The rebel army smashed against his own like a wave crashing against the dark rocks and cliffs by the coast. Screams and bellows and fury oozed through the air, and Ironwood grunted as his iron side took the brunt of the blow that came from a charging lunatic. Raising his sword in his still human hand, he brought it low and killed the man by cleaving his head in two, the cheap leather helm nothing compared to his blade.
He shoved the body back into his comrades and took a brief moment to breathe, the smell of blood and urine and sweat merging to form the smell of battle. It was all too easy to fall into the routine, the dance with death that was battle. Quick jabs, powerful slices and the gradual bone-deep weariness that sank into oneself as the day dragged on and the blood of those you killed and had been killed around you dripped off your body like sweat off an Atlesian in Vacuo.
Then the second rebel tried his luck. Shield scraped against shield, but Ironwood held thanks to the strength of his new arm, the strength of the men behind him and his own solid footing. The ground underneath his men was firm and unchanged by battle as of yet. The rebels had marched over ground torn up by the hooves of their cavalry and over the blood-stained bodies laying in the traps they'd set. Their feet were wet and they struggled to gain purchase in the ground, giving Ironwood and his men a powerful advantage over them.
The second rebel was wounded by a cut to his unarmoured leg inflicted by Ironwood. He felt himself frown as the man fell back and was trampled by his overly eager comrades, his screams drowned out by the clanging of steel before falling silent altogether.
He did not feel guilt. He long ago learned that war was war, and nothing mattered so long you won. What he did feel was disgust. No armour or cheap, poor quality leather. Did Nicholas truly care so little about his own men? Was his friend truly so far gone?
The battle dragged on. Minutes turned to hours. The sun reached it's peak in the sky and began its descent. Ironwood's men held, their better equipment paying off as they inflicted a disproportionate amount of losses on Arc's rebels. Some of Arc's troops didn't even have proper weapons, clearly being levied men fulfilling their feudal obligations due to the pitchforks and farming scythes they wielded.
The archers on the walls did their jobs. Whilst Ironwood's troops kept Arc's among tied down and clumped up, they rained down death and thinned their ranks further. If a group of rebels peeled off to try to reach the other gates a few miles to the west, they were harassed constantly by the volunteers and conscripts Ironwood had brought up to ensure the walls were covered. The north and east were weaker, as he did not think Arc had boats to assail Emerald Vale from the east due to the speed with which he had marched and the north was too far away for him to be able to send a force around to flank and attack. He still had some troops stationed there to keep a lookout, but they were generally fixed to the south and west.
A decision that paid off as the Arc's men started to waver. The bodies were piled too high whilst Ironwood's losses were too few in comparison. It was blatantly obvious the battle had become a slaughter, and Ironwood was considering pushing forward to finish off the wavering force when horns blew and the two sides parted. A flag of truce was raised and Ironwood stepped forward, his men shifting to fill the gap he'd left in the shield wall.
"Single combat!" Nicholas yelled, striding forward in mud-stained armour and scratches on his shield. "The winner takes Vale!"
"Accepted." Ironwood replied quickly. "Enough blood has been shed between brothers this day."
"You are no brother to me and mine or any son of Vale." Arc retorted, striding through the bloodied mud and layers of dead bodies. "But that's enough talk. Not even you will stop my destiny."
"We'll see." Ironwood grunted, tightening his grip around his sword and matching Arc's pace as they strode towards each other.
For a moment the sounds of flags flapping in the wind was all that could be heard. His world seemed to narrow and shrink, all his focus and attention on the man, no, the enemy, right in front of him and looking to kill him. Instinct surged forward and Ironwood roared before slashing downwards with his blade.
Arc blocked the blow with his shield, which sparked from the force of it, before countering with a slash towards Ironwood's right. His shield was held in his left, and unless he blocked it he would have to hope his armour held true.
He moved his arm back to manoeuvre his sword to do so, but he was to slow. The sword clanged against the side of his body and made him grunt a little as vibrations echoed up his right side and against his flesh.
Then Ironwood blinked and remembered the right side of his body was now made of metal and practically invulnerable. His eyes widened and use his metal arm to trap Arc's blade against his side.
Arc tried tugging the sword back, so Ironwood dropped his own and gripped the fuller of Arc's sword, holding the middle of the blade as tightly as he could and squeezing with all his might.
The metal screeched and protested and sparks scraped as Arc continued to try to free his trapped blade. But Ironwood refused to cave and tunnelled all of his focus into clamping down and crushing the metal in his hand, feeling it creak and crack and weaken.
