(General POV)
To the men of Jarl Skald tasked with guarding the only shallow point on the Icevein wide enough for an army the day began as any other they could remember in the past weeks. Ever since the Imperial Legion broke through the fort that guarded the roads from both Morthal and Whiterun the invaders had set up camp as close as they could and simply waited there, doing absolutely nothing.
The Dawnstar Raiders, all three and a half thousand of them stationed outside their beloved city, tried harassing their supply lines as was their usual tactic in warfare, but even their chainmail and large round shields failed to protect them from the constantly shifting tactics of Torygg's loyalists' patrols.
Whenever they would gain ground they would soon find themselves assailed as if their advance was predicted with magic, Whiterun cavalry would descend upon their hiding spots from seemingly nowhere or their supposedly surprise assaults would be met with a staunch line of Solitude's new Legion.
But worst of all were the tales of a single man wearing armored Legion robes, more often than not the men would grow bold seeing a single man guarding a supply train only to suddenly be overwhelmed with what they swore were Daedra wearing Imperial Steel.
The One Man Army had become the boogeyman of the Raiders and the men trembled at the mere mention of him, some even going so far as to describe him as a vile lich wearing the face of a young lad.
After two weeks of constant losses, their commander simply decided to fortify the crossing as hard as he could. If their rapid aggression would not work then they would have to settle with their mighty shield wall and rely on their spear arms to win the day.
Indeed, the day started as any other and nothing changed till noon for just as the coastal fog started lifting did the men on guard duty hear the distant twinging of bows and the distinct sound of wood striking wood.
They had an entire ten seconds to get ahold of their surprise before their side of the ford was struck with ballista bolts and catapult projectiles which quickly exploded into flames as the pitch within the pots caught fire and stuck to the wooden structure.
Screams of pain filled the air as Captain Frorkmar Banner-Torn scrambled out of his tent while rapidly putting on his helmet. The man immediately started barking orders for the men to take cover and prepare for an assault.
They hid behind their walls and dugouts as the bombardment continued for twenty whole minutes, many fools that dared peek out of cover soon found their faces burned by a random explosion, or if they were unlucky they found the pitch stuck to their bodies as they were forced to roll on the ground in pain, further lowering morale.
By the time the artillery stopped, a good number of the men of Dawnstar were still half deaf with their ears ringing due to the constant explosions. But their leaders were not hairless youths, as the moment the assault ceased the veterans of the Great War started barking orders once more and the wall was swiftly manned by the disheveled defenders.
And just in time as well, as the Imperials seemed awfully confident in their Cyordiilic Engineers, so much so in fact that the vanguard of Markarth and Solitude infantry advanced just a couple dozen paces behind the falling munitions.
"JAVELINS!" Frorkmar's command rang out and even rattled his men obeyed without hesitation, hurling hundreds of the throwing spears at the advancing shield wall.
Dozens fell and before they could go for another volley, the attackers returned the favor as they finally marched into range well over a thousand spears and thrown axes sailed over the wall, mangling many atop the walls and burying themselves into the unsuspecting men waiting behind.
The exchange continued for a time, bodies piling up on both sides as the shield wall edged ever closer. Soon the attackers were joined by a line of Falkreath archers who started loosing their arrows in such a rhythm that the defenders could no longer return fire quite as easily, just in time for the ladder teams to rush through the sudden openings in the ranks of the infantry.
The presence of a brother hold's troops fighting for the enemy further struck at the rebels' morale.
The men of Dawnstar readied themselves to repel the legionaries scaling the ladders but it would seem the world itself had it out for them on this day as even more Imperials rushed through the ranks of the vanguard.
Frorkmar barely held himself back from cursing out loud as he saw Shock Troops straight from Castle Dour being led by the Legate Rikke followed by what looked to be over a hundred Bretons in full plate armor wielding greatswords.
"READY YOURSELVES BROTHERS!" Frormar shouted "FOR ULFRIC AND TALOS!"
His men echoed his battle cry and as the first soldier in Solitude colors scaled the walls had his head caved in the battle had begun.
They seemed to be holding as men on ladders made for easy targets but their moment of success was short lived as the Bretons pointed their hands to the lowest point of the wall and the ground magically rose into a perfect ramp for their assault, Rikke's men wasting no time in charging over it and falling upon the surprised defenders.
This time Frorkmar failed to stop himself "Fuck."
The melee soon turned even more bloody as the Imperials gained a foothold and the most elite of the Raiders were forced to face both veteran legionaries and the mighty Breton knights.
As the men on both sides grew more desperate to gain an advantage magic started erupting all across the narrow battlefield, the few Dawnstar magi not tied to the Flame-Heart clan showering the attackers in ice to debilitate them while the Imperial officers responded with scrolls of fire and lightning.
A mere twenty minutes later nearly a thousand men lay dead on the wall, with about six imperials per four rebels, and the battle line refused to move even slightly, that is until the backline of the Raiders suddenly started falling like cut grass, the distant sound of metal crossbows being fired breaking even through the cacophony of the battlefield.
Frorkmar needed only one quick look at the line of crossbowmen kneeling in front of a line of halberds and legionaries and under a large triangular banner of black and purple to know he was well and truly fucked.
(Reyvin's POV)
It took the poor fuckers a good thirty seconds to scramble up a response, more than enough for my mere fifty marksmen to cut down well over four hundred men. Repeating crossbows were usually shit weapons, but add some piercing and strengthening enchantments and they become the medieval heavy machinegun, perfect for attacks like these.
