Hooves and boots trampled the grass of the prairie that sat on the other side of Aventia's border.
When one passed the outposts that had been built in the mountains, they were greeted by flatlands that went on and on, all the way to the nearest villages under Ironhoof control.
The territory of the Ironhoofs was split into three categories, the outskirts consisting of farmlands and forests, their main supply of food and charcoal, the Land of Fog in the direction of the Whitewood family, and at the centre stood the heart of the barony, the suspended city Yelera.
Cykrus was on horseback, leading a force of about two hundred men, equipped with basic armour, spears, and some crossbows, as well as a small group of clerics from the church.
Scouts on horses were riding far ahead and at the rear of the formation, while a handful of wagons with supplies moved near the middle.
He had been staying in touch with the royal army that was dispatched ahead of time, discussing when and where they would rendezvous.
Their camp was just on the horizon, soldiers could be seen dismantling and packing their tents, readying themselves for departure.
Cykrus' scouts had been the first to make contact, they were waiting by a large man with coiled horns attached to his helmet.
Cykrus slowly shook his head left to right as his eyes wandered from soldier to soldier.
Every single one of them was wearing an artefact, shaped into armour.
His head was quietly estimating the cost for an expenditure like that…
Obviously, the royal army would have people capable of inscribing runes, and making artefacts, but on such a scale that mere infantry was completely decked out?
He drew a sharp breath.
They weren't a threat to a rank three mage like him, but if his force were to clash with them, could they even make a dent?
"Marquis Aventia!" the large man saluted from afar.
"General Porter, was it?" Cykrus spoke as his horse trotted closer.
"I am he." the general affirmed, lowering his arm again.
"Do forgive the delay, but there was much to prepare ahead of time."
"All is well, Marquis, I understand how tedious leading people can be, I have my hands full with just my troops alone." General Porter answered with a smile, unafraid of seeming weak.
Cykrus whistled, "I can tell His Majesty spared no expense kitting out your men."
"You have a keen eye." the general proudly patted his chest, "His Majesty tasked us with supporting your acquisition of the Ironhoof lands, naturally we are prepared for battle."
Cykrus nodded, "I am glad to hear that. How many men march under your banner?"
"We are a hundred again, now that my men who made camp near your capital rejoined us, each with a steed." he quickly calculated, "I see you've brought some clergymen along."
"They are just here for insurance." Cykrus glanced at them.
Porter grunted "I guess so. We are about to finish packing up, I assume you are ready to move?"
"Yes." Cykrus just sighed as he spotted the rune-patterns all over the unprotected areas on the horses.
The combination of rider and steed, it wouldn't be an exaggeration to say their prowess was comparable to rank one mages.
His soldiers became restless watching the royal army get mounted.
Their horses were larger than any breed they knew of, as were their weapons, and the men themselves, which only got clearer the closer they came.
The royal army had a well-known reputation that could strike fear in the hearts of the common folk, not just because of their battle-records, but also how they achieved victory… decisively.
It is said that no bandit has ever left an altercation involving them in anything but a casket.
Aventia's soldiers fell under the royal army's scrutiny, their faces looked rough and unforgiving, but they appeared well disciplined, as no one voiced their feelings of superiority.
They knew no ordinary humans could match them.
Two hundred people was something they would chew through with ease, but a rank three mage more than made up for however many weaklings that were brought along.
Their formations merged as they headed deeper into the Ironhoof territory.
The sights of settlements, of farms came and went, but those weren't their destination.
Cykrus felt no need to go and bother the villagers, and neither did they, watchful eyes trailed after his army, but they knew better than to intercept soldiers of unknown origin.
The sun disappeared and returned continuously, days went by.
The scenery underwent changes, the green prairie ended in forests, which ended in an open plain.
The green became less and less vibrant, its hue yellowing.
Without tree canopies as a shield, the heat of the sun intensified, rocks became more common, the earth revealed a tint of orange, that darkened the farther along they were.
Water in the form of rivers or rain turned into a precious, but rare find, until even the earth itself was replaced by orange rock, heated from the seemingly never-ending daylight.
Though what was weirdest about their journey wasn't the geological aspect, but the lack of patrols, of merchants, or even civilians.
Ever since they passed the smaller towns on the outskirts, the roads were barren, empty.
Carriage tracks were visible, but noticeably from a while ago.
Watchtowers and road stations stood unoccupied, abandoned with not a soul around.
"I had heard that you dealt a decisive blow to the Ironhoof family, but this feels like you already wiped them out." Porter moved up to Cykrus.
Cykrus held his chin, "I was expecting them to have something planned for us, but not this… we should prepare ourselves in case they are turtled up in their capital."
The general growled, "Hm. A siege could be problematic indeed; we do not have an extensive supply chain. Though neither do they." he squinted his eyes, spotting something in the distance.
