Savages.

With the slash of my sword the mans head is severed, his blood staining my cheek. Turning to my side another soldier swipes his axe at me and with a quick backpedal he misses, instantly realizing his mistake as I send him to whatever god he believes in.

The grass was stained red and the sky was a dull grey as the clouds shroud the sun. A light mist held in the air as a light rain brews. It was damp, hot and morning. Hell in other words.

Another soldiers body drops and I see Laura falling with him her hands plunged into his chest as she grunts holding what I can see as two looted daggers. She was wearing some simple leather armor that covers the bare minimum, after all each time she gets hurt she seems to heal faster and faster. Her hair was dyed slightly red showing that this was definitely not her first kill. She learns fast was something I've told myself multiple times over the last few months.

She's grown a lot as well reaching 5'5 with womanly muscles rippling across her body. Her hair grew too now long enough that it's put into a ponytail with a tuft hanging off to the side. She was becoming everything I am hoping her to be. A strong and vicious warrior fit to be by my side. 

With savage eyes she looks up in her bloodlust her pupils shrinking instantly as she focused on me, her nose twitches as I stare unblinkingly. A few seconds later better judgement seems to get the better of her as instead of lunging at me she jumps on another soldier, brutally stabbing him as she clings to his back. 

She's learnt. She knows that even with her abilities along with her recent training she's not even close to beating me. It has been ingrained in her mind that I, alone, am in charge. And it will remain so until she can prove the alternative is better. 

A droplet of water awakens me from my thoughts. My eyes refocusing on my surroundings, a lone man charges at me, his axe raised high as he's screams a war cry comparable to a babies squeal. With a single tilt of my body and a step forward he walks into my sword, his hands quickly dropping his weapon in favor of clutching my wrist hoping to unwrench the blade from his guts as his eyes glaze over with tears and a look of confusion forms like stone on his face. Standing up straighter I hold his shoulder and look the the soldier, finding a face I had hoped I wouldn't have to see for at least another apocalypse. 

It was boy, a child, no older than 13. He was wearing tribal clothes, simple leather straps and pads with little protection, his body covered in warpaint, long spindling lines of black and indigo forming complex and ornamental patterns. My lips instantly collapse into a frown. Yes, I was attacking a tribe. Yes they did not provoke me, and yes, they stand no chance. But children. Children was a big no no for me.

With a tug on his shoulder and a step forward slamming my body onto his and forcing my blade to escape from the other side of him, I hold the boy there. Hoping, maybe, it'll be better for him that way. 

"When...when did it get so c-cold." He says, his teeth clattering as his blood floods down my blade to the ground. At this point he wasn't even clutching st my sword, instead he was limply grasping at my armor for support, his body giving up on itself.

Holding the back of his head I try to reassure him. "It'll be alright." And with a strong grip of my sword, I pull if from his stomach, he falls to the muddy grass, dead. My expression turning cold from the sight.

Looking around at the battlefield I see the tribesmen, rage and anguish etched into their features as they relentlessly fight with futility. They were brothers, sons, husbands and fathers, yet now they were simply soldiers, now they were simply dead. A wretched scream echo's as a man sees his brother get dismembered, tears fall as sons see their fathers fall, and hearts break as they see the death surround them. Enough, I decide with finality. Enough bloodshed for today.

"Spartans, capture them!" My voice loud and clear throughout the barbarity. An instant change in the Spartans fighting pattern emerges, from quick and lethal to slow and precise, many of them sheathing their Gladius going for a grapple.

"Laura." I beckon for my assistant. It was time to get this over with. After finishing a tribesmen off with a punch to the nose she joins my side as I saddle my horse and I hold out my hand for her to get on with me. She does so without hesitation sitting in front of me with a grunt. With the slap of my reins my large warhorse is off, it's hooves leaving gnashes in the the soft wet ground. Near the center of the battle a large man towering over me fights. He wields a massive club with small blades of obsidian jutting out like thorns, and he seems quite effective with it, able to hold off 6 of my men all at once. 

Though they act in near complete coordination their attacks seem to bounce off him, either his club or his light leather armor completely negating any possible damage. So after a while it seems the Spartans have opted to simply contain him from wreaking any havoc simply surrounding him with their shields raised. Dodging and weaving like dancers. 

Until we arrive moments later of course. Completely ignoring my men who wisely moved out of the way of my horse. Colliding with the man it seems my horse wins as his body spins through the air, we must've caught his side. 

Stopping a few yards from where he landed I dismount, Laura staying in place atop the horse. He groans using his club still fully gripped in his hand to stand. This alone was enough to prove my thoughts. This man was a full fledged warrior. Different from the riff raff he knows damn well what the first rule is. Never lose your sword. Because at that point your already dead before you see where it went. Standing up I see his nose is bent the wrong way, blood oozing from one place or another. I is also where I get a good look at him. 

He was a squared faced man with a distinctive jawline and sharp eyebrows, and counter to what you might expect his beard was no more than a stubble, his hair however was long as a girls, reaching down to his shoulders yet making him look even manlier.

Feeling the blood reach his lips he licks it up, grabbing his nose with his giant hands and simply snapping it back into place with a crunch, not flinching in the least. His eyes not look to me narrowing slightly. 

