“FORMATION…. HAAAAALT!”

“CAVALRY… FRONT LINE, MOVE!”

A proud general sat upon his horse adjacent to Duke Vermillion, their army gathered around a hill overlooking the river Cairne, and they could see the barony of Reims and the town on the other side. Even to this moment, they had seen no movement from Count Horatio. However, the thick trees around the river prevented them from directly seeing in to the woods.

“Hmph, to this moment, not even a scout. General, are you sure this is all Horatio is up to?”

“My Lord, that man has always been a strange one. Perhaps he is relying on his fame and his emissary to the King to force a peace rather than lose face. His reputation is surely exaggerated.”

Duke Vermillion eyed the river carefully, as his troops moved in to position. Only one large stone bridge across, with barricades barely visible on the other side. Even if he is marching in to a trap, though, numbers were on his side.

“Magus! Tell me… have you been able to find anything through scrying?”

“My lord… they have set magical barriers to counter any attempt to break through. While they are strong, given some time, perhaps a day, we can break through them.”

“Nothing more than an effort to buy time. We will do this the old fashioned way then. Have your mages reinforce the cavalry, and then prepare for bombardment. We give them no time and we give them no quarter! ATTACK!”

“Yes, my lord!”

Magus Francois raises his staff, before a green light flashes in to the sky.

As the Cavalry begin to rush forward, a chorus can begin to be heard from the mages in the backline.

“Light of the goddess, Myra protect us, Barrier!”

“As fast as the wind, swift as thunder, grant us the speed of Apollo, Haste!”

“Rage overwhelming, endurance never failing, strike fear into the hearts of our enemies, Berserk!”

Each new spell cast began to reinforce and strengthen the cavalry on the frontline. The thunderous cacophony of their hooves striking the earth reverberated across the river basin, their formation picking up a terrifying speed, and shields of energy spiraled out from the lead knights, creating a piercing shield rolling towards the forest below.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Within the forest line, Angelina watched the cavalry charge attentively. She, and each of the other team leaders on this side of the river, had an extremely important job. So far, everything was going just as Count Horatio predicted.

His knights had briefed all the remaining adventurers on their strategy, after those who refused to stay and fight had left. All in all, only a couple hundred weren’t willing to take on the extra risk and pay.

To be honest, it felt like the strategy of a madman. Each tier of action was briefed down to the minute. It had the terrain analysis reminiscent of the paranoid old men in the church, who studied the terrain and factions around them as if they were all enemies, and had planned day in and out for every contingency.

Her role was exceedingly simple. Last night, the count sent their geomancers to make a huge trench and to disguise it with mundane materials. The idea was for the enemy to focus on their anti-scrying defenses and assume they were going to buy time, and therefore egging them on into attacking. As soon as the cavalry approached, she would pull the trigger, revealing the pitfall and startling the horses. In the moment before they fell in to the spiked hole, the mage-line would launch a fierce barrage into the cavalry, weakening their defenses so that the spiked below would finish them off.

Afterwards, their melee fighters would rush forward to clear up any survivors, before rushing back in to the forest. Then, they would form a phalanx round the bridge and await the enemy infantry. They were to hold on as long as possible, luring in as many infantry as they could, and then, right before their lines break, they were to retreat across the bridge.

The bridge was laced with mana-bombs, and would be detonated as the enemy forced their way across it and got stuck on the barricades on the other side. This would force the battle in to a war of attrition between mage units bombarding each other, as the enemy would be forced to forge a new way across the river.

The whole goal of the strategy was to buy time, as, according to the Count, he had allies prepared to meet up with him at nightfall to launch an assault on the Duke’s flank.

Each step of the plan felt like it was counting on far too much going correctly on the step before, but the most uncomfortable part was just about to start. In order to prevent the Duke from preventing their ambush, they would have to weather the first barrage of magic from the Duke’s army without doing a single. Damn. Thing. Her face grimaced at the thought, before looking down the tree line. Many of the other adventurers had the same expression as her, silent before the coming storm. The only reasons they went along with this plan, is the wholehearted devotion of the Count’s knights and his reputation. He had his best men here, reinforcing the line of adventurers, and each of them had a reassuring smile on their faces.

“A bunch of damn cultists, if you ask me…”

Angelina grumbled to herself. It is one thing to accept a gold coin in excitement, however it is quite another in the face of a storm of cavalry. It is almost time. The enemy backline lit up with a rainbow of reds, yellows, and whites, and a powerful wind gusted down from the hillside. Then, the bombardment launched.

