"Valtherion, they have taken the bait!" Luther said as he gazed below; the enemy troops were beginning to go up the mountain.
"Perfect, Godfather, pass on the word", Valtherion said as he prepared himself. There were a lot of deadly traps in the forest, placed right in the middle of the climb. It was easy to bait a skilled general up the mountain, as they knew this castle had been abandoned for too long.
If Oribos were to lay siege, Valtherion would have no escape; the mountain could be surrounded, and he could be starved to death.
Oribos began to scale the mountain; his army was high in morale. They had finally pinned the vile snake, and now they were going to uproot his soul. Just as the army reached the middle of the mountain, a few massive trees started rolling towards them. Some orcs could not dodge due to their tight formation.
Swishing sounds were heard as arrows began to fly from both sides, as well as from above. A line of trees fell just behind them, creating a natural barrier that would make it harder for them to retreat. It was not just a line of trees; it was three lines with massive trees, meaning that they would have to jump over three times.
More wood was rolling, albeit it was cut short, so its path was straight. It was done so as to avoid collision with the trees on the way.
Screams and curses rang around Oribos, as his horde was being slaughtered. He knew that he had been had; what he could do, however, was escape. Sadly, the trees around him suddenly caught fire, creating another natural barrier.
'Vrooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo'
A horn resounded as the mountain began trembling. Clouds of dust rose as horses galloped down the slope. There was no formation; it was a messy charge, but one followed by organised infantry troops.
It was unknown how and when it happened; however, archers had taken positions behind the fire, beginning to fire one volley after another into the backs of their enemies.
The sound of meat and bones being torn apart resounded, as flesh was falling all over the forest; the cavalry was going towards the centre, and the Infantry was surrounding the now stuck army.
"Oriboos! I am coming for you!" Valtherion's voice resounded in Oribos's ears, and soon, he saw him. The Human was charging straight towards him, bloodied and with a dark spear in his hand.
I am dying here, it seems...if so, I am taking you with me, Valtherion!
Valtherion and Oribos soon collided, the steeds beneath them giving in as they could not withstand the force. Valtherion and the dark elf were exchanging blow after blow as they spoke.
"How are you withstanding the force? I have dragonblood!" Oribos screamed as he could not gain physical advantage.
"No need for you to know. Die and meet your brother!" Valtherion dodged a move as he said, before his spear shot towards Oribos's leg, impaling him in one place.
To fight back, Oribos slashed towards him; however, instead of backing away, the human closed the distance and rained one punch after another.
With a painful roar, Oribos took a step back, tearing his foot in the process. He had managed to free himself; however, it was too late. Valtherion had buried a tomahawk in his neck. His vision was blurring as his knees gave in; all he could see was the fully armed Valtherion walking towards him slowly, before embracing his head with his hand and snapping his neck.
"The Dragonborn is dead! The serpent reigns!" Valtherion shouted, boosting the morale of his army, causing the enemies to rout and even try to rush through the fire. Death was waiting for them there. The archers were not untrained; they were prepared for this long ago.
It was now time to camp, to rest. To eat some brick soup and prepare for the next march. This war was not going to end by itself; someone had to take the lead and push the domino blocks, so nothing could remain standing in the end.
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"Deputy Marshal, what is our next move? Should we go back towards your territory? We are too deep; we might encounter a Master," Brandon spoke at the moment, as he was drinking soup. By now, each man had a beard and looked like they hadn't showered in quite some time. They actually hadn't showered for a whole month; Oribos had chased them all around.
Looking at his council, Valtherion knew that they were right, but also wrong. They were too deep in enemy territory, but at the same time, the enemy had spread their Masters on another side of the conflict. What stood in front of them was Aurelion, the Holy City of the Goddess Orianna, and at the moment, it was guarded only by the Immortal soul and his army of 70-90 thousand Elites.
It was a no-go zone for any sane general, as the only way to win that battle would be if they had a Master. Teleporting a Master here would be possible...if they had an Archmage; however, those were even rarer. In the end, the only possible route was backwards.
"To go back..." Valtherion muttered as he sat at the table, the map in front of him. His council stared at the young man with half-silver, half-black hair. It looked dry like a bird's nest; however, nobody mocked him. Besides the bald people, nobody else had properly kept hair or beard...
"What are you thinking about, Young Marshal?" asked Baron Linley as he had a bad feeling, yet also a sliver of hope for something insane.
Valtherion stood up, placing his hand on the stone table and causing everyone to look towards him. A decision was going to be made soon, and nobody dared to move.
Aurelion...A city carved from the Silver Mountain Aure, it was a city almost as big as Targoth, the capital of the Empire. It was where the rest of the Holy Mirror was, a holy artefact and a gift from Orianna - one that could reshape their military prowess by many folds.
I could end this war if I kill the Immortal Soul and retake the Holy City Aurelion. It will cause the Imperial Armies to surge towards me, while the enemy would do the same. The war would either escalate, or we would have a ceasefire. Either way, there are no Masters, only experts here. There is no better time; the enemy would not expect us. If I'm right and they are in the 80-90 thousands, they will come out and confront us. The city is too big for it to be defended with those meagre numbers, and is now almost in ruins. The walls have been breached...When will I have such an opportunity? If I back away now, I will have to return here again and again. Each ceasefire would be paid in blood. Will I have to ask of my son in the future to do the same as I do? No... The Holy City must be ours; Orianna looks directly over it. She controls its rivers; she holds the remaining part of the mirror...The Horde is just there to make sure we don't take it back. They dare not linger, lest they anger a god...Maybe it was all meant for this...I am pulled towards it, ever since leaving Blackstone, ever since my father began to talk of it. Orianna...if you can hear my thoughts, bless my spear. I will break the dragon's neck.
Luther's heart was in his throat, as he had a bad premonition, causing Dain to turn towards him, as he could hear the veteran's heart pump louder and louder.