Aurion 1

293 AC

Aurion watched from the hill as the army of Norvos began to engage their foe, a great number of worthless Chaff from Volantis who the Holy Guard of the Bearded God through themselves into with great fervor.

As for his own army, he held it back. The Army of Volante sellswords across from his lines were similarly inclined, both were dug in behind rows of spikes, and while skirmishes moved up and exchanged a few volleys of arrows, there was nothing like the battle going on in the center of the valley, a charnel pit of blood. The Lorathi likewise were moving forward with the bulk of their forces, though the Volantene cavalry was driving into them just as the Norvosi were making their play.

Aurion didn't have the forces to waste on a charade. Every man lost today would be one which Qohor lacked tomorrow, and most of his army were smiths, or sons of smiths. Men who would one day form the spine of Qohor's wealth.

He chuckled darkly as he turned to the woman beside him. "It seems that the Norvosi have blundered straight into your master's trap. As you predicted."

"Your read on their Magister General was more than enough information for The Blessed Triarch Maegor to do his work with. You do your people proud, Lord Aurion." The young witch who rode beside him said, laughing slightly to herself with her hand covering her mouth. "I am sure the Red God will be pleased with your support, and that the black goat will benefit as well."

He turned his eyes from the silver-haired girl to the battlefield as a whole, the Norvosi had continued their reckless surge forward, smashing now into a great phalanx made of men from Selhorys. A wide smile crossed his lips, and he shut his visor, a visage of the black goat of Qohor triumph covering his face. "I believe it is time for us to spring the greater trap, however. Send your signal witch, and I will bring forth my own."

He could not see the witch as she began to pray, nor did he particularly care for the words she spoke, only for the shadows that rose above his head as he raised his own black Lance into the air. "Sound the Horns. Now is the time of our ascendancy."

The Great war-horns of Qohor, encrusted with gold and jewelry and carried atop their own carts, bellowed over the battlefield with their eerie and unnatural sound, and the men of Qohor roared as one, turning to face their unsuspecting true enemy.

"Hyah" Aurion snapped the reigns on his horse, charging from his command tent to the front of his cataphracts seven-thousand in all, they made up the pride of the noble sons of Qohor. Each wore the heaviest and greatest armor in the world and carried great lances their people had taken from the Dothraki. Unlike the Dothraki however, who often rode their horses unsaddled, the Black Warhorses of Qohor were as armored as the men, draped in black on black or in red, for the followers of R'hllor. Behind each man sat a banner, which flew his house's coat of arms. The armor of the horses clattered as they moved, and grew louder as they charged.

To the unprepared flank of the Norvosi reserves, they must have appeared like a nightmare incarnate. Thousands of black-armored heavy cavalry wielding lances and wicked maces came crashing down the hillside in an inexorable onslaught. Aurion was not in the front line, for he was not a fool, but even back with his bodyguards, he could smell the carnage as the rows of men were trampled underfoot or gored on lances. Some were even sent flying into the air by the calamitous wave of steel that crashed into their ranks.

He only joined the battle briefly himself, enough to satisfy his men and his own bloodlust, crushing into the side of a group of pathetic archers, goring two with his lance, before dropping it and killing four more with his mace.

They fled of course. Fled and were trampled under the great charge which continued into their compatriots, like a wave of darkness sweeping the poorly disciplined army of Norvos off of the side of the valley, whether through their devastating charge or by maces and arms in the melee that followed.

He smiled as the army as a whole buckled and began to break, and his cataphracts began to pursue. There would be no retreat for the army of Norvos, only death, that they might not hamper the greater army of Qohor when they marched on the city. He would see to it personally.

He turned back down towards the valley, where much of the remaining Norvosi forces were being trampled beneath the feet of Volantene Elephants, he quickly spotted the Great Elephant of the Triarch. He wondered just how much Maegor had anticipated in advance of the battle, trapping Arnia so perfectly between the two. Even taking up ground that seemed to favor their "alliance".

He snorted to himself as the Lorathi trash inevitably broke, the entire battlefield falling into bloody chaos, as his cavalry and that of Volantis ensured that nor organized resistance would remain afterward. He half wondered if he would go down in history as an infamous traitor.

It didn't matter of course. The old alliance, if they were successful, would offer at best a large town for Qohor, for his people. Now, for the first time since the century of Blood, one Free City would truly conquer another, and he would be the one to do it.

Aurion of Qohor licked the blood from his mace, savoring the rich taste.

He would have more than enough of it when Norvos was his.