*BOOM* *BOOM, BOOM BOOM!*

Lightning tore through trees, fireballs exploding with impunity, and frozen spears of ice stabbed in to the ground. The line wavered for a moment, as adventurers and knights on the front line were impaled, shocked and melted. Blood would spurt from wounds to freeze around the spears, forming terrible bloody icicles.

“Damn it damn it damn it, Angelina! Hit the trap now! Go!”

Boris’ was screaming at her from out of his little hole, he was cowering before the bombardment.

Mosey seemed enamored, watching the destruction as if it were a fireworks show.

Grimran… he stood tall, facing the incoming bombardment with impunity, reading the attack flow. He dodged an Ice spear, and then tanked a fireball. The flames licked and burst around his red scales, emphasizing his bared fangs with a vicious snarl.

“Not yet… not yet….. NOW!”

At Angelina’s shout, Grimran charged forward, and Mosey laughed and hopped along behind him, ready to heal her front line at a moment’s notice. The concealment around the trench dropped. It was the moment of truth.

Another explosion burst near Boris’ foxhole, where he was curled up. Tears were dripping down his eyes, god damnit! This was scary! What the hell can he, a single mage, do? This is war! He wasn’t one of those adventurers who looked for mercenary contracts, but this time, one found him!

He could hear the horses whinnying as the trench was revealed. He closed his eyes tightly. He had his role to fulfill. He couldn’t let his team down, not again. They were only here because of him.

“DAMN IT ALL! BRIMSTONE AND ROCK, DIE WITH A DROP! BURN WITH THE HATRED OF A THOUSAND SUNS, HELLFIRE!”

Even in the face of all of this, Boris still had one thing many could never attain. He was a Mythril ranked adventurer, and at that level you always have some nasty tricks up your sleeves.

At the cost of a large amount of his mana pool, dark flames gathered with fury around his hands, which first he drew towards his body, and then thrust forward at the enemy cavalry. The black fire rushed forward, scorching all the trees in its path, before striking the barriers in front of the faltering cavalry. As the shield broke, the momentum carried many of the horses in to the trough, while others were engulfed in the black flames. The screams from the mounted knights, skin and bone melting under the withering flames, created a sick song of pain and suffering.

A few bold knights rushed forward and leaped off their horses, across the troughs, and some of the other luckier ones rode down the channels between the troughs. Before they could turn around to escape, they were greeted by the onslaught of furious adventurers and frenzied knights. The mages hiding on the other side of the river began to launch their counter-bombardment, and shields of protection were being raised across their whole line. It was too late to turn back now, the battle had begun.

With a sputtering fury, the general commanded the main army forward. Countless peasant conscripts mixed with trained knights marched towards the Cairne.

Angelina stared in disbelief. Not only was it at the enemies determined confidence even in the face of a disastrous trap, nor the brutal scenes of death playing out before her eyes, but that so far, everything was moving just as the Count said it would.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Deep within the barony of Reims, Count Horatio watched the battle intently through a clear crystal ball, set atop a plush black and gold pillow and raised about 5 feet off the ground on a marble pedestal.

He would change the view between the eyes of each of his enthralled knights. As the scene of the battle played out over the course of the day, he would send orders with minute by minute adjustments to ensure everything moved according to plan. Asimore’s reports on the temperament of the Duke and his court proved most accurate.

At the thought, he made a sad smile to himself. Over the course of his long life, he had killed many young and aspiring Asimore’s, servants who had such potential. He hated it, and he hated he had to do it. However, as a vampire, he had no other choice.

His vampiric Father had taught him long ago the importance of the Masquerade. In ages long since passed, undead had fought with man and the other races to defeat the dragons. However, the undead of that era were the product of spectacular mages seeking to transcend the bounds of life. Soon after the Dragons were defeated, Ishtar declared the acts of those sorcerers an abomination, and she declared that they too must be exterminated to preserve the divine, along with the Fey and elves who she had declared complicit in spreading such profane knowledge.

Since that moment, Necromantic magic was quickly banished and its practitioners driven underground, leading to only foul beings using it. This further reinforced Ishtar’s narrative and continued the purge. As for the other long lived races she had now set her sights upon? They had their rights stripped and were enslaved by man, or were slaughtered by the thousands at the hands of the emergent Demon Lords. The only reason they were able to persevere at all was due to using their magical prowess to conceal and hide themselves in the farthest reaches of the world. Top notch barriers would make entire islands disappear, and confusion and illusion spells would keep travelers away from their sanctuaries.

