Chapter 29 - End of Book 1

A boreal forest path was being traversed by a banner of soldiers that numbered two-hundred strong. They were traveling south with weapons, blue and white steel armor and escorting wagons filled with supplies. It was a Sworan supply convoy. They were trying to cart supplies forth to the frontlines.

Despite being in their own territory, everyone was oddly nervous and constantly checking around them as if they were expecting to be attacked. The commander of the Swora supply unit was also on edge.

As they continued through the thick forest with the five meter wide path, they noticed how eerily quiet the forest became. The Swora Commander looked around and drew his sword. Prompting his men to follow suit.

While scanning the forest around him, he could swear that he could make out a dark figure in the trees about forty meters away. Right as he blinked for just a second, his heart died when he saw the figure blur and move.

Before the Swora Commander could say anything, an arrow pierced his face. The commander of the supply convoy died before he hit the ground.

“AMBUSH!” cried one of the senior sergeants in the Swora supply unit. Arrows began to rapidly fly out from the forest. Fear and confusion grasped the Swora soldiers and they started to flee the direction they had come from. But a familiar group of a hundred soldiers appeared behind them with black capes.

The newly appeared enemy started hacking away at any Swora soldier attempting to flee. As news that the Swora soldiers from the back were being attacked, more arrows rained upon soldiers who tried fleeing to their front.

A large unit of sixty Swora soldiers who held up shields while moving attempted to escape forward. But as they reached twenty meters ahead of their dead commander, arrows stopped firing at them. They lowered their shields to see a warrior clad in blacksteel armor and a black cape. He was backed by another hundred men. The black fur lined his collar with his lion sigil and royal family sigil.

In response to their fear, a nervous Swora soldier commented, “A blacksteel claymore and armor…? No doubt… That warrior has to be him!”

“You mean the one the same one from the battle of Gal-Auro Plains?”

“Yes, they say no one can kill him. And his men, the Banner of the Claw, are trained elite infantry. They’re who the intel reports have warned us about.”

“I heard they don’t let many live.”

“By Numen’s grace, we’re fucked!”

As the convoy soldiers continued to voice their fears amongst themselves, Marie and Chrysta appeared at Arlan’s sides in their Aterhide armor.

“Oh Numen! It’s the Embercaller and the Coldheart… We’re as good as dead!”

“Come on men,” yelled a senior sergeant, “It’s only a hundred of them! Charge!”

Like an animal backed into a corner, the convoy soldiers charged forth. Marie answered with casting [Inferno Hand] toward the right half of the encroaching soldiers while Chrysta fired off [Nixstorm] at the left half. Both spells were fourth-tier potency. Marie’s [Inferno Hand] fired out a long fire claw that engulfed and incinerated twenty men. Chrysta’s [Nixstorm] fired out hundreds of finger-sized frostbolts that exploded into ice shrapnel. It decimated twenty men on the left into bits.

Arlan burst forth with his blacksteel claymore swinging left and right cutting down the enemy before him with incredible speeds and power. Within ten seconds, the young lion had minced the remaining twenty soldiers into bits.

Along the supply convoy were still another fifty enemy soldiers staring down Arlan with their blades drawn. The young lion simply lowered his blade and from behind him emerged JD.

“And the Tempest Blade is here too? The Elder Gods have truly doomed us.”

With a mithril longsword in each hand, JD dashed forth cutting down soldiers with one hit. Spinning like a wild dervish of blades. Limbs and heads flew as the bladestorm claimed life after life. JD claimed another twenty enemy soldiers before the last forty soldiers guarding the convoy were pelted by a rain of arrows.

Sixty elven rangers in green capes emerged evenly from both sides of the path. They were the ones raining death upon the convoy soldiers. Leading the elven rangers was Yanie and behind her was Mahari. Fiala emerged from behind Chrysta and Marie as she started to check for injuries among her brethren.

Arlan had absorbed the remainder of the Nymedes party when Anthony Fira was killed in Tudora. Yanie had brought with her sixty elven rangers that her uncle sent. The same uncle that Arlan had saved during the orc ambush on the trade caravan.

Lem and Dimitri arrived with the remaining Banner of the Claw soldiers from behind the convoy signaling to Arlan that they had secured the rear. Erin emerged from the front of the convoy and started directing his men to take supplies into their own wagons.

The ambush was over and Arlan sheathed his blacksteel claymore and removed his helmet. Marie, Chrysta, and JD joined Arlan as he knelt over the enemy commander’s body with an arrow through his head.

JD commented, “They’re getting bold with guarding these convoys with two-hundred men. We were expecting a mere fifty. This also marks the tenth ambush this month.”

“Yes they are,” added Arlan, “But they were undertrained and were mere first-tier white cores.”

“Arlan,” said Marie, “We’ve been out here for a little under three months now. How much longer do you want to stall their main force?”

Arlan pulled the coin pouch and parchment from the dead commander and answered, “Until they send the force at Sugan fort can no longer ignore us. That’s when we’ll make our move.”

“Sugan fort?!” exclaimed Chrysta, “You think we can mount that offensive? Even with the new shock trooper company Count Emile sent and Yanie’s sixty rangers, we’re still only at a little over four-hundred strong.”

