The ground was muddy, and the air was humid. The rain had stopped, but the dark clouds still covered the sky. But for Sylvester, it didn’t give any ominous feeling as he was the one who caused it.
“Stand behind me on my right at all times. Do not make abrupt movements that may scare the Duke or whoever will come with him. Do not touch the hilt of your sword, and stay silent.” Sylvester ordered his friend.
“If he does something dumb, can I laugh?” Felix asked.
“That you can, as long as you’re not pointing fingers and acting like you’d fall from the horse while laughing.”
Soon, on their majestic galloping horses, they arrived near the massive camp of the Duke’s army. It was all in a mess, and most of the tents near the boundary seemed to have broken apart. Last night’s undead attack had truly hurt them, it appeared.
“Stay alert! I shall start singing the hymns!” Sylvester ordered and raised his right palm to shower the light at the front. Then, with his left hand, he used air elemental magic to amplify his voice so it may reach far and wide into the camp.
The warm halo appeared behind his head, and his first words rang loud enough to gain the attraction of every man in the Duke’s camp.
Look here, hear this holy hymn.
It’s the Lord’s gift—these blessed rhymes.
Has comes to you the Lord’s only Bard.
Pray that his light heals your body when marred.
No matter what, today, Solis—you shouldn’t disregard?
Sins of many have angered the supreme Lord.
For he writes the names of all in his record.
O’ naive child, you can not leave his wrath ignored.
Or prepare to suffer from the dark undead hoard?
But, there is love in the arms that are mighty.
Do not take these words very lightly.
There is still a path to leave the side so unsightly.
You can surrender—while calling the name of the Almighty?
May you leave the deadly darkness that blinds.
May the heavenly light enlighten your minds.?
Sylvester’s rhymes echoed uninterrupted and breached the hearts and minds of all as the soldiers of the Duke came out of their camp and stood at the boundary to see Sylvester—shining halo making him appear like a god on earth. Some even knelt and prayed to the god, while the rest stared at the Bard.
They realised the war was against the Holy Land and Lord’s Bard. This was something most of them were never told.
Boom!
Boom!
Just then, all of a sudden, various loud explosions rang deep inside the Duke’s camp. They were big, and the clouds of smoke and fire were visible high in the sky.
Sylvester roared his hymn again, this time more violent.
Time waits for none and devours all.
You see your own perpetuated sad downfall.
Tick! Tick! Time passes as you remain standing tall.
Don’t cry for mercy when deadly strikes land to maul.?
Sylvester saw the soldiers falling to their knees one after another, dread and fear so evident in their eyes that he could smell it from afar.
Sylvester saw the effect and continued to sing, one very ominous and full of warnings.
I, Lord’s Bard, stand here in the open and pray.
What’s to become of you, we shall see today.
Limbs apart, throats slit—It’s a price of sin you’ll pay.
I shall pray, after death—may you find your way.?
Pa!
Just then, a loud horn resounded, and from the gates, three horses came out, galloping towards Sylvester. In the front was a man with long blonde hair, tall, strong and lean build. He wore full-body black armour.
“There he is, the Duke of Ironstone, Daemon Gracia,” Sylvester muttered.
Felix scoffed. “The man has even given up his family’s trademark green colour. Now he wears that witch’s black.”
Sylvester chuckled. “True love, I guess—or maybe something else. Anyway, get ready, and stay quiet.”
Sylvester waited for the Duke to reach him, stopping a few metres away. He could smell the emotions the man was going through. Anger, rage, hate and all the negative feelings one could imagine were living free in the Duke’s mind.
Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong in one night.
“It seems you’ve been hit by bad luck, your grace,” Sylvester spoke calmly, though all knew he was teasing.
The Duke gritted his teeth. But he didn’t say anything in anger and instead tried to regain his composure. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lord Bard. May I know why you stand against me with an army?”
Sylvester took out a parchment from his armour and handed it to Felix, who moved slightly forward and gave it to the aide of the Duke.
Duke read it slowly and a frown formed on his face. “A warrant to arrest me? For what? You have proven nothing, Lord Bard. What happened to King Riveria’s daughter could be anyone’s fault.”
Sylvester didn’t care. “But the King wants your head to stop the war. And stop lying to me, your grace. Half of the realm knows by now that you and your fiendish wife had something to do with the deaths. Where were you taking the army anyway? To Green City? To usurp your brother from the throne?”
The Duke vengefully glanced at Sylvester. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Lord Bard. I have no wish to make an enemy out of the Church. I only want what’s rightfully mine—the throne. My incompetent brother does not deserve it—not after he tried to get me killed so many times.”
Sylvester did sense the truth. It appeared the King indeed harmed the Duke. But Sylvester’s orders and needs were precise. “You only have a few options now, your grace. Surrender to me, and I will see to it that the investigation is done, and if it’s not you, then the real culprit will be found. Or, you can go on with the battle.”