As for the Masquerade? It was the method developed by Vampires to blend in to society. One day, they all suddenly disappeared, and allowed their names to sink in to myth and legend. Only a select few, the inquisitors of the church, actively hunted them these days. The masquerade was an unforgiving system. It forbade the use or discovery of any of their vampiric abilities before the general public. Any slip-ups were punished harshly to prevent indiscretions or investigations. Most often, this came in the form of death. You cannot interrogate someone who is dead.

For a long time, Horatio hated this system, but he stuck by it as he had no other choice to do so. He had always conspired and planned for a way to change it, but he never had the willingness to take overt action. However, 15 years ago, he found his reason. A reason worth all this suffering, so he could rebrand the image of Vampires.

As his face contorted at the unpleasant memories of all he went through, a pair of slender, soft arms slid across his shoulders and over his chest. He could smell the pleasant fragrance of Cherry Blossoms, and light brown hair brushed against his cheek.

“Maria, my sweet Maria, what brings you down here? You know I don’t want you to have to see these unsightly things.”

The Count turns his head, looking over his shoulder, and sees her deep amber eyes and brow furrowed in concern. Her appearance, to him, lost amongst ages of darkness, was an angelic ray of light and hope.

“Even if you don’t want me to see them, I can see you suffering… I can see you are in pain… is it wrong for me to want to comfort you?”

Horatio’s expression softens for a moment, looking at his crystal ball before turning back to her.

“No, there is nothing wrong with that. Thank-you, Maria.”

He turns around and takes her in a close embrace. His expression hardens once more as he holds her close, his resolve absolute. He will forge his own destiny, no matter the price he has to pay, where he can live together with his beloved in peace. Ishtar, the council, and the Demons be damned!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

Duke Vermillion glared at his generals. Each and every damn one of them, incompetent fools!

First, they lost his cavalry. Then, they marched under a withering barrage of magic fire to assault the bridge, yet they couldn’t break the ranks of the adventurers for a couple more hours. When finally, they forced them to retreat, he had lost nearly another thousand when the area on and around the bridge blew sky high! The hands of one of his soldiers even flew all the way to his position atop the hill and struck him in his face. Then, fearful of more traps, his magicians changed strategy to fighting a war of attrition and bombarding the enemy positions with their superior numbers. However, the enemy had the advantage of swathes of forest cover. The earlier battle had decimated the tree cover on his side of the Cairne.

Now, his mages had spent most of their mana. Crossing the Cairne would have to be done manually, as there wasn’t enough magic reserves to divert a river as large as the Cairne while also shielding his troops. At this point, Noble pride be damned, he will manage his forces personally.

He was sick of all the damage he was taking thus far, how much worse for his noble reputation could it get?

“Tell me, are the boats ready yet?!”

“Yes, my lord… but why do you insist on leading the offensive across the river in boats? We should continue to wait on this side of the river as our mages recover their mana, and strike when they are ready.”

“You damned fools! This entire time, you have been playing in to Horatio’s hands! All his attacks, all his strategies… he is trying to hold us here as long as he can. He is up to something, and it is as clear as day!”

“But sire, boats can’t hold up under a barrage of magic fire…”

“Do you mean to tell me that our division of mages are capable of running out of magic, but theirs aren’t? Even with the quality difference, our sheer numbers has clearly run its toll on them as much as it has on ours. How many of their original 3000 are left? 1500? 1000? We still have another 20,000 troops, and here we are, cowering with our tails between our legs! I, for one, will not stand for it! Prepare the archers, we will use manual cover fire if we have to, and have the mages put all their power in to shielding our forces. We strike immediately under the cover of night, have everyone ready in 45 minutes.”

Duke Vermillion stormed out of the meeting as he returned to his carriage. It was time for him to join the battle, no longer to sit as an inspiring figurehead. A pair of squires knelt before him, and at a nod, they opened a large chest in the rear of the carriage and pulled out the fabled armor of the Culaine family, an heirloom across generations. Its ornamental gold plating was reinforced by Dwarven Mythril and Orichalum, a prize stolen long ago from the once powerful orc tribes of the Northsreach Mountains.

To supplement it, he wielded a quicksilver blade of elvish origin. For a species despised by the Gods, they sure made decent weapons.

Unbeknownst to the Duke, his change in temperament would save his life this night.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

As the last light of the sun faded, Count Horatio had gathered his personal Court far up the Cairne.

Nearly a dozen vampires and a lich approached the river, before he nodded to the lich.

“Archimedes, please halt the waters so we may cross.”

The lich offered a small chuckle, before acceding to the request.

