Chapter 8: War
By SodiumChloride12, derived from Fire Emblem, owned by Nintendo.
A/N: I've been working on another project recently. Big announcement coming soon.
"I'll be damned..."
Baron Angelica squints her eyes over the horizon, having spotted the forms of two approaching persons. By the looks of it, they appear to be a young man and women. Their clothes are wet from marshland water, and their boots covered in a horrifying amount of mud. Regardless, they close the empty space between them and the two nobles within minutes, only collapsing at the end of the hill after completing a sprint across the underlying open field.
Euphant looks over to Angelica and then the two strangers. He shrugs his shoulders before approaching them. He keeps his sword handy, however, wary of foreign spies. "You two. What is your business? Why are you rushing through the border like a pair of lunatics?"
The woman opens her mouth to speak, but she's so exhausted that all that comes out are gasps for air. Regardless, the man possesses a little more strength than her. His lips barely squeak out words as dry as the medium that released them. "My name...is Bartre...and this is my wife Karla. There's...an army marching over here right now. Lady Lyn...she needs to know."
Angelica eyes widen as she hears those two names. She rushes down the mountain by Euphant's side, eager to let her mind known. "Bartre and Karla? Euphant, these two are soldiers that had fought alongside the Marchioness against the dark sorcerer several years ago. They are good friends, so I take they are not lying."
Skeptical, Euphant cocks an eyebrow. "But how do you know they are who they say there are?"
Angelica replies, "Now is not the time to ignore obvious warnings. I will take them for their word." He looks over towards her senior. "Euphant, please sound the alarm and tell the troops to assume their positions. I'll make sure these two receive ample hospitality."
Euphant shakes his head. "Nay, not two. The man has a child on his back."
Angelica takes a better look at Bartre, and sure enough, she sees the small, sleeping body of a child. She's incredibly chubby, taking that much from her father, but her hair and face resemble more like her mother. Her hair seems to take from neither of them, however, as it expresses a comforting tone of dark purple.
"In that case, three." She kneels down to speak more clearly to the father, "Tell me, is there anything you'd like?"
Bartre nods his head. "Yes. Please...after you are through with us, let us see Lady Lyn. It's been some time since we've seen her..."
Samuel feels an ache rise from his ribs, an old wound originating from a distant conflict. He looks down into his hands, then to the surrounding area. He, Lyn, and Swinn are outside the castle gates with a small retinue of soldiers. They are to travel to the eastern side of the country to aid Angelica and Euphant in their response to Tania's aggression.
"Here we go again." He mutters while shifting his balance atop his steed. "Another war...more fighting...more suffering. I can't say I didn't sign up for this...though."
They received a prompt message about an approaching army from Tania, soon after another came in mentioning the same from Santaruz. The enemy had begun their assault on the realm of Caelin, thus igniting the fight for their survival. They could not afford to lose, otherwise the lives of the royal family alongside everything they'd accomplished would be at the mercy of a foreign power.
Samuel is anxious, but so is Lyn. They'd recently bid farewell to their children before leaving them in the safety of the castle, unwilling to risk their lives to some stray arrow or some calculated assassination. They would be the only ones to see the battlefield; this would only be their burden to bear. Both silently hoped for the swift arrival of Lord Pent and the troops he promised.
Lyn looks at her husband, an uneasy smile streaking across her face. Samuel bore an outfit she hadn't seen since the very beginning, a simple green robe befitting a non-combatant tactician. For a second, Lyn feels some pity for him.
She tells him, "Samuel, it has to be terribly hot in that thing. It's the middle of July."
Samuel frowns as he wipes off a wick of sweat from his brow. His brown eyes resemble a scorched lump of coal. "It is...but I could imagine nothing else to wear. The armor I'd worn against Nergal broke long ago, and I fear a replacement batch would be far too heavy on my knees. Besides..." Samuel shudders as a thought comes to him. "The chain mail jacket...oh. I don't want to think about the bruises I dealt with on the field. If I run into trouble, I'll use magic."
Lyn slowly shifts her hands to the grip of her Mani Katti and smiles confidently. "Do not forget about the promise we made many years ago. You are my peerless tactician and I am your fearless warrior!"
Samuel scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "Ah...well...my liege..." He stops himself as Fiora approaches the pair of them. As Lyn's personal bodyguard, she is not impressed. She says coldly, "I will hear none of that. You are the Marchioness of this realm. If something were to happen to you, all of Caelin suffers." She shoots a look at Samuel, who freezes out of shock. "No offense to the Chancellor, but Caelin will survive if he fell in battle. I cannot say the same for you. Think twice before saying such things, my liege."
