~XVIII~

Lucard steered his steed up beside Tanon and Kelden. The full force of their army was made up of two-hundred soldiers. They'd left the rest of the forces back in Mortadire. Tanon did not believe he'd need the full power of his Clan to bring down a side Clan.

The militia was made up of four divisions. One was led by Tanon, another by Lucard, then Kelden, and the back line was led by another general, Hedric. Hedric was known as the hunter, since his archery skills and knowledge of the forest and how to catch enemies unguarded was seemingly unmatched. He was more beast than human.

"How shall we lead?" Lucard asked.

"The first move in war often times results in the most death." Tanon spoke. "Whether you lead your troops to death, or to victory is all based upon the first move. It sets the tide of the entire war."

"Doesn't mean things can't change at a sudden change in wind." Kelden spoke, adjusting the spear that was attached to the side of his steed, then shifting his bow. "War is like a tidal wave, you cannot predict the outcome."

"This is true." Lucard said, brandishing his axes. "Well. How shall we do this, lord?"

Tanon stared passed the Saruan border and into the depths of the woods. Then his eyes traveled upwards to the sides of the valley. That's when he came to realize his troops were at a disadvantage. They were sure to be attacked from above, he had no doubt the Saruan soldiers would keep to the valley's sides and attack using archers from within the brush.

"We will send Lucard's fleet to lead on, charge directly but be weary of archers." He turned about to a hooded figure riding a black steed behind them. "Hedric, take your fleet and assign a secondary leader. I want you to split around the valley along the sides. I feel that they will try to wear us down using archers from above on all sides."

The hooded figure nodded and tapped the shoulder of an armor clad man standing beside him. He then whistled and steered his horses, leading it into the woods followed by half of his fleet, twenty-five soldiers, while the man he'd tapped before led the other half to the opposite side.

"We will eliminate their troops before even having to use our full force." Tanon said.

Kelden glanced over at his brother as Lucard led his men to the fence of Sarua, breaking it down. "You sure it's the right play? If you are right about the archers, you are basically sending Lucard and his men to their deaths."

"I warned them. I trust his leadership skills." Tanon responded.

"And what of us? What will we do?" Kelden asked.

"We wait for the right opportunity. Lucard and Hedric's troops will thin out the enemy, and we will come in as the final tide, wiping the rest of them out." Tanon explained.

"So then we just sit here and sharpen our blades as our allies fight to their death?" Kelden said critically. He shook his head, then lifted his helm and placed it over his head. "I do not approve of this tactic, brother. It is quite cowardly." He spoke, his voice muffled by his helm as he steered his horse away from Tanon's.

Tanon glared ahead. He didn't care if his younger brother disapproved of his tactics. It was the way to victory, whether it was cowardice or not didn't matter. What mattered was realizing his father's dream of bringing all the land under Mortadire's gold laced flag.

•

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A loud crash sounded from outside. The sound of war cries and clashing metal echoed across the valley.

Alaric looked over his shoulder in response. Grifford smiled. "Let the chaos begin."

Alaric turned back to the old man as he spun around and press his hand atop the dragon kin statue.

"Forgive me," the old man said, then bashed the head off of the statue, revealing that it was hollow inside. Grifford reached his hand into the statue and pulled out a shimmering golden katana. "But I need this."

The blade had a golden hilt and black leather grip. Gold string was wound about the grip and gold ribbons dangled from the hilt. The blade itself had spiraling gold patterns while the metal edge was clear, smooth and shimmering with the colors of the night sky.

"You are going to fight?" Alaric asked, his eyes locked into the blade.

"Indeed I will. Though, it has been some time, but I should be fine." Grifford turned and pressed his hand into the wall. To Alaric's surprise, it gave way, an entire slab of stone shifting around. "Come, I have something for you."

Alaric, confused and hesitant, got to feet and followed Grifford into another room. The room was only slightly larger than the one before, but it's walls were stacked with brilliant, glistening weapons and sets of armor.

Grifford strode over to an armor hanging upon a wall. The set was made up of golden shoulder pads made from layered plates of metal, a chestplate in similar fashion, shin guards and a long flowing cloth styled almost like a kimono.

