Chapter 8: The First Battle
"How dare they attack my Uncle's trade route?!"
Commander Kray Vetus roared from atop his white warhorse. The armour on the beast gleamed like polished silver, a strange sight amid the mud and rough ground.
"Do these bandit scum not know who rules this land? Do they not know the name Vetus?"
He pulled the red silk band on his arm to make sure it was tight. The gold threads shone beside the silver of his armor.
Around him, three hundred Ravagers wore the same band. They looked more like soldiers marching in a parade than riders heading into the battle, the sight of theatre play.
Beside him rode Vice Commander Comwell Ravenshire on a horse that looked worn out and slow. He had no armband. His armor was plain steel—dull, without decoration.
"Commander," Comwell said cautiously, glancing at the dark woods ahead.
"The scouts reported that the bandit presence is heavy in the center of the woods. Perhaps we should maintain a unified formation? The terrain is difficult for cavalry."
Kray sneered, looking down at Comwell.
"Unified formation? And share the glory with your lot of lowly nobles and peasant conscripts? Don't be absurd, Ravenshire."
Kray patted the red armband.
"You heard the Prince Regent at the Council. These bands mark the Royal Vanguard. We are the heroes of this operation. The Prince promised a blanket promotion for the Vanguard who clears the camp. "You think I'll let you and your ragtag troops take the Glory my men deserve?"
Comwell tightened his grip on his reins, forcing his smile.
"I only seek to ensure the success of the mission, Commander."
"Then just do what I say!" Kray shouted, pointing his gloved hand toward a rocky path covered in weeds to the north.
"Take the main force—the two thousand regular soldiers—and guard the edges of the forest. Catch any bandits who try to run," Kray ordered.
"I'll lead the Ravagers up the main road to the bandit camp. We'll strike their leader and take the loot."
Kray's eyes shone with greed. The "spoils" were what he truly wanted. Rumor had it the bandits had stolen three weeks' worth of supplies for representatives of Vetus at the capital and high-grade slaves meant for his uncle. The Prince had promised that the Legion would get eighty percent of whatever was recovered. Kray planned to take that share for himself and his chosen few.
"Go!" Kray ordered.
"Good hunting, Commander,"
Comwell offered a quick salute, trying to hide his relief.
As he turned his tired horse to lead the main army away, Kray let out a loud, wild laugh.
"Forward, Ravagers! To glory! Let's show these thieves what happens when they reach for Vetus gold!"
The three hundred elites shouted in excitement. Their red armbands flashed bright as they rode straight into the dark mouth of the deep woods.
It happend three days ago.
For a whole week, large numbers of bandits launched sudden attacks and blocked the Western Highway—the main road used for slave trading between the Vetus Dukedom and the capital's merchants. Trade from the West came to a sudden stop.
Slave wagons were robbed and smashed apart. Merchants and guards disappeared, and not even a trace of the slaves remained. Rich caravans carrying luxury goods were burned to ashes. Even supply wagons meant for Duke Vetus's own officials vanished on the road. It was a heavy blow to Vetus's power and wealth.
Noble Council debates day and night how to handle the situation.
By law, a crisis on the Western Highway should be handled by the Royal Capital Legion—the Black Legion. But the Crown's power had weakened. The Legion now had only five hundred soldiers, split under four commanders, each serving a different noble faction.
The Black Legion's duty was to protect the capital and the lands around it, guarding over one hundred thousand people. Yet because each commander cared only about their own family's interests, they argued and refused to act.
As a result, nothing was done. Public safety worsened, and fear spread through the capital. (I know the Royal Army's command structure seems messed up, but it became this way because of the nobles' power struggle and the chaotic age in which the Prince is living.).
Then a particular proposal came from the unexpected person.
To use the Silver Legion as the Royal Vanguard. Normally, the Silver Legion would have to rejoin the Black Legion. But since the power struggle in the capital was already intensifying, reuniting the two legions would upset the balance of power.
