The last few days seemed like a blur of action. Vossler hadn't enough time to properly worry about whether or not he would survive this last charge into Nabradia to give Dalmasca's lost allies a chance to flee. The Knight-Captain had spent long hours speaking with the other Knights and his own troops; attempting to let them know the gravity of the situation without utterly crushing their spirits. It was a difficult balance to keep though in the end it seemed he had succeeded. Those with families bid them fond farewells and half honest promises of return. Those without sat and contemplated what their futures held. With the fall of Nalbina, the ranks of the Order had been thinned and in compensation Vossler found himself staring at several groups of freshly promoted knights; too young and inexperienced in his veteran opinion.
But there was no use dwelling on it and so he placed them in command of experienced squads and teams and gave the troops orders to do what needed to be done; taking several of the fresh knights on to fight beside him personally. So far as he knew, Basch was facing similar problems and had a score of fresh knights as well. It made for a heavy heart and a rather unpleasant taste in his mouth that they expected these untested men, no – boys, to survive the coming skirmishes. Vossler fully expected he would not return and in what was perceived as a morbid course of action, he took all the personal items in his barracks room and stored them securely in his footlocker.
The part of it all that weighed the heaviest upon his mind was Basch's absence. Though he was concerned for his friend on a level more personal than it should have been, the professional problems that arose were strategic chasms that needed to be filled. Vossler didn't just want Basch's strategic opinion and planning aid, he needed it in order to fill gaps and make a workable attack and defense plan since they always ended up side by side on the battlefield. But the Landisian native had made very few appearances outside his quarters as of late. Vossler took it upon himself to hunt the man down, but ended up getting sidetracked each time he resolved to find Basch and good-naturedly beat the dejection out of him.
And now they were out of time and the transports were gathering to drop them into Nabradia, now under control of the Archadians. Again, Vossler found himself wishing for more time to get things done but put on a stoic front and commanded his troops with an optimistic leadership that put the men more at ease. The more senior knights numbered in small amounts; he and Basch counted for two of the five Knight-Captains that remained of the Dalmascan Knights of the Order, the Knight-General had fallen in Nalbina along with the few other knights of senior leadership and so they were left to plan amongst the lesser leadership left intact on how to approach their mission. Moods were foul and the group of knights was surrounded by a fatalistic point of view that no matter how they did this; they would not be coming home. Even so, they maintained some manner of confidence around the troops they commanded.
"Are we ready, men?" Vossler's booming inquiry was met with a handful of nervous cheering. Dark brows slammed down into a scowl as he raised his voice into a ferocious roar. "I said; are we ready to show Archadia what it means to challenge us!" This time, the cheers were a little louder, the nervous apprehension fading. "We will show them no quarter! No mercy for those who attack like cowards!" Another round of cheers, louder at his words. "Dalmasca will not cower!" His last words were drowned out by the resounding roar from his troops and, with spirits raised for now at least, his troops began boarding the skiffs. Letting out a bitter sigh that was lost beneath the cacophony of movement generated by men and armor alike, Vossler stepped aside and oversaw the loading of equipment as he fought down guilt.
"Theirs not to reason why.." He began sourly, only to find the remainder of the saying snatched away from his lips.
"Theirs but to do and die." Basch stepped from the milling collection of soldiers and put an encouraging hand on his shoulder, a sad smile etched into his features. "I apologize for the way I have been behaving." Vossler smirked and clapped a hand onto Basch's shoulder in return as the two stood firmly against the ebb and flow of bodies.
"It is a hard thing to do." Consoling his friend the best he could, Vossler turned and gestured to a clear spot of ground in the crowd of soldiers and knights as they awaited boarding onto the large transport ships. "You did what you could, Basch. Of that there is no doubt." The flicker of uncertainty that passed briefly over the other captain's face didn't escape his notice and with a sigh, he folded iron clad arms over the chest piece of his armor.
"I am well, Vossler. I can fight. And win." And for a moment, Basch seemed so sure of himself that the older knight believed they had a chance at victory. It was brief though and his features once again fell under the dark cloud of doubt that nobody was able to accurately decipher. Except Basch, that was. The fairer knight could read him like a book. "I know this troubles you.."
"We send hundreds of men to their death, Basch. It troubles me greatly. But it is our duty." Shrugging, he tested the draw of his blade in the scabbard at his back. The massive broadsword slid easily free and he dropped it back with a grunt of minor satisfaction. "Our duty to die." They stood in awkward silence for what seemed like a lifetime until the other Knight-Captains arrived. "We go, I suppose. To Nabradia's defense. May they make it out alive while we feed the wolves."
