At the top of the hill, shrouded in a light mist of morning dew, Maser sat on a freshly milked horse, and even despite his imposing stature he looked more like a bum who had stolen a horse than a knight.
But even so, his figure inspired respect - it was as if he embodied strength and determination. Next to him, in the shade of the drooping trees, stood Alan, the assistant, whose face betrayed anxiety.
Together they watched the column of soldiers slowly passing on the horizon, their uniforms shimmering in the sun like waves on a vast sea. The clatter of hooves and the sound of shouting brought nervousness to the serene morning landscape.
"Are you sure about your decision?" Alan asked, tilting his head, still hoping to get his boss to talk.
"We're already fucked, it won't get any worse." Maser said calmly, shrugging his shoulders and his gaze went back to the column while his mind raced with thoughts of how easily he'd been tricked into being a hero.
He was very impulsive at times, and of course the old bastard had been able to take advantage of that, knowing full well that he had no titles or money. All he had was his authority, and that's what Fleet was pushing.
Thinking over the situation once more, a slight smile lit up his face, as if a faint ray of hope had broken through the clouds. 'At least I've accomplished something.'
He suddenly realised that his decision, though rash, gave him at least some chance of not dying and keeping his men alive. The thought resonated in his mind like the flickers of a firefly - All things work out for the best.
Maser turned slowly and looked down at the foot of the hill, where the prince sat in a hastily unfurled tent, surrounded by his acolytes and Fint himself. His face was sour, and displeasure was in every movement. The prince, dressed in luxurious but dirty robes, clutched the handle of his sword as if something precious had been taken from him.
The man felt a surge of pride as he thought about how his choice could affect the fate of this stupid cunt. On the other hand, he was well aware that this time the fatal mistakes would be truly fatal.
Now he was not just a commander in the eyes of his soldiers, but also a symbol of hope, the one that dies last.
But the essentials were primary, the man's thoughts switched to the fact of the long absence of the scouts, Maser could not get rid of the disturbing feeling. Their sudden disappearance was awakening in him the worst assumptions. 'Where could they have got stranded?' - he wondered, going over the options in his mind.
'Probably robbed some village and are boozing - cattle.' Suddenly a thought occurred to him, and he turned to Alan.
"Let's make it five gold pieces: that the locals will try to "shoehorn" us in within twenty-four hours." A smile was on his lips, and there was a glint of confidence in his eyes.
Alan shook his head and growled back: - You do realise that they're pretty banged up too, don't you? They won't be able to organise anything so quickly. - His voice sounded serious, and there was a lot of truth in it, but Maser wasn't going to listen.
He knew that the locals, already aware of their arrival, were planning something else. Alan crumpled a little, but that was the end of it - the bets had been placed, and yet anxiety still plagued his thoughts.
Meanwhile at the Coastal Coalition headquarters....
The atmosphere was quite tense. Hin, the eldest of the brethren, was waiting for his colleague - Niro. He had already appeared on the horizon at full speed. He stopped at Hin's feet and in a single movement got off his horse with a grim expression on his face.
Hin immediately realised that the battle for Kali Province had not gone according to plan. They quickly proceeded to the headquarters and locked themselves in the office, and a heavy silence hung between them. Hin, taking advantage of this moment, began pouring wine into glasses, hoping to at least ease the atmosphere a little.
Niro, instantly drained first one glass, then the other, as if seeking solace at the bottom of the glass. His fear lurked in every sip, and Hin, silently watching his brother, realised that Niro was going through a difficult time right now.
He was far from calm, and that inner conflict was reflected in every movement. Hin didn't utter a word, but the support of his silence was needed by Niro more than any words.
Niro, clutching the glass in his hands, as if he were seeking solace in it, finally decided to speak about the recent events. His voice trembling with anger and despair, he said.
"We decided to receive them off the coast. The Kali clan, as professional engineers and masters of artillery, decided to overwhelm them with a massive cannon salvo."
"The enemy troops probed our defences, and when they realised they could attack, hit with everything they had." Niro hesitated, gathering his thoughts, but his eyes seemed to blaze with fire. Memories of the three hour firefight stung him, it had left deep scars.
"It was a living hell, with no clear outcome," he continued.
At that very moment, as if by a cruel irony of fate, two fucking hours late, our fleet entered the battle.
"And taking advantage of the almost complete lack of resistance from land, the Webi fleet moved away from the shore and first smashed our fleet, and then, like birds of prey, struck again, but from land." Hin, listening to his brother, felt waves of anger and hatred rising up inside him now and then.
"I have no idea where and when they landed, but it was hell. We didn't expect an attack and let the enemy get to the artillery positions," Niro said, his wine gone, pain in his voice. He was torn by the guilt inside him, the guilt of not being able to defend their own land.
"It was a massacre from there," he said, his eyes darkening at the memory. 'Bolt was wounded by shrapnel from a cannonball, but the Kali Clan and I, with the last of our strength, were able to push back the enemy and make a retreat. He froze for a moment, staring into the void, trying to grasp the reality of what had happened.
"Even so, the plan will stand," Hin said, reviving and looking more determined.
"Our land will burn under the barbarians' feet." His eyes, full of rage, flashed over the immediate, inexorable decision.
Niro, though defeated, still supported his colleague's determination.
"If they come, let them see what we can do," he added, and the same confidence was in his voice. For a moment, the two abbots immersed themselves in shared memories of past victories as they stood together in defence of the common people.
Finally, Niro and Hin raised their glasses full of red wine, and in that moment, everyone was with them. 'To all the dead!' they said with glee as they drained their glasses. For even in the midst of sorrow, they were to remember those who had given their lives for this land, and perhaps even in a moment of despair to find strength in their memory.
Meanwhile, in the camp, life continued to flow. Soldiers were going over their weapons, discussing rumours, and there was talk, mate and song around the campfires.
One of the commanders walked through the camp, his face as grim as the clouds on the horizon. He belonged to the Kimo clan and had lost his brother in the recent battle, the pain of the loss never leaving him. 'I told him infantry was the best place to be, at least on the ground it's pretty problematic to drown,' he thought, gritting his teeth in anger.
Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by the conversation of a group of soldiers sitting around a fire nearby. Their disgruntled whispers reached his ears, and the hatred driving them to speak was audible even from behind the thundering flames. The first soldier cried out: "How long shall we run from the enemy like rats? We're giving them our land for nothing!"
"I don't know, but I don't like this rubbish either." The second one, his voice sounded with obvious irritation. The third, losing patience, threw a branch into the fire, as if to express his anger:
"I'm fed up, at least let me sleep a little!"
The Kimo clan commander heard their words and his heart beat faster, he was thinking the same thing. – "And I see you don't give a damn at all," one of the soldiers snickered at him in disbelief.
"No, it's just that your squealing is getting on my nerves. We're not going to change anything with our gossip," the soldier who had woken up sounded tired.
"Shit, we should all get together now, and hit each other." Dreamily said the first soldier.
"Dream on," the third soldier interrupted him and spat on the ground.
"Dreams sometimes come true." The commander, who was listening to their argument, decided to intervene and directly intervened in the conversation. The soldiers were nervous at first, but the commander's gesture was interpreted quite unambiguously - 'stay where you are'.
He squatted down and addressed the soldiers in a quiet but firm voice: "Guys, I've heard everything, you also think that our leaders are just giving us up." They all nodded.
"I think so too, but we have the power to change everything." The soldiers began to look at him with inspiration, catching his every word.
"We must unite and fight for what is ours. This is our land and we will not give it up without a fight, listen up, I have a plan and I need your help."