Fiora bows before taking her leave. Lyn, usually one who gave her subjects respect, can only roll her eyes. As a plainswoman who'd been pressed with rules ever since she first claimed her birthright from Lundgren, this sort of behavior absolutely annoyed her. "Fiora is no fun. The promise I made with you transcends any obligation I've made since. What do you think, Samuel?"
A rush of cold surrounds the tips of Samuel's fingers. Fiora's words had effectively knocked out any confidence he possessed for several minutes. He knows that she was right. Lyn's life must be preserved at all costs...even if it were his own. But...he hasn't the heart to say this to his wife. So, he responds in a way to reassure her, just as she had towards him many times before.
"...Yeah of course, honey."
Silently, Samuel prays he doesn't have to act against his word.
Later...
Farina looks down from her prominent position in the sky. Her eyes squint as she detects movement from within the vegetated forests below. Confidant in what she sees, she raises a single fist to her side, motioning for the battalion behind her to come to a halt.
She and her unit had finally arrived to bolster Caelin's ranks in their war against Tania and Santaruz. They'd come to help Marshal Kent, a knight she knew from their war against the dark sorcerer. After a brief meeting with him, Kent sent them off on a scouting mission across the mountains and forests at the border. Their orders were to not engage unless attacked, though Farina understood that as an excuse to flee should trouble arise.
She can still recall his orders. "We have reports that Tania has acted from their side of the border. We suspect Santaruz will coordinate a similar offensive. Observe the border and if you see anything, come back immediately. Do not engage.
Personally, Farina likes those orders. Although this job has its dangers, death is not something she desires. After all, she can't spend her money in the afterlife. She wants to live for a very long time and be among the minority of Ilian mercenaries to reach retirement. That was her goal in life, if anything else.
One of Farina's subordinate rides her pegasus over to her side. Her helmet covers the entirety of her face, only revealing some of the cyan hair atop her head. She says, "Your orders, Lieutenant?"
Farina opens her mouth to speak about the handful of uniformed men she'd seen in the forest, but before she can, an arrow whizzes by her ear. Her steed flaps its wings to perform evasive maneuvers, and as if on cue, the rest of her unit falls into a panic. Discipline goes by the wayside as further projectiles fill the air.
Composing herself, she exclaims, "Everyone! Scramble! Back to camp!"
The aura takes on a sense of mayhem as women and pegasi alike give off bloodcurdling screams. Several mounted units tumble in altitude when they're hit with arrows, while others fly off towards the main army. Farina, too, is lucky to escape with her life, but she manages one last look at her enemy before she does.
By Elimine... She thinks. There are so many...
The enemy had to number in the thousands. They scramble about the forest like ants in a mound, their gazes fearsome to behold. She sees countless archers, mages, knights, and common soldiers. They had to number in the thousands...
Farina flew away. She flew away as fast as she could.
Samuel's eyes glide over the plethora of documents lying on a table before him. Sweat drips from the side of his face, a consequence of the hot temperature inside the tent he and the other people of significance are in. He, Lyn, and Fiora are in here alone since Euphant and Angelica are already in combat with the Tanian army.
Lyn says, "What do you think? Reckon we stand a chance?"
Samuel says nothing as he rearranges some pieces on a large map lying over the middle of the table, the set up rather similar to the control room they have back in Castle Caelin. The wooden pieces appear slightly dulled because of the low-quality light bleeding through the thick canvas above, but the tactician pays it no mind. His mind jumps over the mental gymnastics necessary to conduct mathematics as he deduces an optimal strategy for their defense.
He says, "Right now, we have about 2000 troops on the field. Tania has over double that. Fortunately, most of their forces are bogged down in the marsh. Euphant's mission to blow up the bridge over the terrain proved to be a success."
Fiora taps the side of her folded arm. "The Baron is a capable fellow. One of Caelin's most accomplished veterans. His former roommate, General Wallace, would be proud."
The fact Fiora knew about that obscure detail astounds both Lyn and Samuel a bit. Then again, perhaps they shouldn't be. Kent had told her much about the history and lore of Caelin's military, and she knew so much that it's like she's been here her entire life. Definitely more than either of them.
Lyn says, "It would appear to me they're in a bit of an issue. They can't press forward with an offensive that involves too many troops, otherwise they'll just come to a standstill from all of their traffic. Meanwhile, we're fortunate enough to be able to maneuver from the relatively dry plain nearby. I'd say they're stuck."