“You vampires and your constraints… in all these thousands of years you haven’t figured out how to overcome such simple things like crossing running water and a little bit of sunlight?”

“Hmph, the art of such ancient magic has been lost to time itself. If finding and modifying such spells were so easy, I’m sure a lich such as yourself would have figured out how to make a humanoid body without all your flesh rotting off. Some eternity spent as a bag of bones.”

“Hahaha! Feisty as always, my dear Horatio. Don’t forget your end of the deal, all the bodies of the Duke’s men will belong to me!”

“Not to worry there… just make sure to wait until after I take the remaining adventurers away from here. As long as they believe my knights gave the soldiers a proper burial and my reputation stays intact, what you do is your business.”

“Ahhhahaha, this is why I like you! Such a shrewd man!”

An evil glimmer shone from Archimedes eye sockets, filled with priceless gems and small souls screaming to be free within them. One such soul disappeared, feeding the Lich’s evil magic. It made Horatio’s skin crawl, but he had no other choice if he wanted to survive and win.

With him, he also brought two Nosferatu, vampires who had faces that would give even adults nightmares. He also brought a vampire Muse, whose beauty and illusion magic could sow confusion deep amongst the hearts of men, and the rest were vampire beast masters.

The plan was simple, if not efficient. The beast masters would call upon the forces of darkness to unleash a stream of hell and shadow hounds upon the flank of their enemy, while Archimedes would raise the fallen soldiers of Duke to create an army and launch an assault of the dead from the rear. Once the ranks fell into confusion, the Muse would use her illusion and mind magic to cause the soldiers to fall upon one another, and the Nosferatu would assassinate any of the leaders who would try to restore order.

The council is already after him, Masquerade be damned!

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

It began shortly after he boarded the boat to assault the adventurers and knights on the other side. Duke Vermillion felt he had finally turned the tide of the battle, as boat after boat of his troops landed on the shore, driving the weary adventurers back. There was hardly any magic bombardment to affect them, and the adventurers were falling back in a full retreat!

Duke Vermillion had a commanding smile across his face as he boarded his boat, but his elation was short lived, as his nightmare was just about to begin. Howls, most foul and deep began to echo across the canyon. Shadows of fire and flame came racing out of the hills into the flanks of his troops.

Screams of horror and agony abounded, as sharp teeth shredded flesh and bone. A cold green light began to glow in the field morgue, where their fallen were being prepared for the long rest. Flesh rotted and fell off the bone on some, others sputtered incoherently as they choked out a wail through their blood-filled lungs. The more powerful fallen soldiers retained their form, but their skin and armor dyed pitch black as they fell into becoming Death Knights. Soon, the army of the dead was descending from the rear, over 10,000 strong and counting.

Incorporeal visions flitted about, friends turning into horrible monsters astride each other! Terrible monsters, diving from the black night sky, grabbing any who dared resist and carrying them into the deep darkness, only for a rain of blood and guts to fall below.

“What in the damned hell… ?!”

Duke Vermillion couldn’t see what was happening, as a shroud of darkness was enveloping his army. However, for the first time in an age, he could feel fear. His soldiers were pressing, screaming towards the river.

“Launch the boat now! Sail down river!”

A timely command, as other boats slower to launch were sunk beneath the weight of the surging bodies. This didn’t stop screaming soldiers from leaping in to the waters and grabbing at the side of his boat.

“Don’t hesitate, cut down any who are holding us back!”

With a swift swing of his sword, fingers, arms and hands were cleaved from the side, blood filling the river as his men sank below the darkened waters.

As the darkness began to drift across the river, Duke Vermillion could see a shadow, slicing through the wall of bodies and scattering a rain of blood in to the water, arrive at the shore. A pair of cold eyes met his, those of a hunter who had found his prey.

Without hesitation, Duke Vermillion launched his most powerful spell.

“Fire, raging hot as the sun, fierce as the flow of earth, I call upon thee to smite my foes! Eruption!”

“Darkness eternal, Shadows of night who disappear into the void, rend my foes and leave only ash, Dark Impulse!”

A raging white and red ball of flame and magma.

A sphere of darkness from which no light could escape.

They collided above the river, the resounding explosion toppling the remaining trees near the shore and whipping the river into a furious froth, capsizing, shattering and sinking all unfortunate boats too close to the epicenter. Horatio took the brunt of the blast, preventing him from chasing down Vermillion.

As each of the King’s brothers backed the other contender in the war, it would soon devolve into a bloody proxy war of attrition that would bring devastation and famine across the kingdom in the years to come.