26 years ago

"Tell me, James, are you fond of these battles."

The 12th royal legion. One of the twelve main forces captained by some of the best generals and captains the Liontari clan had to offer. They are a vast array of men. five hundred archers, each with long-range war bows powerful enough to puncture steel plate, and each man capable of shooting an apple from its branch. The most excellently trained cavalry, horses as fast as the winds and more fearless than the most veteran of man. Swordsmen, pikemen, rows upon rows on infantry 2 thousand strong, bearing the golden crest of a lion's head upon their shields and stamped into their armor. And not only, but a hundred of the finest knights can be found in these ranks. Each alone worth twenty of their own, possibly double that, even. Captains as brave as the most celebrated of heroes, generals more cunning than the craftiest trickster. All under the care and attention of one of the princes, Prince James Colton.

It wasn't his first run with his troop, and it most certainly will not be his last. It was almost mandatory that a prince may lead his own army into battle, bring glory to their name and their kingdom. This time, it would be his fifth victory. To whom, he didn't really care. They were a small kingdom just over the mountains that separated the clans from the outlands. They were similar in structure to the clans, mimicking their government style and even warrior class. They also utilize the power of Zoi to enhance their warriors. This connection came from the ancestral history that they shared once before. But they were a far cry from anything the Clans have developed, and this battle shall prove why. They have gotten word that a force will be pushing into the Pathulian valley to secure it. The force was about half that of their own, but several of these zoi users, Campione, they called them, would be among them. It will be interesting to see how their army shall fair paired up to one another.

That was the majority of the conversation, it seemed, amongst the captains and generals. Even his friend, Lupurious, was highly interested in what James thought of the situation. But he could not find himself getting excited. He rarely ever joins the skirmishes. There was only one occasion that this had occurred when he was accompanying his sister to a meeting with their ambassador's just a year ago, and their troop was suddenly attacked at the mouth of this very valley. That had also been the incident that started this small conflict. And his sister did not take a liking to him taking up his sword and putting himself in danger. He can never help himself. It was such a rush to hold that blade, to charge into battle. It was a power uncontested to him and something few of his closest associates can really relate to. It was taught that enjoyment in the suffering of your enemy was ennobled. Yet, he found comfort, something cathartic sending a man on his back. A thrill, even when he had to kill someone he barely knows. And so far in his journey as the prince, he has found very few others who shared that enjoyment with him, and he silently searched the line of captains and men for such a person. At the very back of this caravan were scribes and artists, men and women who will pen his adventures. He looked there for him, but he was also absent from their company.

"Are you even listening to me, or am I better off talking to walls, my lord?" Lupurious mockingly pouted.

"Forgive me, just trying to get a lay of the land."

"A lay of the land, eh?" he raised a confronting eyebrow. "We have already sent scouts to secure the location. Their army will be completely crushed under us. And whatever Campions they may summon."

"It takes a fool not to be careful," James warned him. "And I rather we have our chances sorely in our favor, not slightly. Not even a decent majority."

"Such carefulness will be the death of you," Lupurious sighed. "For someone who wishes to rush into battle, you spend a lot of time thinking about things that may never happen."

"You mistake my eagerness for impatience," James told him. "Besides, are you at all excited to be sitting on your horse and watch the battle unfold, completely uninvolved?"

They were quickly coming up on a field a bit more open to the valleys, the hills not very high, but muddy slopes can make it a bit difficult to climb them. One of the generals began to bark for the others to organize their men. There were six main sections, standing in a long line and organized by their troop's Archers stood near the very front, arrows tucked in their belts or stuck in the ground beside them for quick access. Each of the generals and captain stood at the very back of these arrangements, tucked near the Sentinels that also guarded the prince. Now that they were all grouped together, James could see him, that one man who shared his passions so closely. He was a bit younger than he was, the stubble on his face enough to prove this. Instead of wearing his helmet, he had it tucked beneath his arms, like a grand statue posing triumphantly already. The woman remarked him as having the most handsome of faces, besides his, of course. His dark honey-colored hair swayed in the slight breeze, away from cool grey eyes that surveyed the lands in a painstaking manner. His name was Wilbur Opal. Just a few years ago, he had accompanied James in the journey of becoming a knight. Not only that, shattering the previous record by nearly an entire day. He was somewhat of a friend, someone who James admired for some odd reason. Lupurious tracked his brief gaze to him and wrinkled his nose in slight distaste.

"General Opal is that him," he asked in a charade. "Why do you give him any minute of the day, your highness. Knights of his kind are always so unrefined. He never even dawns his helmet before the battle."

"I like him," James said. "He is strange, but what must you expect of someone who grew up in the plains, surrounded by beasts and the such."

"And look at his men," Lupurious seem to comprehend James's note barely. "All of his men are carrying tower shields. no spear or polearm or pike. What is he thinking?"

"That is his concern," James looked back out to the stretch of land before them. "Prepare Lupurious. you're leading the charge this time."