Samuel waves his finger at Lyn. "Not exactly."
"Huh?"
Samuel shifts his index over towards the map. He lifts a figurine representing a pegasus knight with the other hand. "They can create a makeshift road using logs. It'll be hard work to set up, but I bet they've been preparing this for a little over a month now. They could be laying down timber as we speak."
This detail presses the trio into silence. Far away, the distant sounds of combat echo through their ears like an eerie reminder of their impending doom. Never the one to sit still, Fiora takes her lance from its position on the wall. Despite her liege's silence, she'd already read her mind.
Samuel reaches out towards her. "Wait! Don't go yet! I need you to give the pegasus units my orders."
"...Right, my apologies."
Samuel looks back over to the map, eyeing his configuration of troops. He rolls his tongue back to the side of his cheek, a habit he'd taken on with age whenever he went to ponder. More math for the tactician recently taken out of retirement.
"...Now, we don't have much to work with. Just a few squads, not even a battalion. But, if we can run a little smash concept wherever we find them trying to run their bridge...yes!"
Samuel walks over to a nearby table, taking out a small pouch filled with a black, grainy material. He'd procured it from a witch many years ago and never used it until now. He hands it over to Fiora.
"Here, take this. When you find the bridge, drop this onto it. It will eliminate any progress they've made on it alongside creating a crater that will...probably do some damage."
Fiora looks at the material, her eyes reflecting a sense of vague familiarity. "Sir, isn't this gunpowder? I recall you telling me a story of how you lost a limb using this material."
Samuel grins with the image of a mad scientist. It's one Fiora often saw on Bartholomew, but not on him for some time. "It's actually gunpowder soaked with nitroglycerin. I have no idea how the witch got it but...I don't ask questions."
He leaves her with a message of caution. "Don't shake that thing too vigorously or expose it to heat. If you do, you're cooked."
Fiora, always the professional soldier, cocks a rare brow. "...This sounds dangerous."
"Absolutely. That's why I'm not trusting this stuff with anyone but you. Good luck!"
The skin underneath Fiora's cheek wrinkles, though neither Lyn nor Samuel know if it's out of spite or annoyance. Regardless, she bows before leaving the two to their own devices. "I'm entrusting Lady Lyn's safety with you. Do not fail in that regard."
Both hear the wings of her steed displace air as she took flight. Meanwhile, Samuel returns to his maps and charts. Lyn, having been silent for most of that exchange, sighs out a slight sense of bewilderment. Her husband took on a much more assertive role during situations like these, and at times, she wishes he did that more.
She quips, "I cannot believe you, Samuel."
Samuel raises his head, his hand clutching onto a figure with a large horse's head. "Huh? What do you mean you can't believe me? I never lie to you."
Lyn chuckles. Samuel seldom lied to her. She replies, "It's not that, silly! It's just that...when you gave her that object...you were just...so..."
"It's okay, Lyn. I know I can be a bit of an a*hole sometimes."
Lyn pauses and stares straight into her husband's eyes. He does the same. That...was not what she meant. Regardless, after several seconds of this game of an ocular tug of war, they both break into laughter. A meaningless response to a rather cordial exchange between two lovers.
Lyn says, "I was just meaning to say you were just...so forceful. I don't see you like that often, at least not anymore."
Samuel wipes a happy tear from his eye. "Well...I'd say I'm assertive all the time. At court, when I'm talking to our kids sometimes, our—"
"You misunderstand. I'd like you to be more assertive around me. Make your wishes known, that is all I ask."
Samuel bites his lip. He brushes his hand over the stubble underneath his chin. This...is interesting. He thinks long and hard about what Lyn had told to him before replying.
"I can tell you what I want, but there's no point since I already have it."
Lyn feels her chest tighten with that statement. Lyn's heart skips a beat, though the rest of her body reacts much more drastically. To say she is touched would be an understatement. "Heh...you really know how to make me feel wanted. You are such a romantic."
Samuel shrugs his shoulders. Unlike Lyn, he wasn't so much in the mood. "I am a man of logic. I was just reciting a statement of fact. But..." He places her finger underneath his chin, his thoughts suggesting something notable. "...I think there is something I want. If you'll entertain it."
Fluttering along like a love-struck teenager, Lyn rests her head slowly onto Samuel's shoulder. She whispers into his ear with notes that hummed along like the smoothest molasses. "I might."
