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Battle was said to be the great redeemer, the fiery crucible in which heroes were forged.
Truly, an admirable and quite popular sentiment. One might think of warriors of noble blood and peerless character coming to claim this honor, knights in shining armor bearing their lord's standard into the fray as they charged fearlessly on horseback. But the truth that so often escaped them was that even the most valiant warrior would void their bladders at the sight of certain death. There, only in the face of great adversity, can one's measure be determined.
To overcome seemingly insurmountable odds, and preserve one's sanity afterwards.
This was the challenge that the kingsmen of Cintra faced at her walls, pitted ever so harshly against an enemy they had never seen before. Mere men; girded in iron and chainmail, armed with steel swords and shields, attempting to stem the approaching tide. A wall of flesh and metal versus wave after wave of undying corpses.
Men bellowed, strained and bled through it all. Shields bore the brunt of each charge, swords hammered against steel and iron, spears pierced hardy chainmail, and arrows rained from both sides. It was a glorious sight, as well as a most gruesome display. Poets would sing of the battle by painting the prettiest of pictures in words of mirthful song, denying the truth of its gut-wrenching reality.
Lord Ubrich Strauss participated in the battle personally alongside the king himself, who even against the warnings of his advisors chose to fight for his city and kingdom. The Lord Protector swore to Her Highness that he would safeguard Dagorad, as he had done so many times before, and bring him back in one piece once the crisis was over. He and the king, in the company of elite knight sentinels on horseback, charged back and forth through the mass of clashing bodies. They both rode from end to end, shouting words of encouragement to the men slipping and pushing through the mud.
Dagorad's face, beneath the solid steel lion-shaped helm overlaid with brightest gold, was sweating profusely and was contorted with gradually increasing concern. He, like many of his men, shrank back in their armor at the sight of the undead.
Frightening faces of sunken skin, pale and veiny with long petrified blood vessels, and eyes that glowed of brightest blue. Their voices howled, parched and hoarse like a drunken reveler that spent his night screaming till the early hours of the morn. It took three good men to bring one of them down, and sometimes they didn't stay that way. A spear would run them through, an axe would cleave them in two, a sword would splinter them like polished yew- yet still they would rise unabated and continue the fight.
Unknown to them, something or someone powerful was raising the undead back from the abyss to keep the fight going.
"This battle vexes me!" Dagorad growled, pausing to heave his arm up and drive his sword through an undead warrior's face. Again, like most of his men, he was growing tired from the repeated attempts at killing a single enemy before moving to the next.
"I'm sure that..." Ubrich grunted as he raised his shield to block a stray arrow shot from a skeleton archer's bow in the enemy rear, "...that we all share that sentiment, Your Majesty!"
In the middle of the mess of struggling, yelling, howling bodies stood a giant that wielded the biggest double-bladed axe anyone in Cintra had ever seen. This was the same giant that faced the Faehunter's contingent not too long ago, and he had come at last at the head of his army to claim the souls within Cintra. To him, the warmth of the living drew him close like a moth to the flame, as ash seeketh embers.
His eyes caught sight of the king among his knights, and he moved through the battlefield, making a beeline for the king and his mounted guardians. Ubrich, seeing the giant first, warned his liege and the knights of the impending danger. "My king, that brute is heading straight for us!" The Lord Protector took his place in front of the formation, trusting his steed to stand his ground alongside his brave knight sentinels.
"Let him come!" Dagorad declared in spite of his shaking in his boots. His brave words were for the sake of his men, as he refused to be seen as a coward. "He does not challenge a man- the brute challenges a lion!"
Ubrich would not let the king have his way, and he bellowed at any who would hear. "To me, sons of Cintra! Protect the king!" For if Dagorad should fall, Cintra would not only lose its king but the will of her valiant soldiers. He would risk the king's ire, and he would not allow his friend to act the hero that day.
