A man riding a horse wearing chainmail looked out to an open field, letting out a sigh as he spotted the opposing armor lining up, side by side. "Land disputes..." They mumbled, looking over to the leather-clad woman next to him, Kleio Kynigos Cirillo. "I'm glad that you have gone out of your way to assist us in the Jarldom against Salvantis' forces. We've been having an increasingly harder time with their pushes against our land. They're aiming for the lake-- they're claiming it's theirs, but really, they're just trying to use that as an excuse to make way into our land." The older man commented.
Kleio looked out to the opposing army with a pinched expression. She then looked over to the man sitting beside her. "You don't have to worry, both me and your forces will have this covered."
"...Speaking of, are you sure you should be coming at this with so few people on your side? You came in with more of an... insurgency than an army."
"You have the army, no?"
"Yes, but they're just those that I've gathered from nearby villages and my land. Barely a Knight in sight."
"We'll be fine, and my forces were all that you needed to win this excursion. I have brought my finest. I always bring my finest for escapades such as this."
"Your finest..." He looked to Kleio's cohort, all gathered around, casually playing games with one another. There were a dozen strong, one especially scarred woman standing out amongst them. "If you say so, madam... but I have to ask, do you have Elioud in your midst? I know you are Elioud yourself, but... I can't help but ask out of concern."
"Other than me..." She looked back at her forces. "One other amongst them is Elioud. But I can confirm, regardless of whether they are Elioud or not, they are incredible warriors."
The 10th of Pijotero, 1683. Eighteen days before the failed incursion on the Naiad Coast.
Kleio, on horseback, crossed over to her cohort, jumping off from her saddle. Gamera Neuson, Kleio's right hand in their band of misfits, a woman with a large scar running across the side of her head, carrying a harsh glare wherever she goes.
"Did he see anything?" Kleio peeked into the tent, looking at a younger man with tied-back auburn hair, who seemed to be meditating.
Gamera shook her head. "Nothing out of the ordinary so far."
Kleio looked back out to the opposing force's silhouettes from a distance. "Might change soon enough-- get ready for multiple Elioud to show up amongst their army."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Kleio turned to the entire group. "Listen up!" They all stopped what they were doing, turning over to listen. "We'll be circling from the side as the main armies clash with each other. Put on your grass suits-- it'll be Guerrilla Warfare out there." After she finished what she had to say, she walked straight to her tent. As the desk was set in the middle of the room, plans lay out on top of it.
She crossed over to the desk, then rounded it, sitting down in the chair behind it. Kleio slumped into her seat with a sigh. She looked up to the ceiling of her tent before slowly shutting her eyes in an almost meditative state, similar to one of her cohort back at their living arrangements.
The Duchess wasn't asleep, nor was she awake; she was submerged in a brilliant web of gold strings branching out from beneath her. The "System", one that can only be accessed through being an Elioud.
For the briefest of moments, she found herself amongst this sea, before quickly falling deeper into the recesses of her mind.
The vision of an older woman wrapping something around the arms of a young girl, sharing a similar complexion to Kleio herself, with significantly longer hair. Hermetic Glyphs shine from the wrappings, and the woman smiles.
Kleio took a breath, grabbing out some wrappings of her own, similar to the ones from her dream. She pulled it around the scars on her hands and forearms. She tightened the wrappings, eyes still closed. The branching web that was the system in her body glowed against the magical interference from the wrappings.
"They're moving!" Kleio's eyes shot open from Gamera's shouting, standing up from her seat, and heading out with her troops.
Kleio rushed out of the tent as the Jarl's army began rushing to the front of the camp, lining up as the Salvantis forces inched their way closer and closer. Kleio crosses over to her cohort, motioning for them to follow, all of them putting on various gear to keep themselves obscured amongst the grassy fields.
The Jarl's main forces would be charging out on the frontlines against Salvantis's army, whilst Kleio's platoon made a wide berth around the battlefield to flank Salvantis's troops from the side.
Kleio threw a ghillie suit over her shoulders, ready to ambush the army.
