Chapter Two - First Blood:
My boots pressed into the soft earth of Nyctrae. A sense of foreboding trampling my mood, much like I trampled the earth under my boots. There was a faint aroma of smoke wafting from distant campfires. The sun, casting its golden rays upon the rolling hills, painted the landscape in shades of amber and gold, a serene facade masking the turmoil that lay beneath.
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Amidst the bustling activity of my men, their voices resonating in the crisp morning air, I observed with a keen eye, taking in every detail of our surroundings. The rhythmic clang of hammers and the shuffling of feet provided a steady cadence, punctuated by the occasional bark of orders from rugged non-commissioned officers. Privates were always rowdy, even with their best efforts to behave.
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Drawing my cloak tighter against the chill breeze, I surveyed our surroundings with a critical gaze, scrutinizing every nuance of Nyctrae's landscape. The buildings stood silent and vigilant, their windows darkened and shuttered as if bracing themselves for the storm that loomed on the horizon. Each structure seemed to exude a silent sense of anticipation, as if awaiting the inevitable sound of rifle fire and the boom of the cannons. Although, I had noticed - much to my dismay - a distinctive lack of cannon, or indeed any other type of artillery. There was no Howizers or Mortars, too. If the Dominion happened to bring their big guns and begin firing at our encampment, we would be as good as dead.
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As I traversed the sprawling encampment, snippets of conversation and whispered rumours reached my ears, heightening the sense of unease that pervaded the air. Words spoken in hushed tones carried on the wind. some were trivial, some
deeply concerned me.
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"Apparently Marshal Scipio is from Gloucestershire."
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"Did thou hear of the fall of Fort Magnus? Apparently, the whole place is in ruins."
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"Aye, there was one survivor, poor chap kept going on about an "Eye" obliterating everything!"
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Lost in my thoughts, I nearly stumbled over a stray crate, jolting me from my thoughts with a start. With a rueful shake of my head, I resolved to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside my doubts and fears for the time being. Grand Warlord Egoni awaited in the command tent, I was ready to find out what the plan was and who was in charge.
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I stepped into the command tent. Immediately, the air seemed to crackle with an electric tension, the atmosphere charged with impending decisions and looming conflict. My gaze swept across the interior, taking in the imposing figures that stood within.
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Three Grand Warlords, their expressions grave and determined, occupied the space, their presence casting a formidable aura that demanded respect. Among them stood a figure clad in a resplendent plum and gold uniform bearing the crossed sabres and crown insignia of a flag officer. Confident and commanding, his piercing gaze surveyed the room with disinterest. This one I knew by name, having met him once before, it was Lieutenant General Napoleon, the respected commander of the First Infantry Army.
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Beside him stood another figure, resplendent in a magnificent white and gold uniform with a laurel wreath enveloping a pair of crossed batons surmounted by a crown. His confidence bespoke a lifetime of military prowess and strategic mastery. It was a facade, however. Grand-General Constantine Pride of the 1st Infantry Army Group - a force made up of 500,000 men - had a reputation for being about as useful as a "chocolate teapot.' The jape had gone so far that the Earl had actually sent him one on his birthday.
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There was a strategy, though. But it relied on the Estrin Dominion failing to notice themselves being flanked, this was something that I though was unlikely to happen: the Khagan's armies were experienced, ruthless, and would therefore not fall for such a ruse. Alas, I was an ant among giants in this tent, and only Marshal of the Grand Army Scipio could order Pride about.
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Lieutenant General Napoleon informed me that I, alongside War Brigadiers Starfall, Caesar, Orion, Icarus, and Eos art to flank the Dominion's Army when we do battle. The 7th Infantry Division will be under my command.
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I nodded. "Understood, Lieutenant General. I shalt make the necessary preparations."
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The Lieutenant General continued, "The Estrin Dominion approaches. We've spotted their advance through our binoculars. Time is of the essence."
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"Thank thou for the information. I shalt see to it at once. But tell me, is it true what they say about Fort Magnus?" I asked.
