This next chapter begins the first adventure of the Chronicles of the Sword mode. I hope you enjoy it. I don't own Aeneas but Jiro is all mine.

Divide and Conquer

"This could be a problem…" Jiro and his single unit, Aeneas, stood in awe on the southern end of the training grounds. Together, they watched as Karll mobilized his troops, occupying each stronghold while leaving two at his base for a rear guard and using one, very agile woman, as a body guard. The east wind had again begun to blow causing the many blue flags to flap and whip. The two red flags, stationed at each of his Jiro's strongholds seemed somewhat diminished among the field of blue.

"How can you score so terribly so as to receive only one unit and only one additional stronghold?" Aeneas. A childhood friend of Jiro's. Long ago they practiced together for this very moment as children. Their war games attracted many children who, wielding sticks, would duel in the yards of the village using each house as a military base. Aeneas and Jiro would always side together, though being of less than admirable fighting ability, Jiro deigned to becoming leader of their forces.

As they grew, however, they desired different destinies. Aeneas, idolizing Jiro's brother, Kane, wished to become a knight. While Jiro, who's fighting skills increased very little, yearned to test his strategic prowess against the academy's sharpest tacticians. If he could not match his brother in combat, he would surpass him in the war room.

Now, two long separated allies have been brought together again in a test of abilities that will require them to cooperate more than they ever did as children. Their respect for each other's capabilities will be put to the test.

"Are you stupid or something?" Aeneas inquired deliberately.

"Hey, you remember when we were kids right?" Jiro responded. "We always kicked butt together."

"No, I kicked butt. You stayed back and told me what to do," the cadet corrected. "Besides, you outsmarted a bunch of crybabies. This guy is from a family of nobles that hired experts that taught him about combat for his entire upbringing," he complained, gesturing towards Karll's main camp.

"That's a poor comparison," Jiro answered without returning Aenea's gaze.

"Why?" he inquired incredulously.

"Because you're comparing intelligence to skill; two completely different attributes," Jiro explained, finally turning to look his old friend in the eye.

"He still outnumbers us more than three to one," Aeneas countered. "Not to mention he controls twice as many strongholds as we do. If he swarms us it's over!" Jiro shook his head, a faint smile contorting his lips. Aeneas raised an eyebrow in confusion. "No?"

Jiro placed his hand over the back of Aenea's head, wincing at the cool gel he used to keep his hair slick. "He has a single soldier at each tower yet he doesn't rush ours which is unfortified and unguarded," Jiro began, guiding Aeneas's head while he spoke, the way a puppet master controls his puppet. "Yet he refrains from rushing our weak points," Jiro concluded.

"Why?" Aeneas asked again.

"Because," Jiro started, releasing his hold of his comrade's head, "he wishes to put us through a gauntlet. He plans on diminishing our energy in order to finish us off while we're fatigued with his rear guard." As Jiro finished, he clapped Aeneas in the back in order to wipe the gelatinous residue off his hand.

"So hw do we counter that?" Aeneas inquired, impressed with his commander's intuition.

"We don't," Jiro replied simply. Aeneas stared at him critically. Of course there must be some way to counter such a simple plan. Was Jiro an incapable leader after all? "However," Jiro continued, "it will make it easier on us to divide and conquer." Jiro pointed along the dirt road that led to their only other stronghold to the west, near the bank of the reservoir. "You head up the west path to our tower and stop for a breather." Aware that Aeneas was glaring at him for insisting that the short trek would tire him so easily he knocked on the cadet's armor and added, "You'll probably need it by then."

Aeneas broke eye contact swiftly, resent for the comment welling inside him. "And what shall I do after my breather?" he queried stiffly, laying particular emphasis on his last word.

Jiro answered without acknowledging his partner's bitterness. "Then head for the center stronghold. Meanwhile I'll travel north on the eastern road and capture the tower on that end. Once I do, I'll meet you at the center. When the center tower's been eliminated you capture the western tower while I head back to the eastern one. When Delthan reaches its point above your tower, we'll strike out against Karll's rear guard. We'll have to decimate his front line within a couple hours in order for us to rest up before Delthan signals our attack."

