(Chapter 38 The Purge V)
Mengsk's soldiers, realizing their Duke and Commander had abandoned them to their deaths, scattered in panic. The battlefield was filled with cries of desperation as they broke ranks, many throwing down their weapons and raising their hands in surrender. The tide had finally turned in favor of the rebels. Gardon and his knights, their arrival a beacon of hope, pressed the advantage, cutting through the remaining resistance.
"Forgive me! Young Master! I surrender!"
A defeated sword dropped his sword to the ground, the clang echoing in the sudden stillness. He fell to his knees before Tempest, his eyes wide with fear and desperation, hands trembling as he begged for mercy.
"Please, spare me."
He pleaded, his voice cracking.
"I only fought because I had no choice. I have a family... A daughter... Please, don't kill me."
Tempest looked down at the man, his fiery swords still flickering with the remnants of battle. The rage and adrenaline that had fueled him moments ago began to subside, replaced by a grim understanding of the toll this conflict had taken on everyone involved.
"You are not my enemy. This war is against the tyranny that forces men like you to fight against their will. Stand up. Go join the others who are surrendering, and once this is over, go back to your family and tell them what you have seen here today."
The man looked up, disbelief and gratitude flooding his expression. Slowly, he rose to his feet, bowing deeply before retreating from the battlefield, his steps unsteady but filled with a renewed sense of hope.
The fiery swords dissipated and his Delusion was deactivated. Tempest looked around at the aftermath of the battle. Piles of corpses littered the battlefield, the smell of blood heavy in the air. Birds circled ominously in the sky, drawn by the carnage below.
Tempest walked over to a nearby boulder and sat down heavily, his body aching from the strain of combat. He took deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm his racing heart and clear his mind of the chaos he had just endured.
Tempest looked down at his bloodied hands, the crimson stains a stark reminder of the violence he had just inflicted. His gaze then turned to the remaining rebels and Gardon's knights, who were busy taking the remaining soldiers of Mengsk's army as prisoners.
"So many dead..."
Tempest muttered to himself.
"Young Master."
The voice of Constantine broke through Tempest's thoughts. He turned around to see Constantine injured, his clothes bloody, and his right hand gripping his left shoulder. Despite his wounds, a wicked smile spread across Constantine's face, clearly enjoying the aftermath of the battle.
"Teacher, you're injured..."
Tempest said to him.
"Ha, this is nothing, we won in the end... Now all that's left is your Father, hiding in the mansion."
"Mm, we did... But at what cost? I've thrown away the lives of many..."
Tempest replied, his gaze shifting back to the pile of corpses.
"Are you having second thoughts now?"
Constantine said as he walked closer to Tempest.
"No, this ends here... Teacher, no. Constantine, thank you for fighting at my side."
Tempest said.
"And it was an honor, to fight alongside you, Tempest."
Constantine replied to him, a genuine smile forming on his face.
"I'll check back with the men, you should talk to your, Uncle, Young Master."
"Mm."
Tempest replied to his Teacher, Constantine then walked off to check on the other men, ensuring they were accounted for and tending to any remaining tasks after the battle.
A rider on horseback rapidly approached Tempest. He narrowed his eyes to get a better look and soon recognized the person. It was his Uncle.
"Tempest!"
Gardon shouted as he dismounted his steed.
"Uncle..."
Tempest muttered as he got up from the boulder.
"Did something go wrong? If I was late even for a minute, all of you could have been..."
Gardon paused, deciding not to finish his sentence. His concern was evident in his eyes as he looked around at the aftermath of the battle.
"Everything was going fine at first, but I didn't anticipate that Father would bring the Ghosts with him. They killed all the musketeers and Gatling gunners, leaving us without any support."
Tempest explained, his voice tinged with frustration and exhaustion.
"I should've known better... Many died because of me... Thank you for coming, Uncle, I would've died along with the rebels without you..."
Tempest confessed, his voice heavy with guilt. He looked down, the weight of the loss pressing on him.
In response, Gardon hugged his nephew.
"My clothes are bloody, Uncle..."
"It's alright, you did well today, every great leader makes mistakes in their first battle, you are no exception, Tempest. Learn from this and grow stronger. Today was just the beginning of your journey."
Gardon let go of the hug, giving Tempest an encouraging nod.
"Thank you, Uncle... How... How many did we lose?"
Tempest asked, his voice heavy with concern and weariness. He glanced around the battlefield, his eyes lingering on the fallen rebels and the wounded.
"Out of the 800 rebels who fought today, only 369 survived."
Gardon confessed, his voice somber. He looked around at the grim scene of the battlefield, the weight of the losses clear in his expression.
"I... I see."
Tempest gritted his teeth at the news, his jaw tightening with anger and sorrow. He clenched his fists, feeling the weight of the heavy losses and the immense cost of the day's battle.