Across two sections of these grasslands, the armies lined themselves up, spears and swords in hand. The Jarl sat upon a horse, commanding an armada of riders, a General saying beside them, watching, ready to give a go-ahead to their forces.
Kleio had already begun to act on her own, rounding the groups, creating enough distance to remain unnoticed while crouched low to the ground, somewhat obscured by the tall grass of the battlefield.
"Ready!?" The armies tensed up as the generals from both sides screamed out. Shields were lifted, spears at the ready.
Both armies pointed their shields into the air, arrows flying out from both sides as commands from their leaders were bleated out in quick succession. Arrows dug themselves into the shields of each army as they charged at each other with a violent fervor.
It appeared that the Jarl's arrows met their mark much more readily compared to their opposition, as a decent number of soldiers had either met their end or were injured by the onslaught. Men screamed out, some dragged away by Medical Officers, ducking and weaving through crowds of soldiers.
Finally, shields clashed, spears jabbed into plate mail. Rifle fire rang out from the backline of the shield group, sending the defenses of both armies spiraling.
Riders began to assist the two opposing forces as well, taking out any stragglers while clashing with one another as they rode past.
Salvantis' forces began seeing reinforcements from troops on the backline, pushing back against the Jarl's men.
Just as they managed to gain some sort of foothold in the battle, Kleio's platoon rushed into the crowd, Gamera herself easily lifting men off the ground and throwing them into one another as Kleio barrelled through like a cannon. Soldiers screamed as they were flung into the air by a single woman, a duchess no less. "Elioud!" They yelled.
One soldier swung at the Duchess. She veered to the side, grabbing their arm and in one swift movement, swung them into another man. A spear was jabbed into her, blocked by her arm, the tip of the weapon somehow not piercing through her skin, even managing to get stuck as she focused her system to keep it in place.
Veins spread across the weapon, and it exploded in the man's hands, one punch immediately putting them out of commission, creating a massive dent in the middle of their chest.
Kleio spun her head around, dodging another strike from a soldier, grabbing them by the arm and swinging them in front of her like a shield as various other Salvan men crashed into them. As she shoved the group back, she slammed one foot down into the grappled man's leg, snapping it in two before throwing them back into Salvantis' forces. They went down like bowling pins.
A blade struck the skin, splitting it in two, one swing sending the man straight into the air, colliding back into the ground into a heap. Like a storm, a torrent of wind, she tore through the men, her forces picking out any stragglers amongst them.
Kleio pushed forward, a horseman of Salvantis rushing in, leveling their spear at Kleio's chest. She sidestepped the weapon and dug her fist into the horse's chest, sending it careening through the air with their rider. The horse completed a full spin, crushing their rider in the process just as they landed.
Kleio sighed, flexing her fingers from the impact. Horse muscles were much thicker and powerful than a human's, so she had to put a lot more effort than normal into that punch, leaving her arm shaking.
From where she stood, the battle had been won. All that was left was to wait until it had officially finished.
The Jarl's Right Hand took out one of their Generals with relative ease. Kleio sighed, shaking her hand, looking out at the clouds in the distance. "It's about to rain." Her eyes narrowed. "Wait... rain?" There weren't any hints of a storm earlier today. Sure, it was overcast, but those clouds are a much darker hue than they should be. Maybe it was paranoia, but she had to be sure, focusing the lines of her system into the ground beneath her, spreading them out like a web, searching, and searching.
Her head snapped around to further out into the grasslands as an influx of energy pulled into the system in an almost violent frenzy.
Kleio outstretched her arms immediately and then brought them together into a loud, almost booming clap that caught the attention of everyone on the battlefield. She spun around on the balls of her feet, sprinting to her cohort, who immediately acted, running with her as she gathered enough breath to scream out, "Jarl! Retreat!"
The older man's eyes widened in confusion, following her on horseback. She whistled, calling her horse to her as she ran back to the camp.
"What is going on!?" The man questioned.