Lupurious held a large grin, and rode out to address everyone eagerly. Far off, hugging the furthest hill's crest, he could see a crest of men in tight formation, horns sounding in their wake begin to fall in line. Their silver and grey armor making it seem as a tide of twilight was coveting the ground. The scribes and artisans took a much safer position hugging closer to the mountain and giving them a clear vantage point of the entire battle. The winter air was thin, but he could feel his heartbeat a bit faster as the enemy numbers grew and grew. It was true; they only had just over half the men that James's legion had brought. But all can change in the midst of a battle. Lupurious rode out ahead of everyone. As the leading general for this run, he was tasked with presenting the strategy to all the captains and generals.

"Mark my words. Hear and breath them. Archers shall take up only two volleys. Laslo and Glauby's squad shall take a left and right largest hills. Ellus and Toma's men shall support them. with Calvary, attacking the enemy from their flanks once they enter the bowl. And in the bowl, Wilbur's men shall provide a point."

That was curious, and James felt the slight unease coming from Wilbur's men. Wilbur had seen the battlefield and knew how dangerous a position like that would be. Besides that, he had the smallest troop of them all, some of his men still fresh off the wagon. He knew that Lupurious would try and pull such a thing. If he really needed bate, any of the other squads will be much better equipped for it. He couldn't help but notice the small smile he pointed towards him when he said those words. He is going to have to be careful going in.

James watched as each of the companies moved to each of their position. The enemy, noticing this movement, took the opportunity to charge, a very standard spear formation to smash at the middle. Just as commanded, archers let loose a volley of arrows that splattered their front lines thickly. All those who hadn't raised their shields in time found a thick shaft ram into their necks and exposed chests, ripping through any thin armor. The losses were minimal, but at the very least, it weakened the impact they will have when they encountered Laslo, Glauby's, and Wilbur's men. On horseback, Wilbur's chased his men all the way to their position, tower shields as tall as they were raised to deflect any projectile aimed for them. The end of the spear crashed into A Wilbur's men. He ordered them not to attack but to keep them at bay. The air was racked with raucous screaming and flashing, men throwing themselves against the wall of Liontari soldiers. Spears and swords waved overhead to chop down all that stood in their path. While some men fell, the tower shield formed a wall unmoving backed with so many men.

James's eyes drifted away from the spear and instead to its blades to either side. Laslo's men and Glauby's were hit somehow harder than Wilbur's. Looking at how the initial assault occurred on Wilbur's line, one would surmise the minute strength the enemy-held. But then he saw one of the men, towering over others, leading the charge on either side. They were obvious and stood over a man and a half tall. Arms as thick as rails plowed into men. The kite shields did not fare as well as the spear followed the rampaging giant that brushed men off like leaves on the wind. The left flank was tossed into disorder. This man clearly used zoi, one of these so-called Campione that champion the enemy's forces. James couldn't help himself, using aura to see and measure the aura of all those on the battlefield. Few caught his attention, and he cared little of anyone else. The only person he cared about was this Campione that fascinated him. Its aura was most certainly comparable to any knight's, maybe even the most powerful among them. It was comparing a campfire to a candle when looking at his own men who backed away from massive swings of a Warhammer that would be unwieldy in someone else's hands. but then, he noticed someone else with a matching, fiery aura about them. It was Lupurious. The sight jarred him a bit. He didn't see him run down there; he must have slipped off with one of the garrisons while he was looking after Wilbur.

Whatever the case, Lupurious was intent on fighting this Campione himself. As he approached, soldiers parted to let him pass. Around them, fighting broke out in a chaotic mess of a battlefield. But immediately of the Campione and Lupurious, all men backed off and stayed on guard. They felt that this was no ordinary brawl; this was simply a way of determining superiority. That was what this battle was about, anyway. The more one side proves their superiority, the more likely the other would abandon the field. Lupurious knew this, as much as the Campione. But the confident smirk that Lupurious held was a hint that the battle, in his eyes, was already won. The Campione took the first strike. He was a good five paces away from Lupurious, but his reach and speed made him cross this distance in no time at all. His Warhammer, an abomination made from a stone fixed to a metal rod, came down at Lupurious's head. There was a large crash as the ground upheaved from the force that passed through Lupurious's body. But he did not surrender a single step, nor buckle. Everyone looked in amazement; Lupurious was holding back the assault with only his forearm. Struggling just a little, but in no way surrendering. The Campione tried to force him to his knees, but Lupurious made it clear that was not going to happen.

"Such an unrefined man you are," he spoke. "So much power, so much strength wasted on such a dull man."

The Campione pulled back and swung again, this time to Lupurious's side. Lupurious had a point. It was clear that they spent all of their time crafting the best zoi users, clear monsters in their actions. But monsters are exactly what knights of the empire are best at destroying. The swing was a bit too high, and Lupurious managed to duck beneath it and get into the poor man's guard. The Campione only had a moment of regret as a blade slipped underneath his plate armor, under his arm, and cleanly sliced off a limb at the joint. He howled in pain, the hammer and a following to the grown in spouts of blood. If fell to one knee, trying to cup the blood gushing out of him. But then Lupurious grabbed him by his head, pulling him further down to his level. A sword aimed right for one of the eyes if ignored in a fiery white knight.

