They marched for just over an hour without running into any trouble or enemy ambush and finally reached the spot he had picked for the fight. Now they just had to get into formation and wait for the enemy.
One of the scouts had already confirmed their route, and now all that was left was to wait. He had timed it so they would only arrive half an hour before them, because if they waited any longer than that, the army's morale would cool down and they would almost certainly lose.
While they waited, Licerio stepped in front of the whole army and got everyone's attention.
"Soldiers, we are about to win. There is no way we lose this. You have won every single fight and pushed the enemy all the way back to hide in their home, running to their mother for protection. A theurge is nothing but a regular person who thinks he's a god. In front of me, he'll be nothing more than a rat running away. Raise your weapons, raise your heads, and let's go back home to celebrate after this fight!"
The full army roared, banging their weapons against their shields, full of energy and fire, their morale at its highest.
Several minutes later, smoke started rising from the horizon. The enemy army was coming.
Licerio's army was completely ready, the only sound being the breathing of the soldiers. Everyone was ready to fight when the signal came.
"Let them get closer, and we charge when I say so," Licerio shouted and raised his right hand.
Licerio kept his eyes fixed on the enemy army, looking for the theurge. When they had gotten close enough, he finally spotted him—a not very tall man in blue clothes with the marquis's mark on them. Only wearing light armor in a war. He must think he's untouchable, Licerio thought with a smirk.
Knight López and Licerio talked for a bit, and then he headed off with his squad to the right flank, where the theurge was.
López got ready with his squad and spoke with them a little to calm them down before the charge. He looked at one of the lancers, a young guy who had been dragged into the problems of older people, and fixed his helmet properly. "Stay on my left. You have a family that still needs you. Don't try to be a hero," he told him. The young man swallowed and nodded.
Licerio saw that, and the knot in his stomach got tighter. He had tried to talk him out of joining and had even thought about flat out telling him he couldn't take part. Everyone else had said no. Nobody wanted to join, and only he had been willing to after hearing what the rewards were.
The plain, always quiet, was now about to see one of the worst fights in the area, a fight that would decide the future of hundreds or thousands of people behind each army.
The armies were close enough now, and Licerio dropped his arm and roared with everything he had: "Charge!"
The soldiers roared and charged without breaking their lines.
Licerio started charging out in front of everyone, but his job was to pull back before both armies hit each other. Since it was his first time, his place wasn't on the front line, but at least he would be there behind it.
López's squad charged with the whole army, though they stayed a little behind and kept moving further to the right as the two armies got closer to each other.
Their job was the most dangerous one: flank the enemy army to quickly grab the theurge, with the risk of being surrounded and killed.
At first, Licerio and the knights had tried to think of other plans that avoided that kind of danger, but López and Marlleo said they would come out on top. Licerio knew they weren't very sure of that.
Licerio's army charged hard. His soldiers were roaring with their weapons ready to kill, waiting for the crash.
The Baron Grojo army had some of the more experienced soldiers shouting, but compared to the enemy army, it wasn't strong.
The roaring stopped all at once, cut off by the brutal crash of shields and swords. Men with their weapons raised, swinging them in any second to take the life of whoever was in front of them. Screams of pain, cut off by gushes of blood rising in their throats, ending with them dropping to the ground and making one last sound before going still. The air got thick with the dust and loose dirt of the plain, mixing with the sharp smell of iron.
López's squad flanked the enemy lines and reached the theurge. López charged first, taking two hits on his shield from the theurge's wind blades. His hand went numb, but his eyes stayed fixed on his target.
Some enemies who had spotted them turned around and went for them, but they were killed or held back by the squires. The right flank also had Licerio's best troops, hitting hard at the enemy soldiers who tried to turn around and help the theurge.
López looked at the soldiers slowing him down, surprised by how fast they had moved to cut them off. He knew being spotted and stopped was unavoidable, but he hadn't expected it to happen that quickly.
The lancers in the squad charged hard toward the theurge but were stopped by a wall of air hitting them straight in the face, forcing them to cover their eyes and slow down.
Knight López kept charging, his helmet blocking the wind.
The theurge didn't waste time and threw a cut at his legs, slowing the knight's charge, and started backing up toward the archers.
Some archers noticed the enemy squad and started shooting arrows at the lancers.
The front line stayed pretty still, with only some movement on the right flank.
Knight Marlleo and his squires were holding the center, fighting with the enemy knight. The other knight was on the left flank, which had fewer troops, holding the line there.
Licerio had already told him to hold as long as he could, and if he couldn't anymore, to pull back to the center and hold there with Marlleo's soldiers.
The archers kept firing, taking lives or wounding enemy soldiers one by one. They were a real problem for the enemy, picking off troops in the back. Other than that, they were trading shots with the other archers.
Only two lancers were left. López caught a glimpse of the body of one of the fallen out of the corner of his eye—one of his squires, a boy he had personally trained since he was little—and a low growl came out of his throat. Every step they took toward the theurge was paid for with the blood of his men.
The theurge had killed two lancers with his wind blades while they were being held back by enemy soldiers.