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Before Napoleon could respond, Grand General Constantine Pride interjected with a hint of mockery, "Yes, Charles. The rumours are indeed true. Fort Magnus has fallen."
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My face fell much like Fort Magnus. "Fallen? But how could-"
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Pride interrupted dismissively, "Ah, but why concern yourself with such trivial matters? You have a battle to prepare for, War Brigadier. Leave the past where it belongs."
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My jaw clenched, but I maintained composure. "As thou command, Grand-General." He saluted the officers before turning to leave. I felt disgusted at Pride's cold disregard for those men's sacrifice.
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But I also glowed inside, 20,000 men, and the command of Rifle Brigades 35-40 meant that I could make a difference in the rapidly approaching battle.
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The events after that were a blur, I could groggily recall being told to prepare the 7th Infantry Division. That I did.
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And then the battle of Nyctrae began.
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The sun had ascended lazily over the aera, its golden rays casting long shadows across the serene fields of Nyctrae. The tranquillity of the small border settlement was shattered by the rumble of approaching hooves, the ground trembling beneath the relentless advance of the Estrin Dominion's cavalry. I imagined then as being clad in the deep red and dark grey of the Dominion, mainly because I could not see them.
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I stood at the rear of the 7th Infantry Division, my eyes were on the men in front, of which there were 20,000. To the east, I knew that the 1st, 2nd, ⅔ of the 3rd Corps - some 140,000 soldiers were prepared to engage the enemy. Beside me, my officer were tense, their hands gripping the hilts of their sabres with white-knuckled intensity. They knew that they faced a formidable foe, one whose reputation for savagery and ruthlessness preceded them. Although, there was an outlier: Lord Sergeant-Major Erik Aurora. He was a huge, imposing man with a growling voice with a rumbling edge to it that was guaranteed to frighten even the most undisciplined of enlisted infantry into submission. Aurora looked completely at ease, for this I was grateful, as he and his squad of twenty-five men were to stay in the rear to protect me.
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As the Dominion forces drew nearer, I could almost visualise the glint of malice in their eyes, the grim determination etched upon their faces as they prepared to unleash hell upon their unsuspecting adversaries. My task was to wait. A responsibility that was sure to obliterate one's nerves faster than a barrage of artillery fire. I had to wait until the Estrinites were fighting the main force before swinging around and flanking their rear.
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There would be no turning back now; the die had been cast, and lives hung in the balance. I nodded to the Bass Alpenhorist to my side. They had decided to use the low and powerful instrument invented in Alphen, Chalcrystis to give the signal to begin our flanking manoeuvre because it was significantly different from the brassy bugle calls used by the main force and also as it sounded enough like the war horns that had become synonymous with the Dominion that it may cause confusion in the enemy.
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The Dominion cavalry charged forward with a thunderous roar, their steeds galloping at breakneck speed as they bore down upon the Narcissian lines with reckless abandon. To their own credit, the men stood their ground, their sabres likely flashing prettily in the sunlight as they met the charge.
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The first shots rang out, a deafening cacophony of noise erupted around them, the air came alive with the screams of the wounded and the clash of steel against steel.
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"Sound the advance!" I heard myself below at the Bass Alpenhorist at my side. There was a low call that caused every fibre of the world to bow before it. The men began to move forward.
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The violence was swift but brutal. The air thick with the sound of bodies hitting the ground and the sickening crunch of bone beneath the hooves of the charging horses. Blood flowed freely, staining the earth crimson as men fought and died with grim determination, their faces contorted in agony as they succumbed to the horrific violence that was found in every war, it could not be farther removed from the glorious tales told to children, if this was one of them we would undoubtedly been in Worcester receiving bucketful's of medals and the adoration of every woman in city, the glorification of war wss a sickening trap that leaves starry eyed conscripts in every region woefully unprepared for the visceral carnage unfolding around me.
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The soldiers of the 7th Infantry Division smashed into the sides of the Estrin force. The ground beneath their feet was soft and sodden, and the earth churned into a muddy quagmire by the hooves of the warhorses. The stench of blood and sweat hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder and the sickly-sweet aroma of death that must have filled the nostrils of every soldier in Empyrean history.