"There is something ahead! First division, break ranks, encircle and secure! Remember, we want them able to talk!" he ordered, then tilted his head, "Marquis, it would seem your scouts ran into somebody."
Cykrus shielded his eyes from the sun, but the sight was too blurry.
A small chunk split off from the army, the runes on their horses lit aglow as their speed picked up.
Suddenly every step the horses made caused tremors in the earth, prickling the skin like needles.
Cykrus could feel this wasn't for show, but the effect of pure physical force enhanced by magic!
… …
A group of ten mounted warriors clad in black armour and dried blood surrounded two of Cykrus' scouts.
Devious smiles were all around as they brandished their weapons, "Guess you haven't heard yet, but no one is allowed to travel this way."
The scouts' horses neighed wildly, trying to keep these people at a distance.
One of the scouts lowered his head, "Of course, of course, we hail from afar, we had no idea! Is there a permit we need, or is this road closed permanently?"
"Permit? What are you? Some kind of aristocrat?" a man pointed his spiky club at the scout.
"You best turn back." another spoke up, "And leave your horses here." he grinned.
"Leave our horses?!" the scout exclaimed with shock, "But how are we to return back home without them?"
The members of the Bloody Hooves looked at each other bewildered, asking themselves, 'Who are these morons?'
They stared at the scout, was this guy for real?
Was he dense? Or stupid? Or both?
"Buddy. Listen here. We're the Bloody Hooves." one of them said, his voice raspy, intimidating.
"Oh! I like it! A lovely name!" the scout beamed at him, "We call ourselves the Reconnaissing Duo!" he pointed at himself and the other scout playfully.
"Recon- Reconna- Re-…" one of them tried pronouncing the word, his forehead wrinkling.
Another of the Bloody Hooves took a deep breath, "Alright, alright…" he lifted his hands in defeat, "Eyes on me boys. I'm gonna spell it out for ya, since you don't get it."
"We're bandits." he said, "Plain 'n simple."
"We'll be taking your money, your belongings, and those horses… them's looking mighty well-kept."
"Oh." the scout's expression turned upside down, "That's bad."
The bandit nodded, "Yep. Sure is. Real shame, but somebody has to do it."
"Ehhh… but do you really have to?" the scout gestured with his hand.
"No negotiating." one of them answered.
"Hol' up, what's that?" someone pointed behind the Reconnaissing Duo.
"What's what?"
"That!"
"Looks like a horse, if you ask me."
A bandit turned to the scout, "You sure you ain't a Rico-whatever trio or something?"
"You shouldn't lie to us, that's not gonna end well."
The scout closed his eyes and crossed his arms, "No idea who that is."
The bandits raised their brows, their faces depicted doubt.
The silhouette of the horse became clearer, as did its rider, then followed another, and another.
Disbelief shifted into confusion, which shifted into realisation, "They're trying to jump us boys! Get ready!"
Then they felt the ground beat with every step, the approaching riders quickly outnumbered them.
"Scratch that! Let's get outta here!" an order was shouted into the group but despite their lightning-fast responses, the distance between them was shrinking fast!
Armoured horses were catching up to them!
Unbelievable!
And the men on their backs were packing just as much!
The royal soldiers sliced through the bandit formation, forcing each of the Bloody Hooves into isolation.
Then they circled back around, their swords, large chunks of metal, stood at the ready.
One of the bandits reached for his hip, then lifted a bola, three twisted cords with heavy weights fastened to their ends.
He swung the bola once, then sent it hurling at the horse tailing him.
The rope wrapped around the front and hindlegs, coiling around itself, causing any normal horses to tumble!
But not these…
The rune-empowered horse pressed on through the entanglement, the cords pulled taut, then snapped like twigs!
The bandit's face turned pale, he raised his weapon, a jagged cleaver, and swung it in a wide arc.
It struck the royal soldier's armguard, then broke in two!
One half remained with the bandit, which he observed in horror, while the other was sent flying into the lifeless land.
The soldier shifted his weight, and with a single upward cleave, split the horse in two!
One by one the bandits screamed as they fell to the ground, while their mounts departed for the afterlife silently.
Before long, all Bloody Hooves had kissed the dirt, they grovelled in pain ranging from mild injuries to broken bones.
But that didn't stop the sturdier ones from propping themselves back up!
With weapons in hand, and their only means of escape gone, they resigned themselves to a fight to the death.
"COME ON THEN!" a bandit roared, as an armoured horse came charging.
The sharp edge of his axe slid against the horse's armour, sparks burst forth, yet there was no lasting damage.
The rider held his sword sideways, the flat surface met the bandit's upper body as the horse charged past him, sweeping him off his feet!
