The weather of the Vlate plains could be described as 'good weather.'

The skies were clear.

The sun was shinning.

The breeze was warm and calm.

And the green grass of the plains basked in the sunlight.

However...

"Retreat! Retreat! Run for your li-guuuagh!"

The grass was also stained by the blood of the dead.

As the soldier screamed in pain on the grass, he was approached by his attacker. The man was dressed in the same colours as the soldier, they were both dressed in orange silk clothes and donned a shinny steel breastplate and helmet.

However, one could tell from the difference in quality of their clothes that one was a noble while the other was a commoner. The man dressed in the higher quality clothes was holding a short hallow metal bar connected to a wooden stock. On the back of metal bar, the side pointed towards the attacker, there were blue markings that periodically pulsed a blue light.

It was an Arcane Musket. More specially it was the expensive pistol variant; used exclusively by nobles.

"There are no cowards in the proud Panish army. You dare call yourself a Paniard soldier? How disgraceful!"

In response to the noble, the soldier winced as he tried his best to stand back up despite his bleeding leg.

"I-I'm sorry my lord! I won't let it happen again!"

The noble sneered when he heard the soldier's response.

"No you won't."

A blue light flashed out of the arcane pistol before a thick black smoke emanated out of the hole of the metal bar. At the same time a fountain of blood bursted out of the soldier's forehead. He was dead before he even touched the ground.

While a cold execution usually helped keep his men in line, Sebastian Rieese Nemeny's men were all too preoccupied to witness his actions. Only a select few and Sebastian's personal guard saw the execution. Wether this was a good or a bad thing, Sebastian was not yet sure.

Amidst the stench of death, Sebastian handed out the two used muskets to one of his personal guards. Smoke still emanating out of them.

"Reload my guns."

"As you wish my Lord."

Unlike his men, Sebastian was a noble. As such there was no need for him to get his hands dirty.

He was far too busy commanding his army... or at the very least he was trying to control the situation.

His army was losing.

His army was losing badly.

Sebastian felt a scowl form on his face as he turned back to face his army scrambling to hold the line. For the first time in his life, Sebastian was witnessing the defeat of a proud Paniard army.

Sebastian believed that there was not a single person out there who thought that there would come the day where the feared Panish forces would suffer a horrible defeat. Especially when they were using the genius 'Tercio' formation.

The Tercio was a formation based on the pike formations of old; it formed a sort of block which was composed of not only pikemen but arquebusiers and musketeers as well. Not only could the musketeers rain down hell upon the enemy but the pikemen ensured that they were protected from cavalry as well.

This formation should have not only held its own but it should have easily quashed the inferior enemy army. As far as Sebastian knew, he held both the technological and numerical advantage over his enemy. This should have been an easy victory.

However, expectations was far different from reality.

Somehow, someway, the 'inferior' enemy army had a faster fire rate than the Paniard forces. If Sebastian did not see it himself then he would not have believed it.

Pulse after pulse of blue lights flashed within the black smoke on the other end of the battlefield, unleashing wave after wave of bullets onto the Panish armies.

If it weren't for the walls of soldiers in front of him, Sebastian was certain that he would have been killed by the bulletstorm already. How this was possible, Sebasitian did not know. With the current technology, the average reload speed of a gun should be around 2 to 3 minutes.

There was no way the enemy invented a new arcane gun that could be reloaded in under a minute... or did they? Whatever it was, it did not change the fact that Sebasitian's superior numbers were still being crushed under the unending bulletstorm.

Although, the situation seemed hopeless, he also knew that retreat was not an option.

If he were to retreat now, he would be scorned by the Panish nobility and royalty. His reputation would be ruined. With this in mind, Sebastian had no choice but to persist... after all he still had one more option.

He still had his cavalry in reserve. While he knew that some would be mowed down by the gunfire, he also noted the lack of pikes visible within the enemy smokescreen. It was quite possible that the enemy only fielded musketmen and no pikemen.