The giant's hollow breaths could be heard above the din of battle, and his axe swung with the force of a felled tree, tossing bodies left and right with every sweep across the field. He cut a bloody swath with great ease as he drew nearer and nearer to the king himself. Brave knights and footmen all, they tried to hold the fiend back but to no avail. Till at last, only Lord Strauss himself stood between the two.
"Very well, if it is to be a fight..." Ubrich yelled, calling for His Majesty to ride along with him into the fray. "...let us go together!"
"Forward, have at you!" Dagorad cried at the top of his lungs as he spurred his horse forward alongside his friend. Any of the knight sentinels left of his company rode after him with steel lances raised to run the giant down. It was practically suicide, but the knights cared little for it. Death in service to the king would bring them honor and glory long after they were gone, they trusted in him that much and held their duty in the highest regard.
Sadly, duty did little in improving their odds. The giant raised his axe again, and the knights rode even harder to close the gap before the axe descended. The massive blade swung to the right, cleaving both horses and men in one fell swoop, sending blood and guts bursting into the air like a geyser of red ichor. But one knight managed to impale his lance into the giant's belly, the force of his mount's charge sent the lance right through and knocked the giant down and the knight backward from the recoil of the violent blow.
The poor man screamed as his arm shattered on impact and he struggled to remain atop his horse as it galloped through the battlefield in an attempt to escape. He disappeared not long after, later to be found nursing his broken arm and dislocated shoulder in the far field, leaning against a tree and abandoned by his mount.
King and Lord Protector seized the chance presented to them, and they trampled the giant beneath the hooves of their mighty horses. The giant, though brought down by the lance, was still able to move and he thrashed about wildly as Dagorad and Ubrich made a pass over him. He caught Dagorad's horse by the leg and squeezed, crushing the steed's limb into bloody splinters and sending both king and horse flying into the mud.
Dagorad landed soundly on his back but was unharmed. His horse screamed piteously, and the sound of his faithful steed's suffering infuriated the monarch. He struggled to get to his feet and retrieved his fallen weapon, eager to repay blood for blood. The giant also got to his feet and glared through the narrow slits of his ancient and battered helm. The howling coming from where his mouth was supposed to be grew louder, and his hand reached out to pick up his axe. Dagorad realized this and quickly attacked before the giant could better defend himself.
At the same time, Ubrich leaped off his horse and scrambled up the giant's back. He plunged his spear into the brute's head and out his mouth, while Dagorad swung with all his strength and severed it clean from the giant's shoulders.
A cheer broke out from the amassed soldiers of Cintra at the sight of their king's triumph over the undead champion, but alas there was to be no celebration at that moment. The undead army cared little for the loss of their champion and still kept fighting. Dagorad had to be dragged back to the rear before he realized that further endangering himself would end this war against the undead prematurely, with the cost largely falling on the part of the living.
"Sire, the men are exhausted!" A sergeant reported as the king reluctantly trudged through the garrison, "We cannot hold the tide for much longer."
"Understood, send for the reserves." Dagorad stretched his back upright and heaved a heavy sigh, "Withdraw to the trenches, and let our archers pick them off should they pursue."
"Yes, my lord." The officer saluted and returned to the fight to relay the king's orders.
"Gods, what a day!" The king said.
"A close shave that would have cost you your life, sire." Ubrich said irritably, clearly not liking his friend's brand of recklessness.
"Oh spare me the lecture, Ubrich." Dagorad disregarded the lord's words with a wave of his hand, "Look at our men, did you not see how harder they fought at the sight of me striking down that giant? I was but motivation, and clearly a much needed one at that."
"You would motivate them to falter and run if you had been struck down." The Lord Protector argued.
"And that, Lord Protector, is why I have you around." Dagorad quipped. "So you can protect me."
Lord Strauss scowled and retrained himself lest he give his liege his much deserved tongue-lashing. He chose to savor the small victory he shared with his friend, and the two walked on in silence back to the king's personal tent. They traversed the maze of wooden spike barricades, past the many reserves marching on to relieve the exhausted soldiers on the front and into the relative safety of the garrison which was some distance away from the battlefield.
