Vance emerged from the palls of black smoke that rose up into the air, threatening to choke out the light of the sun. Soaked head to toe in the blood of orcs, he looked every bit as imposing as one might imagine a demon to be, but yet, he was a man. Sabre clutched tightly between red stained gloves, slicked by blood, Vance’s eyes scanned the immediate area, looking, searching for the bald headed man whom had wounded his friend, William. The Emir in question wore a blue uniform, similar in style to those worn by French Marshals of earth, but with the trimmings and fittings of silver rather than gold. That unique uniform alone would be enough to make him stand out in a crowd of white and purple. With this in mind, it would be mere child’s play to spot his prey, and bring a swift end to this whole debacle. Yet, try as he might, he couldn’t see anything through the thick layer of smoke that began to fill the debris strewn streets of the Gulrn. What made it worse was the dull ringing in his ear, making it impossible to track any signs of movement with his ears, leaving it all to his eyes; even if he did have the use of his ears though, he doubted he’d hear much with the sounds of battle filling the air.

“Always something,” Vance grumbled.

Stepping further into the middle of the fort, he look a moment to crouch down, and look at the stone streets themselves. Glancing down, he looked around, straining his eyes to spot any clue as to the direction of his query. Tossing aside a few stones, he came to find what he wanted. Mixed in with a number of other foot prints were those belonging to a human, as orcs were known for having larger feet and builds. Finally finding his lead, Vance followed the trail up through the streets, walking past and over the bodies of white uniformed orcs, slain by days of siege warfare and the aerial bombardment mere moments ago.

No one could deny that the tactic had succeeded in what it had intended to do. The enemy guns that had been hidden away, were now destroyed, and with them the crews that were to man them. It had prevented a greater loss of life for Kendirewen, but had costed the Askalians dearly. Such thoughts filled Vance’s mind as he continued on through the smoky streets, his eyes remaining glued to the pair of prints that guided him forward.

Eventually, he came to spot four shako wearing orcs, dressed in the same fashion as the Boar Riders of Askal. These were the veterans – the elite. But, there was no bald man, only a single iron banded wooden door, leading into the rear wall. Tilting his head, he found it rather odd to see, but wagered his target was somewhere within. Thankfully, the sight of armed guards further helped confirmed that guess as he climbed up and over one of the fallen pillars that had once held up a massive cloth canopy. The guards immediately spotted the approaching Dragon Marine, their faces seemingly undeterred by the gastly appearance of the sudden threat that approached them.

The first of the Riders reached behind himself, grabbing a heavy broadsword that leaned against the wall beside the door. The four didn’t seem to be armed with muskets, and it seemed each was armed with a different melee weapon; the largest being the broadsword. One sported a standard issue cavalry sabre, another a lance used in cavalry charges, and last man wielded a spiked mace. Each looked ready for a fight, and none seemed like amateurs either. These were true veterans and likely the best Askal could field.

“So… which one dies first?” Vance growled.

The largest of the four stepped up, swinging around that massive sword, kicking up dust and dirt with a gust of wind, yet Wolfram was unmoved. Reaching down, Vance grabbed the red sash of his uniform, pulling it free from his waist before bringing it up to his mouth so he could wrap it around his left hand. His eyes didn’t leave the massive orc. The two began to pace around, the other three starting to take positions around each of the General’s flanks. Glancing over his shoulder, he noted the lancer slide his foot forward, hands pulling back the shaft slowly, while the other two shifted to a guarded stance, ready to riposte should the need arise. Head turned slight, Vance weighed his options. None of the men had any openings, and waited for him to make the first move.

“Fine then. You first big guy.”

Lunging forward, blade poised upward, the heavy orc quickly swept his blade around, seeming to want to slam the blade into Vance's side, only for Vance to lean down to his right, guard pressed against the ground as he used it to pivot himself around, kicking the orc’s legs from under him. The orc seemed to feel confident in his size and build until leg met leg, and then came a surprised oink as the orc's leg buckled. Landing with a thud, he had barely a moment to respond as the sole of a black boot came thrusting into his face, breaking his nose. The large orc reeled back with a yelp, as he clutched his ruin of a face.