His head spun, his limbs no longer followed his will.
Their last efforts and strength were soon snuffed out.
The army crept closer, shadows hovered over the poor bandits.
"You did well buying time." Cykrus nodded at his scout, who bowed with a wide grin.
"By decree of His Royal Highness, King Lysander Van Tale, you are to answer my every question." a large figure blocked out the sun.
A bandit squinted his eyes, clutching his injured legs, "…what…?"
The shadowy figure turned away and nodded; the royal soldiers recognised the sign and hurried to prop the man up.
He tried to resist, a fruitless attempt.
General Porter lowered himself to the bandit's height, "By decree of His Royal Highness, King Lysander Van-"
"Ptui!"
Porter stopped; he closed his eyes and wiped the fresh spit off his face.
A vein popped out on his forehead, but he did not utter a word.
The general held out his hand to his side.
Rummaging could be heard from amongst his men, then a vial in the shape of a small orb was placed in his empty hand.
His finger flicked the sharp tip, then he pushed it into the bandit's neck.
"Argh!" the Bloody Hooves member cried out, "The fuck did you do to me?!"
He struggled to break free as pink lines travelled under his skin, "Help! HELP!" he shouted for the other bandits as he felt himself heating up, but they had all been subdued already.
"This is?" Cykrus stood next to General Porter.
"It's a serum to loosen the tongue, I am told. We have recently been given access to it, must be fairly new." the general answered.
Cykrus covered his mouth, intrigued, "There is such a thing?"
"Right? I was also surprised to hear it but supposedly tests with it ran smoothly."
The bandit began huffing, his eyelids turned droopy.
"Should start working any moment…" he moved closer to the captive, then clapped his hands, "Attention!"
The bandit's eyes snapped open wide.
"Good." Porter spoke, "Now answer me, why are the roads and blockades empty, where are the patrols?"
The bandit's lips trembled open.
"Don't tell 'em shit!" another shouted, before a gauntlet muffled his words.
"…everyone was… recalled…" he slurred his words, drooling.
"Recalled? Back to Yelera?" Cykrus chimed in.
"…yes… everyone is to prepare…"
"Prepare? For what?" Cykrus pressed him.
The bandit's body trembled, "…I… don't know…"
Porter cleared his throat, "Do any of the others happen to know?" directing his question not just at the drugged bandit.
Silence permeated the air.
The general glanced through the round of bandits, "Too bad." then at Cykrus, "Marquis, what is your verdict?"
"Why are you still out then?" Cykrus posed a final question.
"…those shitbags… don't trust… us… don't think we're… useful… I know it…" foam was building in the corner of his mouth.
Cykrus met Porter's eyes, "That's all we'll get out of these guys. Kill them all."
"You heard the man!" Porter shouted.
Royal soldier after royal soldier lifted their swords, pushing the weaponized artefacts through the Bloody Hooves' ribcages with ease.
Ten lives, snuffed out in seconds and without hesitation.
The clerics dragged the corpses together, lining them up neatly, placing the bandits' arms on their chests.
They knelt, and covered the men's faces with clean white cloths, "Gracious gods." one of them spoke, while the rest folded their hands in prayer.
"Led astray in life, these humble sinners all stand before you in death."
"We pray that you punish them in proportion to their misdeeds but allow them entry to your kingdom."
"Guide them and shower them in your warmth, as you do for us, for they know not what awaits them, before it is too late."
"Lay their souls to rest, as we have their vessels. Let them nourish the earth, to return what they have taken."
Meanwhile Porter looked at Cykrus, "It is as you expected."
But Cykrus shook his head, "It won't be that simple… the Ironhoofs are a crafty bunch, even if there aren't many left."
"Let us carry on, only one way to find out." he decided as he noticed a bunch of vultures above, already eyeing the fresh buffet.
General Porter saluted, "As you command." he turned to his soldiers, "To your mounts! We press on!"
The army resumed its march; there was no time to dig graves and hold a funeral, the longer they spent here, the more 'preparations' the Ironhoofs could get done.
The local wildlife would do the heavy lifting for them.
The path ahead was far from treacherous, while the environment was strewn with big rock formations, the main roads were paved and even.
Yelera was renowned for its exports of metal, be it shaped into weapons and armour, used as building material, or found purpose elsewhere.
Though it held no magic properties, no one could argue with its quality, it was only natural for their roads to be well developed, kept, and used… which made the silence in which the army was trekking even more unbelievable.
Cykrus felt the speed of their marching decreasing, the intense heat, the lack of shade, and water were showing their effects.
His soldiers underwent arduous training, but never in a climate like this.
Though the royal army wasn't showing any signs of stopping, and neither did Cykrus.
Anticipation coursed through his blood; their maps told him it couldn't be much farther.