"But," Aeneas interjected, "wouldn't it be easier for us to just skip the center tower to save our energy? There's a bridge to the west over the end of the reservoir; I can just attack the western tower from there."

"I considered that," Jiro assured. "However, I believe Karll has as well. I believe if we were to leave his center infantry alone, it could surround us when we assault his headquarters…best to eliminate it from the start."

Aeneas wasn't sure he agreed but the duty of a knight isn't to strategize; it was to follow the strategy and, whenever necessary, protect the strategist. "Well, you're the brains," he admitted, hoisting his heavy lance in anticipation.

"And you're the brawn," Jiro added as he drew his sword, the Heisheng Jian, from its scabbard. "Let's do this!"

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They proceeded with Jiro's plan of annihilating Karll's front line immediately. As directed, Aeneas traversed the western trail, though his progress was encumbered due to the weight of his armor paired with the ferocious sun. Delthan assailed him with wave after wave of violent heat. Sweat began to form from every pore of his body; each step taken freeing countless drops of excreted salt only to have them evaporate instantaneously when striking the scorching dirt below. Already Aeneas desired cool refreshment. His mind wandered back to when he and Jiro would strip and bath in the cool pools of irrigation in their home village. He wouldn't succumb to this intangible foe, however, ordering himself to advance in spite of Jiro's insistence of rest previously. Already half way to the tower, Aeneas's only thoughts were of disproving Jiro's annoyingly accurate prediction.

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Meanwhile, Jiro had already reached the eastern tower as his speed greatly outclassed that of his sluggish companion. Something seemed awry though. Every window of every floor of the wooden edifice was boarded shut; a very peculiar practice for such sweltering weather. Jiro scanned the face of the wall for any inkling of deception. Yet, he couldn't discover anything more abnormal than the shut windows. Aside from them, it contained all the typical fortifications of a standard tower stronghold: unscaleable walls to prevent overhead infiltration, scaffolding near the top to support archers, and large double wooden doors that could be, and almost certainly were, barred from the inside. Above, Karll's blue flag fluttered in the gentle breeze. In order to take the stronghold, Jiro would have to replace its flag with a red one that should be stored on the roof.

Movement. There was someone located on the roof. So that's his ploy! Jiro realized. He expects me to hurry to the top so he boarded up the windows to allow the heat to tire me. Thus, leaving me as easy pickings for the guard at the top. Jiro stepped forward and pressed gingerly on the left door finding little resistance beyond the sheer weight of the wood itself.

"Just as I thought," Jiro mused to himself. "He wants me to enter. Well, far be it from me to refuse an invitation." Jiro confidently strolled into the tower, immediately encountering a blast of the extreme heat. Perspiration rapidly accumulated on nearly the entire surface of his skin.

To avoid heat stroke, Jiro quickly removed his black robe and cloak and gulped water from his water skin which he had filled previously in prognostication of his long journey home. He surveyed his surroundings only to find that the inside was quite bare. Aside from an old table and two dust covered chairs, indicating their long period of disuse, there were virtually no furnishings. Jiro presumed this was due to the high improbability of a prolonged siege in an academy's training grounds.

Still, something was anomalous. An unpleasant odor seemed to be emanating fro the higher floors. Jiro began to climb the only ladder, slowly though, so as not to diminish his strength more than necessary. Upon reaching the next floor, Jiro noticed the dramatic increase in the aroma's potency. He didn't have to search long before he discovered the source; small brown mushrooms littered the floor and shelves. The young tactician crouched and plucked a sample off the creaking floor to examine it in an endeavor to determine its origin.

Oh damn… Jiro's eyes widened as he now understood why Karll ordered the sealing of the windows; the funguses that coated the second story were Kaiser Mushrooms. These mushrooms flourished in hot climates and produced near invisible spores that can sap the energy of those unfortunate enough to inhale them. With the windows shut, the tower was the perfect incubator for them. Augmenting the heat was the lack of wind; it was impossible for the spores to be carried out.

Jiro dropped the fungus and jutted upright. For a moment, he could only stand in amazement at Karll's ingenious plan. He had to get the windows open…fast!