With a violent snap, the blade broke in two and Arc stumbled back from the force with which he had been pulling on his sword. His eyes were wide and visible underneath the slits of his steel helm, and they stared at Ironwood with immutable terror.
"W-What are you?" Arc gasped, and for a moment Ironwood couldn't answer. He stared at his hand, gauntleted but metal underneath, scratches visible across the palm of the gauntlet and almost taunting him.
'What am I?'
No human could snap a sword like it was nothing. No human had been dying for weeks only to recover like nothing was wrong. No human was half metal and half flesh.
What was he?
The silence had dragged on long enough for Arc to recover his wits and nerves. He dropped the pommel of his half broken sword and picked up Ironwood's, which lay in the mud where he had dropped it to grab Arc's blade.
Arc was quick, slashing up and smashing the blade against his helmet. His ears rang as he lurched back and toppled onto the floor, his head thundering and ears rushing with the sound of air and ringing metal.
The world was a blur and Ironwood breathed heavily as tried to regain his bearings, letting out a grunt as Arc kicked him back onto his stomach. Guided by instinct, he moved his head to the right and narrowly missed the blade of the sword as it sank into the earth where his neck had just been.
Ironwood moved quickly, managing to grab the sword with his right, metal hand. To his credit, Arc seemed to learn quickly from his past mistake and released the blade, stepping back and picking a significantly poorer quality one from the body of a nearby knight.
Using the sword as support, Ironwood heaved himself onto his feet and glared at Arc, the ringing in his ears less painful but still there.
"I'd give you the chance to surrender but it clear to me now my friend is truly dead." Arc spat, pacing like wild animal. "You aren't human anymore. You are a pawn of the Brothers!"
"I am the Lord Protector of Vale." Ironwood replied calmly, iron discipline a sharp contrast to Arc's primal pacing. "And I serve no-one but my Queen and Kingdom."
"You serve the whore of the Brother's and the dumping ground for their failed experiments." Arc hissed. "And you will share their fate!"
Arc charged and Ironwood blocked the blow. He struck back and his blade sank off of Arc's shoulder plate with a loud scrape. Arc was knocked back by the blow, the fact his arm was metal giving Ironwood additional strength. Arc growled and attacked again, and once again Ironwood blocked the blow.
Their battle slugged on, following the similar pattern of attack, block and counter-attack. Eventually they broke apart after Ironwood landed a particularly savage back-handed blow to Arc's head, sending the man spinning to the ground where he groaned in pain. Arc managed to push himself back to his feet, and they stayed apart for a few moments, panting heavily for breath and bodies aching under the strain of their heavy armour.
"You can't win." Ironwood gritted out. "Yield."
"Never." Arc hissed. "So long as I have breath in my body I will do whatever I must to…to…"
Arc trailed off, and Ironwood saw him stare at the ground and shake his head.
"I…What…James?"
Ironwood blinked and raised his shield defensively, unsure of what Arc was trying to do with this strange tactic. Make him lower his guard? Unnerve him? He didn't know, but it was eerie to see.
"Where am I?" Arc asked, the confusion and fear clear in his tone. "Why…Why are there so many dead w-what's going on?"
Ironwood just glared at the man he had just been duelling to the death with wearily. This…This was strange, but then again Arc had been acting strange since the moment he decided to stake his claim for Vale's throne.
Bells tolled suddenly, and Ironwood felt his heart sink and turned to stare westward. A cloud of dust was being kicked up into the air by an unseen force, advancing towards Emerald Vale through the forest road that led to the borderlands with Vale.
"The Vacuoans are here to destroy Emerald Vale." Ironwood said, turning to Arc and meeting his confused gaze with one of sternness and calm. It was a hard mask to put on, as the confusion and sadness he felt at his friend's apparent madness stuck to his soul. "If you truly are the man I remember you to be, you will help me defeat our enemy."
His piece said, Ironwood turned and hurried towards his men, waving his sword and pointing westward.
"To the western gate!" He bellowed. "Move it! Move it!"
Trumpets tooted and the drums struck up a hurried tone. His army formed and armoured column and double-timed it along the walls westwards, away from the carnage and bloodshed that had spilled between brothers, cousins and fathers and sons and to a new battlefield against a foreign invader.
They made time, something that genuinely impressed Ironwood. He was unsurprised his veterans were swift and sure footed when it came to marching in an orderly manner to the new battlefield, but his newly bloodied troops managed to keep up with the pace set by the drummers and their more experienced comrades, making him feel a swelling of pride.
