Two walls of shield crashed against each other, knocking men off their feet. As great axes exchanged blows with each other, Vyssian and Rhankish horsemen skirmished in the distance.

While the two large armies fought with one another, two drones watched from afar. They were studying the human tactics closely, and as they did so, they commented on the battle progression.

“If I were the Vyssians, I would move those group of axe warriors to the flank. Don’t you think so, Slayer?” a drone remarked.

“Negative, Exarchi. That group would achieve more when placed at the center,” Slayer replied.

“Right. Anyway, we should imitate those large organics the humans ride on,” Exarchi pointed out. “The Steadfasters should be enough even if they are slower than the organic counterparts.”

As the battle reached its climax, the Vyssians were slowly pushed back once the Rhankish horsemen broke through the Vyssian cavalry. The Vyssian warriors at the back were starting to rout one by one, as well.

“Should we assist the humans?” Slayer asked.

“Negative, Slayer. We have no business here. Let the organics slaughter each other, then we’ll harvest their carrion.”

“Do we plan on taking the castles for ourselves?”

“Perhaps. We can also sell the castles for materials. I’m sure we can profit a lot from this,” Exarchi deduced with confidence.

“But what if the humans cannot afford them?” Slayer asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s leave that problem to Red and Weaver. For now, let’s prepare our forces to capture that,” Exarchi said as he pointed at Castle Kilothar.

“Assemble yourselves, men,” a Rhankish serjent ordered loudly. A forest of lances were raised up into the air as the horsemen gathered around to form groups. A young Rhankish knight was placed among a band of serjents to fill the numbers lost from the earlier skirmish against the Vyssians. He blended in among the non-noble riders, and the only thing that distinguished him from the rest of the serjents was the fact that he was wearing a short cape with his family’s house colors.

“Bah! I can’t believe our luck. Just as we kick the Vyssians out, the northmen comes!” a serjent groaned before spitting on the ground.

“I heard the northmen brought their own cavalry,” the young Rhankish knight said. “I’ve never seen a northern horseman before. Are they on the same level as the Vyssians?”

“Nobody has seen them, boy. We’ll get the honor of being the first to kill their cavalry,” a serjent boasted.

The young lad gulped. He had just arrived a day before, called up to arms within days after his knighting. Sure, he had trained with the way of the sword since he was young, but this was his first battle. He looked up at the skies, and he saw a large red flag waving in the air. It was the banner of Duke Villbrod, the leading commander in charge of the defense of Western Rhankia. After pushing the Vyssians out of Central Rhankia, he moved his army up in this barren land to beat the last warbands threatening the region.

The young man hoped that once the battle is over, they could join the Royal Army in driving the Vyssians off Western Rhankia.

“Nervous?” a serjent asked, riding up next to the knight.

“Slightly. Are you?”

“Everyone is. You just have to overcome it with an overwhelming desire to kill.” The serjent shrugged.

“I don’t see Count Marcoir or his men. Where are they?”

“Must have headed north to scout Castle Enfoir. Just concentrate on what’s ahead, boy. The enemy comes.”

Trumpets blared as the northmen army appeared on the horizon. The Rhankish levies at the center were jittery as rumors had spread about the northmen. Some claimed that the northmen were actually monstrous tamed bears, while others claimed that they were actually Kojans who stole the skins of men. Regardless, the Rhankish nobles and captains were trying their best to keep morales up.

Duke Villbrod rode across the Rhankish lines, trying to motivate the men. “The northmen army is small, and their men even smaller! Do not believe that the northmen are actually demons! They can bleed as well as any other man! If we beat these northmen, wealth will rain upon us since I heard that the northmen are actually great craftsmen! A northman sword can earn you a comfy hamlet in a nice farmfield!”

The men cheered at the prospect of earning a lot of money, while the nobles were more interested in getting glory at being the first to beat the ‘unstoppable’ northmen scourge.

“There’s the northman center. That’s quite a pitiful size,” a serjent blurted as he looked on the opposite end of the field. “They got quite the balls to take us on.”

“Maybe they were supposed to group up with the Vyssians and they were days late,” someone else pointed out.

“Well, that’s bad luck on their part. I’m itching to bash some heads in. Who’s with me?” the captain of the group shouted, to which the band of horsemen cheered.

“But where are their horsemen?” the young knight asked the captain.

“I don’t know, young lord, but I- Wait… what are those?”

Emerging from the trees and moving towards the flanks of the northmen were creatures which sent chills up the young knight’s spine. What were those things? The young lad had lived for nineteen summers before he finally became a fully-fledged knight, yet none of his mentors told him of such… beasts.

The northmen rode on large metallic aurochs, with two metal plates slopped at the front to act as some kind of plow. They looked fearsome despite their slow and sluggish movement.