“I choose the latter.”
Sylvester had nothing more to say. “Then I wish you luck. Know this, while your men have everything to lose—a family, a happy life. My Inquisitors are devoted to Solis and only fight for me. Most don’t have family and will gladly give themselves to the martyr’s glory.”
“What good is it when you doom your men to a pre-planned death?” The Duke retorted, ridiculing him in calmness.
Sylvester chuckled and slowly moved his horse back. “You don’t understand, do you? Inquisitors have nothing to lose from this battle. They don’t fight for money, land or women. They fight for the glory that comes after death itself. I still give you an hour—spread the word—any man who surrenders will be spared, and those who don’t will be treated as heathens once the battle is over. May the holy light enlighten your minds.”
Sylvester turned around and galloped away, leaving the Duke in confusion and his aids in dread—for they knew their Lord would never accept defeat, and there was no chance of a retreat.
…
Sylvester returned to his camp. But first, he had to go to a secluded area and give Miraj his reward. “Good lad, you placed those explosives in all the right places. They probably think it’s the god’s wrath, haha. Here, take these three Chonky banana tax.”
Miraj jumped happily and took the three bananas. Before long, he started eating them with all the focus on enjoying them. “Maxy… you got more work? Just tell me, I will slaughter the world if I must—of course, for a little banana tax.”
“…”
Sylvester let the good furry boy eat his treats first and then met the rest of the commanders to prepare for the final push. All the Inquisitors and Crusaders were currently arming themselves to start moving while a sick field bay was prepared by Gabriel, Isabella and a few more healers.
“The battle is evident.” Sylvester dropped the news. “But can any of you help me understand why the lords of this Duchy are supporting the Duke against the Holy Land? I would have understood if only the Duke was a heretic, but how can all of them be such?”
It was undoubtedly the most bizarre situation, and no one could imagine an answer. There were only suggestions, and they all pointed to one thing. 𝗼𝐯𝗹．𝐞𝘁
Lady Aurora spoke. “Perhaps some sort of blackmail? I don’t know what can force so many lords to do such a thing, but that’s the only plausible explanation.”
Sylvester rubbed his chin and decided something. “Tell the men that if they can capture a lord, then capture him. No need to kill each one of them. Not to mention, we can later ask for a ransom from their families—for the church donation, of course.”
Heads nodded, and another plan was placed in motion.
In an hour, all the men got ready. Then the march started to the battlefields, open and wet, muddy, especially from the middle.
Sylvester stood on a raised ridge at the back to look over the entire army from his side and the enemy.
Sir Hans stood beside Sylvester to advise him. “Lord Bard, from their formation, it’s clear they are hoping to crush us with their first push. They have placed their commoner foot soldiers with weaker armour at the front to soften the blow for the heavier forces behind.”
Sylvester was happy as this was going as he expected. “The Duke overestimates himself because of his superior numbers. As long as no big expert comes here, we shall win. Tell the archers to prepare while behind the heavy Cavalry knights. Let the Duke feel we’re going for a defensive approach—show that we are insecure.”
Soon, Sylvester gave the orders, and four thousand men came to the backside of the army near Sylvester. These were all the archers with their newly designed bows. As instructed by Sylvester, the longbows had greater range, enchanted bodies and arrows, perfect for commoner soldiers. Each arrow could create a small explosion, and when thousands of them would rain—in the store was pure deadly gore.
Sylvester looked at the Duke’s side and waited for the man to launch his attack. ‘Come on… go for it… do it!’
Pa!
Soon, a loud horn rang, and a few flags were shown.
Haaaa!
The distant echo of nearly twenty thousand men from the Duke’s side rang in the ears of all Inquisitors, pumping their blood. But they were ordered to stay.
“Archers!” Sylvester roared. “Once they cross that mark! Shoot at will!”
The mark was a part of the field that Sylvester had noted to be the muddiest.
100 metres.
50 metres.
10 metres.
Woosh!
Woosh!
Swoo!
The fingers loosened, and the thousands of bows released their enchanted arrows with shining tips. They covered the sky a little, turning it somewhat dark. To the shock of enemies, arrows could reach them easily.
Boom!
The first arrow landed on the shoulder of a footsoldier at the front. In an instant, the head splattered away like a watermelon, releasing all the gooey gore on the men nearby.
Then the second arrow fell near a man’s foot and exploded away with fire. Arms, legs, shoulders, stomachs and mostly legs flew around like crimson flower petals in a spring breeze.
Boom!
The heavy cavalry was not spared either, as the horses instantly got impaled by the explosion. Losing their heads or legs, or just getting spooked.
That left the knights in their heavy shining armour in the deep mud. They tried to stand, but only to feel dread, realising their fate was already sealed as the glowing dots appeared in the sky.
Boom!
Arrows fell and brought darkness. The field was littered with blood, limbs and bodies—it was pure carnage.
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