CHAPTER 4 - I - KURO’S WAR

 

***February 10^th, in the first year of the Saint.  On the outskirts of the city of Devyere…***

 

The walled city of Devyere had opened its gates to let out a company of Imperial horsemen.  Fully armed, and in a hurry, their aim was to patrol the eastern borders of the kingdom of Amaranth, close to the limits of the Duchy of Savoy.  This was because it had come to the attention of the local Imperial commander that there was an army assembling just outside the kingdom’s eastern end, and he would never dismiss such reports, even if it might be false.

 

After all, it’s an opportunity to advance his career.

 

“Double on your watch, men!  These northern barbarians can’t be trusted, even if some of them are our allies for now.” the commander told his small army, “I want two columns on the march.  Prepare for the possibility of an ambush!”

 

His veteran cavalry promptly obeyed.  The forest area between Devyere and Savoy was thick with vegetation, with the only road that led to the other lands east of Amaranth bisecting the woods.  In the eyes of a seasoned military leader, it’d be a perfect ambush site.

 

“…”

 

For a while now, after the Siege of Amaranth, there had been an unusual peace in the northern kingdoms.  Truth be told, the Empire had expected a severe response from the barbarian kings after their landing on Amaranthine shores.  The Imperial legions’ presence was simply not welcome in these parts of Chersea.  But only rumors of armies mustering or marching into Amaranth came…and these are proven to be false.

 

However, the Imperials will not take their chances.

 

Each time a rumor would surface, the high command in the Amaranthine capital would send men to verify the report, as well as patrol the area.  However, with the passing of time and countless false rumors, the leaders of the Imperial expeditionary forces gradually decreased the size of the men they would send, until it became a norm for the cavalry—considered inferior to the Imperial heavy infantries—to do the routine.

 

And the local Imperial commander of Devyere had the same reservations about this latest rumor he received about an army that infiltrated through the eastern borders.  He never sent a messenger to his superiors back in the Amaranthine capital, but as he wanted to please them—and to ensure that it was indeed false, he mustered a small force of cavalry to do a patrol up to the limits of Amaranth with Savoy.

 

The Imperial horsemen moved cautiously but with considerable speed through the thick forest, ‘till they reached the borders of Savoy.  Across the invisible limits, they could make out a small group of the Duke’s soldiers manning a customary checkpoint designed to collect taxes from the passing merchant caravans.

 

“!!!”

 

Once they came into full view, the Savoians quickly assembled in attention, and gave them an honorary salute, as was the custom.  Since the Empire and Savoy had no quarrel as of that moment, the Imperials obliged, led by the commander himself.  When he was satisfied with the results of an inspection of the area around the borders, he ordered his men to turn around and head back to Devyere.

 

 

On the way back, the Imperials maintained their watchfulness.  The rumor turned out to be false, but there was still danger on their return journey.  This was because it was not a secret to every legionnaire that while most of the Amaranthine royalty were captured after the siege of their capital, their sympathizers refused to lay down arms.  

 

And to make matters even more complicated, a princess of the von Alberts escaped to the Saint’s land.

 

Because of this, a good number of royalist nobles never surrendered.  And with Devyere’s relative isolation from the rest of the kingdom of Amaranth, taking control of the region proved difficult.  The royalist rebels could lay a trap for them any time and in any place.

 

So, the Imperials kept an eye for signs of an ambush.  And, not wishing to exhaust their horses in a continuous full-gallop until it was necessary, the horsemen reduced their march’s pace to a trot.  One hundred men, divided into two columns guarding the flanks, and grouped into four cohorts with vanguards and rearguards, all waltzed into their enemies’ line of sight…

 

Just like what they intended.

 

Once the vanguard passed the designated point, the rebels had the rearguard quietly surrounded.  Their leader, a man with striking white hair and an effeminate face named Griffyth, never shouted.  But his attack begun with a gust of wind slicing through the rearguard’s horses, cutting the steeds’ legs and removing the advantage of the Imperial horsemen in one fell swoop.

 

“!!!”