"I'd like you to have this. It is from my prime days, I doubt it would fit me anymore. I do apologize it has no helmet, it was lost long ago." The old man laughed and pointed to his head where there appeared to be some sort of dent. "Damn bastard smashed my head in with a hammer. Good thing that helmet was quite durable."

Alaric blinked in surprise, not knowing what to say. How could an old man such as Grifford be so calm in a situation such as this? The sound of his own home coming under siege raged outside, yet the old man was completely calm.

Grifford began to pull the armor from its resting place, holding Alaric still as he fitted the armor set onto him.

"How are you so calm?" Alaric asked.

"Because, keeping collected and having a peace of mind is key to winning in war." Grifford explained. "A clear mind means you can see more things, more openings, more opportunities. Trust me. Take my advice, I've done this for a long time."

When Grifford was pleased with Alaric's appearance, fully fitted with the armor, he stepped away and grabbed nothing more than a bamboo jingasa, which is a type of hat.

"Are you not grabbing any armor?" Alaric asked.

Grifford chuckled. "My bones are frail, boy. If I am struck down, I die with or without armor. That is just how it is, and I cannot change that. Thus, I decided I'd be faster without the armor. Do you doubt how honed my skill with a blade is?"

"I.. you just seem too confident. That is all." Alaric spoke. "I cannot help but think your.. audacity would insult your enemy."

"Is that not the point? Who cares if the enemy is insulted, if I am able to cut down my enemies without even using armor, would that not boost our own morale?" Grifford asked.

"I suppose."

"There is more to my actions than you'd assume, boy. You've much to learn. Including how to not be so stiff. Try loosening up your body, being stiff only restricts your movements."

In a sudden burst of motion, Grifford's shimmering blade was held to Alaric's throat. Alaric stumbled back, and, as Grifford had said, his tense posture had resulted in him losing his footing.

"You would have been dead just now. Ease your mind." The old man said, lowering his blade. "You'll get nowhere if you are always stiff and uptight. Swordsmanship is like a magnificent dance, and you cannot dance when you are too tense to move unrestricted."

Alaric's eyes widened. That was exactly how he felt towards swordsmanship.. it was a glorious dance. To be enjoyed, the thrill of pitting your life against another, throwing everything you have behind the steel of your blade as it clashes with another. It was an indescribable feeling.

Grifford strode past Alaric and out of the room.

"Let us join in then. Don't want to miss out on all the fun."

•

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One of the Saruan generals in charge of the archers on the east side of the valley held out his hand.

"Set!" He roared. The sound of dozens of bowstrings stretching and being pulled back as arrows were knocked into them came then.

"Fire!" He roared, and then the overwhelming sound of screaming arrows and the combined force of snapping strings at once sounding like a thunderclap as dozens of arrows flew into the air before arcing down and hailing down on the enemies below.

The general took a breath and roared, "Set!"

Again, the arrows were drawn back. But the order to fire never came.

One of the soldiers looked back to see a hooded figure standing behind their general, holding an arrow that had been embedded into his throat, blood pooling and pouring down his neck.

The soldier roared an alert to his allies, but it was too late, arrows flew through the air around the hooded man, Hedric, who dropped the general's corpse to the ground. The sound of arrows deftly thudding into the Saruan soldiers was the only thing to be heard. Hedric didn't even move or flinch as the arrows flew by his head.

With a roar of rage, one of the Saruan men ran at Hedric, who swiftly ducked as a blade was swung over his head, the metal whistling through the air. Hedric stepped to the side and crashed his fist into the man's face, his thumb stuck out as it struck the soldier's eye. The Saruan then let out a cry of pain, stumbling back and clutching his now bleeding eye. Hedric kicked the soldier squarely in the chest, sending him spiraling down the steep hill before he landed on a pointed branch with pierced through him, jutting out of his chest.

The first Saruan fleet had been defeated in little more than a mere moment.

Hedric drew his bow, a beautifully crafted silver weapon with a golden string. He knocked his blood soaked arrow into the string and knocked it back, zeroing in on a target below.

To his surprise, he saw a familiar face, and he focused his aim on the target, drawing the arrow back farther.

As the bowstring snapped, the arrow flew through the air, blood trailing behind it, as it soared straight for Alaric's head.