“Contingent: 6 mountain goats carrying gifts and supplies. 26 Templar escorts. 1 Lord Inquisitor. 20 Frostwind Mountaineers. 5 Meltonian Knights. 2 Supply Wagons.
Goal: Meet with a mysterious tribe surviving atop the Frostwinds. Of the tribe: composition unknown, strength unknown, objective unknown. If possible, entreat them for an alliance against the Dark Tide.”
- Drafted Report: Diplomatic Mission 9348-S - Summary - Templar Sergeant Archibald Wilde
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“Lord Commander.” Kapitan Ludvik saluted the approaching officer.
The icy chill of the Frostwind Ranges and the windswept northern plains danced eerily around him. The rhythmic clattering of hooves as the Lord Commander and his staff officers joined the scout kapitan at his post. Only faint slivers of sunlight reached them here, yet even from his perch, he could see the familiar glint of red and white reflecting under the light. Even within this snow covered land, the brilliance of Volksgrad would thaw away the chill.
Few could profess to see the Winged Knights of Volksgrad in action. Fewer still, not on the opposite end of their lances and weapons. But here they were, relying on folk like himself to help guide them along, to a path of salvation. Ludvik could think of many things he wanted to ask the Lord Commander, but his eyes were fixated on the wings attached to their armor. Rumor has it that each feather is blessed with a ward, anointed by the Goddess herself to keep the wearer safe. He suspected there might be more exaggeration than not, but having seen the way they carried themselves, he had no doubt they would be more than formidable with or without wards.
His two other compatriots, both kaprals that acted as his map bearer and sentry, quickly roused themselves from their posts. Their camouflage had been impeccable, blending into the rocky icy terrain almost completely. Save for the small fire in their little rocky alcove, the warming if not filling scent of a tomatoey vegetable stew bubbling away on a cold winters day. Might just give us away, a little. Though I doubt demons really care much for vegetable stew.
“Kapitan, good to see you are doing well. At ease.” Lord Commander Stanislaw Stepan greeted the assembled group.
The Lord Commander was an imposing figure, riding upright and proper though the harsh weather. He had a hawkish face and an equally sharp gaze. The Lord Commander had noticed several other groups of scouts judging by how his gaze occasionally darted towards the direction of hidden troopers. His unblemished appearance suggested a recently promoted noble, one brought from the luxuries of the court to the frontlines, a gentle giant. Yet his actions told a different tale. He was calculating and competent; his orders always made the most of what he was given. For he had served as a rear line officer of the Winged Knights, acting as a cautious but effective leader in containing any incursions into Volksgrad.
He doesn’t inspire loyalty the same way Marshal Bathloy might, but he has his troop’s confidence, at least. Hells, he’s a winged knight, just like the rest of them. Certainly better than the rest of us infantry.
“How’s the situation looking?” Lord Stepan inquired, gently hopping off his horse in a very elegant fashion.
“Mostly calm, my lord. So far, none of the scouting parties have reported any signs that they are aware of our presence. Our observations from this post also corroborate with their reports” Ludvik reported.
“Excellent. What about our chances to continue being undetected until we approach?” Lord Stepan asked, the forced grin on his face failing to hide his anxieties. Can’t even imagine the pressure on his shoulders for this operation.
“Pretty high. At least, assuming we don’t run into any scouting parties from their end. But otherwise, I am relatively confident that your forces won’t encounter much resistance until they enter the snowfields proper.” Ludvik answered obligingly, “Though if I may ask sir, why come here? Surely our reports got through to the base camp, did they not?” Is that why he’s so nervous? Did we miss a pocket of demons? Stars, that’d be bad for the supply lines.
“No, no, they got through.” Lord Stepan sighed tiredly, the man marching forward to stand besides Ludvik, flashing the other two a brief salute.
“Sir?” Ludvik asked.
“Kapitan, tell me. How risky is it being a scout?” Lord Stepan clasped one hand over Ludvik’s shoulder, the noble’s grip far firmer than Ludvik had expected, “Of the tasks you perform along the frontiers in defense of Volksgrad?”