Samuel considers his wife's proposition, crossing his legs like some storyteller sitting before an open fire. He thinks of doing one thing, but opts to do another for the simple reason that he likes to tease Lyn. "...Eh. I'll tell you later."
"...What a cruel human being you are..."
Lyn playfully pushes Samuel away. Despite her mannerisms, this little game of courtly love brought her much comfort during a stressful situation like this. Unfortunately, although she holds high rank, there is little she can do. Long gone are the days of waltzing into combat; the Mani Katti served little more than a decoration nowadays.
Samuel replies, "Perhaps. But, you know I love you."
Lyn smiles warmly. "As do I." She pauses for a moment before prodding Samuel's ribs. "So you will not tell me what you want? Not even a hint?"
"Mhm...maybe. How about you massage my shoulder a bit? I feel a bit tense right now."
Tense. Lyn thinks as she shifts her hands over the area between his collarbone and muscle. That's the word he chose to use.
Lyn says, "I hope this eases your mind to make you work better. Would you have imagined five years ago that a blue blood would do this to you?"
Capitalizing on his charming streak, Samuel replies, "I never would have imagined I'd call the most beautiful woman in the world, the very person who discovered my near lifeless body on the plains, my faithful, and utmost valuable companion."
"Huh...really..."
Lyn responds to that heartfelt message with her own. She kisses him lovingly on his cheek, her tongue gracing the warmth of his skin. The warmth alone makes the tent feel comfy to all but the coldest of individuals, in part owing to the...suggestive nature of her mannerisms. This works especially well in opening up the calculated tactician who at this point had his mind transformed into mush. In many ways, he supposes, Lyn could work more magic than he.
He spurts out, "I'm not going to lie. I can really use a bottle of wine. Something like that chardonnay that Erk used to talk about all the time."
To that, Lyn slaps him on the chest. It's forceful, but not too aggressive to exhibit malice. "You're not allowed to drink until Carvel's betrothal party."
Samuel laughs and turns away. "Ah, I suppose I should go ahead and win us this war then." He gives his wife a confidant wink. "You know I'll never let you down."
Later...
Kent ducks as an enemy lancer directs his weapon towards his head. The lance's tip breezes through the air like a silver bullet, a needless labor because of its horrible accuracy. Eager to counter, Kent takes his sword swings at his opponent. Sparks fly from hot metal, breaking off the ends of the knight's armor.
He and the rest of his contingent of soldiers are deep in combat with the Santaruzian army. Lines of mine fight one another like beasts in the wilderness, their swords clashing like lion's claws in a duel to the death. Arrows and magical projectiles like fireballs, electricity, and even ice shards cover the entire field in a distasteful shade of destruction, the smoke from nearby fires blacking out the sun in its near entirety. Horses tumble mid charge as they attempt to weave their masters through the rank and file of their enemies, often leaving them vulnerable when they face the swarming infantry. The sounds, too, are a lot to digest as the cries of man and beast alike fill the air a discord of despair.
Kent rears his horse back, allowing himself some repose as his opponent gets a feel for his health. He places his hand over his breastplate, fits his fingers through the open gaps of steel and flesh, eventually lifting it back up to see a stark, ghost-like, flaky crimson stick to his skin. Not only had Kent expertly cleaved through the man's armor, but he'd effectively shattered many of the bones in his chest. Although far from dead, this puts him at a severe damage, one that the experienced Marshal has every intention of exploiting.
Kent raises his sword again, this time sparing a second to marvel at the lethality of his weapon. It is a simple steel sword, yet despite that, it possessed the strength and sharpness of its silver counterpart. This was one of the first experimental blades concocted by the Minister of Science, and Kent is its beholder. When compared to other steel swords or even the armor in this Santaruzian knight, it feels like he's carving through a tender piece of lamb.
He steals himself a secretive smile. He feels powerful. Very powerful. In terms of strength, he hadn't had his way with an opponent since his duel with the tactician several years ago at the Tournament of the Sea. He jostled him around, broke his bones, and utterly dominated him despite his affinity for magic. He thought he'd never experience such a thing again until now.
The enemy knight charges again, but this time, he has much less velocity due to the lag of his injury. Eyeing the opportunity, Kent parries the lance's tip with the side of his blade, gliding it down the shaft until he firmly embed it into his enemy's neck. Not moments after his sword contacts his esophagus, he lurches his head forward, leaning to where his helmet falls off with little effort. His enemy gives him one last, ghastly look as his green eyes flicker for one last time, eventually passing into the realm heralded by whoever rules over the dead.