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The Dominion had been flanked, though not from the rear like I would have prefered. They fought with a savage ferocity that was borderline barbarism, their eyes gleaming with a manic fervour as they fought. They enjoyed every minute of it. The Dominion was the oldest region, and they loved war. It had originally come from the Estrin Archipelago in the northwest that was now uninhabited. The Estrin Dominion was generally agreed upon by historians to have been founded by the possibly mythical figure called Estrin on the orders of an enormous pan-regional empire from the Lost Age that was dissolving around the time of the dawn of the Age of Gears, and when the Estrin Dominion was founded, it had completely collapsed. No records exist of any other Dominions.
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My thoughts about the East were put to an end by a single Estrinite - whom had lost his horse - charging at me with his bloody scimitar held aloft, likely hoping to vivisect the fancy officer in his line of sight. I was not interested in letting that happen, so I drew my pistol, an Ariss Mark IV revolver. I squeeze the trigger.
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A spray of blood and fragments of bone erupts from the point of entry, painting the air with a splatter of dark crimson that adds to the already overpowering stench of blood and sweat. The cavalryman's face with the shock of the impact, a fleeting moment of agony before consciousness is swiftly extinguished by the overwhelming damage inflicted upon the brain.
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The man was dead before he hit the ground.
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Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against them, the Narcissian forces refused to yield, their resolve unbroken even in the face of the horde.
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As the battle raged on, I could see the toll it was taking on my men, their ranks thinning with each passing moment as they fought against an enemy that seemed unbeatable. But still, they pressed on, their hearts filled with a fierce determination to defend their homeland at any cost. There was a BWAAAAAAH from the Estrin side. It was those dammed horns!
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The Dominion's soldiers began to pull out of the battlefield. The horn must have sounded the retreat.
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The Estrinites were gone as fast as they had appeared. The sun was beginning to set on the muddy, bloody bog of battle that was the ground around 1 mile away from the settlement of Nyctrae. We had won, but at a terrible cost.
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Later, as I made my way through the bustling medical tents, my gaze fell upon a wounded soldier lying on a makeshift cot, his face contorted in pain as a medic tended to his injuries. Despite his obvious discomfort, there was a sense of pride in the man's eyes. He had fought well, it would seem.
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Drawing closer, I offered the wounded soldier a reassuring smile, trying to ease his suffering if only for a moment. "The medic told me that thou fought bravely out there," I said, my voice laced with admiration. "The Earldom should be proud to have men like thou."
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The soldier managed a weak smile in return, his voice strained as he spoke. "Thanks, sir," he replied, his words tinged with gratitude. "I did what I could to hold the line."
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"And what is thy name, soldier?" I asked, my tone gentle yet firm.
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"Sergeant Aureliaus Nova, sir," he responded, his voice weak but grateful.
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Turning away, I couldn't help but feel an unusual kind of melancholy for the brave souls who had fought on my command. I made my way through the bustling camp, listening to the sounds of suffering and healing coming from all around me.
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3 YAP:
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"That's what happened at Nyctrae." Worce concluded.
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Lance Corporal Harvester decided that it would probably be best to hear Azure's parts tomorrow. For now, he had only one question: "What happened at Aronanult and Fort Aurorae?" he asked.
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Worce seemed to tense up at the mention of these two events. Nearly everyone knew about the Narcissian defeats at the Battle of Aronanult and the Fall of Fort Aurorae, but very few knew what actually happened.
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"Aronanult was a disaster because of the lack of artillery. Fortress Aurorae, meanwhile, fell victim to "The Eye"."
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"The Eye was real?" Harvester had clearly thought it wasn't.
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"It definitely was, I saw it for myself."
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"What happened was.."
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50 YBP:
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The sun slowly dipped below the horizon, casting dancing shadows across the rolling hills of Aronanault, a sense of anticipation hung heavy in the air. The scent of smoke and gunpowder mingled with the faint aroma of cooking fires, creating an atmosphere of restless energy among the troops gathered on the outskirts of the fortress.