If they survived and won the coming battle, Ironwood was determined they would be remembered in history as one of the finest armies to ever be formed.
Their crescent formation was a half-ring of steel and spear in front of Emerald Vale's gate, with the archers on the walls easily able to provide additional firepower that would send the Vacuoans into their graves as easily as they did against Arc's army not so long ago.
Still, something bugged Ironwood. The western gate was secure for now, but the southern one was more exposed. Arc probably wouldn't risk trying to storm Emerald Vale now the Vacuoans were here, and would likely withdraw. That meant he had a strong contingent of archers to protect the gate but little else. There was also another gate a little further north. He wouldn't be able to reach it now, nor would any contingent he sent to defend it. But the Vacuaons were notorious for their usage with horses, and they would be able to reach said gates easily.
He frowned. He needed to lure the Vacuoans away from the city to give his forces within the walls more time to prepare defences within the streets themselves and evacuate the civilians to deeper tiers where they would be safer.
He needed bait.
Ironwood stared at the men around him. The Vacuoans were little more than barbarians, but they valued a good fight if they thought they could win it easily. A small, exposed force would do just that.
He hurried to the back of his lines and grabbed the youngest looking soldier he could see on his way there.
"Head back into the city and find Lady Goodwitch, tell her to prepare the inner defences in accordance with our primary battleplan." He told the lad, who nodded quickly. "Good man…and if you happen to find her, give this letter to my wife."
He spoke quietly when telling the boy the last part, his eyes widening when he realised what Ironwood meant as he pulled a crumpled letter from his chest plate.
The boy hurried to the gates which creaked open slightly at Ironwood's signal before closing again when he hurried inside. Ironwood made his way back to the front lines before stepping forward and pacing in front of his men.
"We need to give the city time to evacuate civilians from the Lower City into the Middle City." He bellowed, the drummers stopping their beat and his men listening quietly. "I'm asking a lot of you, but I need you to come with me and fight long enough to give Emerald Vale the time it needs to defend itself. Are you with me?"
"We're with you sir!" His old hands shouted back, the cry picked up by the men who days earlier had been craftsmen and artisans and back alley thieves and blacksmiths. Ironwood was surprised by the determination in their voices, expecting at least the greenhorns would be less sure about the plan.
"Then what are you waiting for!" Ironwood bellowed, unable to contain the pride in his voice any longer. He truly couldn't have asked for a finer fighting force. "With me!"
The army jingled and jangled as it hurried a mile or so away from the gates to a small hill to the immediate south of the western forest road. The dust cloud grew closer, and the sound of foreign drums and war cries echoed through the air as the Vacuaon horde seemingly appeared out of nowhere, spilling out from behind a bend in the road and surging out into the field surrounding them.
His men formed a circular formation around the hill, his veterans forces forming the core part of the defensive formation that would face the bulk of the incoming attackers. The incoming horde was exactly that, a horde, and he needed the men he knew for certainty would not falter to face the bulk of their headlong charge.
They cried and cheered and the ground trembled as they charged towards them. The drummers at the centre of their formation struck up a face-paced, rousing tune that could barely be heard under the sound of thundering hooves. By the Brothers that was a lot of enemies.
"The hordes of hell are upon us!" Ironwood roared, knowing that if he was having doubts then his men were likely to be in a much worse position. "But you are a wall! You are steel and you are death! They bring numbers because they know they need ten times our number to drive us from this measly little hill! I am glad to stand alongside you now, because I know I stand with lions! Show them your teeth, your claws, your strength! Fight! Fight to the last!"
"To the last man!" The men around him cheered, and Ironwood felt his blood pumping as the sound of his men's defiant roars drowned out the sound of the thundering hooves. "To the death!"
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Glynda muttered a curse under her breath as Ironwood took his men out of the range of Emerald Vale's archers rather than retreating into the city. She was no tactician or strategist, but surely it was wiser to retreat behind the stone walls rather than face an enemy that outnumbered you on an open field?
"Spread the word across the city!" Glynda yelled to the group of messengers who had been trailing behind her since the battle started. "Have every woman and child evacuated to the Middle City and anyone who has not yet been mobilised and armed work on building defences."
"L-Lady Goodwitch!" Panted a young looking man with blood staining his armour. "Lord Ironwood says to prepare Emerald Vale according to the-"
"Primary battleplan, yes." Glynda interrupted. "Good job. Find a group of conscripts and start helping out setting up the barricades."
"Yes my lady!" The soldier replied, face flushing a little from exertion and embarrassment as he turned and hurried down the stairs he had just thundered up.