As a thick shield formed to face our advance, I stepped in front of the still kneeling crossbowmen and pointed a single finger at them. A couple of them managed to recognize me in time to thoroughly shit themselves before lightning exploded toward their position, killing another hundred in the blink of an eye, leaving naught but their steaming boots.
My men needed no other signal and my leisurely advance was swiftly overtaken by their charge, the gaping hole in the enemy ranks being swiftly taken advantage of by our immense momentum.
As soon as another defensive line managed to slow us down somewhat ice and fire smashed into them as the warriors of Winterhold and Dagoth showed their true might.
Unwilling to be left in the dust, or as was more likely unwilling to seem useless to me, Zarok's people fell upon the weakest spots in their ranks like rabid animals, punching through them and immediately falling onto the backs of those poor idiots still trying to hold back Rikke and the knights.
A swift shared look with Tiberius had him nodding and rushing after them, his Dremora appearing just in time to stop the Dawnstar backlines from enveloping the 54th.
For whatever reason the rebels seemed almost as scared of him as they were of me.
Well now, that wouldn't do.
I snapped my fingers and disappeared inside a nearby shadow.
---
The Dawnstar magi didn't even have time to react as I impaled one with my glaive and pierced the throat of another with the Ebony Blade. Five more fell to my constantly switching blades before they even noticed I was there and their magic was, while at a respectable adept level, too weak to do anything but feed me their Magicka as my robes absorbed the violent energies faster than they could overwhelm them.
"Burn n'wah, BURN!" Scorch chirped giddily as he set fire to those unfortunate enough to be assigned as the mage's protection detail, some managed to strike him and even take off a wing but the pyromaniac bird had grown in power just as I had and he simply shrugged it off by burning a new wing into existence.
Even with this, the stubborn ranks of Dawnstar seemed to still have the guts to keep resisting.
My hand flashed out in a grasping motion as blades of wind descended upon a Stormcloak officer, turning him into what I could charitably describe as spaghetti.
'Never forgetti!' The bird, currently busy gouging the eyes of an old man chirped into my mind and I had to suppress a groan while dodging an ice spear.
Forcing my mind away from the cursed words I would most definitely not be able to forget, I speared yet another far too young cryomancer. I felt the air to my side shift, my eyes immediately snapping to a Nord, who was probably on some shrooms judging by his bloodshot eyes, swinging a large dane axe at my head.
Unbothered by this I merely glared at him, my eyes burning slightly as Magicka surged forth and turned him into mush before he could so much as twitch.
I could taste their fear as they beheld a man get unmade with a glance and I allowed myself a grin, unseen but most assuredly felt, and turned to the rest of them "You may throw down your arms now."
And to my utter astonishment, they actually did.
"Well." I chuckled, my voice carrying across the suddenly silent battlefield "That is a surprise."
-----
"I demand that the rebel leader be executed, Legate!" A tall Breton knight wearing the colors of Wayrest shouted as his fellows, including Reynauld, nodded in approval.
"And I have already said that I do not have the authority to make that judgment." Rikke shot back icily "Frorkmar Banner-Torn will be turned over to the rightful High King with the rest of his ilk so that he may be judged under the laws of Skyrim."
The man seemed inconsolable as he pointed at the tied up kneeling Nord who was still covered in blood "He killed Baldrick!"
"And he did so in battle!" Rikke snapped back.
The Breton fumed, his face reddening "If you do not execute the bastard I will-!"
"You will what?" My calm voice presses onto their wills as I lay my hand onto his shoulder.
"C-court Mage" He stammers "You have to right this grave injustice!"
"Do I thought?" I tilt my head "Tell me, Bernard of Wayrest" I pretend to remember his name as I read it "Is it honorable to slay surrendered prisoners back in your beautiful city?"
"He is not a prisoner, he is a brigand!" He snaps back, but seeing me looking at him like he is an idiot he quickly tries to look as small as possible without humiliating himself.
"And a brigand still gets to have a fair trial when possible." I correct him patiently before turning to the rest of the disgruntled Bretons, sharing a quick nod with Reynauld I speak once more "You have fought bravely on this day, but I can see not many of you have experienced war." Some try to stammer at this fact but I keep going "More of you will die before this is over, I can assure you of that."
Their expressions turn grim at that particular proclamation as they give each other doubtful looks. These were all still mostly young men, the true veterans were all sitting to the wayside, patiently watching how this would go and how their charges would grow.
"But." I draw their attention once more "It is through this crucible of warfare that you shall earn the glory you have come to find." I raise a clutched fist "Nothing worth having is ever easily attained, my honorable allies, and you must realize this for without sacrifice there can be no victory." I pause, letting the words sink, and then declare "You have shown your mettle today, and saved hundreds of your comrades from death. Now it is the time to show your wisdom and honor your fellow's sacrifice as he would have wanted."
The group of young men turn silent, sharing a few looks amongst themselves before they all seem to accept my words and bow before me "Forgive us, Court Mage. Your words have opened our eyes." Bernard speaks solemnly "We will not dishonor our friend's sacrifice by slaying a prisoner." He gives Rikke a respectful nod "Apologies, Legate."
Rikke simply nods and we watch as they leave "You have grown, kid." She says suddenly.
I scoff but don't deny her "I suppose I did. Never seen myself as a leader years ago."
"And yet you could still give most of the Jarls a run for their money." She points out.
"What a high bar you set, Legate." I drawl sarcastically and we share a chuckle.
The pleasant silence stretches on for a while before a cough interrupts our musings, our eyes immediately falling onto the tied up Stormcloak "Pardon me, but I really need to piss."
For a moment Rikke looked like she regretted sparing him.
I just burst out laughing.
-----------------
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