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I stood among my comrades, their faces drawn and solemn as they prepared for the coming battle. Each man wore his uniform with stubborn vanity. Each pair of eyes was the same: reflecting a mixture of fear and determination. We knew the stakes were high, the outcome of this battle could be extremely important, such is the uncertainty of war.
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"War Brigadier," a voice called out from behind me. I turned to see Lieutenant Sunstar approaching, his brow furrowed with concern. "The men are ready, sir. They await thy orders."
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I nodded, acknowledging his words with a terse grunt. It was time to set the plan in motion and strike a decisive blow against the Dominion forces that threatened our homeland. With a silent gesture, I signalled for the officers to gather round, their faces illuminated by the flickering light of the campfires.
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"Gentlemen," I began, my voice ringing out clear and strong above the murmurs of the assembled troops. "Tonight, we stand on the brink of history. The fate of Aronanault hangs in the balance, and it is up to us to ensure that our homeland remains free from the iron grip of the Estrin Dominion."
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The officers nodded in silent agreement. They knew as well as I did the importance of this moment.
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"The plan is simple," I continued, outlining our strategy with a sense of grim determination. "We will launch a surprise assault at dawn, catching the Dominion defenders off guard and seizing control of key positions within the town. From there, we will press our advantage, driving the enemy out. Thankfully, the town was evacuated. If everything goes sideways, we shalt fall back to Fortress Aurorae."
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Despite the fear, there was an anger building within everyone in the room. They wanted to retake the Narcissian town from the grasping claws of the Estrinites.
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"Remember," I concluded, my voice rising with conviction. "We fight not only for ourselves, but for future generations. For the freedom and prosperity of all who call the northeast their home."
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With that, I dismissed the officers, their footsteps echoing in the darkness as they returned to their respective units. I watched them go, a sense of calm settling over me, my mind focusing solely on the task at hand. Tomorrow would bring bloodshed and chaos, but for now, we stood united in purpose, ready to face whatever challenges the dawn would bring.
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Dawn had come to the town of Aronanault, and with it came battle. The air was saturated with tension that one requires a sabre to cut through it. A palpable sense of foreboding that seemed to lazily move from soldier to soldier. We marched forward, our boots echoing off the stone walls, our hearts pounding in anticipation of the carnage to come.
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The deserted streets stretched out before us like a ghost town, the windows of the buildings boarded up and barricaded against the onslaught that was sure to come. Aronanault had been evacuated, unfortunately that meant that the East had met no resistance and had installed flags with a deep crimson diamond on dark grey – the emblem of the Estrin Dominion – everywhere.heir presence a silent threat that seemed to pulse with malevolent intent. But we were not afraid; we were soldiers of the Earldom, after all.
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When we rounded a corner, we saw them: the enemy, arranged before us in a formidable display of strength and discipline. Without hesitation, the men charged forward. It was as if they were a bullet launched out of the barrel of a rifle. The men had been instructed to keep the rifles of their backs – they would be useless in the narrow streets – and to instead fight with their pistols and sabres.
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The streets erupted into chaos, the air alive with the sound of gunfire and the clash of steel on steel. Bodies fell to the ground in droves, their screams of agony lost amidst the overture of battle. I fought with a ferocity born of desperation, my own sabre gleefully danced and struck down any Dominion soldiers that faced me.
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But for every foe I felled, two more seemed to take their place, their numbers overwhelming our lines with relentless attacks.
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There was a sound that no infantryman wanted to hear: a huge boom followed by a piercing whistling noise. It was the sound of artillery shells bring fired and shrieking towards their targets.
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The enemy’s artillery found its mark, shells burst on the streets of Aronanault. Explosions tore through the air with a deafening roar, sending plumes of smoke and debris spiralling into the sky. Buildings shook violently as shells rained down upon them, their sturdy walls reduced to rubble in an instant.