 

As the stunned Imperials picked themselves, Griffyth never let them regain composure.  He ordered his men forward…

 

“For the Saint and Chersea!”

 

Griffyth’s army emerged from the trees to pounce on the surprised Imperials.  However, the horsemen showed their fearsome training and discipline by calmly fighting back and slowly merging their scattered forces in a single, armored formation.  

 

There were a few injuries and deaths among them at the initial attack, but the Imperials weathered the surprising offense of Griffyth’s men.  Soon, the horsemen had already arranged themselves, and with their shields reinforced by magic, overlapped it together to form the Roman ‘testudo’.

 

The ranged attacks of Griffyth’s army were rendered useless by the Imperial ‘turtle’ formation.  However, it was exactly the moment Griffyth was waiting for.

 

“Slice at their feet!” he bellowed.  Immediately, the attacks of his men focused on the partly exposed lower limbs of the Imperials.  The magicians and archers began taking shots at the horsemen’s feet, while the swordsmen and spearmen rushed forward to crash into the Imperial ‘Turtle’.  The horsemen braced to receive their head-on attack…

 

But the rebels had a few tricks on their sleeves.

 

“!!!”

 

The beleaguered Imperial horsemen were astonished to witness their enemy halting in their advance.  The ranged attacks also ceased, as the northern barbarians began taunting them instead.

 

“Remain in your positions!” the commander cried out, “They’re trying to bait you into breaking formation!”

 

For the horsemen, it was truly an unnerving sight.  But the Imperials followed their commander and held fast.  None dared to break formation, that was, until…

 

“M-Monster!”

 

“!!!”

 

“They’re coming from the underground as well!” a horseman shouted in desperation.  From the ground, spears and swords came out—followed by men in concealed trenches that either skewered or sliced-off limbs of the unfortunate Imperials.  Soon, their ‘turtle’ formation fell apart, and it degenerated into simultaneously desperate, single battles, in which the rebels made use of their advantage in range by firing precise ‘Incinerate’ spells.

 

“Regroup!  Regroup!  Stand fast, you sorry lot!” the Imperial commander desperately cried out.  A handful of his men acknowledged the order and stood with him in one corner of the battle site, “On me!  We’re going to break through them to unite with the vangua—”

 

“!!!”

 

The Imperial commander never finished his sentence.  A loud bang tore through the chaos and noise of the battlefield, and his men were horrified to witness their leader’s head explode.  The bits of blood and gore splashed on their faces.

 

“…”

 

And not too far from their defensive line was a black-haired man with a smoking ‘demon’ weapon.

 

“The commander is dead!” someone from the Imperial ranks shouted.  With the enemy all around them and their leader fallen, the remaining horsemen threw their weapons on the ground to surrender.  The most senior officer still alive also hoisted a white flag and stepped forward towards Griffyth.

 

“We yield to you, our enemy.” the officer told him, “I plead quarter for me and my men.”

 

“Oh?” Griffyth had a nasty smirk on his face, “I wonder what our own commander would say about your offer?”

 

“Huh?  Are you not the leader of these men?”

 

“Does it look like that to you?  Sorry bud, but you’re mistaken.” Griffyth nonchalantly said, “I’m just a second-in-command.  Our general is that black-haired guy with a demon weapon who killed your commander.”

 

At that moment, Kuro made his presence known to everyone.

 

“Meet Sir Kuro.” Griffyth introduced him, “He’ll be the one who’s going to decide on your fates, including those Imperials from your vanguard our other group caught.”

 

“S-Sir Kuro!” the Imperial officer approached him, “I yield—”

 

“I don’t want to waste resources by taking prisoners.” Kuro stared at the Imperial officer with steel-cold eyes.  His order to the formidable magician of the ‘Band of the Oak’, Tarasca, was clear, “Burn them alive.”

 

“Well…” Griffyth turned to the Imperials, “We’re just following orders, see?  Don’t take it personally.”

 

“!!!”

 

The serene forests of Devyere-Savoy were then filled with horrible screams of men crying out in pain and despair while being incinerated to death…