The hammers of the smiths slammed against the red-hot metal with a steady yet powerful strike. It was rhythmical, the pounding of dozens of hammers that drummed out in unison.
Armor and weapons were finely and patiently crafted to the best of their ability, with perfectly cut sapphire being embedded into the center of shields, the hilts of blades, the handles of blunt weapons, and the chest pieces of armor. Then, they were taken to be consumed.
Before their lord, the smith brought his newly finished blade forth. He knelt before him, holding out his newly crafted sword with a lowered head. They were in fields of the Fallenic Path, where the entirety of his army stood behind him in precise formation. Hundreds of them donned the armor of a knight with weapons in hand.
Erik, too, donned such armor. From shoulder to toe, he wore armor black as night and with a cloak cascading down his back. It flowed like a fog, or a shadow that seemed as if your hand would simply go through it.
Erik raised his hand over the blade, and from his gauntlet-covered hand, a thick and black liquid bled out, falling onto the blade and covering it completely. His breathing fogged at the entrance of his lips, an exasperation that carried with it a sense of loss, one akin to the lightheadedness of losing blood.
He took the blade from his loyal subject with a recollected demeanor, turning to his knight who knelt on one knee beside him. He then held out the sword toward his knight, and with the blade pointing down, he let go. The sword slipped from his fingers and plunged into the earth. His knight then grabbed its hilt with both hands and unsheathed it from the ground as he stood up.
His helmet, which was clutched in his other hand, he raised up and placed tightly on his head as he turned to his army. His hands were empty, but as he raised his arm, a long blade quickly formed in his grip, pointing to the grey-clouded skies. It irradiated an unnaturalness that matched the dark of his armor. It was made of shfi'nyl through and through and was not merely a thin layer coating metal.
His army erupted into a thunderous roar that shook the very mountains, and as they marched through the city, their pounding steps could be felt by every citizen who sent them off. They were not merely soldiers of war, they were conquerors marching onto Tel'vane.
Of course, they had scouted ahead only a short distance, knowing where only the closest settlements were.
From the border of Ferin, which was a large gate between the only natural opening in the mountains, they marched down the hill into Tel'vane's expansive taiga. From there, they could see the crowns of the taiga trees which seemed to go on forever.
They easily took the first town without much of a fight, aside from the few men who took up arms before they were swiftly unarmed and thrown to the ground. They rounded up the villagers in the town center and were brought to their knees before the most regal of the black knights, who stood out among his soldiers with his cascading cloak of darkness.
"Do any of you speak common?" He asked, his voice imposing and chilling enough to send shivers down the spines of all the innocents before him, like a cold, wet knife scraping the backs of their bare necks. He was met with no answer he could understand from frightened mothers, clinging to their children and crying out for fear of their life. Others were simply poor old farmers, or young men and women who had yet to fully mature.
"My lord." One of his soldiers approached to inform him. "We have rounded up all the livestock and villagers now."
"Good. Raise the flag, let them know the symbol of their new country."
A flag bearing the sigil of Innah'vadah, a pair of horns, with one broken, was raised above the local church. It was a beautiful shade of pitch black that stood out from even afar, made of fine silk. The sight of the flag brought about silence from the villagers.
He took off his helmet, revealing in full his face to the people. They were surprised to see such a striking and clean face, perhaps even more so to see that he was human, expecting some sort of demonic monster instead. Their worries seemed to quell a tiny bit.
"Nistriss." He called upon one of his priestesses, at which a young dark elf approached him.
"Yes, my lord." Nistriss, a young and dedicated dark elf, stood before him with a lowered head. Like all the priestesses in his service, her attire was characterized by modesty, a dark tunic that covers most of the body, with only the hands and neck up being the exception. The Fallenic Priestesses were the female equivalent to the Fallenic Knight; well-educated and modest women who willingly offered their servitude to their lord.
"I assign you as priestess to this holding. You will be tasked with education and guidance, and I will have three of your brethren to protect you. I expect nothing but success from you."
"Yes, thank you, my lord. I shall not fail you." She retorted with an eagerness, which stemmed from true devotion, which he could see in her eyes.
"Such zealousness is a virtue. Above all, you are to maintain control. You will begin by rationing food to the Telvanians."
"Food, my lord? Shall I ration the reserves we brought...?"
"Yes. As their Priestess, they must look to you as they would their own mothers. They must respect and trust you, but their view of us will surely raise animosity. You will personally hand out the rations to every one of them so they begin to associate you with kindness."
"Your wisdom has taught me, my lord."
His priestess, Nistriss, lowered her head and left to do as told. His knights then approached, awaiting orders in an orderly fashion.
"My lord. What shall we do now?"
"Scout to the north and map out the area, returning immediately if you spot anything of note. The rest of you hunt for food. Return by sunset, and inform everyone we will march tomorrow."
"Yes, my lord!"
As his knights parted ways, he made his to the captured livestock. They consisted of horses, cattle, sheep, and hogs, all of which were hairy, with thick coats of wool and fur.
He approached the steeds in examination. They were strong-looking and were larger than the ones native to Highland. He glanced to the side, the owners of the animals standing worrisomely on the side.
"They are the owners?" He asked his knights.
"Yes, my lord." One of them answered." As ordered, we brought them along with the livestock. What shall we do with them?"
"Do any of you speak common?" He waited only a moment for an answer, only for it to bear no fruit. "Release them." He ordered, at which his men backed away. Erik then approached the men, and taking out a bag which had appeared out of nowhere, he held it out to the men.
After a moment of hesitation, one of them took the bag from his grip, a stutter in his arm's reach. He nearly dropped it, having to catch it with both hands. He didn't expect it to be so heavy, and he could guess what it was from the clinging sound it made.
He opened the bag to see dozens of shiny silver coins. They had never seen so many, and especially none that were so spotless and undulled with scratches and dirt.
"Sohranyat'?" The man said, a beady look of uncertainty and confusion in his eyes.
Erik ignored the man and ordered his men to take away the horses. "Feed them, then have them pull the wagon. The females, however, I want them bred by my personal steed, then taken back to Innah'vadah to be put into their own enclosure. You men will see this done tomorrow, upon daybreak."
"Yes, my lord!"
Knights carried boxes full of food to where Nistriss was standing. A line had formed before her, with the knights gathering them like herded sheep. She began giving out food, but the villagers couldn't hide their discomfort or fear.
They were anxious, their faces etched with worry as they clung to their loved ones or wrapped their arms around themselves for warmth and reassurance. They stood in stark contrast to the encircling black knights, who loomed ominously, their ebony armor casting shadows on all sides.
Among the villagers, a young man's eyes darted erratically, reflecting the fear that gripped him. His irises glistened like beads as he surveyed the scene, searching for a glimmer of hope amidst the encroaching darkness. His breathing was light yet fast, on the verge of hyperventilation. He then saw an opening, a pathway of light between the darkness. He made a break for it, running for his life he darted for the forest, but no one chased him.
The villagers saw the young man make a break for it, but of all the knights who witnessed his getaway, not a single one of them budged.
Even Erik, who stood close to the young man's path, simply watched as the boy bolted past him. He turned to the crowd of villagers and spoke out to his men. "We can not speak, men, so act. Show them. Open a path, men, let them know they are not prisoners, but they are free."
He took a step back, his cold, yet burning blue eyes, facing the crowd of villagers. His men followed as he did, each of them facing them, each of them taking a step back.
Nistriss continued on, taking a bag of food and offering it to the young woman in line ahead of her. She smiled, a beautiful and warm smile befitting a caring mother. The woman hesitantly took the food and beckoned was the next in line.