The plain was littered with bodies, the once stark-white snow now stained with the red, brown, and yellow colors of blood, shit, and piss respectively, not to mention the various other internal fluids that found themselves becoming external quite quickly.

The air was filled with the smoke of muskets and artillery as well as the haze of blood that would fly up with each stab, each slash, each wave of gunfire.

Historians would mark this battle as a beautiful atrocity. It was in this mess of humans that one could see the atrocious part of it, at least.

Between waves of gunfire and men, a young boy rode a horse, trying to go as fast as he could, without some unfortunate accident. He could feel the fatigue in his horse as it gasped and he made it a personal mission in his mind to treat it right if he survived this battle. For now though, he simply stroked its mane, shouting encouraging words.

He rode his horse into a town, trying to make it behind the frontlines. Soon enough, he reached his destination, a church tower near the rear of the large formation. Hopping off his horse, he ran into the tower, greeted by the sight of a group of men in royal blue coats covered with various medallions and ribbons, surrounding a board with various pieces on it. He didn't pay much attention to it, and instead, made his presence known. "Reporting to Grand Commander Gaize, sir", he said, slightly cracking. He hadn't fully gone through puberty, at the age of 15.

The men turned to him, nearly all of them with varying expressions of hope on their face. However, those expressions either vanished or quickly turned into anger, once they heard the news.

"Major General Auger reports heavy resistance. 'Heavy snow has hindered visibility, causing my army to lose track of the enemy. However, we currently face fire from all directions. We will attempt to pull back in order to regroup. Too many men have fallen and no objective is in sight.'"

All of the men turned to look at one man in particular. He wasn't too tall with average features. What really stood out was his bushy unibrow and mustache as well as the fact that his face was perfectly controlled. When listening to the news, it was as if everything was expected and as if he had it all under control.

"Major General Fainth should fall back to reform the center of our lines-" The man was cut off by the sound of shouting. Of course, that sound was omnipresent throughout the battlefield but given that they were in the rear, it shouldn't have been so loud.

Another man ran into the tower. "Reporting to Grand Commander Gaize, we are currently engaging with an Uspkin force. They've started to push deep into the town and may surround this area at any minute."

Again, nearly everyone's expressions fell, except for that of the man with the unibrow. He retained the expression of calmness that made it seem as if this was all to be expected. While it wouldn't be as flashy as some of the other nicknames he got, 'Stone Face' would surely be one of the most popular nicknames that Thibaud Gaize would take on.

The other men unconsciously looked to him for a strategy or at least some reassurance. Their central plan had just failed miserably. A huge chunk of their army was confused while another huge chunk was now without support. Now it was even worse. Their center was so disorganized and weak that the enemy had managed to reach their command post. If Gaize was captured, this war was over.

"Ok" was all the man said as a response to the disastrous news. "Now go tell Major General Fainth to pull back, or at least get someone to tell him", Gaize said to the boy.

Turning back to the man, he smiled a little, white teeth showing under his mutton chops. "Marshal Darom should get ready to charge. In less than 10 minutes, I want to see his cavalry running these shitstains down."

Both messengers looked shocked but were well enough trained to immediately leave upon hearing their orders.

The remaining men in the room looked around at each other, some of them viewing this as their great leader's last dying breath while others viewed this as a preface to brilliance. However, none said anything, watching as the man walked over to the side of the room, grabbing a saber.

It was a fairly long, narrow, slightly curved blade made of folded steel held by a grip wrapped in elegant leather. It had a spiked, curved cross-guard, adding just enough weight to make sure the blade sits firmly in the owner's hand and protecting those same hands as well. The cross-guard had an intricate twist on each side while the wide pommel was marked with a black, red, and blue, striped eagle.

The mustached commander pulled the blade out of its sheath, admiring it. It was bare with no decorations or engraved patterns, as simple as it should be.

"Marshal Donrey, I remember you saying that you would trust me with your life. That if I asked you to do something, you would execute it for me, to the best of your ability with no complaints and no mistakes. I would like to ask if that statement remains true even now."

One man with long whitish hair and naturally protruding eyes immediately responded. "Of course, Grand Commander."

Gaize nodded gravely before continuing. "Then I will have to ask you to do so here."

Mich Darom stood up, shocked by the sudden news. However, he quickly regained his composure. 'This is a matter of desperation no matter which way you put it. How will we even regroup with Fainth or even that old shit Auger if I simply charge in there?'

Still, he'd follow the orders Gaize wanted him to follow. He didn't see what Gaize saw and even if he did, conflicting orders only led to defeat.

Readying his men, he prepared to charge into the town of Grativos when the man himself, the Grand Commander of the Republic of Occia, Thibaud Gaize rode into the camp. Noticing him, Darom immediately stopped preparing, walking over to the stone faced man. He would've spoken but he was immediately cut off by a raised hand.

"Organize the men. I don't care how you feel about this operation or this war as a whole but for this to succeed, morale is essential." Gaize said.

Darom simply nodded and organized the roughly ten thousand men that would be partaking in the cavalry charge. Gaize stood at the front, projecting his voice as much as he could without strain. Of course, he couldn't make every single man hear him so officers would also shout the words as they were being said.

This speech would be lost to time with only a single vague excerpt remaining centuries into the future.