“Sir?” Ludvik raised his voice a little, confused at the Lord Commander’s line of question.
Lord Stepan merely waited expectantly, but Ludvik noticed the tension within the noble’s eyes.
“Uhh, we do take great risks in identifying and countering what threats we can on our own. But our rangers don’t have to face anything like what you winged warriors have to face in full on battle, that’s for certain.” He answered, looking to try and gauge the lord’s reaction.
Lord Stepan chuckled mirthlessly, “No need to humble yourself on our account. While it’s true the threats we face are… more grandiose in nature, without the men and woman like yourself and your company, Volksgrad would be in a far worse state. But you are still willing to sacrifice your lives for the sake of the nation, correct?”
Oh Goddess, is this a test? What kind of question is that? Ludvik paled, But what choice do I have? Blowing out some steam into the icy air around him, Ludvik answered, “Of course sir. It’s why we’re here.”
He looked to his subordinates to find the other two scouts offering hesitant, but small nods of affirmation. Lord Stepan also saw this gesture and lowered his head, a darker expression appearing on the noble’s face. What is he expecting us to do?
“Then you must understand that it is only through great sacrifice that Volksgrad remains standing to this day. Ever since Wise King Wulfgar fought to free us from the yolk of a neighbor.” The noble spoke, almost as if he were delivering a speech to a crowd.
“For the wise king.” Ludvik warily whispered.
“Of course.” Stepan grinned and sighed once more.
“Sir?”
“Kapitan, I have an order for you and your company.” Oh no. It’s a suicide mission? Isn’t it? We’re to scout them out in force.
“Sir.” Ludvik affirmed, trying to hide his own nerves.
“Once we reach the snowfields of Marsun, pull back to the Pale Point. Your company’s report said it would be a good vantage point for both artillery and observers.” Stepan looked out into the vast whiteness beyond them, obfuscated only by rough patches of trees and a small hill that separated them from being within sight-lines of the enemy.
“Sir?” Ludvik looked over, unable to help himself as he tried to understand his orders.
“You heard me. Do not commit your company to the attack. Remain in the rear and observe the battle.”
“H-huh? Sir?”
“Write reports, observations, everything. Take detailed notes, all of you. Then retreat to the pass when the rest of us reach Marsun with the supplies. Wait for us. And if we do not arrive, or we are being doggedly pursued, you are to collapse the pass in its entirety, is that clear?” Stepan’s tone lowered, the man’s eyes narrowing as he frowned. Even he seems a little confused.
“Uh… yes, sir. But why?”
“Because someone needs to remember that when all others failed, Volksgrad tried. To save Ingramar, to protect its people. That, when the demons were besieging Marsun, we tried to come to their aid. That Volksgrad stood with them.”
“Sir… yes sir.” Ludvik saluted, “But why the disengagement orders? Surely some of your knights are more capable at holding the last line than us.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Perhaps.” Stepan hummed, “But it is you, who will keep Volksgrad under control. It is your cadre that secures our borders. For while us knights will fight foes beyond understanding, our abilities will not be as critical to stablising the home front. Or are you willing to disagree with your superior, Kapitan?”
“No sir. Of course not, lord commander.”
“Then send runners and inform your company of your new marching orders. Get in position around Pale Point. Just know that if you have to seal the pass before we arrive, it is because that is the sacrifice demanded of you in ensuring Volksgrad’s future. It’s why I wanted to be here, to know that person, even if only a little, whose task will ensure our nation’s prosperity.” Stepan paused, “You have your orders.” Stepan turned to face him, the noble’s expression exuding an air of absolute authority.
“Sir yes sir!” Ludvik stood up straighter.
“Good… good.” Stepan nodded, “Then, may the Goddess and God of Life bless us all. We’ll need it.” He finished with a mutter.
“May the blessings guide our path.” Ludvik and his subordinates echoed.
Without further ceremony, the Lord Commander remounted his horse, the man’s contemplative quietness making Ludvik feel a sense of unease. Just what the hells will happen if that’s the first official order he gives us in person?
Waiting under the Lord Commander and his retinue to finally leave. Ludvik let out a brief sigh of his own.