"Tell everyone to retreat! Now!" She jumped onto her horse, the others in her cohort gathering their things as well. One of her men, the one meditating before, closed their eyes, a falcon leaving their side, flying into the sky.
"What is going on!? I ask again! We were winning! Why are you panicking!?"
"The Stormbreaker has arrived, we need to go--" Before she could finish her sentence, a CRACK sounded off from the sky as the overcast weather soon turned into a grey, oppressive storm.
Rain began to fall, Kleio ushering her men to go on without her before turning back to the Jarl.
"Please! Tell everyone to retreat, attempt to save as many as you can! I'm sorry, I cannot assist more than this! Run!" She yelled at him, and run she did, heading off on her horse in an attempt to escape.
The Jarl heeded her warning as water stained his cheek. He took a horn off the side of his horse and blew it as loud as he could, all of his men pulling back at the sound, returning to the camp. The Armies of Salvantis took this as an opportunity to push the Jarl's forces through, forcing the older man to rush into battle to take off some attention to his men.
The rain turned into a downpour, and amongst that downpour, standing on nothing but air, lightning illuminated their form. Constans Deusdedit, Salvantis General, a sword in hand, a leather grip with golden adornments, a curved guard hugging a black blade, unknown engravings lining the flat of the weapon. The man's silver hair blew wildly against the surrounding winds, his cold baby blue gaze looking down at the battlefield below, observing as men from his country were reduced into the pathetic display that it is now.
A mustache and goat sat on the man's wrinkled face, the moustache itself curved at the ends. His armor was gold, a red cloak thrown over his shoulders covering his chestplate and bare arms.
"Drekatár," Constans spoke, a stern and deep voice exiting his lips. He held his sword almost like a spear as lightning struck the butt of the blade. In that instant, it rocketed forward. A bright light enraptured the Jarl, and just for a split second, he looked, watched as his last moments were split in half by the man's black blade. Both he and his horse were split in two, and then thunder followed.
The Jarl's army dispersed, and those who remained charged at the older General.
Constans simply stepped forward, calmly walking past as he uttered a singular word that froze them in place, in the literal sense of the word. "Drekareiði." The men were encased in frigid, white ice.
The General once again jumped into the air, walking on raindrops, looking out from the sky for any significant prey to chase. "Hm." He noticed the hawk. His knees locked, and he lunged forward, and the animal was quickly split in two, just as he had bisected the Jarl before it.
Kleio's platoon rode out from the vicinity of the chaos that was occurring behind them. Split! Suddenly, the sound of liquid rushed to her right, causing her to look at the source of the sound. The Elioud in her midst was split in two, just as his animal was, both sides of his body flying off their horse.
An older man of the group yelled out for his comrade. "Kieran!"
"Don't get distracted! Keep running, even if one of us dies! Even if I die! Just run!"
They all bit their tongues, continuing to rush out from the storm, even if it exhausted them, even if their hands bled, scabs formed on their feet, and even if their horses collapsed from exhaustion, they were directed to run. And that is what they will do.
***
17th of Limbo, 1675.
A young Haflan girl with dark skin and black hair is sitting in an alleyway, covered in various pieces of ragged cloth, clutching a wound under her breast, blood seeping onto her palm. They took slow, steady breaths, and soon enough, they staunched the wound. It didn't change that it could open at any moment, as System Healing of this level was only basic first aid.
But the wound was closed, for now. At the very least, it would extend the girl's life for a few days, unless it were to reopen in any way. This wasn't the worst injury that they had gotten in the slightest, but the angle was awkward, the lung may have been pierced, punctured, she could barely tell.
"Get the fuck out of here!" A young boy is pushed out of a nearby store, stumbling, a standout was their red hair, a braid draped along their right shoulder.
The boy groaned, peeling themselves off from the dirt road below, their gaze landing on the injured girl.
The young lady glared at the young man, who blinked at the child's hostile stance.
The boy scratched the back of their head. "Do... you have monero? I could help."
The girl threw a bag on the floor.
"Okay..."