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Soldiers screamed in agony as shrapnel tore through their ranks, their bodies torn apart by the deadly barrage. Limbs flew through the air, blood spattering the cobblestones in a grotesque display of violence. Those fortunate enough to survive the initial blast lay writhing in agony, their cries of pain lost amidst the chaos of battle. I saw a private dragging himself across the cobbles with one hand, his legs had been blown off, the ground behind him was as deep a crimson as the diamonds on the flags. The man’s left arm had been seared by an explosion. I could not look at him for long. I bellowed for us to fall back to Fort Aurorae.
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The air was thick with the stench of burning flesh and smoke that was presently choking our lungs as we struggled to maintain our footing amidst the devastation. A cluster munition fell down on an entire squad, and sharp bits of metal tore into them. We began to run.
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Buildings collapsed around us, their wooden beams splintering and crashing to the ground. Chunks of masonry rained down on the streets.
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Those who managed to escape the deadly rain of shells fled for cover, seeking refuge in the crumbling ruins of the city. But even there, they found no safety from the relentless barrage, their makeshift shelters offering little protection against the fury of the enemy’s wrath.
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The streets ran red with blood as the wounded cried out for help, their pleas falling on deaf ears amidst the chaos of battle. Medics worked frantically to tend to the injured, their hands slick with gore as they tried to ease their suffering.
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The cruelty of the Dominion knew no bounds. The white roundel and red cross of the medics was a target to them.
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As we fell back, the enemy pursued us with a ferocity that bordered on madness, their cries of triumph sounding throughout Aronanault. We fought tooth and nail to keep them at bay.
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Finally, we reached the safety of the fortress, the massive gates swinging shut behind us when the last man had flung himself into the welcoming arms of the Fortress. Everything went eerily silent. The Artillery had stopped firing.
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The 3rd Corps had made it to the fortress. Grand Warlord Egoni approached me.
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“Worce,” he began, looking utterly exhausted. “The 1st Corps suffered heavy losses in the battle. The entire 2nd Infantry Division, twenty thousand strong, has been lost.
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My heart sank at the revelation, a cold knot of dread settling in the pit of my stomach. Twenty thousand brave souls, gone in an instant.
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“The total amount of causalies?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.
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Egoni’s expression darkened further, his features etched with sorrow. “Thirty-five thousand, by our estimates,” he replied.
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I nodded grimly, steeling myself against the wave of despair that threatened to engulf me. There was no time for mourning, no luxury of indulging in grief. We had a war to fight.
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“There is more,” Egoni continued, his voice heavy with foreboding. “Grand-General Pride and Lieutenant General Napoleon have taken the reserve of the First Infantry Army and the Second Infantry Army with them. They have been ordered to move to Ergo Ridge to defend Worcester should it come under attack.”
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I felt a surge of apprehension at the mention of Ergo Ridge, a strategic stronghold that guarded the approach to Worcester. The geography of Empyrea made it difficult for the Coalition to join forces. It would be months before they could launch an attack on the capital together. Hence why we had only had to deal with the Dominion so far.
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“And what of the Dominion’s movements?” I inquired, my mind jumping to the worst scenarios of what would happen to us if Fort Aurorae fell.
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Egoni shook his head. He looked puzzled, “They have not laid siege, despite our expectations,” he admitted. “It is an unsettling development. They art up to something.”
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I clenched my jaw, a sense of unease settling over me like a dark cloud. This was not a blunder. The Dominion had done this for a reason.
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“And what of my orders, sir?” I asked, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within me.
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“Thou art to assume command of the 3rd and 1st Corps,” he declared. “Should I fall in battle or be rendered unfit for command, thou shalt take my place as Grand Warlord.”
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I swallowed hard. If something happened to Egoni, I would be in command of 100,000 men.
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“And one more thing,” Egoni added, producing a gleaming uniform that bore the same insignia as his own: crossed sabres and baton, below a single crown. It was that worn by a Grand Warlord. “Wear this with pride, Worce. Thou might need it.”