[But that's impossible right? There's no way the commander of this army would be stupid enough to not field any pikemen.] However, the longer he surveyed the enemy lines, the more he was convinced that there weren't any pikemen.

Although he originally wasn't planning to use his elite cavalry against an inferior foe, he had to change his plans if he wanted to come up on top. After all, apart from the enemy general's personal guard, he spotted no horses among the enemy.

This means that his elite cavalry should wreak havoc among the enemy. With a voice full of confidence, Sebastian gave his next order.

"Signal the cavalry charge! Flank them! Crush their lines!"

"Yes sir!"

In unison his lieutenants nodded before rushing on their horses to their respective cavalry squadrons. Soon horns signalling the charge echoed throughout the plains. Soon after, the volleys slowed down and the bulletstorm ended. There could only be one possible explanation.

[Are they retreating? No way! That can't be! Even if the cavalry charge startled them they should have known that retreating would still mean nothing. Why aren't they standing their ground?] Either way, his cavalry would still continue their charge. All that was left to do was to order his troops to hold their fire. After all, who would want to be responsible for friendly fire?

"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!"

As the horn signalled the order to his remaining Tercios to hold their fire, his cavalry disappeared into the dense black fog. The once chaotic plains was filled with complete and utter silence. However, the silence was interrupted by painful screams originating from the black smoke.

For once in this dreadful battle a smile finally formed on Sebastian's face.

With a breath of relief, he sighed happily.

"It seemed that I may have overestimated them... damn it... I should have sent in my cavalry sooner."

Sebastian muttered to himself just quiet enough that the surrounding men couldn't hear him. Although he lamented on his careless mistake, it did not affect his cheerful mood for he was able to reverse the situation.

Or so he thought.

Soon figures began to emerge from the fog. They were armoured men dressed in orange silk clothing who were riding horses. They were his cavalrymen. Yet... what were they doing? Unlike before where they rode in unison, each cavalryman was riding alone and seemingly without thought.

Sebastian's heart sank when he realised the most probable answer. [Are they retreating? No that should be impossible!] However, Sebastian could not deny that his cavalry were not only retreating but they were deserting.

The remains of his cavalry ran in all directions, the only common theme among them was that they all ran in a direction away from the black fog.

Sebastian didn't even have time to properly react before the next barrage of bullets arrived. Soon the bulletstorm was once again raining upon his army. He didn't even have to look at his men's faces to know that their moral plummeted. However, he still had to regain control of the battle.

"Resume fire! Fire at will! Fire at will!"

However, all his actions were in vain. Frightened by the retreating cavalry, some of his men started deserting as well. The fear spread like a plague and soon entire Tercio battalions were retreating. Even some of his officers began to retreat. Nevertheless, Sebastian continued trying to retake control of the situation.

"Stay where you are! Stand firm! Hold the line! Hold the-"

He was cut off by a stinging pain in his chest. His mind was disorientated and his vision became hazy. His blurred vision showed him the lively green grass stained by crimson blood and panicking men all of whom ran away from the battlefield.

"Ho-hold the line... hoold... the..."

Sebastian tried to speak but there was no longer any strength in his voice. He didn't even realise it yet but he was no longer on his horse. Instead he was sprawled out on the grass trying his best to stand back up.

As he failed to stand up, figures began to emerge from the smoke. It seemed that they finally decided to march onwards. The figures were dressed in purple uniforms and unlike the Paniards they wore no armour at all.

The army marched in unison and they proudly held their banners high into the air with pride. They were purple banners engraved with the insignia of a silver snake eating itself.

Before the battle Sebastian looked down on these banners as banners belonging to another foolish noble who would end up crushed under Sebastian's foot. However, the sight of these banners now drove fear into his heart.

At the back of the purple army where the banners were held the highest, he saw a noble riding upon his horse. Like the rest of his army, he was only dressed in purple military uniform. However, unlike the rest of his men, his clothes were of highly exceptional quality and he wore a long flowing violet cape which made him look like he doubled in size.

With his last breath, Sebastian muttered the name of the violet caped noble.

"Maxwell Dunnwal..."