"Damn theurge!" he roared as he stomped the ground hard and charged with everything he had.
The theurge kicked up the little dust on the ground along with small rocks and dirt, hiding himself behind it. But López didn't give him a second to breathe.
He pushed through the wall of dust and debris and, without slowing down at all, hit the theurge with his shoulder, sending him flying. López stumbled, caught his balance between heavy breaths, and seeing the theurge trying to get up, grabbed his sword again and moved toward him.
Two soldiers jumped in his way, and he had to stop to deal with them.
One of the soldiers swung his sword at López. The sword was knocked aside with a quick move and got stuck in the ground.
After knocking the sword away, López drove his sword into the soldier's chest, going through one of his lungs.
His squire jumped into the fight and took care of the other soldier.
"Sir, this one's mine!"
López pulled his sword out of the soldier and moved toward the theurge.
The theurge was getting up when he saw the knight running at him.
He threw two blades, one at his legs and one at his chest, hoping to buy himself a little time to run.
López blocked his legs with the shield and took the other hit, trusting his armor, but the impact stopped him for a second as he spat out saliva.
A shout rang out across the field from the left flank. "Fall back! Close the formation and pull back to the center!" It was the other knight's voice, almost swallowed up by the noise of the battle. Licerio locked his eyes on that spot. The line, like a worn-out piece of cloth, was starting to come apart. All they could do was wait and hope that López managed to take down the theurge and bring him back.
Like it was a different world, the right flank had been won, and the enemy flank was falling apart. They didn't waste any time—they raised their weapons, tensed their legs, and charged forward, pushing or killing anyone in front of them.
Licerio was fighting an enemy lancer.
With his physical boost and the agility that came with his small body, he attacked the soldier quickly, with sharp stabs and strong cuts.
He had already killed two soldiers and was now up against his third.
The soldier threw a stab at him with his short spear. The sword hit the side of the spear and pushed it to the right, missing Licerio and throwing the soldier off balance.
A quick move with the sword, stabbing the enemy in the neck, and he pulled back just as fast.
The soldier dropped his spear and grabbed his neck with his weak hands while looking at the boy, then fell forward.
Licerio didn't stop and went to back up the center line.
López locked his eyes on the theurge. Only one meter between them. I finally got you, he thought. He lowered his stance to get more push and charged at the theurge.
The theurge wanted to use a wind blade to stop him, but they were too close. In a desperate move, he started mumbling. While he mumbled, he tried to slow the knight down with a wall of air pushed straight at his whole body.
López had already seen that coming and had already lowered his stance, like the furious charge of a wounded bull.
There was no stopping him at that point, and with his shield in position, he hit the theurge dead on. A dry cracking sound came out. The theurge spat out a mix of blood and saliva as his eyes rolled back and he dropped limp to the ground.
"Let's go!"
Without stopping, López charged at every enemy who dared to get in his way. At that moment he was running on the anger of losing his squires, young guys he had trained himself, and nobody was going to stop him. On the way out, the only lancer and squire still alive followed right behind him.
Many soldiers reacted fast and went after the three men trying to get out. At that point they weren't trying to fight—they were knocking attacks aside and running, not wasting a second. López had put his sword away and was only carrying his shield, focused only on blocking hits and getting out.
The allied soldiers charged harder after seeing López coming toward them carrying a man.
In the end they got out, since there weren't many soldiers left who could leave the front without causing a collapse or getting their people killed by breaking the formation.
The three of them kept running until they reached the archers, where they put the theurge down and rested. They let their bodies drop to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust, and looked at each other.
The air burned in their lungs, and between heavy breaths they looked at one another. There was no happiness in their eyes, just the heavy weight of the five people who weren't there anymore.
Both armies were in their last moments, raising their weapons on shaking arms, fighting not to be the one who died.
A trumpet cut through the air of the battlefield with two short, sharp notes. From the back, a rough voice rang out: "We have the theurge; surrender!" The shout was repeated by another person, then picked up by more and more, filling the whole battlefield.
From where the trumpet sound had come , everyone could see the figure of an unconscious man covered in dirt, being held up by two soldiers on either side to show him off. Everyone knew who he was with just one look. It was the theurge.
Baron Grojo's soldiers were caught off guard by that and looked at each other, confused. One soldier dropped his weapons to the ground and shouted, "I give up." The metal sound against the ground was the first of many that came right after.
For a moment, silence took over the battlefield, broken only by the sound of grass being stepped on. A feeling of relief and joy came up from the winning soldiers, though held back, as they looked at what it had cost them.
Licerio took a deep breath, watching the battle come to an end. Now came the hardest part.
He got the army organized to clean up the battlefield. One group would collect the weapons from the soldiers who gave up, and the others would tie them up.
When that was done, they cleaned up the battlefield, setting aside their fallen friends for a proper burial and digging a common pit for the enemy soldiers.
Licerio walked over to the group of soldiers who had surrendered, with Knight López and Marlleo at his side. In the middle of them stood a man with Baron Grojo's mark on his armor, and next to him, a man in light armor also wearing Baron Grojo's mark on his clothes.