Kent drops the man's body onto the ground and grants his steed the mercy of scampering off on its own. It evades the surrounding mess of humanity before escaping into the nearby forest. Wrought with a mixture of confidence and temper, Kent readies his blade again as he spots an archer aiming high for the heads of one of Caelin's hired pegasus knights. As the husband of one himself, their hatred towards these accursed assassins extended towards him. He pictures his wife at the other end of the villain's quiver as he charges towards him with the momentum of a moving mountain.
But before he can do anything, someone else deals with the archer. A sudden lightning bolt streaks from the clouded sky, traversing harmlessly around several allied riders until incinerating the unarmored man into a pillar of flames. With that awesome display of strength, the battlefield calms. Men and women, some very near to dealing a deadly blow, shift their heads towards the commotion. Kent stops his horse short of the heat before squinting his eyes through the orange light. After a brief moment of repose, a smile appears on his face.
Lord Pent...you've at last arrived. How fortunate you had, too. With your numbers, this fight will surely be won!
An explosion rocks the southern flank of the Tanian-Santaruzian border. Debris and smoke form repetitive, floating pillows as fire quickly spreads around the bunched trees on the marsh. In the air, a flurry of pegasus knights scramble to not be overwhelmed by the dangerous situation, one of whom is Fiora.
She holds her reins tight, partly to not fall from the distress of her steed, and partly because of her own shakes derived from being so close to the explosion. Her eyes dart across the scene she just created, and she doesn't know what to feel. The shock had numbed her body and turned her blood cold. She looks down at her hands, wondering how such things could cause so much power.
Meanwhile, Samuel observes from a safe distance away with a pair of binoculars, mouth agape. Surrounding him are Lyn and a retinue of Caelin soldier, all of whom (with the exception of the former) expressing the same gesture. The pillar of smoke had settled into a mushroom cloud over the battlefield, expanding slowly but surely.
Samuel says, "I don't think it was just gunpowder and nitroglycerin in that thing. Maybe napalm or phosphorous? Eh...I don't know."
A soldier anxiously grips the handle of his lance. "Should...we be worried? That cloud seems to be...rather big."
Lyn adds, "I've never seen marshland burn like that."
Samuel looks at the approaching cloud of debris and smoke. From afar, it looks like a wall of black death brought upon by an erupting volcano or divine intervention. Truth be told, he has no idea how far it's going to expand until all the dust settled onto the ground. He had not expected this.
Samuel mutters, "This might have worked too well. In our efforts to disrupt the enemy, I fear we've done the same for our own."
He turns towards one of the waiting lieutenants. "You. Get everyone to pull away from the cloud. Keep defensive positions, but make sure prioritize the safety of the troops."
The lieutenant salutes before scampering away on a horse. Samuel continues to look on with the same, professionally stony expression. Lyn, too, raises her chin up to present strength in this potentially panicked situation. Both are no longer within the privacy of a tent, so they had to keep up powerful perceptions of themselves.
Lyn says, "Do you think this is good for us?"
"Depends."
"...How so?"
"The explosion no doubt evaporated much if not all the moisture in that area. I can imagine the ground has got to be rather dry. If the enemy can organize themselves well, they can charge over the crater and overwhelm our position."
He points his hand upward. "But, inversely, their numbers are much larger than ours. Their task of organization is much harder when compared to us. We can round up our men and flood the gap once the smoke subsides..." He grins like an ominous black cat. "It would be a slaughter..."
A sudden darkness surrounds Samuel's form. Lyn takes a step back, her eyes mindful of her husband's darker side. Given his homunculi heritage, such a thing was to be expected. Samuel hadn't seen the battlefield in a very long time, and the power of it all is beginning to get to his head.
"Ahem. Samuel."
Samuel pauses, his back lurching over like a mad scientist. He blinks once before he wipes the smile out of his face, returning his composure back to one of a relatively calm bureaucrat. "Oh. My bad."
Lyn mentally rolls her eyes. My bad? Those were the words he chose? You could have at least said something more eloquent.
Regardless, Samuel acts to secure the victory their nation desperately needs. He motions over to another soldier, raising his attention. He says, "Officer, fetch me the reserve and organize nearby. Gather as many cavalry and riders as possible. We're going to go on a bit of a border trip."
There he goes again. Lyn thinks while placing her palm on her face. His sense of humor is so bland. Is this what happens when someone becomes a father?
