Prelude Chapter 3 - Fin

Chapter 3 - Fin

The storm clouds laughed at the ants beneath them. They clapped while jeering at the minuscule ant colonies slowly moving toward one another. The show was a joke to them, it spat and threw everything it had on the poor, little, and fragile humans. The show was dark, for the storm to see, it used its own cruel light to make the ant's struggles visible. From both sides, the lightning that the storm clouds threw claimed the lives of many victims as they marched forward at the mercy of whatever this storm was.

The stage that was the Red Plains of Gesa had further humoured the clouds as they made the ants look even smaller. Only one solitary grand oak tree stood in the middle of the plains and was witness to countless triumphs and defeats. Both armies faced each other, staring and waiting for The Guide to lead them home. The Guide came to creatures in many forms, hunger, pain, war and most commonly associated with it was the regal white owl. Today they visited or by some sick and twisted coincidence, one lonely white owl danced elegantly around the battlefield going from one army to another striking fear and doubt into the hearts of each individual soldier until it finally perched on the branch of the wooden tower in the middle of the field ready to send the soldiers to the afterlife.

Robert was at the front line of the army waiting for the start of the signal of all wars in the central continent of Mythos.

For the contestation of Magicka to begin. Rindley did not use underhanded tactics such as keeping some of the magicka forces within the main army to help decimate his foes with their offensive spells. In the past however he had always kept some defensive mages to prevent the Varian army from doing the same but never used them until the contestation had concluded. In this battle he did not do that, instead, he put his faith in the Gesian Magicka to win and tip the scales. Whatever may happen on the battlefield that was a consequence of his decision, that was his responsibility.

"Ishqa cry no more and please protect us from this storm and if this storm is truly yours please aid us". Lights flashed in the distance. That was the signal. Rindley ahead of the frontline. Raised his spear and pointed it toward the enemy. "CCChaaaarrrge!". His voice was thunder and his stride was lighting. Both sides stampeded to meet their end. Clanggg tingg the collision of the stampede created a symphony of dreadful steel as some soldiers were flung into the air, others were driven into the ground and crushed by the stampedes.

The left flank was exposed to the Varian cavalry however they were countered by the archers as they focused on them. Due to Gesa's previous defensive strategies to minimise the losses incurred in the past battles this had surprised the Varian calvary. These orders were being perfectly carried out by the commanders of the army, the most prominent being Digne who was handed the strategic responsibility while Rindley was on the front lines.

Rindley had run through the middle of the Varian army as he decimated their frontal defence. A dozen of soldiers were with him. His aim now was to attack the right side of the front line from behind. He ordered the few soldiers with him to attack them and create an opening while he held the army back swinging his spear like a madman making metal rust with the blood of his victims. Before Rindley had become overwhelmed by the sheer numbers he had held back, an infantry unit had penetrated their way to him, suddenly assisting him. The manoeuvre had worked smoothly. The lights in the distance grew more powerful and more frequent. He continued to slash his way through and recognised two faces in the crowd. With one hand he picked up two men with their chain mail as handles and dropped them by his side.

"You two if you want to live cover me"

Both Ryan and Lucas were frightened, dazed and confused. They had instinctively followed the Commander's orders and attacked anyone wearing Varian colours. The flickering of the lights had bewildered some of the men losing concentration at the worst possible time resulting in the white feather falling onto their still bodies laying on the battlefield. Robert nearly joined them; the flashes had dazed him, allowing a soldier's sword to graze his skin as he cut through the leather of his armour.