"Lord Arc…" Robin muttered quietly next to her, face still pale from his first time witnessing industrial murder given the name battle. He had seen death before from his years as a street rat, but never on such a scale or brutality. "Will he not fight?"
Glynda frowned and turned the bloodied but still sizable rebel host clustered at the base of the hills to the south. They had not moved since Ironwood disengaged, fortunate enough as that was. If they struck at the same time as Vacuo then Emerald Vale was well and truly lost.
But standing idly by was not helping either. She had hoped Arc would come to his senses before the battle but that did not seem to be the case. Surely they would recognise it was time to put aside political grievances so that the Kingdom that they were fighting for, the Kingdom itself could survive?
And yet the rebel army did not move, and the Vacuoan horde bore down on Ironwood's force like great wave surging towards a lone rock in the ocean.
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Blood and death. That was what he was surrounded by. Blood and death and before the barred gates of Emerald Vale.
His armour was heavy, his knees were shaking and his eyes were tired. He was confused, oh so very confused. One moment he had been home and then the next he had been here, surrounded by bloodshed and chaos incarnate.
"W-Where am I?" Nicholas muttered to himself, chanting the words like a prayer and that if he said them enough times he would receive and answer.
He had been in a tent. Somewhere. Hadn't he been at Ansel, at home? Where was his wife? His son? His daughters?
Where was he?
"Gud foightin' my King~" Purred a voice that sent shivers of fear up his spine. "Now it's time for your medicin."
"Tock." Nicholas mumbled, placing a name to the face that appeared out of seemingly out of nowhere. "Where…Did you just call me a King?"
"Why of course." The priestess replied, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Nicholas instantly felt his hackles raise. It was like he was awakening after a night of blackout heavy drinking. "You are the rightful king after all. It's why ya started your rebellion ain't it?"
"No." Nicholas shook his head, a sense of horror descending over him as he looked closer at the bloodshed around him. Dead, blatantly under-equipped men with the bloodstained sigils and banners of houses loyal to the Arcs and of houses Nicholas wouldn't touch with a ten foot spear due to the stench of their ambition.
And opposite them, with significantly fewer dead, where men with the sigils of the Schnee family and Ironwood himself.
Ironwood…
He turned to the west and stared. A small force stood before a seemingly never-ending horde, standing strong in the face of overwhelming force. Just like Ironwood had done against the Faunus so many years ago, just as he was doing now to once again save Vale.
Vacuo…another great horde. Nicholas' eyes narrowed.
"They need our help." He stated firmly, different and conflicting memories surging in his mind. "Vale needs us."
"No!" Tock hissed quietly. "Just take your-"
"Take another step towards me and you die witch." Nicholas spat, fury radiating from his being. He…What had he done? What had he been guided, advised and manipulated into doing? "Consider yourself formally dismissed from my services."
Nicholas stepped past the stunned woman and hurried towards the army waiting at the base of a large hill, the man giving him tired, mistrustful looks. If he had ordered them to fight in the bloodshed that had unfolded behind him, he didn't blame them.
"My King!" Greeted Lord Shandry, an old portly lord Nicholas had always distrusted due to the rumours of his predisposition for women to be more akin to girls. "We should strike whilst Ironwood is distracted, the city is practically ripe for the taking!"
Nicholas cocked his head, fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. The man did not notice the danger he was in, as he prattled on about the glory they would surely gain and the crown that was rightfully Nicholas' that was ready for him to seize like a man achieving his destiny.
The man's head parted from his shoulder's surprisingly easily considering the size of his neck. The stunned men closest to him stepped back with fear in their eyes as the decapitated lord fell to the ground.
"Does anyone else wish to say such blatant treason?" Arc bellowed, pacing back and forth in front of his men to to expend some of the raging fury he felt burning inside him. All this death, all this waste, all because of him and the fact he had blood relations to long-dead Kings. "Vale is threatened by a horde of barbarians and you would want me to aid in its destruction? To ally with rapists and murderers over our own people for the sake of pride and glory?"
His words carried through the rage with which he spoke and how he raised his voice. His throat would be scratchy and broken later, but that would be well worth the price if he could convince the men who had followed him into madness back into the land of sanity.
"Vale now stands on the precipice of utter destruction. Never before have Vacuo's hordes gotten so close to our capital. We will not shed anymore blood of our brothers and cousins just so our enemies can strike us at our weakest and finally destroy us!" He roared. "Today we have fought against our own, and the blood shed will taint us for all eternity. But now we have a chance at redemption, we have a chance to fight with our brothers once more and show them Vale is not lost. If we stay divided we will fall, but if we unite we will destroy our enemies once and for all. Any who wish to fight for Vale then follow me. I will not judge any for leaving, not after the blood we have seen spilt today. But remember this-if we lose then it will be Emerald Vale today but your homes tomorrow."
