Argentius was glad his vision was better than a human's at night.
The Armada Commodore's boots crunched in the snow with each step, a squadron of twenty marines and a matching number of musketeers tailing him closely: guided by nothing more than a holographic map with the coordinates supplied by the assassin Aurelio.
Strike first before they know it.
Argentius was almost certain that they would not expect an attack after their failed attempt on attacking the Armada outpost. If anyone followed the pattern of a human's thinking, a human would be more than alerted after an attack like that, they would increase their defenses instead of launching another offensive -
Humans may be the most unpredictable of all species inhabiting the Spiral, but their pattern of behavior can be predicted in situations such as this.
Stepping over a fallen log, the Armada Commodore held his left hand up, halting the squadron that had been following him.
From this location, it was possible to see the fire of the Templar outpost in the distance, burning brightly in the night from one of the many guard towers: a move otherwise would have been wise, frightening off bandits and everyone else without a force strong enough to move them, if it wasn't for the fact those Templar fools currently faced the forces of the clockwork Armada.
The Armada, the eternal standing, singular greatest armed force in the Spiral, immortal and undying, more than a match for a force of human extremists.
"Approach silently, do not spring for attack until we are in range."
Use well the element of surprise, and nothing can stand against me.
It was almost impossible to hear their soft sounds of movement as the clockwork forces advanced on the Templars.
Before long, they stood no more than thirty feet away from the gates of the fortress, with its few sentries looking almost as though they were about to doze off into sleep.
This was certainly good for the forces of the clockwork Armada -
"Leave no survivors!"
Argentius's command echoed through the forest, his voice strangely loud in the quiet night air that would soon turn into the background for a scene of slaughter: the clockworks charging forth to engage their enemies, several Templars scrambling away to raise the alarms for their comrades.
Let them come, let them come to us, our purpose here is to take control of his fortress and the map pieces, is it not?
Templar soldiers piled towards the Armada Commodore, towards the lines of marines shielding the much more delicate musketeers, snipers, and marksmen, brandishing their swords and shouting their battle cries.
It had only taken that much for everything to cascade into carnage and destruction.
The Armada Commodore found himself rushing through enemy lines, cutting Templars down left and right and spraying jets of their blood into the air with each and every stroke of his sword. Armor was sliced through as though it was nothing but wet parchment, leaving the flesh underneath to be easily slashed into ribbons by Argentius' own sword and the halberds of the marines.
A singular flash of pain nearly forced Argentius to drop his sword: his head snapping toward the right of him, just in time to see the form of a Templar soldier with a sword in hand, still swinging viciously at him. The weapon's blade was covered in drops of scarlet blood, and he had just managed to bring his own sword up to block the swing.
Showers of sparks rained between the blades, and Argentius launched a single kick at the man's knee.
The man's shout of pain was lost among the battle din, and he dropped to his other knee just long enough for Argentius to slam his blade into the man's throat with a single stroke.
As the Templar's sword slipped out of his hands, deep green eyes met Argentius' own amethyst ones.
In that very second, Argentius' emotionless facade threatened to crumble.
It was impossible to describe how the human man's face contorted, his mouth falling agape as a name fell from his lips, a name that even though half of his own memories were hazy and impossible to discern, the Armada Commodore could still recognize.
Alexander.
How do they know who I am?
And most importantly, how did they know his previous name - ?
Argentius' thoughts were, once more, interrupted by the lethal song of a blade flying through the air toward his neck, forcing him to drop down to the ground, just barely feeling the blade brushing over the top of his head; the coolness of the metal sending another chill down his back.
Blood colored large patches of his uniform coat maroon as the Armada Commodore shot back up into combat stance.
There were a few survivors still fighting around them, rather valiant, but also rather foolish, considering how the entire interior of the fortress was literally drenched in the blood of their enemies, some of them with heads removed, and others with their torsos slashed wide open to leave their insides spilling out like coils of fat snakes. There were also several that had large holes blown into their torsos.
Argentius quickly sheathed his sword.
It would appear their job was done here -
"Commodore."
The Armada marine standing before him snapped into an Armada salute.
"We have captured the Templar master Estevan Brokenfang. He has managed to terminate seventeen of our soldiers, eight musketeers and nine marines - "
So indeed he is a skilled combatant, as few humans can take on so many clockworks, with how slow their reaction times are when compared to the processing speed of a clockwork soldier, and survive. And to think such loyalty lies with the Templars... It would be much too dangerous to leave him alive, as it definitely takes loyalty to stand with a dying cause such as theirs.
"Have we acquired the map piece that we came here in search of?"
"Affirmative, Commodore."
"Then I want the Templar master executed immediately, lest he poses a threat to the Supreme Commander's plans."
"Order acknowledged."
Argentius' gaze turned back to the scene of carnage before him.
Empty, hollow, such were the only sensations left within him. These deaths could have been avoided, had those fools not chosen to launch their attack on the Armada and remain so staunchly loyal to their dying cause.
Though, the Armada Commodore would not deny, the spilling of their enemies' blood was also something that was rather... satisfying -
The burst of white hot pain that shot through his processor was nearly impossible to control and suppress: taking each and every bit of his own willpower to not show it outwardly. However, the series of memories that flooded back with the ferocity of a tsunami was partially enough to distract Argentius from the pain.
The Commodore leaned against the closest wall he could reach, one of his hands flying up to the side of his head, almost impossible to feel the pain of his own fingers clawing at the synthetic flesh as he watched the memories unfold right before his eyes.
"Awake, Alexander Mercilus, my proudest creation yet, you shall be the one to topple the Supreme Commander Kane II from his golden throne in the confines of Valencia."
The face of the Grand Master Atticus Mercilus loomed before him, his right hand reaching out to help him sit up from the table. He was made to serve him, he was made to be his loyal soldier and therefore he would do anything for him, even if it meant he might just perish in the process. It was only right, was it not? He is his soldier, his creation.
The memory faded.
Argentius gasped, as though he had been deprived of air for more than just a few minutes, which was exactly untrue.
Who do I belong to then?
He belonged to the Supreme Commander of the Valencian Armada -
Atticus made you, hence you serve him and not Kane II.
His deepest programming demanded, screamed at him: he was the Supreme Commander's soldier, he was one of his officers.
Return to your original Commander, finish the mission he had given you!
"Return to base with the map piece."
This internal battle would only be futile, it was something that likely would only result in a eternal battle between his two sides. It would be nothing short of an obstacle in the path of him finishing the task he had been assigned and recently completely: if any of his soldiers were to realize their leader currently faced a battle deep within himself that could possibly result in a bloody tie -
Argentius forced the thought back.
Return to base, for now, return to base.
Identity crisis from Argentius' part, with a extra dash of gore! Things will about to get a little more interesting from this point on, so stay tuned.
Reviews are much appreciated, and until next time! :D
-Hades