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I accepted the uniform with a solemn nod, the weight of the cloth heavy in my hands. I had never expected to go so far, Worcester and Worcestershire had been named after the first High-Exarch, who had bore the name of Worce. But that was about two-hundred and ninety years ago, and the position of High-Exarch was not hereditary and the titles of Rector and Baron did not exist then, so my family was not noble, to make it this far based on merit was an impressive feat indeed.
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“Thank thou, Grand Warlord,” I murmured, my voice choked with emotion. “I will not fail.”
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With a final nod of farewell, Egoni turned and departed, leaving me alone. I simply went to bed, shedding my old uniform and leaving the new neatly folded nearby. The sandman's embrace brought me gently into his domain of dreams.
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The night air seemed to press in from all sides as I was roused from uneasy slumber by a boom that reverberated through the stone walls of Fort Aurorae. With a sense of urgency coursing through my veins, I hastily donned my newly bestowed uniform, it’s insignia and decorations a symbol wrought in fabric of the responsibility that could be thrust upon me at any moment.
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Emerging onto the ramparts, I was met with a scene of utter chaos. Above the town of Aronanault, there was a flash illuminated the night. A colossal explosion followed, sending shockwaves rippling through the air and unleashing an inferno on the area. The entire place was a sea of fire.
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But it was the looming silhouette of the airship that commanded my attention, its massive form blotting out the stars as it hovered ominously overhead. The glow of the flames that had engulfed the town cast a sinister red glow on the craft above. More things fell on the sole remaining section of the town that was not burning. We felt the shockwaves this time.
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And then, as if in response to our collective dread, a voice issued forth from above, its mechanical tone was a growling snarl that put the voice of Lord Sergeant-Major Aurora to shame.
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“The Earldom of Narciss is no match for the power in the East,” it intoned, each word a harbinger of impending doom. “The Eye of the Dominion's gaze has fallen upon thy stronghold, and everything that it sees will be obliterated to please the mighty Khagan.”
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As the voice faded into the night, a flash of light streaked across the sky, impacting the walls of Fort Aurorae with ringing noise. The stone shuddered beneath the force of the blow. Cracks spread across its surface as debris tumbled to the ground below. The men on the wall where it had hit scurry away from their posts like ants.
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“We must evacuate the men,” Grand Warlord Egoni declared, his voice grim as he surveyed the devastation unfolding before us. “Get them out of the back gate as quickly as possible.”
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But as I moved to carry out his orders, I was met with resistance from some of Egoni's men. The group of fifteen would not abandon their posts.
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“What is that thing?” I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper as I stared up at the looming behemoth above.
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“The Eye...an Estrin superweapon,” Egoni replied, his expression grave. “It appears the rumours were true. That thing will spell doom for this bastion, just like it did for Fort Magnus.”
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With a heavy heart, I accepted the silver-plated sabre that Egoni pressed into my hand, i knew what that meant. He saluted me as Grand Warlord Charles Alexander Worce of the 1st and 3rd Corps, I knew that Egoni and his fifteen loyal men were going nowhere, the man wanted to die here because Grand-General Pride would likely pin the blame on him and drag his name through the mud if he lived.
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Gathering the men as quickly as I could, I led them through the back gate of the fortress, their footsteps echoing in the darkness as we made our escape. We were not a moment too soon, for as we fled the safety of Fort Aurorae, the underbelly of the airship opened up, unleashing a barrage of destruction upon the city below.
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With a blinding flash of light that lit up the entire area for a moment, the fortress was reduced to rubble, the very ground shook with the power of whatever weapon that airship had firedd. More of the dreaded projectiles rained down upon Aronanault behind us, setting ablaze everything they touched and leaving nought but devastation in their wake.
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We marched into the night. One foot after the other. Starfall informed me that the best place to go would be Pridenhorn, as Napoleon had mentioned that there was an Artillery Division stationed there.
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3 YAP:
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“Was there Artillery there?” asked the Lance Corporal.
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“Yes, the 78th Howizer Division was stationed there.”
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“I shalt return tomorrow with High-Commander Azure.”
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Worce nodded. Harvester left him alone.
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