So they delayed the reunion under the pretense that the Silver Legion needed time to rest and reorganize after their recent return—time to heal, refill their ranks, and repair their formations.
the Prince promised them promotion and issued three hundred red armbands to show they carried the Crown's will.
The promotion meant a great change for Commander Viscount Kray. He would rise to a higher rank in the nobles, gain more authority, and become influential. If he succeeded, he would reach the same level as his father and be given land to rule.
By the Crown's law, anyone with the rank of Count must be given authority over at least one major city. Kray dreamed of ruling land of his own. Even barons had small territories, yet he had none.
He had not inherited his father's estate yet, and the waiting made his greed grow. In his darkest thoughts, he wished his father would die sooner so the land would pass to him. His ambition was so strong that even his father could not restrain him.
The Duke had given him the title of Viscount and endless financial supports for his past deeds against a rival noble house. But the Duke had no power to grant territory. Only the Crown could do that.
Only the Crown has the right to grant territory.
Now the chance is within his reach.
Three hours passed after Kray split his forces.
The "main road" soon disappeared. In its place were tree roots, sharp thorns, and sticky mud. The horses tripped and snorted. Sweat ran under the soldiers' armor. They waved away bugs and complained about the hot, wet air.
"Where is that camp?" Kray shouted, cutting a low branch. "The map said it should be here!"
They walked into a wide, bowl-shaped clearing surrounded by high ridges and tall, old trees. The light was dim and green from the thick leaves overhead.
"Commander!" a lieutenant called. "There!"
In the centre of the clearing stood a single wagon.
Kray's eyes lit up. "At last!"
He kicked his horse into a run. The Ravagers followed close behind and formed a circle around the wagon. Kray leaned forward and pulled away the canvas cover, excited to see gold or other rich items inside.
The wagon was empty.
Only one thing sat inside.
a wooden board nailed to the floor.
On it, painted in bright red, were simple words:
WELCOME, RAVAGERS
[THE DEBT IS CALLED.]
"What?" Kray blinked. "What kind of joke is—"
Thwip.
The lieutenant riding beside Kray suddenly jerked. A black arrow with crow feathers stuck out from the gap in his helmet. He couldn't even scream. He slid off his horse and fell to the ground, already dead.
"Ambush!" Kray screamed. "Shields up! Form a perimeter!"
Thwip. Thwip. Thwip-thwip-thwip.
From the high ridges, from the branches above, and from the dark shadows of the trees, death fell like rain. The arrows flew with strange, perfect aim. They slipped into armpits, neck joints, and narrow eye slits.
And every single arrow struck each one of the man wearing a Red Armband.
"I can't see them!" a soldier screamed, lifting his shield. An arrow tore through the wood and pinned his hand to his helmet. "Where are they shooting from?!"
"Fire! Use fire!" Kray shouted, panic tightening in his chest as he watched his elite soldiers fall one after another. "Burn the trees! Drive them out!"
Five elite mages raised their hands and began to chant. Small balls of flame formed in the air, ready to set the forest ablaze.
"Do it! Burn everything!" Kray roared.
But the fire never came.
From the wet ground under the mages' horses, dark shapes rose up. Figures dressed in tight grey clothes burst out of the mud like ghosts from a nightmare.
Vane, appeared behind the lead mage, almost like smoke. His iron dagger—the gift from the Prince—flashed once.
The mage choked and grabbed at his throat. He fell from his saddle and lost his life.
Vane continue. He spun, kicked the second mage off his horse, and drove his blade into the man's chest before disappearing back into the shadows.
Then a sudden, fierce wind blasted through the clearing. Cutting skins off the ravagers like tiny blades. The remaining mages were lifted into the air and smashed into tree trunks with overwhelming force.
From the canopy, a figure descended, riding the wind currents.
Aelrue Silverwind landed lightly atop the wagon. She wore midnight-blue leather, her dual curved blades shimmering with condensation.