"But despite your Father's initial advantage of 2,400 soldiers and an additional 400 reinforcements, your brilliant strategy has left us with only 873 of his forces remaining."
Gardon said, his voice carrying a note of reluctant admiration.
"You are a natural-born leader, Tempest."
"Most of his soldiers fell because of your cavalry, Uncle."
Tempest replied, acknowledging the crucial role Gardon's forces had played in the battle.
"That is true, yes, but I was merely following your orders, Tempest. Your bravery and the determination of the rebels gave us the critical advantage of surprise. Had I brought my forces here in advance and combined them with yours, your Father would never have set foot on this battlefield. A large army such as mine cannot be concealed, and its presence would have alerted him, preventing us from achieving this victory."
Gardon explained to Tempest, his voice steady and reassuring.
"Thank you, Uncle... Thank you for everything."
Tempest said, his voice steady despite the exhaustion.
"We need to chase after him now before he has a chance to escape and regroup. Every moment we delay could allow him to strengthen his position."
Tempest said.
"You don't have to worry about your Father, escaping, Tempest. My forces have full control of Stormwind Harbor, rest assured, we will march to the mansion."
Gardon reassured him.
"Before we proceed, I need you to address the soldiers who were abandoned by Mengsk. Convince them that what they were fighting for is futile now. It's important to undermine their morale and ensure they do not pose a threat to us later."
Gardon suggested to him.
"Very well, lead me to them."
Gardon nodded and gestured for Tempest to follow him. As they moved through the battlefield, they passed by rebels who were grimly engaged in clearing the corpses and searching for any survivors. The scene was harrowing, with bloodied bodies scattered across the ground, the air thick with the stench of death and the sounds of anguished cries. The sight was a stark reminder of the brutal cost of war.
'Needless bloodshed... But this had to happen... If Uncle didn't join me, I had to this uprising on Father's name day... I would have to risk Lady Furina's life... I'm glad it didn't have to come to that...'
Tempest thought to himself, feeling a deep sense of relief that he hadn't had to follow through with his original plan.
Finally, Gardon and Tempest arrived at the scene. Gardon's knights, mounted on horseback, formed a tight perimeter around the surviving soldiers of Mengsk. None of the captured men held weapons; some stared blankly with dead eyes, while others were stained with blood from the chaos earlier. The knights stood vigilant, ensuring that none of the prisoners could escape or make any reckless moves. Their presence was a stark reminder of the power shift that had taken place.
"Young Master!"
"Falric..."
Falric approached Tempest and Gardon, his appearance a stark testament to the battle's ferocity. His left arm was missing, replaced only by a tattered bandage wrapped tightly around the stump, while his right eye was covered by a makeshift bandage. Despite his injuries, he carried himself with a determined stride, his presence a silent acknowledgment of the cost of their victory.
"Don't worry about me, Young Master, I failed trying to protect the musketeers and Gatling gunners, when the Ghosts came out of nowhere. Forgive me..."
He knelt down, bowing his head low in a gesture of deep remorse and respect.
"Stand up, please..."
Falric did what he said.
"You have proven your bravery to me, and your loyalty towards me, thank you for everything."
Tempest said.
"I am honored by your understanding, Young Master. I'll be having my left arm replaced with a mechanical one at the Fontaine Research Institute. Please forgive me, Young Master, but I will be away for a few days while I recover and undergo the procedure."
Falric said with a short bow.
"Take as much time as you'd like, Falric, when you return, the position of Captain, will be reserved for you."
Tempest promised him.
"Thank you, Young Master. Now then, what shall we do with the prisoners? Young Master?"
Falric turned his head towards the soldiers abandoned by Mengsk, his expression a mix of frustration and pity.
"Go on, Tempest."
Gardon said, and Tempest nodded in response.
Tempest took a step forward, and all the eyes of Mengsk's soldiers turned to him. Many of them glared with hatred, their expressions hardened by the betrayal they had just experienced.
Tempest took a deep breath before he spoke.
"I will make this clear. I am not your enemy. Mengsk is your enemy. Why, you ask? Why did I betray all of you? Why did I create this rebellion? It's simple. My Father is planning a coup against the Archon Focalors."
Tempest's voice rang out, strong and unwavering. The soldiers' eyes widened in shock and confusion as his words sank in.
"I won't ask for your forgiveness, for what I did was right. Do you all want to live in a nation ruled by mortals? We all know why Khaenri'ah fell. Do you want Fontaine to share the same fate?"
Tempest's words cut through the air, resonating with the soldiers. He continued, his voice filled with conviction.