"I want each man to look at his blade, to look at his horse, to look at his neighbor, to look at himself, and finally to look at me. That is the blade which destroyed the attempts made at Occian freedom. That is the horse that carried you to your victories in Coscary, Estyeland, and Acre. That is the neighbor that ruined those who dare stab at your back. You are the man who will march down into our enemies and tear from his brows the laurels which he believes he has won. You are the man who will teach the world that only damnation awaits for those who dare violate the territory of our great people. You are the man who will destroy the army that dare inflict terror upon your families, and I am the man who will lead you there. To glory, we shall ride."

What followed would be the 'beautiful' part of the beautiful atrocity that was the Battle of Grativos. The cavalry charge would decimate the advancing Uspkin force while artillery fire and a receding army led by Major General Fainth destroyed the retreating force. The momentum from the charge would carry the grand army into the main Upskin force, disorganizing them, and forcing a hasty retreat. Major General Auger would regroup and support this attack as well.

Approximately seven thousand Occians would die that day while the number for Uspkins varied between twenty and twenty six thousand men.

Most historians agree that the charge would not have been as successful if not for two things. Gaize's skill with the saber and sheer boldness would be an excellent model for the Occian soldiers. He, at first, sliced down men with his saber. However, after they reached the main force, he decided to leave his horse and fight on foot. Of course, the amount of men he killed is disputed due to the heat of battle but the finesse and speed he showed was well documented.

Despite his leg being nicked by a stray bullet, he would not retreat to the rear. It was only when his hat was destroyed in battle that he decided he needed to fall back. Stil, artists would take inspiration from this event, drawing beautifully romanticized versions of the real gory scene.

The second thing was the mutual trust between Marshal Donrey and Gaize. Gaize's antics would've only led to a complete disaster had Donrey not efficiently organized the rest of the army and regained communication with Auger and Fainth, as Gaize had ordered.

It was the memories of this battle and dozens more that flooded into Lucas' mind while he slept, bringing a smile onto his face, unbeknownst to him.

Once the dream-memory ended, he woke up, lying down on a bed, the worried face of his mother looking down at his. Upon seeing that his eyes were open, she hugged him while also making sure to not put any real weight on his body, which was good because Lucas could not move a muscle. He felt exhausted in places he'd never even felt before. He'd just woken up but he felt like going back to sleep for another few days.

"Hi, mom and dad", he managed to croak out. Sebastian had stood behind Emelie while she worried over her son.

Sebastian's feelings about his son were conflicted. At first, he didn't want him there in the first place; he simply wasn't ready. Gradually, he warmed up to the idea of having a son, ready to shower him with fatherly affection.

However, he always felt odd when looking at his son. It felt like something else was looking back. Now, that was pretty obvious considering that usually his son would be looking back. However, while he saw curiosity in his son's gaze, there was no innocence. It creeped the hell out of him though he often berated himself for thinking that way about his own flesh and blood.

That was at least until this little stunt. Hearing the little kid call him dad despite looking so famished and tired convinced him he needed to have mental issues to continue to be wary of his own son.

He joined in to hug Lucas until he felt hands move him out of the way. "Move, your familial love isn't gonna do shit."

The typical brash voice of his older brother always grated Sebastian's nerves to no end but hearing them now just felt infuriating.

He was about to tell Batain to fuck off when he noticed the short old lady behind him. Her hair had the nice curls that Lucas would've associated with a character from a popular 80s show he knew his mom loved watching reruns of, if he had the energy to even look up.

"As I said before, he's only suffering from mana exhaustion. From what Batain said, he was performing magic and didn't control his mana output leading to this state." The woman said, a light reassuring smile on her face. Batain nodded, from the side, which would've prompted a glare from Sebastian if he wasn't too surprised to notice it.

Emelie had constantly sent him letters notifying him of the fact their son couldn't use even the most basic of magic. Everyone downplayed it in front of Lucas but it was actually an immense deal and Sebastian, no matter how much his son had creeped him out at the time, had resolved to get someone who could help him.

The woman, ignoring their surprise, began to infuse mana into Lucas using a special canister meant to keep mana neutral. Simply relying on Lucas' body to produce enough mana to tide him over again, was idiotic and would take too long. In addition, just infusing their mana haphazardly into his body was also idiotic. Even Lucas knew that. There were separate mana types just like there were separate blood types.

Of course, by their very nature, babies would have the same mana type as their mother so they could simply use Emelie's mana but not only would that put unnecessary burden on Emelie but it was also less efficient. If you were thirsty, it made more sense to get purified water than juice.

Before Emelie's joy at learning her son could use magic, she registered part of what the woman had said. Turning to Sebastian's uncouth brother, her eyebrows raised. "You taught him how to use magic?"

Of course, the old female doctor hadn't actually said that but it was implied. Emelie had simply assumed that Bataan was bullying her child but it was unlikely that Lucas had just managed to learn how to use magic while also coincidentally being in Batain's presence.

Batain's eyebrow twitched and he hesitated for a second before he responded. "Of course I taught him."

The less-than-convincing response made Emelie part her lips to say something but the next words from Batain made her keep them open out of shock.

Batain's voice deepened from it usual brashness to a more serious note. "And you'll let me continue to teach him if you know what's good for all three of you."