There, they spotted a group of refugees at the east entrance arguing with the sentries who blocked their path into the main gates of the city.
Among them was a tall musclebound warrior with an ill-kempt beard and receding hair that was tightly bound into a small bun behind his head, who protested hotly against the verdict of the sentry officer denying them entry. Beside him was a young man, who couldn't have been older than twenty, dressed in a knight's panoply. And standing out from them all was a white-haired man who wore his swords at his back, the signature look of the reknowned monster-hunters in the Continent.
"Ah, I see that at least one witcher came to see the contract." King Dagorad remarked. He and Ubrich veered off the path to approach the refugees, so they might speak to the witcher in person.
At the sight of the king drawing close to them, the sentries turned heel and bowed before Dagorad. "Sire, you've returned well. Melitele be praised."
"Praise your Lord Protector and his sturdy spear." Dagorad replied with a wink thrown his friend's way. "And you, witcher, you've come to answer my summons?"
"You've got a monster that needs slaying, I heard." The white-haired man replied, "And that's why I came. I'm Geralt of Rivia, I'm here to kill your monster."
"Monsters. Plural." Dagorad said, removing his helm for his squires to come running after. They removed the king's cape and fetched his gauntlets, all the while the king spoke to his contractor. He pointed to the battle beyond the wooden palisades, "As you can see, there are plenty of them. However, I shall not task you to kill those in particular, lest you drive the whole city into bankruptcy."
Geralt smirked at the king's good humor, finding it a welcome change to his usual dealings with men like Dagorad. He noted that the king was not at all bothered by his appearance or his gruff demeanor as others would have been, "Too bad, I'm more than willing to kill them all for every bit of their money's worth."
"Yes, I'm sure. Lord Ubrich, you may take your leave." Dagorad dismissed the Lord Protector for Ubrich to make himself useful by overseeing the other tasks in the garrison, like deploying troops and whatnot. He turned to the sentries and the refugees for a moment, "As for you lot, what is going on here?"
"My lord..." The tall man spoke up immediately after being given the chance, "I am Enris, a mercenary burdened with the task of protecting these people. We've come from Amendale after fleeing the attacks of the undead menace, seeking sanctuary behind Cintra's walls. And these men, these sentries, they would not allow us entry!"
"As I've told the good man, sire, there is simply no room for them." The sentry officer defended himself. "We-"
"Nonsense!" Dagorad interrupted, "Amendale is part of my kingdom, and so its townsfolk are under the protection of the crown. There is always room for my subjects in my city, and you will let them in. I have spoken."
The sentries hid their displeasure at the king's command as they moved to carry it out. "Yes, my lord."
"And you..." Dagorad pointed to the able fighting men among the refugees, "...you claim to be a sword-for-hire? The Royal Army can always use an extra pair of hands in the defense of its city, and I can pay more than enough for your services should you be willing to serve the crown this time."
"I am, my lord." Enris answered.
Dagorad nodded, turning his gaze to the young man as he walked away to chat excitedly with two quite fetching wenches among the refugees, most likely to share the good news. "How about you, young man? You any good with a blade?"
Vandal turned around at the commanding voice of the king, realizing that he was speaking to him now. "You any good with a blade?" This was the part that he heard from Dagorad, but his voice failed him.
Enris spoke on his behalf as the young knight was too dumbfounded to speak for himself, "He's damned good with a mace, sire. This one helped us take down three giants before our flight from Amendale, and singlehandedly cornered and killed a fiend all by himself before that!"
Geralt frowned and scrutinized the young knight more closely now, finding the story a little too hard to believe. Fiends, in his experience, were monsters too difficult for normal humans to handle. Granted, Vandal wasn't the ordinary man, but to face a fiend alone? "Interesting..." He noted Vandal's sheepish expression, then decided that he could give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Three giants and a fiend?" Dagorad exclaimed in astonishment, "Come here, lad. Let me look at you."