"So grim." One of the others commented coldly and slammed his helmet into place, testing the shift and weight of his armor. Rather than the full set of silvered mail that the other Captains had settled into, Vossler had opted instead for something with more freedom; the Dalmascan military issue. Long, lightweight shorts, heavy leather boots with curved plates of armor down the legs and a heavy front and back piece studded with segmented plates of armor that covered the torso and buckled into place. Lower segments hung past the hips in front and back and the armor extended all the way down the arms to the hands. It had no helm; the focus of the suit being one of mobility and evasion over resilience.
Coupled with his massive broadsword, Vossler had the ability and the means to make short work of his enemies. So long as he managed to avoid being pinned down.
At the sounding of a horn, the captains separated ways and climbed into the transports with their troops. As the hatches closed, Vossler made his way to the far back of the transport to work on his strategy. The next time they set feet on solid ground would be in Nabradia; amongst the retreating civilians and defeated forces, standing alone against the oncoming Archadians..
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Since his first battle as a fresh knight to the Order, Vossler had the images of war planted deep into his subconscious mind as a field of fire and brimstone. War was hell, and the battleground his own arena of death. How else could he see it, when men fell bleeding and dying to the blood churned earth and you were forced to step over still wailing comrades to engage what could be your eternal end?
This was a war to challenge every other battle he had ever taken part in. The Archadian forces dominated the field with superior numbers and better planned tactics. No sooner had their transports touched down then they faced a barrage of blows from Archadian warships and overwhelming ground forces. Troops had fallen before they had even entered the fray.
That had been hours ago. Vossler was flanked by two other veteran knights, a young knight whose armor was still fresh at his rear as he commanded soldiers and troops as he waded fearlessly into battle; sword level and fast in a way that nobody associated with the heavier two-handed blade. Already they had lost more ground than they had first imagined; the superior forces pushing them back into deadlock where it was all they could do to get the surviving casualties back behind the front lines and hope to save them. Several smaller ships zipped overhead like lightning, stopping in mid-flight to collect the badly injured and usher them to safety. All too often these ships were shot down before they could escape and before long, the Dalmascan troops found themselves without aerial support.
Vossler mounted the still smoldering remains of a small craft and let out a bellow, leaping down without concern for his own safety to neatly dispatch an Archadian about to finish off one of his new knights. The young man was badly injured though, and Vossler snapped impatiently at one of the veterans at his side to move the boy back to safety. Fireballs exploded on the other side of a stony rise and despite his better sense, he gathered together a small contingency and rushed the rise, coming into the small depression behind the encroaching Archadians with a furious roar.
It was on the battlefield that Vossler had earned his reputation as a brutal warrior. Intensely focused and merciless when it came to the enemy, he was possessing of a ferocious nature that left the enemy not just defeated; but slaughtered in his wake. Wounds did little to slow him unless they were potentially fatal; seeming only to fuel the fire in his eyes and quicken his blade further. Knight-Captain Azelas gave no quarter, allowed no mercy and fought like the damned.
It was no exception when he powered over the rise with a bellowing war cry and fell upon the Archadians with righteous fury even as they tried to regroup to face a threat on both sides. "Dalmasca!" The first in his way fell to a crushing swing that nearly dismembered the soldier with the sheer impact of the blow and, slowed though he suddenly was, Vossler lashed out with calculating blows at anybody who strayed close enough to his blade. Reach was his greatest ally. Heartened by the arrival of backup, the allies on the other side fought back with renewed vigor and in short time they were regrouping with the main forces.
Still, it was not enough to turn the overwhelming tide and Vossler began to realize that their forces were dwindling quickly; the fallen covered the battlefield in broken sprawls. The air was heavy with violence and crows circled overhead awaiting the chance to feast. Falling back to gauge their positions and defense, he grit his teeth at the chaos he witnessed. Two of the Knight-Captains had been lost in the chaos; their troops confused and dismayed at the loss of direction and quickly falling apart under the stress of maintained combat. Basch was holding soundly to his west, but the forces to his east were beginning to falter under the relentless Archadian assault. Vossler watched in mute horror as the line at his east began to fall inward and Knight-Captain Herod charged into the madness only to be cut down with several of his troops as they attempted a forceful push to rescue the stranded soldiers surrounded in the depths of the Archadian forces.
Retreat was quickly becoming their only option of surviving.