“Yes,” said Arlan, “I’ve already ‘prepared’ our offensive with a plan. We just need that force to come out and that fort is as good as ours. With it as a base of operations, we’ll be able to continuously intercept the Main Swora Army’s supply lines and they would be crippled completely.”

“Sounds solid to me,” confirmed JD as he continued, “By the way, Arlan… It’s been nearly three months since our battle with Hector’s Banner.”

“Yes it has,” replied Arlan with a solemn tone.

It's been almost three months since that day… Much has happened since then.

JD added, “Did any of you catch what they called Marie and Chrysta? The Embercaller and Coldheart.”

“I’ve been hearing that from the enemy soldiers,” proclaimed Chrysta, “But me? The Coldheart? How’d they even come up with that?”

“They also called JD the ‘Tempest Knight’ as well,” stated Marie, “It seems we’re making a name for ourselves among the enemy troops.”

Arlan added “Earning a reputation can have it’s advantageous and disadvantageous.”

Fiala, Yanie, and Mahari joined them in on the conversation over the deadbody as the Banner of the Claw soldiers continued to offload supplies. Fiala knelt down and performed a rite with her left hand. Clerics were blessed by the Elder God of Light, Numen. They were required to perform rites in order to maintain their connection to the power of light.

Afterwards the cleric stood up and reported to Arlan, “Captain, no one was injured from our side.”

“Good, I expected as much,” answered Arlan.

Yanie gave her report thereafter, “We were nearly found by this commander but we managed to take him out in time and start our [Rain of Arrows] on the enemy. As you predicted, they responded with shield wall formations.”

“Well they weren’t too hard to read,” said Arlan confidently.

“Yanie, you’ve been a tremendous help,” added JD.

“Thank you, mister ‘Tempest Knight’ sir,” giggled Yanie.

Arlan looked to the woods and saw his new shock trooper company emerge. They were covered in blood that wasn’t theirs. Compromised of veterans in their early twenties, they wielded greataxes in full steel plate armor. The shock troopers were transferred to Arlan from Count Emile’s personal banner the day before they embarked on their campaign.

They had proven themselves of great use to Arlan since their fighting prowess was incredible strong. They were compromised of mostly third-tier orange cores which was a great boon to the Banner of the Claw’s strength.

Arlan dubbed them the ‘Hatchets’ after his old troop from Terra. Leading them was a hot-headed senior sergeant. He earned three different scars all over his face from his time serving under Count Emile. The monstrous man who towered over six-feet arrived at the circle of retainers.

“Captain,” reported the senior sergeant while saluting, “we intercepted the company of enemy soldiers on the western meadow. No casualties on our side and the enemy completely wiped. Just as you ordered.”

“Excellent work Senior Sergeant Roderic,” answered Arlan as he returned the salute, “Have the Hatchets prepare to return to our camp.”

“By your command,” acknowledged Roderic.

Roderic held the utmost respect for Arlan. Any soldier who was worth his weight did. Despite being nearly a decade younger than Roderic, he knew Arlan was no ordinary boy. The moment he first met Arlan, he could tell Arlan somehow had decades of battle experience. Roderic read into Arlan’s eyes and measured him. He understood Arlan had killed thousands. There was no need to second guess Arlan’s orders.

This was also true for the rest of the Hatchets as well. On top of the stories they’ve heard about Arlan, they also firsthand seen his fighting prowess and leadership skills. The Hatchets loyalty to Arlan grew immensely seeing such a leader fight at the front with them.

Afterwards, Erin reported to Arlan, “Captain, we’re finished with loading all the supplies we could take and use.”

“Okay, have the men head back to our camp,” answered Arlan as he turned to Marie, “You know what to do.”

The Embercaller set the convoy ablaze signaling for Arlan to turn back the way he came. The rest of his banner and retinue followed suit. As they marched toward their hidden camp, a fog quickly appeared masking their movements. Behind them was their burning wake.

Now joined by old and new comrades, the Banner of the Claw had been deep into Sworan territory for nearly three months. Using the Urn of Mist that Hector’s Banner left behind, they were able to mount countless assaults on supply lines, small camps, and small-sized units. Their efforts greatly crippled the Swora’s Main Army from launching an all assault against the Midland Northern Army at Tudora.

Its been three years and three months since Rove had awakened as Arlan in Althea. During that time, the young lion experienced both happy and hurtful memories. Even the hurtful memories of his past haunt him. But none of that would stop him from continuing. Because he knew he wasn’t alone. Behind him were some of the most loyal friends he could ask for. They had followed him through the difficult moments. They all shared blood, sweat, and tears which further solidified their bond.

While his heart was still broken from the hardships he endured, Princess Emmeline warmed his heart at his darkest moments. With the will to carry on, Arlan’s mind was set on only one thing. Bringing peace to his homeland, Midland. Returning to Terra was no longer of any importance until he accomplished what he set out to do.

And the more Arlan delved into his enigmatic history as the Ashra, the more he would understand and grow his special powers. Ever since his first battle, Arlan had ruthlessly fought against the odds numerous times. This garnered him a reputation that struck fear into his enemies. And a title was born out of that fear. They called him, “The Immortal General.”