"Invader King." He says quite brutishly. Swinging his club up to rest on his shoulder.

"Quite. But please, call me Leonidas." Wiping my bloody gladius on a spare rag the the metal shines through, engravings of Greek mythos show with their golden hues along the center of the blade. 

"Now... you seem quite strong. I would find it quite a shame for you to die here. In futility." The man glances around turning his torso quite comically. In the background he sees my men efficiently subdue his fellow soldiers, many of them trying to kill themselves rather than be captured born out of what I assume to be either cultural or religious customs, the majority of them being stopped. He sighs, his shoulders visibly rising. 

"Shok Val Damnin" He says, swinging his club aggressively to the ground staring straight at me his face fierce as ever.

"I will give their deaths meaning, even if it causes my own." The next instant he sprints toward me his massive club grinding against the ground behind him. 

"Of course you will, but I doubt in the way you imagine." I say twirling my sword. The next instant he was on me the club held high above his head as he brings it down with all the force of his god his entire body flexed in concentration. Twisting to the side I barely avoid getting smushed as the ground gets obliterated. Taking advantage of him wielding such a heavy weapon and missing I slash at his elbow, and would've slit it if not for him bringing his handle up to block it. Nearly throwing the pommel up at me he catches his club midair and like it was pre ordained smashes me in my side all in one quick smooth motion before I could even react. My body being flung into the dirt.

Laura gasps atop my horse, this being the first time I've ever been hit by anyone other than her. It was a surreal experience. Getting hit like that. My whole body stung, with my world spinning like it was a wheel. But a moment later and it was gone. My eyes clear to see the grey sky. 

And so the battle continues again, this time with me charging him. With slashes and swings, thrown in every which direction. Each of us trying to figure out whose body would surrender first. And at this point the overall battle was over leaving just me Laura and this man on the field. Fighting. He was strong, not only in body but also mind, able to quickly adapt to any attack I might use, nearly instantly able to read a feint and always able to take advantage of mistakes, what few there were. It was only after he was bleeding from nearly the waist up and I took another direct hit that I have gotten my fill of the tribes greatest warrior. 

Standing up from yet another crater formed special for me, I brush my shoulders and crack my knuckles. I had given him many advantages in that fight, the most important however was not using my supernatural strength. As doing so would've likely removed any chance of taking him alive. 

Walking up to the tired, sweaty and bloody giant of a man, he growls in annoyance as me daring to still stand.

"I'm sure you've never seen a man stand from one of you blows let alone two. But as you'll find out later I'm no ordinary man." Walking up to him he once again tries to swing at me, but to his dismay, instead of dodging I simply catch it, my fingers finding their way between the obsidian blades to clutch the wood. Stopping the nearly 300 pound weapon in it's tracks, he nearly spits out blood at the sight. 

"I think it's time for this to stop, before you die of exhaustion." Smacking his hands like scolding a child he releases his club falling onto his back and his mind begins to fog up. But it was at this time that he realized that he wasn't flighting to the death, he was fighting to be tested looking a the many soldiers obediently encircling their duel. 

"When you wake up. I have a job for you." I say and he then passes out. Dropping his club I leave. Getting on my horse with Laura sitting comfortably in front of me my soldiers will clean up the battle field, collecting any armor or weapons, along with looting any of the valuables, sentimental or otherwise. Collecting the dead as well on both sides, they will be a good bargaining tool to show my good intentions when I give them back to their tribe.

Riding back to our encampment Laura doesn't say a word, simply staring into the distance as we ride at a leisurely pace.

"So... what do you think about the Leman people?" I say my voice breaking through the pattering of hooves. 

She blinks at that, coming out of her daze. Still looking ahead she replies. "They are fierce, and strong." Is all she says, opting to say little or nothing at all. 

"Yes....but more than that they are proud, brave and loyal and wouldn't question laying down their life for their lord. And would be a great addition to my Kingdom." She scoffs this time looking back at me shifting in our tight seating arrangement.

"You could tell all that just by fighting them, just by seeing them get slaughtered by your men?" Her face one of confusion at my reasoning. To her they were just brutes, a people who couldn't even make steel let alone have the power to be of any use. 

"If you simply open your eyes you would be amazed at what you can gleam from the actions people subconsciously take. People always do things for a reason, even if most of those reasons simply amount to avoiding the other options." I step our horse off of the caravan letting it pass by us until the line of chained up Lemanian soldiers reach us. 

"These men and boys would rather kill themselves than surrender. Showing that yes they are a very loyal people and that they have one of two things or both really." I say.

"And what would those be?" She says.

"Culture or religion. Culture can cause people to do a lot of things, such as suicide if either the fear or glory is enough, but religion is where the power gets real strong, strong enough to kill other men along with himself if the fervor is high enough." The men walking by don't even look at us simply trodding along their eyes focused on the ground their faces marred in shame. 

"And which would you prefer be the case?" 

"Culture." I says succinctly. "Culture is much easier to change and meld, and every single person and victim to it, weather they know it or not. I plan on changing their people into something more useful than savage tribesmen, and for that, I need him." I look at a specific man, near the end of the line, being tended to by the many servants. It was the large man I fought.

"He'll be my first Vassal."