Col. Damien Renzellern January 1731 City of Ber, Province of Ciresia, Osterian Empire
Thousands of soldiers, wearing uniforms of white, burst through the tree line, an intimidating sight for any army against it.
Though with the lack of any cover, both armies are plain to see. Enemy fire would be fierce, but I predict a stalemate will occur, something they'll break with their advantage in mages.
Something I would need to be that would rely on me and my ability, something only possible from the flat clearing I seem to have been blessed with.
Meyer walks to my side. "Sir, General Klein has accepted your plan and has given you full authority to do as you wish."
"I see. That's good news."
I glance at him, discerning his uneasy expression, "Inform both Forst and Schneider of their post. We would need both men once the fighting ensues, and a melee starts."
"I understand." He replies, unsteadily.
"Is there a problem?"
"Sir, the men seem to be anxious. This has, after all, been the first battle we've had in years. Perhaps taking such a forward approach would weaken morale, especially with the enemy's advantage."
I glance behind me, watching the expression of the two thousand men assigned to my command.
The men of my regiment look around in anxiety. The years of peace showing its toll as the soldiers hesitate at the sight of an actual army. It has to be fixed.
"Meyer, I'll try to do something about it. You're dismissed."
Meyer salutes before returning to his battalion, his eyes unsure.
With him gone, I take a deep breath to calm myself, taking in the scent of gunpowder, one leaving me with a mixture of familiarity and anxiety.
The life of blood that I've chosen to forget, coming back in full force. I know what I have to do.
There's no turning back here. I need to face this head on once more, to gain the revenge I want, to make sure all those responsible die by my hands.
I close my eyes at such a thought.
My expression needs to change, my every action needs to inspire. If I want to have every man here before me marching in my command.
I need to inspire them to bet their lives in my name, and what's the easiest way to do that?
The promises of greatness, the promises of something bigger than themselves. The promises of victory and glory, one that they'll only achieve at my behest.
And to be such a man, I have to be the man worthy of such respect, such reverence. Only then can I be sure of their loyalty.
How else am I supposed to do that? With betting my life along with theirs.
With a path now set, I step forth.
My golden eyes open, bursting in light, magic swirling around me as I walked to meet my men. The hundreds arrayed before me, all in need of leadership, one which I'll make sure they'll find in me.
With a burst of confidence, I give a charming smile as I flourished my hand forward.
The wind around me blasting to their faces as the small, familiar pull of magic brings my voice to their ears.
"Hear me! Soldiers of Drissia!"
'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
"Hear me! Soldiers of Drissia!"
A shout reverberates through hundreds of men, cutting away through their thoughts. It forced their eyes to a view that would be burned in their eyes forever.
A man standing before them, golden eyes lighting over his shadow as the sun baptized his visage.
"Fifteen years ago, the Kingdom of Drissia struck fear throughout the continent! The Armies took victory after victory! Each one humbling the surrounding nations into accepting our existence!"
"Some of you were there. Most of you would have fought, and all of you would know that we were invincible, unconquerable, and unmatched!" His expression turns proud.
"Fighting armies three times its size! Expanding our land to five times more! Every battle won with little effort, led by men of such skill and greatness that no nations dared to stand!"
His eyes roam the regiment, his expression angered, "Yet after fifteen years of peace. Those same nations forget of their defeat and once more knock against our door!"
"The Ruscovites threaten our lands with its many armies, stealing our lands and riches, leaving our people poor and desperate."
"The Avidians threaten our trade, our wealth. Exploiting what we had for their own, abusing our people into poverty, threatening us into war."
"The Osterians, meanwhile, exploit our soldiers, our tradition, to gain a semblance of what made us great, of what made us powerful!"
His expression turns pleading, urging the men around for their service. Their sense of responsibility gripped by his words.
"So here I stand! Calling you to defend the Kingdom we call home! To protect against its aggressors! To make sure that we, The Kingdom of Drissia, are to get its due."
He swipes his hand against the men, blowing winds ripping through their ranks. Their eyes looking up to his power, pride swelling in their chest.
"So we could prove once and for all Drissia we knew was never gone! But merely slumbered! Once more awakened to remind them of their place!"
He stomps his foot on the ground before it rattles at his power, his raised saber gleaming in light. The men looking to him in shock as the world seemingly shifts at his command.
"So follow me! Follow me so we could once more grab Victory and Glory!"
His eyes drilling a hole into their skulls, burning his golden eyes into their memory.
"FOR VICTORY AND GLORY!"
His words, his actions, his every movement expressed in utter confidence. Their eyes stuck as the magic around him blows, the world giving him his blessing.
It left the men awestruck before shouts erupt from their throat. A raging fervor, washing over like a tide, chanting a phrase that would stick to his name forever.
"VICTORY AND GLORY!"
"VICTORY AND GLORY!"
"VICTORY AND GLORY!"
With such, their anxiety, their worries, were burnt away as they shout at their imminent victory, the man before them leading the charge.
"All men, FORWARD!"