The other three didn’t waste time, taking advantage of Vance’s prone state. Thrusting his lance forward, the spear came mere inches from the blonde’s throat, just missing as Vance leaned his neck up to the right in time to avoid the attack. The other swung his mace down with frightening speed towards the exposed side, while the third had also thrust forward.

His options limited, Vance had to take a hit, and the one he chose was the mace. Utilizing his strength, he brought his arm up, thrusting the heavy tipped blade towards the leg of the swordsman, striking him in the shin, cutting bone and flesh both. Meanwhile the spearman pulled back in time to avoid the shaft being snapped in two by the weight of their foe, while the mace came down hard upon his side. The magic embued within the cuirass did it’s job, taking most of the blunt force, but couldn’t prevent the steel sheet from pressing into his side, breaking a few ribs, causing Wolfram to grit his teeth.

The one holding the mace seemed proud of himself until he saw the sabre arc around slashing through his throat. Leaning forward, he clutched his throat, trying to remove the foreign object only for Vance to roll to the side, sliding it free in a single violent motion. As the orc clutched his throat to stanch the bleeding, Vance rolled into the big man who wrapped his arms around Vance, squeezing tightly as he hollered for the only healthy one amongst the group to thrust his spear into them. Vance began to use his herculean strength to wrench himself free, letting out a pained groan as the sharp pain from broken ribs protested the exertion.

With the cry, Vance finally broke free in time to scramble away as the lance point thrust into the large orc, causing him to scream out in pain and shock as his comrade speared him through.

Scrambling to all fours, Vance looked up towards the lancer who looked appalled by his own deed. In that single moment of hesitation, Vance dug boots into the stone street, launching himself into the lancer, knocking them both to the ground. Blade still tightly bound to his hand, Vance twisted the sabre around and in one swift motion, brought the blade down and into the man’s chest, twisting and carving through the ribcage as the lancer screamed and howled before death claimed him. Pushing himself up with the help of his blade, still dug into the dead orc, he pulled free his sabre, the weight catching him off guard as he near fell backward, only to catch himself in time to see the swordsman still screaming out in pain as he try to stop his leg from bleeding anymore.

Letting out a sigh, Vance walked up to the screaming orc and kicked the man down onto his back before thrusting his blade into his heart, killing him as he twisted and pulled the blade free. Taking a moment, he looked around at the four dead Boar Riders. He couldn’t help but admire their skill. They fought and died protecting the Emir, showing why the Askalian Riders were so feared.

Just as he looked at the four dead men, his broken ribs made themselves known as pain shot up his side. Grimacing, he clutched his side, holding the bent cuirass. It hurt – a lot. Scanning his immediate area, he noted there weren't any more guards, but couldn’t rule out the possibility of there being more inside, telling him he’d have to keep the broken armour on until he was sure he was safe; no matter how much his body demanded otherwise.

Stumbling forward, Vance dragged himself to the door, prying it open with his sabre. As the door swung open, to his surprise, he found a tunnel descending under the fortress itself. The tunnel itself looked no bigger than a single person. By the outline of the edges, it looked freshly made too, unlike the rest of Gulrn.

“Shit…” Vance cursed.

Realizing the risk, he had to weigh his options here. Either take the chance and descend the stairway into the tunnel, or wait here until help arrived. The latter would allow the Emir to run, breaking any chance he had to gather any valuable intel and avenge his friend William. His body demanded the latter, but his anger and tactical mind wanted the former. Seeing more sense in taking the risk, he descending into the darkness of the tunnel.

As he walked down the dimly lit tunnel, he used the side wall to keep himself upright while his wrapped hand held his side. Coming down in a single long tunnel, he found his target. Standing opposite him, some four meters from him, stood the Emir, pistol cocked and aimed at Vance.

“I see my Guards weren't able to stop you.” The Emir started.

Shaking his head, Vance pushed himself away from the wall, taking a defensive stance, ready to attempt to dodge the shot, “Yeah. They put up a good fight though. Broke a few ribs.”

“I see that,” He observed, “So, we finally meet, Wolfram.”