“I doubt my horse would be able to move after putting all those armor on…” a Rhankish rider muttered.

When the northmen formed up, the Rhankish trumpets sounded, signalling the start of the attack. It seemed that the nobles wanted to take advantage of the fact that the northmen just arrived. The northmen were still disorganized and tired, so this might be the best time to take them out.

The Rhankish horsemen started to trod forward slowly. The slow pace was making the young knight nervous, and he was starting to take deep breaths. He raised his lance off the stirrup boot, then lowered it in a couched position as soon as he heard the captain's horn blow.

The horses charged forth, and the much smaller northmen contingent surged forward to mirror the Rhanks. The beating hooves resonated across the young knight’s body, yet he felt as if the world was turning eerily quiet.

Fireballs flew across the battlefield and smashed into the northmen shieldwall, setting enemies on fire. Unexpectedly, the northmen didn’t break formation. Instead, they continued marching towards the Rhankish shieldwall as if the fire didn’t bother them at all.

Light horsemen in front of the young knight’s group launched their javelins at the incoming northmen cavalry charge before riding to the sides to make way for the lancers behind them. Despite the numerous javelins thrown at the northmen cavalry, not a single one of them fell.

The young knight was starting to doubt that they would be able fight against these monsters.

Should he turn back? Should he break off? Can they even defeat those northmen?

It was too late to make a decision now. Wood splinters flew everywhere, men were violently speared, and horses were pushed aside by the northern monsters. Even though a few northmen were dismounted at the initial clash, the aftermath for the Rhankish riders were disastrous.

The young knight was lucky. As soon as his lance broke from the initial impact, he and his steed was sent off-course, away from the wave of metal riders. He managed to dodge out of the way from the rest of the Varangian horsemen before turning around to get back to his own group.

Chaos ensued as the charge turned into a melee. It took him a moment to realize that he was supposed to get his sword out. He clutched the hilt, then realized that his hand was cut. It seemed that he gripped his lance too hard and was too slow in releasing it when he made contact with the enemy. Ignoring the blood and pain, he took his sword out to slash at the nearby horsemen.

“Back! Rhanks, back!”

The young knight heard a command amidst the chaos, and he started retreating to the back. Along the way, he realized that even when their riders were cut down, the northmen’s beasts would continue thrashing against the Rhanks, forcing him to ride around the metallic aurochs.

Without warning, his horse stopped and neighed. The young knight was about to kick it back to action when he saw a bolt of purple lightning flashed by. Several Rhankish horsemen were electrocuted, falling dead on the spot.

“Move! We need to get out!” the young knight shouted to his horse. Of course, the horse didn’t need to understand that it needed to get out fast.

It took a while and a few close calls, but the knight managed to get out of the brawl. He rode away from the flank and started moving towards the large fluttering flag at the center of the battlefield.

“Duke Villbrod!” the young knight shouted as he rode next to the duke who was already fighting in hand-to-hand combat against the northmen.

“What? Who are you?!” Villbrod shouted back as he raised his mask-like visor up.

“The flanks are falling! The left flank is retreating and,” the young knight looked towards the distance, “it seems that the right flank is all dead!”

Strangely, though, the enemy horsemen weren’t flanking the Rhanks. It seems that they simply stopped after securing their sides. Meanwhile, the Rhankish center was doing fine. In fact, they were actually pushing the northmen back.

“They don’t have the numbers to push us from the sides!” Villbrod surmised loudly. “Men! Forward! We need to break their center or all is lost!”

At the front, armored Rhankish warriors stabbed the ground with their longswords and chanted together. The ground erupted below the feet of the short northmen warriors, causing them to trip or fly into the air.

Almost as if the northmen’s shieldwall was about to collapse, strange metal birds rained darts from above, hitting both friend and foe alike. Not only that, but the Rhankish footmen at the front were panicking.

“Get out of the way!”

“Demon! It’s a Kojan!”

“A monster is coming this way!”

A fat bull walking on two legs swung its axe around, cutting men as if they were made out of melted butter. Its squarish head opened whenever it screamed, paralyzing the poor helpless levies surrounding it. Rhankish sorcerers managed to slow it down by turning the ground under it into mud, but their numbers were dwindling. In the end, the mages were forced to retreat to the back, and Villbrod realized that the battle was over.

Under the command of Villbrod and the remaining noblemen, the Rhankish shieldwall broke off step by step until there was a big gap between the two sides. “Retreat!”

The northmen’s cavalry started moving, but they were too slow to chase the routing Rhanks. In the end, Duke Villbrod still managed to get away with a good portion of his army intact.

The fat bull was about to charge forward but it was stopped by Custodian. ‘Minos, Slayer, Exarchi, halt operations immediately. The Rhankish princess has started negotiating with us. Cease hostilities with the Rhanks, and pick up as much dead as you can.’