Nicholas took off into a steady jog westwards, not caring if anyone followed him to more death and more loss. He would fight alone if he needed to, if only to seek the death he so desperately wished for after all he had done to destroy the Kingdom he had spent his life in service to and the family he had sworn to love and protect.
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Goodwitch hurried to the gates, where a force of some few thousand men had been assembled. They were poorly equipped but the reinforcements were necessary if Ironwood was to survive the coming battle, especially with Arc doing nothing to aid them in spite of the fact Vacuo had come to destroy them.
She felt sickened at the fact she was the one ordering men to go die in a battle they had no right in fighting, but she had to do something to help Ironwood. She hadn't gone through the effort of healing him just for him to go die in a battle.
"Is that smoke milady?" Robin mumbled quietly, and Glynda followed his gaze northwards, frowning when she noticed dark plumes of smoke floating lazily into the air from the northernmost districts.
"That is." Glynda muttered, turning to a man next to her. "Send some men north to find out what is going on. If there a riots going on, put them down as quickly as possible. We don't have the time to be fighting amongst ourselves when-"
"Vacuoans!" Someone yelled. "They've breached the city to the north!"
Pandemonium rang out as horns blew and the force she had gathered to help Ironwood dissipated into the streets as their captains ordered them north. Sheer panic erupted and she turned back and felt her heart sink on the realisation Ironwood could not help them as the Vaucoan horde struck.
They had been outplayed. And now Emerald Vale was going to pay the price.
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The horde inched closer, a tide of man and horse. There was no discipline. No orderly lines or bellowing sergeants keeping the men in formation. There was only chaos and primitive rage, primal violence yearning to be unleashed on their weak foe. An old tale sprang to his mind suddenly, of men of great strength and violence who sailed from distant lands to settle the lands that now bore the names of Atlas and brought their tales and legends, which had been forgotten with time, but they also brought their songs, which flowed through the blood of the men of Vale and Atlas as strongly as it did hundreds of years ago.
"Up, from the overturned keel!" Ironwood bellowed, the words coming to him like a forgotten memory. He felt the eyes of the men around him turn to him, a strange sense of remembrance settling over them, as if they could see through the eyes of their distant forefathers as they took their first steps on the shores of Vale. "Clamber, with a heart of steel!"
A low murmur rose from the ranks around him, echoing the call. The word spread louder into the next line.
"Cold is the ocean spray!"
Shields interlocked with shields, broad-shouldered man stood straighter next broad-shouldered man, men who would be remembered by one another as brothers should they survive the coming storm. They met the primal fury of the Vacuoans with their own, chanting the song of their ancestors as they stood in the face of certain death.
"Your death is on its way!"
The sky flickered darkly and Ironwood stared up with fear, worrying they had accidentally summoned some ancient evil. Instead he was greeted with the sight of arrows gliding through the air with murderous ease as they soared down and into the Vacuoans, who screamed and died due to their lack of armour and tightly spaced charge, allowing the arrows to work to a devastating degree. The dead knocked over the riders behind them, causing chaos and pandemonium.
Confusion overtook him as he stared at the writhing horses and dead bodies. They were out of the range of the archers on the walls surely, so where…the volley had come from the east.
Ironwood turned, heart ascending to heights higher than anything the sun itself could reach. Arrayed on the hills to their east, Arc's host stood, ranks of archers at the crest of them behind a layered shield wall of tired, bloodied but determined men willing to die to protect their Kingdom.
"Arc stands with us!" Ironwood roared happily. "For Vale!"
"For Vale!"
The chant carried over to the formerly rebel host, who cried the words back to them. Even if Ironwood wasn't a natural born Valean, he had spent so many years governing it that it felt like a second home to him, and he was unable to suppress the dizzying surge of pride and patriotism he felt in that moment.
A quick assessment of Arc's flanks showed that his right, directly at spurs where it lowered into even field. The forest protected his left flank, as no united group of Vacuoan riders could march through the thickness and judging from the lack of admittedly decimated cavalry, Arc had already sent them to screen the forest.
Ironwood's current position was strong but significantly more exposed than Arc's. The archers bought them an even longer respite as they launched their second volley, causing the cries of even more riders to fill the air.
He made a decision.