"Perish with the light," he spoke and drove the blade into his skull. It exploded amongst a ray of light mimicking the sun. Indeed it was Lupurious, after all. The knight of the morning sun. His power could never be underestimated. The Campione head and most of its upper torso were simply gone. The lifeless charred stump left by his attack slacked past him as he cleaned his blade with his cape, shooting a satisfying look back at James uphill. Cheers erupting around him as the enemy's right flank began to dismantle itself under the chaos.

But James had lost interest in Lupurious's contest. It was clear from the first swing that he had a monstrous advantage over the Campione. The fight he was interested in was still in the center, where the line still held firm and was, in fact, pushing them back. Tower shields were trouble to deal with. Given the hilly terrain of this field, it's hard to hit from the sides effectively. But not impossible. In fact, it appeared that one of those other Campione took aim, not at the men, but the one commanding them. Like a raging bull, the Campione came barreling down the left hill directly at the rear of Wilbur's formation. Wilbur was too slow to turn his horse and found him and his beast flung with ease. He managed to right himself before hitting the ground, using aura for cushioning just some of the fall. Already he had a sword in hand and stared down the huge man. Some of his ranks turned back, noticing the assault, and seemed ready to intervene. But a quick dismissive hand ordered him otherwise. James felt a twinge of excitement, like a child watching a puppet show unfold before him. Wilbur backed away as the Campione came with a blade a man's length across in quick successions. It was certainly a bit more skilled than the previous, but not even close to touching Wilbur. He didn't even need to raise his shield. Only once, he deflected a hit and threw the Campione off balance. He made him look much like a fool wildly swinging a long stick. Anger boiled in the sunken eyes of the Campione. And with it, so did his blade with scarlet flames. This caught Wilbur a bit off guard. The process of enchanted blades is a rare thing to see, even for many knights. Not only, but the stance the Campione took was also different from the previous, much more kin on some form of fencing technique, despite the single-edge blade he held. He then thrust directly at Wilbur, and the flames reacted in tandem to unleash a turret of flame upon him. He had to react fast, stepping forward just to barely redirect the blade and the flame upward.

The flames somehow grew even stronger, blanketing almost the entire battlefield in a rolling sky. He slashed at the Campione's chest, digging deep and through the armor he wore. But the Campione managed to avoid it just enough so that nothing vital was hit. But already, he looked haggard and desperate. He again took the same stance as before, and thus the flames ignited once more. If James attempted to dodge, a lot of damage might be done to either other regimes. His men, behind the Campione, held tower shields to keep him from escaping on a whim. But Wilbur knew this was not going to be an issue. This Campione is going to die here and try to bring Wilbur with him. Wilbur sheathed his blade as the Campione readied himself, a curious thing to do. Then, he threw back his cloak to reveal another blade tucked away, a little longer and double-handed. That meant he also had to abandon his shield, tossing it to the ground as a greatsword was pulled forth and raised towards the Campione in a challenge. Just as the flames were let forth once more, directly at Wilbur, he responded with an attack of his own. James felt the winds stir in excitement, all of it rushing directly at Wilbur. Everyone watched as a sudden light erupted from his blade just moments before the flames would engulf him. And then, he slashed back at the Campione. The winds dragged the flames away from their destination and found a new torment. They wrapped and twirled all around the Campione, trapping him in a tornado of scarlet flames that contained him, burned him, and scattered him. Every person on the field looked at a display far outside what they expected from a simple skirmish. James couldn't help but have a giant smile on his face at Wilbur, the man who loved the art of war more than he could ever as calm and collected as he was, how methodical his movements were. He could watch this man battle a thousand battles without a plague of boredom.

The flames finally dull, a crater two men across had been formed where the Campione stood, only molten chunks of the metal not yet melted away left. Wilbur sheathed the blade back at this side, sighing. He looked back up to James, who still smiled at him. He returned half of it, reserving the other for Lupurious, who ascended back to his prince's side with a modicum of distaste from the attention Wilbur garnered. A cheer ranged as the enemy's men turned and ran, thoroughly convinced of the might of this legion. This is not the first time Wilbur has had a showing such as this. That blade at his side, its mysterious origin, and massive power marked him as the Knight of the Elements. Although, that was only a rumor. He only used winds and fire in his fights, rarely, if at all, the others. But that still did not detract from the status he has earned as one of the most skilled knights of his generation, possibly even above Lupurious. Maybe, even above James himself. The very thought of such a thing was never spoken. There was no way that a knight born from a lower rank could possibly compare to the prestigious teachings that James had received since his youth. And yet, James felt anxious. He wanted to compare himself to this man.