The soldier obliges before disappearing like the lieutenant before her. Meanwhile, Samuel turns to walk away back towards the command center. Lyn follows nearby, exhibiting the same silent grace she always had.
She says silently, "Where do you think you're going?"
He replies, "To prepare my things. All the other commanding officers are busy with damage control. I need to lead this charge myself."
"Rubbish. I thought I said you didn't have to fight?"
"...Was that an order?"
Lyn sighs before slowly shaking her head. "No, but I worry for your safety. I always have. Remember the promise we made to one another all those years ago."
Samuel's eyes soften, his chest feeling tight with confliction. He knows his wife has a point, but this stage of the battle could mean the difference between their defeat or victory. Keeping that in mind, he hardens his heart.
"It's important I see this through. I love you, Lyn. But, I need to do this."
Lyn looks into her husband's eyes, detecting the sincerity behind them. She relents, but not without her own say in the matter.
"In that case, I'll come with you."
"...What?! No. You shouldn't do that."
Lyn chuckles before tapping Samuel's shoulder passive-aggressively. "Well...I'm in charge around here. If I want to lead my men into battle, then I will. I take that you'll be there to secure my safety?"
Samuel raises his brow, thinking this whole interaction was a joke. Unfortunately, he quickly realizes it was indeed not a joke. Lyn is as impulsive as ever, a trait she never shook from her younger years. Samuel lowers his head in defeat.
"...Fine."
"Commander Kent! Cover my flank!"
"Affirmative, Marshal Kent! We must assist Lord Pent!"
Kent and Farina are in the midst of combat with Santaruzian troops. The air possesses a horrible scent of blood and steel, both coming from the reactions of swords cutting into the flesh of the soldiers that filled the battlefield. Archers struggle to pull arrows amidst the cramped quarters, of which hand-to-hand engagements ruled king. Horses raise their hooves out of fear and self-preservation, trampling men under their heavy weight. The Caelin troops are drenched in crimson, possess horrible wounds, and have bones exhibiting extreme exhaustion. Truth be told, they were very close to being overrun by the enemy until the sudden appearance of Lord Pent and his army.
Lord Pent stands on top of a bolder, underneath laying the burnt corpse of the man he torched earlier. The wind brushes up against him, moving his white hair gracefully. He possesses the very image of an honorable, presentable noble. His war robes shine with complex, bright colors, finely ironed by experts at Castle Reglay. Accompanying this is an incredibly powerful aura. Pent smiles as he whispers another incantation from his tome, summoning further lightening bolts from the sky.
The first of the soldiers notice their Etrurian counterparts, their eyes twinkling at the sight of their clean sets of armor, sturdy shields, and prominent emblems of the House of Reglay printed on their chests. This serves to deliver a jolt of energy directly into the heart of their ranks, increasing their morale. They cry out in appreciation as the army marches closer to assist them in their quest to defend their homeland.
A mounted lieutenant raises his lance up, motioning for cavalry to fall into position. He exclaims, "Men! The people of Caelin face the tyranny of her neighbors! We will not stand aside and watch this travesty occur to our allies!" His lance falls forwards as he makes his steed go into a fast gallop. "Charge! Help the Caelin army! Long live Lord Pent! Long live Lady Lyndis!"
The calvary rally around him, and they charge directly into the wall of enemy soldiers like a tidal wave against a sturdy building. Soldiers in formation scatter as their center gives way against the momentum of the heavier troops, releasing some pressure from the Caelin army. The now reinvigorated army charges into the Santaruzian troops, dealing their own pressure from their flank. This effectively creates a sandwiching maneuver against the invaders, trapping them between the allied armies and a long stretch of forest behind.
Eventually...as time passes...the cries subside...and light matures into a warm orange. Farina and Kent find each other atop a top hill, both having sustained injuries that removed them for the battle. Below, they see the last of their forces dealing with the remnants of the Santaruzian army. Those that hadn't been killed had been captured, or fled into the forest. Farina could have said anything to her Lycian counterpart. She could ask about the well-being of her sister, who she hadn't spoken to for some time. She could ask how his son was doing...or even when she was going to get paid. Instead, she only musters the strength to ask one single question, her exhaustion too much to bear.
"So...I take we won?"
Kent takes in a long breath. The expression reflects a sense of accomplishment, but also worry for his liege further north. "Yes...all we can hope now is that the others can hold their own."