"Hurry, to Arc." Ironwood ordered, hurrying alongside his men eastward. "Shield wall on the spurs of the hills, move!"
The orders carried quickly as it was shouted down the line and the mass of armoured men once again moved. Small groups of riders that survived or broke through the carnage harassed them as they did so, but small groups of his men would move at the last second to trap and bring down the lone riders, who gradually peeled away to await reinforcement.
His men spread themselves out along the spurs of the hill, stretching themselves thinly until they reached a gap in the long row of hills that could easily be defended by a small group of men and could not be easily flanked. Their position was bolstered by archers and a small contingent of men sent by Arc who Ironwood sent to defend the gap to their right, plugging the last hole in their impromptu defence.
Not only would they be hard pressed to be defeated with such a strong defensive position, but they could divide the Vacuoan force if they held out long enough. After enough bloodshed, the some riders would peel off for the city, where his archers could deal with them. Hopefully by then the inner defences would be prepared, and the street-to-street fighting that may happen in the event of a Vacuoan breakthrough of Emerald Vale's defences would be brutal enough to ultimately defeat the speed and manoeuvre focused Vacuoan horde.
The Vacuaons spread out in the field below them, showing the true, immense size of their host. Still, Ironwood felt no feat, not even when they started cheering.
"Is that smoke?"
Ironwood's eyes instantly pinpointed to the north, narrowing at the sight of small, distant trials of dark smoke that curled up in the air from…inside the city.
He had a sudden feeling of dread as the bulk of the Vacuoan horde charged towards them, but a significant force peeled off, staying away from the walls and gates and instead thundering north, towards the smoke, towards the weaker defences on the north side of the city.
"What have I done?" Ironwood wondered, before the Vacuoan horde smashed against his army and repeated the same song of death that had unfolded countless times over the centuries.
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Glynda panted as she led Robin into the Governor's Palace, which was frantic with activity. Ironwood's well-oiled machine of government apparatus was quick to work, packing away papers and storing away goods and taking them to barges that had been placed on the Emerald River and taken out of the city via the opened river gates that flooded the fields for miles around to the north-east, creating a swamp that would protect the valuable treasures leaving the city from Vacuoan outriders for quite some time.
Speaking of valuable treasures…
"You there!" Glynda called out, pointing at and gesturing over a sweaty looking guard that she recognised as the young messenger she had dismissed earlier. She grabbed Robin's shoulders and pushed the confused boy forwards. "You are to escort this boy out of the city using the next evacuation barge and take him north to the ruins of Beacon. He has a message to bring to someone known as the Old Man. This news is of critical importance and could change the fate of this Kingdom for the better."
"What?!" Robin squawked angrily, turning around in her arms to glare at her. "I'm not leaving you! You agreed I could stay!"
"That was before Vacuo was inside the city somehow and our army outside it." Glynda retorted harshly, looking up at the young, out-of-his-depth looking soldier. "Do you understand your orders?"
"My pa used to tell me about Beacon." The soldier replied carefully. "I know the way there. I think."
"Ask for guidance from the men on the barge with you if need be." Glynda said, ignoring Robin's harsh pokes to her arm. "The letter must reach Beacon. I cannot stress this enough."
"And it will." The man promised. "I swear on my honour as a Black. Not like that means much these days. Come on little man, we have a secret mission to complete."
"No!" Robin yelled, shoving the man away from him as he reached for his shoulder. "I told you I'm not leaving you milady!"
"I will find you again Robin." Glynda swore softly, crouching down she was face to face with the boy before booping his nose. "I swear it."
"I'm not-"
"Defessus oculos." Glynda whispered, pointing the Disciplinarian at Robin's face. Sparkly magic emitted from the riding crop and settled on Robin's wide eyes, which quickly shut. He fell forward, already snoring, and Glynda caught him before gently handing him over to the young man apparently named Black. "If he is harmed in any way there will be stories told to terrify people of magic and witches due to the things I do to you. Understood?"
"C-Crystal my lady." The man swallowed, turning around and bustling away nervously. Glynda watched him until she could not see him anymore, before she closed her eyes and exhaled a shuddering breath.
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"Chief." Sun bowed, falling to his hands and knees before his father as custom demanded. They stood on the walls of Vale, overlooking Sun's greatest achievement that was somehow also the worst thing he had ever done, and hopefully ever would do, in his life.
"Stand boy." His father grunted, a look on his face Sun had honestly never seen before, something unfamiliar to see yet familiar from his dreams where he dreamt of a better life and a better world. "You've brought honour to the tribe. Songs will be sung for centuries of what we have accomplished today. Vale falls. For the first time in our history our greatest enemy has finally been cowed. Walk with me."
