretches out to the distance. In this vantage point he could see the fires roaring at the sides of the camp. A scowl mars his features. This is not part of the plan.

Mao Zheng was a former prince of the kingdom of Xi of the East. He had tried and failed on a rebellion against his older brother for the throne. As a result he was forced to ran away in exile leading a small band of men as raiders and bandits. He was so successful that he even became a nuisance to his former kingdom. Until someone gave him the opportunity of being the warlord of Nogrod after its former warlord died mysteriously in his sleep. Of course Mao accepted. Lead one of the savage and brutal county in the world that it takes a combination of seven nations to simply halt in its tracks? He would be a madman not to accept. Besides, his mysterious benefactor promised that the Seven Seas Alliance would be taken care of. At least he thought he did, until the raids last night.

The sound of something moving behind him makes him growl as he draws his scimitar pointing it at the cloaked figure with gleaming violet eyes.

"You told me that you would bring down the Seven Seas Alliance! So what the hell is going on?! Why do my men report Arendellian flags assailing us?!" he growls in accusation.

"I did bring down the Alliance. You don't see Seven Flags flying against you innit?" was the sarcastic reply. Coming from a voice that sounds like a slithering snake, Mao can feel shivers' crawling up his spine. It makes him want to bail in fear.

"I-I-,"

"I've given you command of the largest fighting force of the world Mao. Don't ever forget that. I have given you such power, I can easily take it back if I want to. Remember our deal Mao, you may kill everyone else, but the young woman, the Knightess of Arendelle must be brought to me, alive…..and unspoiled. Break this treaty of ours and dying would be the least of your concerns,"

"I-I understand," Mao gulps feeling sweat falling on his forehead. "But I need your help, these raids are a nuisance. I need to know where the camp of the Arendellians are. One massive stroke will finish the last of their resistance away and I can capture this Knightess for you,"

"Mao, you are a pawn, an insignificant piece on a greater set of things. But you are an important pawn for me so for once, I will help you out for free," he chuckles loudly making the hair at the back of Mao Zheng's neck stand up. "The camp of the Arendellians are located at the westernmost bank river of the island. Follow the streams heading there and you will be able to find it,"

"So they're staying at the shoreline where their ships might be moored. Quite ingenious I might say, in the case that they are pushed back, the survivors would be able to board and make a run for it,"

"I leave the planning to you Mao Zheng, do not disappoint me for the consequences of failure is something you do not want to know. Other than the Arendellians you will also find the natives of this island and the remnants of its broken kingdom with them. I trust that you will be able to deal with them,"

"I will," Mao replies sheathing his sword. "What are you going to do though as I finish them all off?" he asks.

That blood curling laugh once more answers him. "Don't worry about my plans Mao, I plan to prepare some things for my darling little target once you capture her. Fail me on this Mao, and you will wish you haven't been born. I give you my word," he laughs insanely once more before disappearing into the shadows of the forest leaving a terrified Warlord of Nogrod behind.

A part of him pities the person known as the Knightess of Arendelle for gaining the attention of such a being.

…..

Author's Note:

More between the war between Nogrod and ARendelle next chapter. Stay in tune. Anyway please review and fav to keep my spirits up. I do love writing this story.