I'm very nervous right now, and I see no relief from my anxiety in sight. I am supposed to give birth sometime in the next 24 hours. Laying here staring at the full moon on the clear starry night, I wonder if he will make it and alieve my loneliness. Sighing to myself, I can't help but wonder if everything is ok while fearing for the worst.
*****
Fannar POV
10 weeks prior
Fire… Metal… Weapons, these are the root of my craft. My craft has been the only thing that sustained me through the darkest moments of my life. For me, Fire is the breath of life, metal the currency upon which we trade, and weapons are the partners that accompany us, providing what we need to survive.
I have always been a simple man, though never a stupid man. My father saw through me from an early age. He sat me down and sternly told me, son, you will never be a cunning or witty man in this lifetime. The Gods so saw fit to give you an honest and straightforward personality, always speaking your mind and lacking fear.
He explained that a wise man must not speak to be wise. He instead listens and learns the ways of people. A wise man thinks before he speaks, organizing his thoughts to make one point and leaving it at that. A wise man prepares well before a journey and need not rush. Most important of all, a wise man is not rash and knows himself.
I pondered many a night on my father's words back then, as he rarely spoke so many words to me at once while I grew, I came to a life-changing decision. Who cares about all that whit and nonsense! I'll just decide to do something that doesn't need me to think about such b.s. So the next day, I picked up a hammer, which still accompanies me today. Metal doesn't lie. It sings and is something I need not bother with.
Right now, I'm one of ten men out of the 200 accompanying me that brought enough rations to last more than a week. These men rushed here to get to the front, dreams filling their young heads of glory fighting the giants. Well, there's no glory in starving to death far from home in a cold deep enough to form frost iron.
They all thought the same thing, I'm a cultivator. What need do I have for food? Well, I guess their elders didn't tell them the frost wastes sap your stamina so fast that without food, your body can't sustain Ki, and we all know in our realm, qi is only half as strong as Ki. Doing a simple one plus one it means your body will be no different from an average mortal without food.
Usually, this isn't a big deal to haze some rookies. But, unfortunately, we have a more complex situation than expected. The war support request said the giants were twice that of the previous year and needed help. But in truth, it was thrice that number, and they also sorely needed food. Come on man, just count. It's not difficult.
After making our way to the fort, we found it entirely surrounded by slightly more than a thousand giants. So to render aid, we fought our way in. luckily, my group wasn't alone in heading to the fort, and our battle was accompanied by 12 other teams of similar size. Little did we know the giants stole all the food supplies previously en route to the fort, hoping to starve everyone to death. Which put us where we are now.
Sitting in war council chambers, the 15 of us are the only rank seven or higher present. The fortress chief is the only 8th-rank Platinum body warrior present. While the rest are discussing, I keep listening to the same arguments back and forth. For 5 days, they won't shut up. One side wants to abandon the fort, and guerilla fight in smaller groups as the war party heads deeper into the territory. The other side wants to fight it out here to the last man.
Each day they bicker like children, almost like they can end it all with words alone. After they have been arguing for nearly an hour straight today, I'm at my wit's end with these people. Bringing my fist down on the table, causing it to crack, the noise finally goes down.
"Alright, I've had enuff' of yer' marital quarrelin' to las' a lifetime. My humble self suggests tha' based on te' enemy numbers, we hav' em' at 10 to 1. Hav' mos' of te' higher rank fighters hol' one of their higher rank fighters, then te' remainder massacre from te' lowest rank up. Ef we thin te' numbers enough, say to 5 or 6 hundred, we will be able to have the iron bodies raid their food storage and recoup our loss." Taking a deep breath, my accent dulls down to normal. "Then the front will return to the same as every other year with our present forces," I say
Turning around, I make my way from the War-room to find a mead cask. Bloody cowards, the lot of em'. Need to finish this quick and get back to Lija before she hangs me by my toes in the cold.
Meanwhile, back in the war room, silence still fills the space as everyone still wears a shocked expression.
"We sure that's the same man who only knows how to swing a hammer, with neither man, beast, nor metal being his equal." One speaks up
"Well, he is the only one besides the war chief that has felled a giant of the same rank without assistance." Another says.
"We go with Irons-bane plan. Let him be the one to cull the weaklings. Let's try to end this war in time for Sigrblot, we will need more children to make up for the losses this time." So says the war chief.
"Besides, if we don't do something soon, he's likely to start fighting us instead of the giants." A pale blue-haired man says to the side, holding a sword with a familiar maker's mark on it.
Banging their right fist onto their chest, they head out to rally the warriors. Grouping the 5th and 6th rank fighters into teams of four will be just enough for each team to hold down one giant of 6th rank each. When fighting something 5 times your height, teaming up is the only way to even the odds.
The 50-meter-tall walls surrounding the fort may seem excessive for human enemies, but it seems just about right for giants who stand at 10 to 12 meters tall. 5000 warriors at the 5th rank and up stand on the wall facing the enemy ready to do battle at a moment's notice. While the other 5000 rank 4 warriors only need to await the right time to rush over and steal back their war supplies.
"Warriors of Odin," yells the war chief from the landing just in front of the fighters.
All the men on the wall begin banging their shields with either swords, axe, or spears. A slow, steady rhythm sounds deeper on the battlefield with each blow. The men and women feel their pulse quicken, their bodies filled with warmth as their blood boils with the desire for battle. With united desires, a wave of battle intent floods from the walls like a tsunami headed to their enemies.
"For you are warriors, as we are all that stands between the giant horde and the sleeping babes at home. Upon the clouds above, Odin sits, awaiting our glory on this cruel and cold day. For all of you shall hence be named with honor, Giants-bane. A Cask of everlasting fire mead to whomever claims the most lives this day." The chieftain claims. Turning around, he steps off the landing to free fall to the ground.
"Forward," I shout along with the other rank 7 warriors. Stepping forward, 5000 men simultaneously walk off a perfectly good wall with intact stairs falling to the earth as though they merely took a step off their front porch. The site is sure to set fear in the hearts of any other enemy, But here there be giants.