Sun blinked as a thick, heavy arm wrapped around his shoulder and tugged him closer to his father, who's face was contorted in an elated smile that was so out of place for a moment he was tempted to pinch himself to see if he was awake and not dreaming. Hailan trailed after them, not saying a word. In the silence of their sudden stroll, the sounds of the city being sacked filled the void. Screams of woman, of children and of the fathers, brothers and husbands who died defending them. Screams of the elderly and helpless, of the ill and the homeless, of the crippled and the maimed. They all joined together in a haunting, terrible chorus.
"Chief?" Sun asked quietly, stiffening as his father turned to him, blue eyes glimmering.
"You can call me father if you wish. You have more than earned it." His Chief, his father, replied warmly. "What's wrong son?"
Sun swallowed nervously. Was this a test? A trap? Or was it all his dreams coming true?
"What are we doing Chi-father?" Sun asked, waiting for a punishing blow that never came. This...That...He had actually been able to call his father father.
"Apart from making history?" His father replied, a hint of teasing in his tone. Sun didn't know how to respond. "Tradition. You have proven yourself a far capable leader than I ever was. It is time your supplanted me."
"The only way I could become Chief is if you die." Sun frowned, and his father came to a stop, arm still wrapped around him in a half embrace.
"Exactly." His father replied, the words little more than a whisper. "You not what you need to do."
"No!" Sun hissed, swatting away the offered blade his father drew from out of seemingly nowhere. "I'm not going to kill you!"
"I did the same to my father." His father shrugged. "He did the same to his. It's time for you to do the same. You have more than outshined me, and the tribe will flourish under your guidance."
"I am not shedding your blood!" Sun protested, pushing out of his father's now forceful embrace. "There's more I can learn, more you can do as leader!"
"No." His father replied bluntly, shaking his head. "The laws of the tribe are clear. You will do what you must, or I will be forced to kill you and sire another heir. Do not make me kill you Sun."
"Neither one of us has to kill the other-woah!" Sun gasped, leaping back as his father lunged forward and slashed at his chest with his knife.
"Kill me!" His father hissed. "Kill me! Kill me! Kill me!"
Every time the words were repeated they became more incessant, demanding, authoritative. Sun refused though, dodging and ducking and avoiding. Then his back brushed against cold stone and his hands moved on instinct, blocking the half-hearted blow with one hand whilst the other drew his own blade and stabbed into the soft, exposed neck of his assailant.
His father gurgled and swayed heavily, clutching onto his shoulders and nearly dragging him down. Eyes wide with horror and shock, Sun lowered his father slowly onto the ground as gently as he could, his old man looking at him with wide, shining eyes.
"P-Proud..." His father managed to grit out, blood staining his teeth and bubbling at the corners of his lips. "So...proud..."
"Are you going to let your father bleed out like a stuck pig?" Hailan demanded. "Put him out of his misery if you truly have any love for him."
Sun closed his eyes, feeling hot tears roll down his cheeks. His hand was still gripped tight around the hilt of the blade stuck in his father's throat, and he took it out as gently as he could before lowering it to his father's chest, right above where his heart was.
It took another few moments for him to gather his strength and will. With a final, jerky nod from his father, Sun lowered the blade into the aging man's chest, letting go immediately after. After a few more twitches and soft gurgles, the body fell still.
Someone said something. Something foreign. Sun turned to see a wounded Valean, hand clutched against his neck and staring at him with wide eyes. What had he thought he had just witnessed? Did he understand?
Sun wouldn't blame him if he didn't.
"Chief." Hailan bowed respectfully. It took Sun a moment to realise he was speaking to him. "I'll deal with the pig."
"He's dying anyway Hailan." Sun retorted, noticing the malicious look on the older man's face even through eyes stinging with salty tears. "Let him go out with some dignity at least."
"Where's the fun in that?" Hailan chuckled, continuing his slow advance forward. The fear in the Valean's eyes were clear, and as the continuous, never-ending screams rang in his ears, something inside Sun finally snapped.
"I said, leave it." He snapped, standing up suddenly and grabbing Hailan's wrist. The older man snarled and pushed him away, sending him stumbling precariously close to the edge of the stone wall.
"I knew you were as soft as the pink skin pigs." Hailan snarled, pacing back and forth. "You aren't fit to be Chief. You aren't fit to be remembered as your father's son!"