Vandal reluctantly left Serah and Sandy to stand before the monarch. He bore the king's inspection patiently and kept himself in silence all the while, only speaking when spoken to.
"What's your name, boy?"
"I am called Vandal, Your Highness." Vandal said nervously.
"Are all these claims true? Are you able to hold your own in a fight against these monsters? Answer honestly, I pray."
Vandal nodded slowly, "I am a knight from Saggrel, that world that these horrors you face this day have come from. I grew up fighting them, learning their weaknesses alongside many others of my kind. I can fight them and I can kill them. Above all, I believe I know how to ensure they stay dead."
Dagorad's eyes gleamed with interest, "An outworlder, you say, and one that knows his way with these vile creatures!" The king laughed, "My my, this is why I believe in Lady Luck."
Vandal smiled shyly and waited for the king to finish.
"If you know how to beat this undead scourge, I shall proclaim you as Champion of Cintra, with all the privileges and gifts that befit such a title." Dagorad declared, in his own way giving Vandal a test to prove his words true.
Stunned at the king's declaration, all eyes turned to Vandal, whose eyes were just as wide with astonishment over what had been said. The young knight couldn't believe his ears, and Enris had to nudge him to snap him clear from his mute state. "If you're not going to take the king up on his offer, I will."
"I um...I-I believe the problem lies in the enemy's ability summon their losses back from the dead." Vandal shared what he knew about the nature of the undead, "No matter how many times you try to hack apart their minions, as long as the summoner lives, they will keep coming back. I'm afraid I cannot do such a thing alone, I need aid."
Geralt found Vandal's practicality commendable, as most knights he knew in his travels tended to overestimate their abilities and undertook tasks alone, only to fail in the end. This young man had experience that belied his years, and the witcher wondered what horrors he faced in his world that allowed him to possess that much knowledge at such a young age.
"The witcher shall aid you, then." Dagorad declared, turning to Geralt. "Consider this your first contract. Kill the summoner and, regardless of who delivers the killing blow, I shall reward you, witcher, with 6000 golden crowns from my personal treasury. Anyone else who assists these two will be granted properties within my kingdom, along with a standard sellsword's pay of 2000 crowns."
An excited chatter sprang from every mercenary and ragged militia present. A small smile started to grow on the White Wolf's lips at the sound of such a handsome reward. His cat eyes gleamed with wicked glee, and Geralt's raspy voice purred. "Sounds good, Your Highness."
"Now, if there is to be no voice of protest, I shall leave you to your work." Dagorad concluded, "Gods be with you."
"I can't believe he just said that." Vandal remarked once the king was well out of sight.
"Who the fuck cares?" Enris beamed, reminding Vandal that a king can do whatever he liked. "The king's word is law, fame and fortune are but a good sword's swing away!"
"I suppose." Vandal sighed, not sharing his friend's enthusiasm. He preferred to go about his business quietly, taking Serah and Sandy with him into the city to find shelter behind its walls. But an opportunity was presented to him that could change their lives for the better. A king needed his help desperately, and as a knight he was bound by duty to fight for the right things in life- as old Anres taught him. This included serving the king, even if he was not his. This too was part of his vow, and he wanted to uphold it.
Besides, Dagorad did not seem all that bad. He might even be worth serving, which would fulfill another longing in Vandal's life- to serve a liege worth serving. And if he were to be successful in his service, he would be able to fulfill another promise made to Serah and Sandy.
"I guess you're off to fight in someone else's war now." Serah said, obviously not in favor of the choice presented to her protector.
"If it ensures that you both will live in comfort and safety, I shall fight every war." Vandal replied, causing her heart to flutter in spite of herself.
"Oh you, ever the noble knight." Serah took her lover's face in her hands, while Sandy grabbed his arm and placed her head against his shoulder. "We shall wait for you here. Come back to us in one piece."
"Be careful, Vandal." Sandy said as the knight departed.