"Keep that line tight!" Wading through the hard tide of battle, he attempted to make it to Basch's side, cries of the injured and dying reaching his ears but failing to bring a rise of compassion. They could not be helped. His blade was already slick and red, the gore of battle adhered to his arms and armor alike as he struggled to maintain the line and keep the surviving troops alive. "Fall back to that rise, keep them off our back!" Desperation began to take hold as they struggled. If they could reach the rise, they might be able to fight off the invading forces long enough to make a retreat to safety in the surrounding highwaste. It was a narrow defile and would allow for a potentially life-saving bottleneck should the larger enemy forces attempt to follow.
"Fall back, Basch! Fall back!" Over the din and clash of armor, swords, and marksmen he wasn't sure if his comrade had heard the command. His men moved with a purpose, directed by those few knights that still stood. They were perilously few, though, and still fell under the renewed assault as the Archadians sensed desperation. Vossler fought through a small skirmish; dispatching an overconfident Archadian with minimal effort as he charged to see what trouble Basch was facing. Even so, he called retreat to the other Knight-Captain's forces as well, urging the small force that survived to safety.
Coming over a rise, he found Basch and a young knight facing down a growing contingency of Archadians who gathered like wolves awaiting the kill. Caught in a retreat after trying to regroup a small force of stragglers, the troops had fallen and only the two knights remained standing; the injured clawing at the feet of the Archadians with fading strength in a valiant attempt to save the still standing pair.
Vossler wasn't aware that he'd made any noise or motion, but all eyes turned to him in a single instance and he felt a fire come alive in his gut. Imagined fire danced down his limbs and roiled down the blade of his sword in a kind of self contained fury. How dare they.. In a quick motion, he used his final reserves of mana to cast a solid protect spell on himself and with a burst of magic-borne haste he charged down into the scrimmage with a howl of fury.
Blood splashed hot against his face but he couldn't see through his berserker fury to tell if it had been his own or that of an enemy. Falling and rising on the tide of his red tinted vision, his blade cut through the stunned Archadians and he met Basch halfway, turning to flow like liquid violence over the forces that dared follow. Sound faded down into a pinpoint of static that roared through his ears, the battle coming in flashes of black and white washed in angry reds. There had been only one other occasion when Vossler had fallen into a berserk state.. the experience he was facing now was much the same as before and even though he realized from the further corners of his mind that he was no longer in control of his actions, he could still do nothing to stop his reckless charge and irrational bloodlust.
And then it was over. The loss of energy filled him with a cold, dead weight and the sword that had just been feather-light in his hands threatened to drag him down to the bloodied earth. But they had managed to rejoin the main force while he destroyed the Archadians foolish enough to follow them, Basch covering him with controlled swings of his hammer as they fought back into retreat.
Somehow their gamble had paid off and even though the Archadians had overwhelming numbers, the small rise had fallen away into the rocky terrain that made up the surrounding Mosphoran Highwaste and rather than follow their beleaguered forces, the Archadians celebrated their victory by dispatching the surviving Dalmascans still on the field. Of the hundreds that had set out to do battle with the invaders of Nabradia, Vossler would be surprised if they numbered over two hundred now.
With the night came a feeling of fleeting safety and they set up temporary camp and watchful guards from those who had the energy and weren't as badly injured. Wounds were tended to with what energy could be mustered and those who still had the energy to wield white magics were put to work keeping the injured stabilized. There were many who would not survive until the morning and though it pained him to do it, Vossler found himself directing the appointed medics to tend to their comfort, but waste no energy on keeping them alive.
Leaving Basch to tend to his own troops, Vossler made his rounds quietly, reassuring the survivors and consoling those who had lost friends upon the battlefield. Though he felt each loss as a solid whole, Vossler had long ago decided to never make friends out of troops or fellow knights past Basch. It seemed to hurt less when a person was gone if you never made any strong ties to them in the first place. It might be a habit that several of these surviving soldiers would come to adopt as well. Though the air held a chill to it after burning so much away on the battlefield, they made several small pit fires to keep warm by. Nothing large or particularly warm could be afforded on a tactical standpoint.
After checking on the soldiers who stood stoically at guard and making sure they were able to carry out their duties, he found he had no willpower left to return to the camp. Keeping his circuit behind the posted guards so he wouldn't set up any false alerts, he began to make a slow round of the area they had chosen to regroup in. It would have been too easy to dwell on their failures and so he found a secluded spot with a guarded view and sat, lowering his head into his hands with a groan. How many faithful and noble Dalmascans had they lost? It carried with it an overwhelming sense of loss and despite the fact that nobody would have blamed him for it, he didn't dare shed a tear or show any other sign of perceived weakness. Still, it didn't diminish the impact of the loss any.
"You seem troubled." Vossler turned sharply at the intrusion, and in the blanketing dark Basch lifted hands in mute surrender as he hoisted himself onto the small plateau of rough stone. He hadn't heard the other knight approach.
