As Alaric followed Grifford out of the temple, he stopped. He could not grasp the motion around him, it was so much to take in at once that it was impossible to know what to do. It was all just so overwhelming. He felt lost in a sea of blood and bodies.
Grifford grabbed Alaric's shoulder and squeezed tightly. "This is your first war I presume. Just push forward, be mindful of who is around you, and pick your opponent wisely. Take any openings you can, and kill any enemy you can. Do not concern yourself with honor or respect for the enemy. War is war, the act of killing in of itself is dishonorable and disrespectful. So survive."
Alaric was about to speak, but the sound of a whistling arrow came to fill his ears and he flinched, spinning around just as he saw a flash of metal. Grifford had somehow flicked his blade through the air, deflecting an arrow that had come inches away from Alaric's head.
Alaric turned to the old man in awe. How could such an old fossil move so fast?
Grifford had his eyes locked on the West side of the valley. "It would seem you were correct about your brother seeing through our tactics."
"I warned you. It may be better to just retreat at this rate, find a new home." Alaric said.
Grifford shook his head. "Nay. I cannot leave Graud behind. I have no doubt that the Mortadire Clan would eliminate every single mythical being in the valley. That.. would be much a worse loss than that of my people."
Alaric stared at this old man in confusion. Why was it that Grifford valued mythical beings more than his own brethren? It just made.. no sense.
"Alaric!!!" Came a roar of rage.
Alaric's head snapped around as he looked to see Lucard, the general who'd been in charge of looking over him when he was held prisoner, charging him on horseback.
"Haha!" Grifford cheered. "Have fun, this seems to be your first opponent. Find me when you defeat him, and then we head for the woods."
With that, Grifford left Alaric alone amidst the fraying chaos of war around him.
Lucard charged Alaric, brandishing two short-axes, one in each hand. Alaric drew his katana and his wakizashi, dashing aside as an axe flew past his head, severing stands of hair.
"I should have just killed you myself, you damned traitor!" Lucard roared. "I knew it was a mistake to let you go!"
Alaric glared at Lucard, rage rising up in his chest. The sense of overwhelmed confusion faded now completely as he held his blades in either hand. He now felt in his own element. He felt relaxed, collected.
"Come then." Alaric spoke calmly. "Take my head if you feel confident enough."
"Don't get cocky just because you were a royal! You are little more than scum with no real combat experience." He steered his horse around, facing Alaric. "All of this," he motioned at their surroundings. "This is war. And it overwhelmed you, didn't it? You've never seen conflict or bloodshed quite on this scale. Look around you, how many bodies can you count? How many dead? How many wounded? Do you really think you belong here?"
Alaric drew in a deep breath, flipping his wakizashi over in his hand. He'd already thought three steps ahead. His eyes flashed open, a cold edge to them as he glared at Lucard.
"Tch! I will be the one to sever your head, so bow down and die, you lowly scum!!" Lucard roared as his steed charged Alaric.
An axe swung down on Alaric as Lucard came close, but he hooked his wakizashi into the crook of the axe, then spun and crashed the butt of his katana into Lucard's elbow. That sense of adrenaline rushed through Alaric again as the sound of snapping bone came and he pushed up with all his force while pulling the axe down. In a swift motion, Lucard was flipped through the air, wrenched off of his steed and slammed into the mud as the horse galloped away, leaving its master behind.
"If I'm scum," Alaric spoke, glaring down on the confused and horrified man below him, "then what does that make you?"
Alaric's wakizashi deftly sank into Lucard's throat. Blood began to pool around the wound before flowing down his skin, dying his clothes red.
Alaric's heart raced. He felt an intoxicating rush pulse through him in waves. He didn't want this exhilaration to end, it made him feel alive when nothing else could.
Alaric's eyes flicked up and locked onto the nearest Mortadirian soldier. They were clad in thick silver armor from head to toe and were locked in combat with two Saruan men. He wielded a shield and a massive sword that he swiftly brought down on one of his challengers after deflecting an attack with his shield. The sound of the massive sword tearing through flesh and breaking bone seemed to fade like a single bird song on a summer day, the sound merging with the chaos around them.
Alaric rose to his feet, withdrawing his wakizashi from Lucard's throat before swiftly moving forward, unheard and unseen, like a phantom crossing a graveyard.
The Mortadirian soldier bashed the other Sarua man aside, then rested back his sword to swing down on his opponent, but as he raised it, a soft *shank* sound came, followed by a spray of blood as a katana was thrust between the metal plates at his neck. As blood soaked his armor, staining it crimson, the man dropped his sword and collapsed to the mud.
A whistle came, soft at first, but it grew louder until it was more like a shrill scream. Alaric spun to face the direction in which the arrow from before had come. To his horror, he saw dozens of arrows raining down on him like a black storm, blotting out the sky.
Alaric looked about, the whistling arrows growing louder. He couldn't outrun them and he couldn't.. block.. them. That's when his eyes rested on the Mortadire soldier's shield. Alaric dove for it, bloody mud covering him as he splashed to the ground and grasped the shield. Just as the arrows crashed down like angels of death on the battlefield, Alaric raised the shield and curled up, shrinking himself so the shield could block his full frame.
Metallic thuds rang out and painful bangs crashed from the shield through Alaric's arm. The arrows were much larger than he had expected, having a lot more force behind than than he'd anticipated.
"Alaric!" Came a voice. Alaric looked up from under the shield, seeing Brigham and Grifford standing behind a building with a mountain of Mortadire corpses laying at their feet. Brigham brandished a large double sided axe.
Alaric rose to his feet. He grabbed the wakizashi out of the mad, having dropped it when he'd grabbed the shield. He wiped it on his pants and sheathed it, running through the shifting waves of writhing bodies and clashing metal, sword and shield in hand. On his way, he managed to cut down three Mortadirian soldiers before he reached Grifford and Brigham.
"Where is Lyra?" Alaric asked.
"She is safe." Grifford responded. "We need to focus on the battle."
All three of them were absolutely drenched in blood, grime and mud. Brigham had a deep gash across his shoulder, his arm hanging limply.
"Can you still fight?" Alaric asked him.
Brigham, using only one hand, raised the axe over his head and lowered it to his shoulder in a fluid motion. "I'll do just fine. Don't ya worry about me."
Alaric could no longer sense any suspicion or aggression in Brigham's tone. He wondered if the burly man had gotten over whatever he'd been thinking.
"We need to go into the woods. They have taken down our archers and are now using our own tactics against us. We need to eliminate them." Grifford said.
"I imagine I know who is general there. But I do warn you, it will be by no means easy to bring him down. He is a tactical genius and his skills in the forest are unmatched." Alaric warned.
"I believe I know who ya are talkin about. His name is Hedric, yeah? The 'Hunter' they call em. He was a legend in the last war." Brigham spoke.
"Yes. We must be careful.. or else we all die."