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Aeneas had finally arrived at the stronghold. Without slowing pace, he trampled through the door which gave under the influence of his armor suit. After staggering a few steps beyond the threshold, the exhausted cadet tumbled to the floor. As he lay there, panting and gasping for air, Aeneas realized Jiro had been correct. The armor, coupled with the battering sun, not only impeded his movement, it also depleted his strength.

At this rate, he observed, Karll's plan will succeed without a hitch. After lying in the dirt for a short time, Aeneas pulled himself up and wiped the perspiration from his brow with a shaking hand. Quickly, Aeneas removed his gauntlets, revealing beet red hands covered in sweat. Aeneas's knowledge of strongholds was extensive as he had been trained to defend many types from various styles of attacks. Most forts, he knew, located near bodies of clean water often contained some device that drew from them.

Still breathing heavily, Aeneas sought some form of refreshment for his hands and throat. Just as he expected, he found a metal pump protruding from the floor boards. Every limb in his body moaned with fatigue as he dragged himself to the corner that housed the device. In his wake, the dust that long coated the aged wood was replaced by deep scores gouged by the grieves protecting Aeneas's shins and feet.

Ambitious relief rushed Aeneas as he reached the pump. Using it to steady himself, he brought his convulsing body to its knees and worked the pump's handle. He found it quite easy to work as his the excessive sweat pasted his hands to the devices handle. Following about ten successive pumps, a small amount of water exploded from the nozzle. Removing his right hand from the pump, a layer of skin remaining behind, Aeneas attempted to maneuver his already soaked cranium under the nozzle. However, due to his metallic shoulder guards, a lack of flexibility restrained him from pumping the water at the same time. Quickly, he removed them, as well as his breastplate and tasset, and resumed his position under the faucet. With another pump, cool water splattered his head and shoulders causing him to grin with a sense of alleviation.

After soaking his hands and drinking his fill from the reservoir's sweet nectar, Aeneas sprawled himself on the floor just inches away from the newly birthed mud around the pump. Lying in the cool shadows of the musty tower appealed to him, and he strongly considered abandoning this absurd exercise in favor of his previous scheme of bathing in the reservoir not twenty yards away. The Fates knew he could use it…the smell of intense perspiration lingered among the dust that constantly fluttered down, shaken loose by the wind, from the rafters above. Aeneas examined the stains around his chest and armpits, astounded at the amount of dehydration he suffered from the trek there; the stains reached almost as far as his tasset.

Aeneas closed his eyes, unable to fight the fatigue within any longer. Though he remained unconscious for a few minutes, many fragments of subconscious deliberation raced through his mind. This is a foolhardy excursion, we were destined to lose. A knight never abandon's his commander. I am no knight, only a cadet. I aspire to become a true knight. A fool's dream. Is Kane a fool? No, Kane is strong. Am I weak? NO! I am just not strong enough. I am weak. Jiro is strong. Jiro is weak. Even now he fights. He is a fool. I am a fool. So I will give up? Yes. Why? Because I wish it. What about Kane? What about Kane? Don't I want to be like him? Yes. Would Kane give up?

"No." Aeneas's eyes snapped open, his mental perseverance clashing with his resisting body. "Kane would not give up." Forcing himself to his feet, Aeneas returned to the pump and allowed himself one last drink from the enticing reservoir. Afterwards, he hefted his lance over his shoulder and gave one final skeptical look at his armor before leaving it in the dust as he exited the tower en route to Karll's center stronghold.

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Jiro knelt by the wall breathing deeply from the wind that now flowed freely through the tower. He had finally managed to open every window, though the venture left him with little strength left; the spores had done their job well. Another gust flew through the window, cooling the sweat that plastered his hair to his skull. Just above him he could hear the footsteps of his opponent pacing the roof, but he couldn't bring himself to fight against his weary muscles. For a time, he just knelt there, admiring the rolling grass just outside the tower three floors below him. He had no doubt the wind had taken most of the spores away by now, though it was foolish to believe his energy would replenish immediately.

Letting loose a yawn, Jiro felt a genuine wave of exhaustion crash over his mind as well as his body. He considered closing his eyes for just a few minutes but quickly dismissed the idea. If he fell asleep, he would be at the mercy of the guard stationed above. He hated the fact, but, he had to finish his mission. How would Aeneas react if, while he was marching in this heat, his commander was sitting in an enemy tower, enjoying a breeze from an open window? Jiro knew the answer before his mind even worked out the question…Aeneas would flip.