She pointed both blades at Kray.
Behind her, two hundred elves dropped from the trees like falling leaves.
The Ravagers—men used to killing unarmed peasants—fell apart the moment the elves struck. They swung their heavy swords at shapes they could barely see. The Venator elves moved like the wind, slipping past clumsy strikes from the Ravagers and answering with deadly blows.
An earth-magic elf pulled a knight into the ground until only his head showed.
A wind-magic elf sliced off a spearman's arm with a thin blade of sharp air.
Nightwatch agents dashed through the chaos, cutting horse tendons and finishing wounded soldiers.
In less than twenty minutes, all three hundred elite soldiers lay to the ground.
Armor, blood, and broken weapons covered the clearing.
Only Kray remained.
Kray stood near the wagon, breathing hard. His white horse lay dead beside him. His silver armor was bent and scratched. His helmet was gone. He stood alone in a ring of bodies.
"Die!" Kray shouted, swinging wildly.
A yellow aura wrapped around his body and his sword. He charged straight at Aelrue. He aimed to cut her in half with his strongest attack, using his level 5 sword rank, knight, Earthsplitter.
But at that moment, A small flash bomb exploded at Kray's feet.
Bang!
Kray stumbled. The bright white light blinded him. His sword swing missed and struck the wagon instead.
Aelrue stepped forward. She raised her left hand and closed her fist.
High Elf Magic: Vacuum Sphere
Sound disappeared.
The air around Kray's head vanished. A small empty bubble formed around him.
Kray froze. His sword fell from his hands. He tried to breathe, but no air entered his lungs. His mouth opened in silent pain. His eyes bulged, his face turned red, and he dropped to his knees, shaking.
Aelrue watched for three long seconds.
Then she released the spell.
Air rushed back with a sharp crack. Kray choked and gasped, falling forward. He threw up bile and trembled, barely able to lift his head. His eyes bled as he looked up, trying to speak, as if begging for mercy.
Aelrue did not let him finish.
She gathered wind and water magic into her twin blades until they hummed like cutting air itself. She twirled once—graceful, fast, and deadly.
Shing.
Kray froze. A thin red line appeared on his neck. His head slipped from his shoulders and dropped onto the wooden floor of the wagon with a dull thud.
The forest fell silent.
Vane walked over and wiped his dagger on a dead Ravager's cloak. He nudged Kray's headless body with his boot.
"Clean," he muttered.
Aelrue slid her blades back into their sheaths. Her hands trembled a little as the rush of battle faded. She looked at the bodies, then at Kray's severed head.
"Take the head. And strip the armbands. The Prince and needs his proof."
"You did well!" Vane said with a proud smile.
"First mission finished," Aelrue replied, her lips curving into a soft smile.
(Continue.....)
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[Sub-Quest Complete: First Battle]
[Performance Rating: A, Flawless (Zero Casualties)]
[Impact Modifier: x10 (The destruction of the Ravagers shifts the Regional Power Balance)]
[REWARD CALCULATION] Base XP: 1,000 Multiplier: x10 Total: 10,000 XP [LEVEL UP!] [Level: 42 → 43]
[Status Points: +5]
[NEW SKILL ACQUIRED]
[Skill Name: Grand Strategic (Rank 1)]
[Classification: Sovereign Class / Command Type]
[Description:] A King does not look at the soldier; he looks at the board. This skill allows the Sovereign Protocol to interface with the Host's cognitive processing to visualize the battlefield on a macro scale.
[Effects:]
War Room Interface (Active): Projects a holographic, 3D tactical map of the surrounding territory (Radius: 50km) into the Host's vision.IFF (Identification Friend or Foe): Automatically tags known units within the radius with color codes.Green: Sworn Allies Blue: Neutral Red: Hostile/Enemy Supply Line Analysis: Highlights resource routes and logistical bottlenecks.