Samuel closes his eyes as he focuses in on the innate strength within him. He feels energy surge up through his gut, into his chest, and then scatter out towards his left hand. His hand warms up as it condenses within his palms, his skin tingling as small sparks jumps in between the gaps between his fingers. When he opens his eyes, he looks before the dry, cratered earth before him, his eyes focusing in on the horde of dazed enemy soldiers attempting to gather their bearing. Within seconds, he whispers the incantation that accompanies his Fimbrulvet tome and brings down ice colder than that found on Ilia.
Samuel feels a tightness in his stomach, and initially, he thinks this comes from his unconscious desire for power. He feels very powerful, the sense nearly compelling him to smile like a dark sorcerer he once knew. He only stays his emotions as to not frighten his wife at his side. Instead, he indulges in this feeling silently...but only for a second. Eventually, as he ceases his attack, his stomach tightens, bringing along with it a headache. Despite his suspicions, the tightness came not from his innate desire for power. Instead, it comes from the massive amount of mana he'd expended, the symptoms representative of Mana Deprivation.
Samuel's sight blurs as he rolls back onto his heels, allowing himself to lean back into the arms of Lyn. Meanwhile, the army behind him charges forward, emboldened by the sudden weakness of their enemy. Samuel feels incredibly weak, and upon noticing this, Lyn rests her hands over her beloved's forehead. "Oh my, you don't look so well." She says while possessing extreme concern.
Samuel mutters, "I'm...okay. I just...overdid it a bit."
Lyn wraps her hand around Samuel's. She whispers, "It's okay. I'm here for you." She tightens her grip. "Come, take some mana. I know you need it."
Although Lyn didn't know how to use magic, she still possessed mana (every living thing on the planet did). It wasn't as potent as trained users, but Samuel could tap enough of it to could rejuvenate himself in a pinch. Even so, Samuel's reluctant to do this as it could harm the person he loved. He says, "Are...you sure? I...might hurt...you."
"Don't think about it...just do. You look blue."
Samuel obliges, harvesting a bit of mana through Lyn's wrists. Several moments pass, but Samuel can feel strength return to him. Meanwhile, Lyn fidgets a little. Samuel immediately stops when he feels Lyn's heartbeat (via her wrist) slow, and he releases his grip on her. Looking up at her, he's relieved to see she's all right, if just a bit tired.
Samuel says, "T-Thank you. You really saved me there."
Lyn shakes her head, drawing her sword out in the ready. The blade shines with light that bled through the handful of smoke in the sky. "It's no problem. I hope you have the will to join me for battle."
Samuel nods just as Lyn hands him a silver sword. It's heavy in his grasp, but the mana Lyn had given to him did much to ease that. He will be able to wield it with proficiency and in the service of the woman he would give his life for. "Of course, milady! Let's put an end to this war...!"
The couple delve into battle, accompanied by a retinue of crown troops to the front lines. The previously wrought battlefield turns near unrecognizable as thousands of men fight to the death. Mages and archers cover the air with projectiles, blacking out the sun much like the smoke that affected it earlier. Lines and columns of armored soldiers, knights, mercenaries, and militiamen clash in the field, the skies buzzing with wyverns, pegasi, and their riders. This form of war held less consequence toward world affairs than their bout with Nergal, but was just as dangerous.
After several hours of combat, , Lyn and Samuel find themselves tired and covered in wounds. The surrounding men, on both sides, exhibit the same as well. Regardless, amidst the fighting, they come within striking distance of the enemy commander, Marquess Tania himself. He's a stout man with a tall, imposing figure, and flawless armor that shines gold. Despite the size difference, a twinkle appears in Lyn's eyes as she detects an open lane between herself and the Marquess, of which she exploits while Samuel keeps away approaching enemies with the tandem of his sword and whatever mana he had left.
"Lyn!" He exclaims while covering the enemy in ice. "Be careful!"
Unfortunately, Lyn was, and always will be, an impulsive woman. She charges towards the Marquess, her voice raised in a challenging tone. "Marquess Tania! Let us end this war here! There need not be further bloodshed!"
The Marquess looks over towards her, his eyes hardly flinching at the sight of the Mani Katti in her right hand. Instead, he scoffs, as if insulted that a woman would dare challenge him in combat. "Are you mad? I'll wipe the floor with you! Fledging nobles like you need to learn your place!"