"I am Chief now. Do you challenge me already?" Sun snarled back, tail flickering with agitation behind him.
"I do." Hailan replied, and that was all the warning Sun had before he lunged.
He managed to dive to the side, but he had moved on instinct and accidentally boxed himself in by moving to his right. The stone tower blocked any further manoeuvres, and the wounded Valean was sprawled against the doorway leading inside it.
Hailan suddenly grabbed Sun's tail and yanked viscously, making him howl as savage spikes of burning pain soared up his spine. Hailan wrapped his tail around his fist for a better grip and used it to swing Sun around before suddenly letting ago, sending him smashing against the grey wall. His head flared with pain and his vison became blurry as a ringing sound droned in his eyes. Hailain's shadow stepped over him, and Sun raised his head in time to see the sun glinting off of his blade.
Hailan lurched suddenly and careened backwards. Sun blinked as the Valean stepped into view, driving Hailan back with a spear to the man's chest. Hailan howled before he was sent tumbling off of the top of the grey wall and he disappeared from view as he crashed towards the ground. A moment passed before the Valean turned, face pale and eyes fluttering. He said something in his strange language, before he fell onto the floor, chest still and eyes closed, blood pooling around him from his wound and mixing with that belonging to Sun's father.
Minutes passed until Sun finally forced himself to sit up against the wall, head spinning. His eyes never left the Valean's body, unsure of what to make of what had happened. The man had died saving the man who had doomed his city, his home. Was his family adding to the chorus of echoing screams Sun could hear ringing through his mind? Had the man's kindness been repaid in loss?
Sun didn't know. Sun didn't want to know.
Minutes passed. Sun pushed himself to his feet and he pushed himself along the wall and down the tower he had triumphantly ascended hours ago. Then he walked through the open, empty gates, out and away from the city engulfed in madness he had unleashed, only one thought ringing clearly through his mind.
'Fuck the tribe.'
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Day turned to dusk. Distant trails of smoke turned into rolling clouds of black smoke that hovered over Emerald Vale like a dark fog and drifted towards them. Again and again the Vacuoan horde charged against them, gradually whittling down their number and driving them further and further up the slopes of the blood-stained hills.
The archer's joined the fray when their quivers ran dry, but by then it was clear they could not make much of a difference. They were spread out too thinly, too exhausted from nearly an entire day of battle.
"Fall back!" Ironwood ordered, voice hoarse and tired. "Up the hill, quickly!"
His overextended forces contracted into a small shield wall at the top of the hill, curving around to protect the flanks of Arc's much diminished army, which joined them at the top of the slopes to form a crescent shaped shield wall at the very top of the hill.
The Vacuoans let them withdraw, taking the opportunity to reorganise themselves, or at least the closest approximation to organisation they could have. They jeered and taunted, calling out foreign insults and praying to foreign gods as if they were little more than a large sacrifice ready to be delivered to their gods on a silver platter.
The screams reached a crescendo and the army charged forwards. What remained of Vale's strength stood strong and silent, determined to bring low at least one more enemy before they perished.
A dark shadow crossed over them, and Ironwood looked up as the clouds burst open and a dragon emerged with a fierce roar. Panicked cries erupted from the men of Vale and Vacuo alike, and the enemy charge was stopped dead in its tracks and his men finally broke, turning and fleeing towards the woods.
Ironwood stood shocked and still. Teeth gleamed and fire sparked in its open maw, before rushing out in a wave of rolling, suffocating heat. A trail of orange flame struck the cramped, lined up Vacuoan horsemen, and Ironwood watched in horror as the once mighty, devastating horde was turned into ash and dust in mere moments, the only survivors being scattered stragglers at the rear whose horses had bolted at the first sign of trouble.
A flash of white on the dragon's back drew his attention it's spined back, and his eyes widened at the sight of a human form flying on its back, a tattered flag of Atlas-Vale held in its hand.
"Dragonrider…" He gasped. "That's a fucking dragonrider! We're saved!"
Those of his men who had been in mid-flight or frozen with him stopped everything, even breathing, eyes wide and keen as they stared at the monstrous beast that had just decimated their enemies and roared as it swooped into the air, the flag of their Kingdom small but clear.
A ragged cheer rose up into the air as the dragonrider soared towards the city, and Ironwood waved his sword into the air.
"To the city!" Ironwood roared, feeling rejuvenated at the sudden turning of the tide. "We have to secure the city!"
The ragged army followed him, trampling over the ash of their enemies as they hurried after their mysterious saviour to save the burning city and prevent utter ruin.
A/N: Next update 15/02/23