“Kapitan?” One of his subordinates, Kapral Alicja turned to him, “What do we do?”
Ludvik just made a bewildered expression before waving his hands at the land ahead of them, “We do as the Lord Commander says. Run messages to the other units and have them rendezvous at Pale Point. Heaven’s help us all.”
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The scout company was spread out across Pale Point, a small bluff sitting atop a hill that overlooked the massive frozen lake that formed the plains of Marsun. There was a serenity to the glossy, almost crystalline blue that sat nearly untouched. Only to be despoiled by the apocalyptic horde of demons that oozed in greater and greater numbers around the beleaguered city of Marsun in the distance. From here, Ludvik guessed it would take almost twenty minutes to ride hard and fast before they reached the city.
The jewel of Ingramar was in its death throes, thrashing about for life. Against the snowy backdrop, the horrifically scarred land around it seemed to be trying to actively crush the city in its grasp. Stone talons shot out of the ground, the rocky formations forming terrifyingly alien displays around the city. Barren snowscapes turned a sickly brown red from the gallons of blood being spilled every hour. Tens of thousands of horrific entities, twisted and warped beyond human imagination, threw themselves at the walls of the city at each waking moment. The never ending cacophony of siege weapons firing and blood curdling battle cries continuing to echo throughout the snowfields. And these look to be monsters considerably smaller than in the reports, this just the first wave, nay, the junk they’re looking off load. And there’s already so many, Goddess…
A small hill just past Pale Point offered enough cover to hide the Volksgradian advance, allowing Lord Stepan’s winged knights to reach the lip of the hill. Against the arrayed demonic horde, only about three hundred Volkgradians alongside a convoy of supply wagons stood ready to face them. From his vantage point, he calculated almost a full minute of hard riding before Stepan’s forces would even impact the outer edges of the horde. Then at least another five to ten minutes to reach the city, provided they didn’t get slaughtered along the way. But they were getting dangerously close to the fringes of the horde. More than once, all the scouts would wince as the advance force was almost discover by stray demons, only saved by the action of a few wandering knights that put down the discovering army.
Stars preserve them all, Ludvik muttered to himself.
He spied the head of the force, Lord Stepan himself sitting high atop his horse, the noble gazing out at his foes. He imagined that the lord was giving some rousing speech, some grand sermon to inspire the troops. He jotted down what he saw, taking brief moments to look at his own troops. The scouts were tense, though they would be out of the fighting, he noticed the Kaprals including Alicja were trying to calm some of the younger soldiers. The few sierzants under his command were debating how best to orgainize a rapid retreat. His lieutenant caught his gaze, the man giving him an affirming nod. They would be ready, whatever happened.
It started with a wordless cry, a singular motion as Lord Stepan reared his mount and raised a lance. Without barely a shout, the winged knights practically glided over the hill and descended upon the frozen lake like avenging angels. Only the rattle of the wings on their backs and the clattering of hooves and armour could be heard as they began forming a natural wedge, ready to pierce through the enemy lines.
From the lip of the hill, three riders, robed and different from the knights began chanting something. What they said, Ludvik could not hear. But based on their movements, the arcane sorcery swirling around them was the answer.
In the distance, a few demons noticed the clattering and began turning to face the riders. But momentum was not on their side. The main horde had yet to notice this new intrusion, and the clamoring for bloodshed kept most of them oblivious to the impending stampede.
The skies darkened as sorcery swirled in abundance, the battlemages of Volksgrad beginning their attack. Lightning and hail shattered the initial formations like a tide of fury, the power behind elder magisters sending a frightening chill down Ludvik’s spine. Demonic footsoldiers and rabble were roasted alive, their cindered skin burning into bone as bolts of supercharged electricity scythed through their ranks. Boulder sized pieces of hail crashed down and crushed those beneath them, then shattering into hundreds of pieces and cutting into the survivors nearby.
All while the riders neither slowed nor broke formation. The winged knights charged headfirst into the horde even as javelins and archers finally began responding to the sudden attack. To Ludvik’s horror, a few got through the wards of the knights. Sending a handful of men tumbling from their saddles. Yet the advance was unhindered still.