"We'll take the long route around." Geralt declared after they'd gone a ways from the Cintran garrison.
Vandal had stopped on their way out to purchase a shield from the armorer and offered what was left of his coin to the stablemaster for one of the finest warhorses he could spare, which was not much. The horse was skittish, much like his rider, and could barely follow the young knight's commanding pull of the reins when they rode out to do what the king bidded them.
Enris had his own horse, as did the six other men that accompanied them on their quest. There were two mercenaries that came from Enris' company, named Orville and Tuft, and four knights from the king's personal retinue of elite sentinels. Sir Yarrin, Sir Boshly, Sir Weyland, and Sir Kane. Their names were easily forgotten by the witcher as he led the way around the battlefield and into the cover of the nearby woods.
Their presence was masked by the trees, obscuring them from prying eyes as they neared the rearguard of the undead army. It was surprisingly easy for the small company of warriors to spot the summoner, for their target had no wish to hide itself as it called upon its dark powers to raise the dead from the battlefield and back into the fight.
The summoner was an armored figure dressed in black steel and full plate. It stood atop a hill of corpses. From where the warriors stood and watched, it was hard to discern whether it was a man or a woman, though for that matter it was quickly judged as of little import. The summoner carried a staff of power, and it raised it high every time it casted a spell to raise the dead. Dark swirling glyphs appeared out of thin air, and sudden burst of black mist would rise up from the slain undead before they would scramble to their feet and take up arms once again.
"There he is." Geralt said, offering his advice to his companions. "Field's open, we won't have any cover, so sneaking's definitely not an option. We'll have to ride hard and fast to close the distance. Vandal, that's where you come in. How do we kill the summoner?"
"Usually the same way as everything." Vandal replied, "Hit it until it stops moving. If it falls, so too does the undead army's capacity to replenish its forces."
"Sounds easy enough." One of the knights remarked as he put down his visor. "Shall we ride now, witcher?"
"Wait, before we go..." Vandal turned to face Geralt, "My friend, do you know any magic?"
Geralt nodded, "A little."
"Can you conjure flames?"
Igni, a basic fire spell and one that Geralt had mastered over time. "Yes, I can."
"Good, fire will be useful against undead." Vandal informed him, remembering how easily Nelzhar's sword Ashseeker dispatched their undead enemies for good whenever they fought their way through a heavily infested pass or two.
After finishing with their discussion, the warriors assembled and sent their mounts galloping out of the woods and straight for the undead sorcerer. The sound of their impending assault was not lost on the undead guardians surrounding the summoner, and they quickly turned about to defend their charge. Undead warriors of all sizes and shapes, bearing weapons chipped and weathered from use or lack thereof, took positions and prepared to face the valiant living men.
The sorcerer turned around and stretched forth its hand to cast a spell.
Sir Yarrin, armed with a bow, immediately nocked an arrow and drew the string back to fire at the sorcerer to buy them time. He loosed the missile, and it struck the summoner in the chest, but the arrow merely bounced on impact and disintegrated into mist. The summoner responded in kind by hurling a black screaming orb of darkness, and it hit the knight squarely in the middle.
Poor Yarrin howled as the foul energies sapped him of his soul, along with his faithful mount riding beneath him. All that was left of him and the horse were hollowed husks by the time the spell finished its work, and the corpse tumbled about in the grass with the dead horse until it came apart in pieces, leaving armor and dust where man and horse used to be.
Sir Boshly stared back at the fate of his comrade, everyone else did, and his resolve was tested.
He failed, and the knight bolted away, fleeing from the battlefield in an attempt to escape certain death. The others paid him little heed, knowing full well that they were committed now, and rode even harder towards the summoner.
The sorcerer waved its hand and grasped at thin air, summoning infernal black thorned vines that suddenly tore their way out of the ground to grasp at the offending riders. Roach leaped clear away, as did the horses of Vandal and Enris. The others were not so lucky, and the mercenaries along with the knights were thrown off their mounts and into the dirt.