The Gesian army had successfully supported the penetrating force and pierced through the Varian army positioning themselves in an arrowhead formation. The neverending dark clouds flashed a myriad of colours contributing with its own destructive yellow. The plan was smoothly successful and the final piece of the puzzle finally arrived after an hour of fighting. Using the chaos of the battle and the storm as a guise to hide their movement the Gesian cavalry had flanked the Varian army. It was now a pincer movement and the claw was getting deathly tighter. The Varian army was being suffocated and the soldiers were panicking. The rain grew heavier. The Varian neck was gasping for air and the cruel tears of Ishqa were drowning them. A majestic creature flew through the clouds. A solemn white feather had been shoved into the mud, blood and steel now dirty. A wave of bodies was piling and the living were being dragged into the ocean of death. Some tried to dig and swim their way out of the sea of flesh but to no avail as the waves of death crashed and ebbed their souls into the afterlife. Victory was at arm's length, all they needed to do was grab it. Finally, the stalemate was coming to an end. This was destiny. This battle was the catalyst to finally bring peace…

The rain had stopped. A body fell from the sky. A few more followed suit. The whole battle froze. They all stood back from the bodies. They stared at the bodies. They were the bodies of the magicka from both sides. They were wrangled and deformed, it was difficult to distinguish them as human bodies. A man had walked towards the frozen battlefield. A head under his gripped palm, attached was the rest of its disfigured bloodied body. Dragging it through the mud. He walked up to Robert. He dwarfed him. His presence was strong and intimidated everyone who stopped and continued to stare. They also used it as an excuse to rest as most of them were exhausted. The head in his hands was Leons. His breath was weak, his eyes were lifeless. "Please … save me… now"

The man had a sadistic smile. He strengthened his grip. His nails were digging into the skin of his head. Blood started to flow down his face.

"I bet that's the first time you had to say please worm. Keep squirming and begging. I love it. Animals like you deserve to die like this."

Tears started to mix with the running crimson on his pitiful face.

" I don't want… to .. die" said Leon

"Unhand the prince now" Robert pointed his spear at the giant.

He retorted " I'm disappointed in you General Rindley. So far you've impressed me until you said that. The Guardian of Gesa shouldn't be protecting people like him. They see you as nothing less than slaves to fuel their sad egotistical lives trying to taste a glimpse of godhood by stepping on real people's dead bodies." He crushed the skull in his palm, now it was still. Then he tossed it in the mud. "Finally torturing that pig was fun. Oh, I'm sorry I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Tristan Var the High Commanding Knight, general and leader. Rank 95,623."

That number was etched into the minds of every man in that field. It inspired the Varian army and boosted morale. In comparison to the Gesian army, all they felt was dread. Their enemy was a walking weapon with enough power to decimate their forces. If a magicka can tilt the scales of a battle an Exalted could end or win the war.

These people if you could call them people were enigmas, their reasoning could not be understood by mere mortals. They were the currency for maintaining order. This war had dulled the fangs of both countries and saw this yearly battle as a contest of who had the more impressive army. At first, they used their Exalted members until they started losing them then it became a risk to lose such a valuable tool to a pointless tradition. Pointless no longer. This was a real war and they sent a monster to destroy the Gesian army.

Robert's spear was shaking. He attacked. Thrusting his spear into the giant. No matter how many times he thrust, all he thrust was air. Tristan was a physical contradiction, nothing that big should move this quickly. Robert thrust with all his might and his spear finally stopped. Tristan with one hand had stopped all of the spear's momentum by grabbing the pole. Robert tried to regain control of his spear. His biceps were bulging and straining. Tristan just included his pinky finger to tighten his grip. Ryan swung his sword horizontally. Tristan had blocked it with his leg. Lucas fired his gun at his face. Tristan whipped his head back to dodge. This caused his two fingers to let go of the spear. Robert responded by ripping his spear out and striking him. Tristan smiled "you have potential and you two have decent teamwork but even better balls." Blood was on the spear but it was a shallow stab. "You three join me. We can create a glorious revolution"

Lucas responded " we will never join yo…" he stopped. They stopped. The armies stopped. They all looked. Two gigantic eyes lit the sky clouded skies. A flash of lightning showed them the impossible silhouette. A dragon.

That day a hero was born. Tales of the Hero of the Red Plains spread throughout the world of Mare. The man who killed the last dragon. The Last Dragonslayer.