Nerluce would not pretend that battle strategy was his forte.

His grip tightened around his red reigns. Though Nerluce wasn't by any means an expert, he wasn't completely naive to it either. Lady Okiachi was a border lord, Coam was a war hero, and Ethera had trained him not just as a Magickian but a Seraph. With all of those things, it was impossible for Nerluce to not at least know the basics.

And logically, of course, he knew that the back of any formation was one of the safest positions a person could ride in. Kings and lords and generals were all notorious for falling back into the safety of their army after leading the charge. They were creatures who valued their own lives quite a bit and if anyone came home, it was always these kings and lords and generals. Therefore, being in this safest position, Nerluce shouldn't be in any real danger.

If only his hands would stop shaking.

"Ride swiftly and fight ferociously," Lord Father said, standing high above the men and women in armor on horseback. "Abandon your morals in this yard. The snake is not a dishonorable creature for defending its home with venom. You are the same." He lifted his head, red eyes gleaming. "Use whatever power you must to kill them. All of Itoroh watches you with baited breath. Do not disappoint her."

Those men and women that Lord Father loomed over let out a cheer for him. Coam clicked her tongue, but that was only audible to Nerluce.

He understood his sister's sentiment, though. Lord Father was a brilliant speaker, capable of talking courage into nearly anyone, but at the end of the day, that was all he was. A speaker. He never had to actually follow his own words of advice. He would not ride out with them, but stay in the comfort and safety of the Hebikoti Palace.

Coam snapped her reigns, urging Eden with a shout. Nerluce echoed both action and shout. Both stallions snorted and whinnied before they took off, galloping out of the yard, under Lord Father's watchful crimson gaze.

They were followed out of the yard by a hundred others and were then joined by five thousand more at the foot of the mountain. A couple thousand more would be added to their ranks before they met with the main Tilican force, though Nerluce wasn't certain of their exact numbers. He'd never been told and never asked. It wouldn't have mattered anyways. Numbers were just numbers and they could not guarantee his survival.

He swallowed his nerves and tried not to think too much as they rode south.

For three days and three nights, they continued south. For three days they rode, collected soldiers and supplies from the aristocracy of the area, and made camp. At nights, Nerluce listened in while Coam and a couple other generals and high ranking military officals murmured plans and moved pieces across a map.

And then, on the fourth day, they rose before dawn, not bothering to take down their tents. The battlefield was meticulous chosen. An open field with a downward tilt. No where for Tilica to hide their soldiers, like trapdoor spiders. The sky was gray, thick with churning clouds. No sunrise would blind their eyes this morning. The red of their armor seemed all the more vibrant. The sounds of their horses was all the louder.

They crested the low hill and a waking Tilican army greeted them.

Coam shouted something that was echoed by everyone but Nerluce's ears were filled with ringing. He couldn't hear. He couldn't focus. He didn't know what was happening, just that people were moving. He urged his stallion forward too. He didn't want to but he no longer felt as though he had any control over his own body.

Because the field was open, but it hadn't always been that way. Because there was a Tilican army, with soft blue Tilican flags, flying high, but there was also charred bamboo walls. There was also the smell. The smell of burnt things. Of burnt bamboo. Of burnt houses. Of burnt socks and burnt dolls. And there was the thing that Nerluce could not take his eyes off of. It big, black, and still burning, it had probably burnt all night.

Bodies. People. Human beings, who had died. There were too many to be just the soldiers protecting such a small town that Nerluce had never even heard of it before. These bodies were of the men and women and children of the town.

Gods.

The army moved and Nerluce moved with it. They charged down the hill. The Tilican army, fully awoken by their noise mounted their own horses and made ranks so swiftly it was a bit terrifying. These were trained soldiers. Soldiers who'd seen battle before. They reacted far too quickly for them to be anything else.

Nerluce's head was spinning. He was gasping for breath. His stallion panted with him. The rest of the world was silent as Nerluce say a wall of thorns being formed before them. The Tilican pikesmen were legendary. How would they break that? Nerluce was suddenly struck with an image of a pike piercing through his skull, splattering blood and brains. He gasped and tried to steady his breathing. He was in the back.

How could any pike reach him here. He kept charging.

Coam shouted another order and this time it reached Nerluce's ears. "Engage pegusi!"

Shit. Right. They had a plan for this. Nerluce snapped the reigns and came back to himself, pulling his stallion to one side as Itoroh's army split into thirds. Magick rippled the air, thick and addicting. Nerluce sucked it in and used it to steady his mind. And as he continued his charge, he watched the ground move beneath the hooves of the horses that had not changed their course. It shifted and snapped and slanted upwards, bringing the horses above the pikes.

There were shouts from the Tilican soldiers as Nerluce watched the massive, white stallion he'd ridden and spoiled for three years soared through the air, jumping off the small, Magickally formed cliff and utterly plowing through the ranks of Tilican soldiers. Blue fires started. The smell of burning flesh grew stronger as wails of pain and panic spread through the Tilican army and more and more horses jumped over the pikes.

But then the pikesmen realized what was happening and thrust their spears into the air. Nerluce couldn't tear his eyes away from the scene. Horses screamed in pain, stomachs ripped open by Tilican spears. Their riders went tumbling to the ground only only to have their skull crushed by the hooves of own horse. Another horse was set on fire by a particularly vengeful Tilican Magickian who himself was set on fire by the panicking stallion.