Struggling against his protesting muscles, Jiro pushed himself to his feet using the window sill as a guide. While fully erect, he stood there, his hands still on the sill expecting, or rather hoping, his knees would buckle forcing him to rest just a bit longer till his strength recovered. However, he apparently had strength enough left as his knees wavered half an inch before positioning themselves directly under his legs.

Sighing with exasperation, Jiro drove himself toward the wooden ladder leading to the trap door in the roof. Jiro clasped the oak rungs with weary hands and slowly ascended toward the ominous nest above where the vulture anticipated easy prey.

His pace slowed, as the climb began draining what energy remained in the nearly empty shell that was once his body. As he neared the top, Jiro ducked his head so that his shoulders would be the first to contact the trap door. When they did, Jiro stepped up one last rung and bent over, forcing his upper back to lay flat against it along with his shoulders. The footsteps of his opponent now thundered 5 inches above his head, the previously inaudible sound of metal contacting wood suggesting he wore armor.

As soon as Jiro heard the footsteps step ahead of the door, he took one last step up and shoved his shoulders and back through the ceiling. Catching the guard unawares, he only had time to spin around before Jiro grabbed his feet and pulled them out from under him. The man plummeted so Jiro siezed the opportunity to pull his legs and torso through the opening and fully onto the roof. Just as the man stood, Jiro drew his Heisheng Jian, waiting sportingly for his opponent to ready his weapons before attacking.

However, he never received the chance as his opponent lunged at him with a shorter sword. Jiro spun in place as his opponent to avoid his charging opponent's blade which cut nothing but the air around him. Nearing the end of his twirl, Jiro struck out with his own sword only to have the attack guarded by a small shield attached to his adversary's right wrist. While sidestepping to avoid a counter attack, Jiro grabbed his opponent's arm and used the charge's momentum to flip his enemy over his shoulder. The man landed before, the flag pole, the heavy impact causing a few floor boards underneath to snap. Though he was down, sparring conventions of the Grandall Empire dictated that, as long as he had his weapon, he wasn't yet defeated. To remedy this, Jiro bore his heel into the left wrist of his foe, causing him to scream in surprised pain as he released his grasp on his sword. Using his own weapon, Jiro maneuvered the cadet's through the opening in the floor, a contact sound echoing a few floors below. "You lose," Jiro informed him, careful to maintain an air of vitality.

Sheathing his sword, Jiro made his way to the flag pole which, as he expected, had a red flag sitting at its base. Jiro promptly switched the flags symbolizing the capturing of the stronghold. Time seemed to be with him as Delthan looked as if it wouldn't reach the western tower for over an hour.

Jiro removed a small spyglass from the red pouch attached to his belt and unfolded it. The copper tubing reflected the sun's light as Jiro positioned the lens before his eye, peering in the direction of the centermost tower. Just as Jiro surmised from his experiences with his new stronghold, the center tower also had its windows boarded shut. Though, different from this one, no guard patrolled the roof.

Groaning, Jiro's recent assailant sat himself up and propped himself against the low wall surrounding the roof's edge. As he removed his helmet, Jiro turned his attention toward him and noticed a pained expression encompassing his face. His suspicions were confirmed as the man began to examine the wrist Jiro had disarmed moments ago.

Replacing the spyglass into his pouch, Jiro drew his sword once more and cut a piece of the blue flag despite the complaints of the man. Placing the cloth in his bag as well, Jiro apologized to the man, bade him farewell, and descended through the tower.

Upon reaching the bottom floor, Jiro opened the doors facing the north and, leaving his robe and cloak behind for now, started for his and Aeneas's meeting place. He only hoped Aeneas hadn't entered it yet as he predicted a similar trap awaited them.

Well, how'd you like it? Jiro's first victory in a field of battle, yet only fear greets him for comming events... Well whatever! Please review if you have any of the three c's: comments, curiosities, or criticism. Flames are accepted but often ignored, if you have any constructive criticism I will gladly adapt it assuming I agree. Thank you all. Next chapter should be up soon!