"Think about it. Do you truly want to see our nation crumble because of one man's ambition? I don't. I intend to restore House Proudmoore's legacy, to bring back the honor and loyalty that once defined us. I ask you, will you stand with me and witness this restoration? Or do you wish to remain pawns and tools for my Father? Forever shackled by his ambition and deceit? The choice is yours, freedom and honor or perpetual servitude under a tyrant?"
Tempest's voice rang out with unwavering determination, challenging the soldiers to choose their choice.
There was a brief silence at first, a tense moment where Tempest held his breath, anticipating their answers. Then, one by one, the soldiers abandoned by Mengsk began to kneel before Tempest. The act was slow at first, with a few hesitant movements, but soon, more followed. The entire group of soldiers, who moments ago had been filled with hatred and distrust, now bowed in submission and loyalty to Tempest, acknowledging him as their new leader.
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"Burn everything! The deals with the Fatui! The date of our coup! Burn them all! We can't let them find any evidence!"
Mengsk shouted to Pierre, his voice frantic and filled with desperation.
"Yes, Your Grace..."
Pierre replied with a nod, grabbing his lighter and starting to burn the papers one by one. The flickering flames consumed the documents, each one turning to ash and scattering in the air. He moved swiftly and methodically, ensuring that every incriminating piece of evidence was reduced to nothing. The room filled with the acrid smell of burning paper as Pierre worked, the urgency of the situation evident in his hurried movements.
"Pierre! Send a messenger hawk to the Fatui! We need reinforcements immediately!"
Mengsk shouted urgently at his commander, his voice echoing through his office.
"Your Grace... The Fatui has only agreed to support us during the coup..."
Pierre replied, and in response, Mengsk's fury erupted. His Cryo Delusion flared to life, the cold energy crackling around him. With a violent swipe of his left arm, he unleashed a torrent of freezing power, instantly encasing half of his office in a thick layer of ice. The chill spread rapidly, turning papers, furniture, and even the walls into a shimmering, frozen landscape.
"Everyone is useless! That insolent child has outmaneuvered us! Damn it all! That fucking Gardon! Pierre! Gather the staff and arm them immediately. Put them at the forefront as our vanguard!"
Mengsk's frustration boiled over as he paced through the icy ruins of his office. His face was a mask of fury, the cold aura of his Cryo Delusion casting a stark contrast to his seething anger.
Get them ready for battle! We need every hand available to fend off the rebels and secure our position. I won't let that boy and his rebels take everything from me!"
"Yes... Your Grace..."
Pierre replied with a short bow and left Mengsk's office.
'This guy is a lost cause... Lots of my brothers died, because of this asshole... And my juice is running low, won't be long until this suit runs out of battery...'
Stone who was invisible in Mengsk's office, watched the entire scene unfold, having second thoughts about working with Mengsk, and he seriously considered abandoning the situation.
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*Two Hours Later.*
The combined forces of the remaining rebels, the soldiers abandoned by Mengsk, and Gardon's knights marched toward the mansion. Leading the 2,000-strong army were Tempest, Constantine, and Gardon on horseback. After two hours of relentless marching, they finally arrived at the gates of the mansion.
"Halt!"
Gardon raised his hand in a stop gesture, signaling the entire army to halt their advance. The troops came to a standstill, their footsteps echoing in the stillness as they awaited further instructions.
Tempest's stomach churned as he surveyed the scene before him. In the mansion's courtyard, maids and butlers, faces pale and eyes wide with fear, gripped swords and spears with trembling hands. Their apprehension was palpable as they braced themselves in a desperate, yet futile, defense against the advancing army. In the background, the remnants of the Knights of the Golden Hand stood alongside Pierre, their grim expressions reflecting the gravity of their situation.
"That coward..."
Gardon said.
"Shall we break in? Young Master?"
Constantine asked Tempest.
"No."
Tempest said as he got off his steed.
"Tempest?"
"Young Master?"
Both Constantine and Gardon called out to him, they then did the same as well they dismounted their horse and followed Tempest.
Tempest's Delusion flared to life, and a fiery Pyro sword manifested in his hand. With a determined gaze, he swung the blade with precision, cleaving through the gates effortlessly.
"Fight you cowards!"
Pierre shouted urgently, trying to rally his knights, but his commands fell on deaf ears. The knights, paralyzed by the tension of the moment, remained rooted to the spot. Meanwhile, the butlers and maids, their faces pale and hands shaking, stood frozen in fear. They were servants, not soldiers, and the thought of facing death for the mansion they merely tended to was overwhelming.
"I will not fight any of you, anymore. I grew up with many of you. The maids have prepared countless delicious meals for me, and the butlers have always shown me the utmost respect. I once admired the bravery of the Knights of the Golden Hand, when I was young."
Tempest declared, his voice carrying a mix of determination and sorrow.
"I propose a solution, have my Father fight me in a one-on-one duel, winner, takes Stormwind."