Shit. Shit focus. He needed to focus.

Nerluce was in the left flank. At this point the pikesmen had turned their spears. Though less dramatic, on either side when compared to the horse now jumping to their deaths, crushing Tilican and Itoroh soldiers alike, it was no less graphic. Spearheads punctured horseflesh. Swords cleaved heads from their shoulders. Soldiers screamed. Weapons collided. Horses brayed. Magick hissed.

Nerluce urged his stallion onward. He could not shy away. He needed to keep pushing forward. They all did. The plan was to force Tilica into a retreat and regroup so they attacked as a single force again. Nerluce would rejoin the middle back at that point. But the plan would not work if Tilica did not give ground.

So Nerluce pushed forward and prayed. He called Ealatus. The sword burned brightly in his hand. By the time he reached the front, most of the pikesmen were dead, their weapons snapped or abandened. Upon seeing Nerluce - both as someone on horseback and a Magickian with a Magickal Weapon - Tilican soldiers moved away.

Run away. Go home. Nerluce wanted to scream at them. Tilica had always lost to Itoroh. In the past two hundred years, they'd done nothing but lose. There was no point in them being here, fighting and killing one another. Why were they here? It didn't make sense. These people should know better than anyone the suffering brought by the destruction of an entire town. They deserved their justice but these people in this town had nothing to do with that!

So why did they have to die?

Ealatus struck armor. Really struck is a bold word because there is not armor that can protect someone from the heat of flame. There is no armor that can save skin from blistering when fire kisses it. What Ealatus did was more akin to burn straight through the person. Nerluce did not see their face or their body. He didn't know if they would die from those burns.

He didn't have time to think about that. He didn't have time for much thinking at all. He just needed to keep going forward. He kept striking with Ealatus and Tilican soldiers kept coming at him. They kept refusing to retreat. Did they not know that Itoroh had the numerical advantage. Did they not see that if they kept going like this, they would die? They would all be killed. Their bodies would be burned.

Another person met Ealatus and they screamed in agony as the sworn turned their skin red and then black but they shoved their spear forward regardless. The stallion brayed, kicking up it's front two hooves. Shit.

Nerluce knew how to fall off of a horse. Horses were the one thing he wasn't shit at, he'd once berratingly said about himself. It was true. He'd fallen off of a horse so many times, he knew how to do it now without injury. The stallion fell too. Nerluce did not look at him. He didn't want to watch his horse die. He just wanted to kill the person who did it.

And Nerluce did.

Ealatus had already done most of the work, but they were still on their feet. Nerluce look out his metal sword and cut through their chest.

They fell and Nerluce was on foot, in the middle of a battlefield. He had no idea where he was. No idea which way was south and which way was north. He just kept pushing forward, just kept pushing Tilica back, out of Itoroh. Blood was everywhere, mixing with the dirt. Someone water Magickian had died and the water they'd been controlling was spilled. Mud stuck to Nerluce's feet, thick and weighing him down.

And he just kept going forward. He killed. He must've. He wasn't looking when he did so. He couldn't even say who the first person he killed was or if everyone who collided with him in battle was dead or alive after the collision was over. He didn't have time to check. He just kept going forward. He struck with Ealatus and he struck with his metal sword. He killed with his Magick and he killed with his hands.

Nerluce couldn't hear anything anymore. All he could see were bodies. Living and dead, they all blurred together in his brain.

Everything was one, horrible play and Nerluce was some unwilling witness to it all. He didn't even feel sad when he watched the face of the man in front of him melt from his body. Nerluce didn't even feel sad knowing that he'd caused such a gruesome death. He didn't feel anything at all. Just the strain of his muscles, the tightness in his throat, and the knowledge that no matter what, he needed to just keep pressing forward.

They would win if they just kept going forward. Itoroh was gaining a bit of ground. They'd gain more if they just kept going forward. Forward, forward, forward. Nerluce stabbed. Blood soaked his skin and matted in his hair. Mud clung to his armor. Fire was hot on his fingertips. Nerluce lashed out and flames went with him.

Itoroh would win. Nerluce would fight and claw and kill until Itoroh won. Because Nerluce wanted to save his family from the vengeance they'd probably earned. Shit. Nerluce was earning his own vengeance now, staining his own hands. He didn't care. Nothing mattered much anymore.

He imagined what it would be like, fighting as a Seraph instead of as an Itorohian. He thought of how the first time he killed someone, he would have had the courage to look them in the eyes and remember their face for the rest of his life. Nerluce thought that he'd probably fight a little more carefully, with a little more regard for his own life and safety because there were people he wanted to return to.

Now they lived in Ethera and Nerluce could never go back.

He'd left and once a person left, they could never become a Seraph. Nerluce gasped for breath and slashed through a person with his sword. He was stronger than he thought. He never knew his arms had the power to break through armor. He never thought his Magick had the heat to boil flesh. Would Nerluce know of this power if he had stayed and fought for the Chosen Light instead of Lord Father?

He didn't know. He didn't have much time to consider it. Because then, Nerluce heard something for the first time in the battle. "Tilica reinforcements! Tilica reinforcements coming from the north!"