Samuel wonders what came upon the man. He exhibited the very same arrogance the befell on the late Glass; a man who tried to duel Lyn over the Mani Katti long ago. Unlike Glass, Marquess Tani possessed the benefit of knowing about Lyn's power after the fact (the tales of the previous allied army's toils with Lord Nergal is well known through not just Lycia, but in courts throughout Elibe). He should know about Lyn's incredible skill with a blade, if nothing else, then the potency of the Mani Katti. Yet, the Marquess holds no reservations about dealing with her on his own. Perhaps the wounds on her body coupled with her several years out of practice pose a unique opportunity for him, even though Lyn had effectively warmed up her sword arm in the fighting prior.
The Marquess raises his lance in front of him before sending his steed forward with the momentum of a neutron star. Rather than pull men towards him, he pushes them away with the sheer force of his charge. Observing this, Lyn let her inner instincts take hold. She looks to the left, only seeing a wall of fighting men that leave no path to dodge. She looks right, observing the same thing. That leaves only one way out. Over the head the of her opponent.
Lyn silently wishes she'd did more to keep up her training (she was still fit, but had taken on a few pounds. The duties of governing and being a mother made physical exercise take less of a priority). Regardless, she focuses her energy, recalling all the times she somersaulted over tall foes in her youth. Then she does just that. Her legs churn as she jumps high into the air, her head revolving as she clears danger. Marquess Tania looks up at her, astonished at this development, before forcing his steed to stop before he crashed into a column of his own men.
"Bah!" He exclaims while gathering his bearings. "I'll be damned. You still have much of elusiveness that the stories said you did."
Lyn smiles, her confidence exuding out of her like a star. But she says nothing. Unfortunately, in between that feat of strength and landing on the ground, she'd torn something in her ankle. The pain feels incredible to bear and its taking all of her strength to conceal it.
Marquess Tania raises his lance again, this time committed to not missing. "You are an impressive opponent. But, you are no match for me! Surrender before me, so I may spare your life!"
Lyn spits at the earth before her, a massive insult in both the Sacaen and Lycian cultures. As the liquid soaks into the brown ground, she says words that would appear in legend. "In your wildest dreams."
Marquess Tania's head turns red, his anger insatiable. "You blasted curr! You damn, Sacaen mongrel! You have no right to rule over Caelin! That right belongs to me!"
He charges forward, this time exhibiting less of the grace and technique he did before. Noticing this, Lyn allows her breathing to slow, a technique taught to her by her father long ago. Time slows down, the surrounding environment blurs, and all that's visible is herself, Marquess Tania, and the ground. As if taken by a dream, the earth morphs into something much more familiar, and she feels something tickle her feet. It is grass, the long, green blades from her homely plains. She puts her sword in front of her as the Marquess continues to approach her. She eyes a small opening appear in the gaps of his armor between his helmet and upper breastplate. The area turns red, the sensation enough for her to lock in. She charges forward...
"Gwa...Gah!"
The Marquess stops, his charge having produced nothing but the impalement of air. For a moment, he looks around. He sees the beating sun in the day sky, the trees that had seemingly stopped from the lack of wind, and the men who had since stopped fighting to observe his bout with the Marchioness. Then he feels for his neck. His fingers feel something...wet...and warm. Lifting them up to see, he wonders how there could be another's blood on his body. But...then it hits him. This blood wasn't another's...but his own.
In an instant, pain strikes his body. Blood squirts from his neck like a geyser, covering the people around him (including Lyn) full of crimson. Then, without saying another word, his head falls onto the ground, utterly decapitated. Lyn stands nearby, sword still drawn (and covered in his blood), her eyes staring at the enemy soldiers formerly under his command. Silence fills the air, the tension so thick it chokes the very oxygen out of it.
Samuel doesn't know what to do. Neither does Lyn. Regardless, what was done...was the best thing she could have done. After some repose, a single enemy soldier drops his weapon on the ground. Then another, this time an officer. One by one, the soldiers drop their weapons onto the ground. Then, without a single word, they file out neatly into the marsh, presumably to return to their farms and holdings back home. They had no further reason to fight. The Marquess is dead.
After some time, the allied army cleans up the battlefield for bodies and other debris. Samuel finds Lyn reflecting by a rock, her eyes still from the events of that day. Despite the necessity of her actions, Samuel can sense the shock within her. Taking a life is never easy, especially not when attempting to suppress the nightmares of old. Knowing this, Samuel stands next to her, slipping his arm around her bloodied shoulders.
They stand there in silence. But, once the sun gives way for night, they retire to their own tent. Perhaps they are ready to leave behind the burdens of the previous day for something new. Something that sat in the back of their minds since the beginning of this war. The dawn of a better and more prosperous tomorrow.