Sir Weyland sprang to his feet and helped to free Orville and Tuft as the vines choked and crushed them in their punishing embrace, while Sir Kane fended off the approaching undead guardians.
Geralt used Aard to blast the undead warriors back and clear the way for Roach, then leaped off his saddle to land close to the summoner. His swords, silver and steel in either hands, gleamed in the sunlight as he whirled around slashing walking corpses left and right. Vandal held tightly to the saddlehead as his horse reared back on his hind legs at the sight of the approaching undead, trusting the steed to trample and bludgeon his way through to his goal. Enris was not so lucky, and he found himself brought down by the grabbing mass of hands, forcing the shrieking horse to fall on his side and toss his rider into the ground.
Seeing the mercenary in trouble, Geralt cut his way through the undead warriors and gave Enris some breathing room. Together, they closed the distance between themselves and the summoner, then prepared to finish it once and for all. At the same time, Vandal's horse broke through the line and prevailed in spite of its apparent shortcomings.
By this time word had reached the field marshal commanding the kingsmen of the Royal Army Reserves that the hired help had begun cleaving their way through the enemy's medium of reinforcements, and just by looking past the mess of struggling men and undead one could spot the summoner in the distance having a tussle with the witcher, the mercenary and the knight from Saggrel.
"Come on, you!" Enris challenged the towering figure in black.
The sorcerer glared down at the mercenary and swung its staff his way. Enris ducked, feeling a breeze as the massive weapon brushed past. With an outstretched hand, the sorcerer unleashed a miasma of black fire towards the witcher, who then deflected the attack with a magical shield from Quen.
Quickly, Geralt twisted and flexed his fingers, making full use of his signs as well as his blades in the battle. He conjured a magical field of energy that greatly slowed the sorcerer's movements, followed by a tremendous gout of flame with Igni. The summoner, at first, did not seem to be affected by the flames at all as it cooked in its own armor. However, given time, it started to take notice.
Infuriated by the assault, the summoner grasped its staff firmly with both hands and plunged it hard upon the soil, conjuring a teleportation field to take it far away from danger and into safety.
Geralt realized this and desperately tried to prevent it from escaping. Vandal, along with the witcher, struck as one and hit the sorcerer's staff just as the spell started to take effect. Mace shattered the staff from below, steel and silver splintered the staff from above. A powerful surge of energy coated the summoner and its broken tool of destruction in a bright glow of green and white. A loud screech, then a thunderous peal sounded before the summoner disappeared in a ball of fire and lightning, sending all three warriors flying backwards with the eruption of unstable eldritch energies that followed.
Enris tumbled about like a tuft of dandelion in the air, landing some distance away from the blast, as did Vandal. Geralt was knocked away, but he twisted about in midair and plunged his swords through the dirt to keep himself from flying too far away. Dust and debris swirled about as a small vortex of power manifested itself in the area, then just as quickly as it appeared, dissipated into nothing.
The witcher got to his feet and bristled at the shambling figures retreating from the battlefield. With their summoner lost, and with the battle soon to follow, the undead army fought with the last of their will and broke as the Cintran Reserves surged forward with renewed vigor. They all rushed past him, seemingly unaware of his presence as they routed and massacred the enemy with savage glee.
The witcher steadied himself and sheathed his weapons, then whistled for Roach.
When the horse would not come, Geralt waited until the triumphant soldiers were all far from him before searching for his wayward horse. Later, he found Roach grazing in the far end of the battlefield, as though the horse found a meal of grass to be his best coping mechanism for such a hard day.
"6000 crowns, Roach." Geralt said to the horse as he reached for the reins, "More than enough to pay for a good scrub and a massage for you."
Roach snorted and pulled away, obviously mad at Geralt for what he put him through.
"Come on, I'll make it up to you. I'll buy you an apple or two the first thing when we get into the city." Geralt snatched the reins and pulled the horse's face so he could look the petulant mount in the eye.
"That is, if you behave yourself."
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