"I wonder if this was worth it." Letting out a sigh, he sank his head back into his hands still coated in dirt and grime and fixed dark eyes upon the ground between his feet. "Did enough Nabradians escape in the commotion for our losses to be worth it? I have never seen such a stunning defeat before, Basch." Rocks shifted as Basch moved to his side, taking a seat next to him and settling down into the conversation.
"This I cannot say." Basch's voice seemed far away as he dropped into thought. "We did what we could Vossler. I cannot be sure that it was enough."
Jaw clenched, Vossler lifted his head and curled his hands into fists at his side, the frustration of it eating at him from the inside out. "We fought for naught. Archadia will march upon Dalmasca next and we have no power left to defy them." Sensing his desperation, Basch turned to face him. "What will this have accomplished?!" Now that his aggravation had an outlet, he couldn't seem to stop the outpour. "It is all for naught, Basch! All those men, dead! For what?!"
Basch moved quickly through the dark in a reaction that caught Vossler unwary as the knight reached out, taking hold of his shoulders and pulling him off balance long enough to slide cold fingers behind his head. What despair and anger he been feeling faded somewhat as the blonde pressed his forehead to his comrade's, eyes closed and voice soft with a sense of shared misery.
"We are but loyal shields, Vossler. It is not a fate we can escape. All of these men who have fallen knew what they were to face when we arrived and even before that, they joined the military knowing that their lives were forfeit.. that they had become shields of Dalmasca." Basch sighed, shaking his head slowly against Vossler's. "Would you be anything else?"
Silence stretched out for what seemed an eternity and with a fatigued grunt that threatened to break into frustrated tears, Vossler lifted his hands to place them behind Basch's head in return, taking comfort in the very human contact that it provided. They sat still for long moments, the darkness and the cold forgotten by their shared warmth as below them, their men regrouped.
"No." Vossler croaked wearily. "I am a willing and loyal shield to my country and her people." If anything, the chance to let out his frustration seemed to be a calming thing, but Basch's support of his weary frame of mind and the gift of strength he was giving him was enough to still his inner turmoil. "I would have it no other way."
"Captain Ronsenburg! Captain Azelas!" The quiet interrupted, they both jumped to their feet, exchanging looks of concern that still couldn't pierce the deep shadows surrounding them. As Basch moved to the side of the plateau and began to carefully make his way down in the heavier full pate, Vossler sprinted to the side and leaped, landing on his feet and sliding down through the fall of stones to beat his fellow knight to the ground by a good lead.
"Here, keep it down, do you wish to announce our position so easily?" Hissing into the darkness as he emerged from the shadows, Vossler's words and sudden appearance gave the young solider who had been sent to find them a quick start. Sensing the man was about to retreat from the traumatic stress incurred by the battle alone, Vossler took gentle hold of his arm and leaned into the light emanating from the small stone of magicite gripped in the man's hand. "Easy.. what is the cause for such panic?"
Basch arrived on his heels with a glower directed toward Vossler and with a slight shrug they both turned their attention to the soldier. "It's the communication sergeant.. he's been trying to raise a transport but we've stumbled onto an Archadian transmission. Captains, this is bad.."
"Show us, quickly." As commanded, the soldier showed them to a slightly wounded soldier manning a somewhat battered communications pack, the radio antenna was twisted badly and held upright by a second soldier. Even damaged, the message was clear enough once they could discern it through a heavy blanket of static.
"When did this transmission start, sergeant?" Basch leaned in, fingers itching to try and fix the transmission quality though he knew they had likely done all they could to fix it. Vossler stood by in tight expectancy; waiting to hear what it was that had caused such a need to be swift in fetching them.
"Several minutes ago, it's between a reporting pair of Archadians, sir. They're being updated.. it does not bode well for Dalmasca." And then the commo unit flared to life and the message became clearer as the sergeant got to work actively filtering it out.
"—the treaty at Nalbina. It will stand as ample reminder as to why he should accept what terms we have given him." Silence for a moment, and then a second voice picked up.
"I see, there should be little problem with getting King Raminas to agree with the demands. Dalmasca has lost their main force this night and the survivors stand little chance of making it home. Now – as for that treaty—"
"Not to worry. The moment the ink has dried, King Raminas will cease to be of value to us. Their leadership is expendable."
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Please Read and Review, it makes me more likely to get chapters up faster and also feeds my ego. Hehe.
Also; the quotes that passed between Vossler and Basch were poetic reference to Alfred Tennyson's "Charge of the Light Brigade", which actually helped to inspire this chapter. Check it out – good poem.