Then, with a furious roar that even the scouts could hear, the winged knights threw out a volley of spears of their own, impaling the enemy frontline and opening them up. In a few seconds, a slaughter ensued.
Lances speared through lightly armoured flesh, tearing their targets from the ground and plunging further into the monstrous lines. Hooves trampled the fallen, the knights uncaring of who or what fell under their assault. A few spears and halberds halted some of the knights, the riders forced to dismount or be impaled where they sat. Lord Stepan himself seemed surrounded by a halo of light, his form somehow clearer visible even from here, the man cutting a swathe at the head of the formation.
By the time Ludvik counted that around two dozen riders had fallen, hundreds of demonic souls had already been sent back to the hells, the knights showing little sign of stopping. Their unrelenting ferocity began ripping the horde’s formation in two, splitting the line of advance open as they pushed towards the city gates. From behind him, the convoy of supply wagons hurriedly rushed into the gap. The volunteers who signed up to guard them desperately jabbing with their spears to fend off any attackers nearby.
With one last thunderous outburst that turned a gigantic circle of demons into ashes, the battlemages of Volksgrad were exhausted and began their retreat, a handful of knights assigned to them beginning the long journey back home. Seeing this, Ludvik finally began to breathe again, messy, but according to plan. He raised his hand at his lieutenant, the man giving a nod and signalling to the other scouts to start retreating squad by squad.
Down in the snowfields, crimson blood soaked into the ground, intertwining with the blackened sea of liquid that spilled out of the demonic ranks. But Lord Stepan’s charge had worked, a wedge was driven within their lines and the convoy was pushing towards the city. The winged knights had carved a bloody swathe open.
Having finally gotten a handle on what was happening, the Ingramarians opened the city gates and sallied forth. A motley collection of infantry surged forth from the opening to cleave into the backs of the demonic horde. Though they lacked the sheer weight of the calvary, their charge was no less effective as they brutalized the unlucky monsters near them. Their ferocious roar an echo of their combined suffering for so long.
Ludvik watched with an increasing sense of relief as the supply convoy finally reached the city’s defensive lines. Lord Stepan and his knights covering the approach and joining the Ingramarians in the defense. The city would stand for another day, stars protect them.
“Sir, we’re the last ones left.” Kapral Alicja tapped his shoulder.
He turned to find only the command section of the company remained. The two kaprals and a few others were waiting for his orders, most also mesmerized by the charge across the snowfields. Holding up a finger, he continued jotting down what he could in a notebook. He felt a strange sense of sorrow as he wrote down his last few observations. A sense of sympathy for the plight of the Ingramarian people. Stuck behind enemy lines and under siege, yet the continent has forgotten them. If this is truly a Dark Tide, shouldn’t we be more united? More ready to gather our forces? Yet Volksgrad stands alone in aiding them, why?
“Kapitan Ludvik?” Alicja asked once more.
“My apologies, Alicja. Let’s get moving to the mountain pass. We have our orders.” Ludvik sighed. It is our orders. But I can’t help feeling like we’re just abandoning Lord Stepan’s troops.
“Sir yes sir.”
As the scouts began leaving, Ludvik couldn’t help his own doubts claw their way to the surface of his mind. For although the convoy made it in, and that they had cleaved the way through the horde rather effortlessly. He just had the sinking feeling it would get worse from here. Already, the gap was being filled, the deformed foot soldiers of the demonic horde uncaring of their countless fallen comrade. If the briefings were anything, I don’t see any higher classification demons. These are all fodder, and yet they have Ingramar at their mercy. Stars help us all, and may the Godess guide your way, Lord Commander. Just make it to the damned pass when you’re done.
With a final reluctant glance, he joined his troops on the retreat. For Ingramar, this is the finale, and yet… for the rest of us, the war has just begun. That we’ve not truly seen the Dark Tide in full. And… would Volksgrad even survive if they crossed the mountains? He shuddered.
There was nothing he could do. For now, it was down to the hands of fate to guide the others. His company had finished their task, and now the world would have a record from the people of Volksgrad. Of how they tried to help stave off the darkness when no one else could.