“You have me at a disadvantage, Sir.” Vance replied, brow raised.

Shaking his head, a toothy smile could be seen behind his groomed beard, “Hard not to know the hero of Luna and now Kendirewen.”

“Again, that doesn’t tell me who you are.” Vance retorted, a little impatient.

“What are you talking about? You know me quite well. After all, I’m the one who’s been trying to kill you this past year,” The man remarked.

Vance’s eyes went wide, “E.”

“Correct! Well done, General. But, I’m afraid, I can’t let myself become a prisoner here this day… too much work left to do. You understand.” He smiled.

Vance frowned, “Well, you have one shot, and I bet I’m fast enough to catch up to you.”

“Of that, I have no doubt. See… I misjudged you. Completely underestimated the Champion of Julia,” Turning to look down at the smooth floor, he sighed, “Honestly, I miscalculated this all. Everything and everyone I’ve thrown your way has failed. And now, now… you threaten to take away everything I’ve worked to create here,” He started, brown eyes now focused in on Vance’s own blue.

“I’ve won. You’ve lost – Just give it up!” Vance demanded, “I swear to give you the rights demanded of a prisoner of war, and officer of your station,” Vance promised.

His anger and desire for revenge would have to wait. If he was able to secure E, he’d be able to learn more about who this man is and why he targeted him. There was still a great deal of questions he needed answers to.

“Ah! But, that’s where you’re wrong, Wolfram. This battle? Your win. But the overall objective? It’s my win,” He grinned, “See, this whole thing was just one giant trap, orchestrated by me.”

“Well, it seems to have failed as far as I can see?” Vance remarked, noting their current situation.

“To you maybe, yes. But in reality, this battle will put you on the map. Before, I was the only one who knew of you. The great champion of Julia and her pantheon. Now though? Now the rest of my gods know you exist, and are going to stop at nothing to kill you!” He laughed, “Do you see now?!”

Finally, it dawned on him. Things were far too easy if he looked at it objectively. But who’s to say he wouldn’t come to face another like himself? It was true, this was a win for E, there was no doubt about that now. His name would surely spread across Tavaria, and his deeds in this war would no doubt be shared by all, alerting others about him, Ami, Lara, and Richard.

“Ah! Now, as for the second statement. This shot isn’t for you. No, I’ve done all I’ve needed to do here. Instead, it’s for this.” Bringing the pistol over to the wall, he fired, no shot came towards him, instead, a fuse was lit, “With that, I bid you farewell, Wolfram. I hope we meet again, under better circumstances!” E made a flourishing bow and quickly turned and ran, leaving Vance to try to scramble up the stairway.

Just as Vance emerged from the tunnel, the whole entrance erupted as the explosive hidden within the walls blew, destroying the tunnel. Vance was launched forward, tossed into the street by the shockwave. Letting out a grunt as he hit the ground, he rolled over onto his back, bringing his left hand up to shield his face from the falling debris. He wanted to scream out in frustration, but couldn’t muster his voice to do so. Instead, he lay there, unable to move or call out. Only the bitter feeling of defeat lingered in his mind as the battle around him came to a close, the battle won.

“Vance!” Cried a voice.

Glancing up, he spotted Estrid, Ami, and Richard running towards him at full sprint, the look of concern and fear glued to their faces. Who could blame them for worrying either? He looked bloody, beaten, and lay on his back with broken armour. His wrist was wounded, and new fresh cuts were making themselves known. A parting gift from E and his hidden explosives.

Estrid fell to her knees as she came to a sliding halt beside him, reaching down, her hands tore free her own sash as she began to wrap around his wounded arm, “You stupid, stupid man!” She screamed, tears starting to stream down her face as she looked down at him.

Richard, looked scared – the first time in all his life, he felt fear as he looked down at Vance.

Ami too was stricken with the same feelings as the others. Having sworn loyalty to Wolfram, he feared for his fellow earthling's health. The three tried their best to wrap up the worst of his wounds, With Estrid propping him up as she held him close, crying the same line, “Stupid… stupid…”

He couldn’t say anything, his voice wouldn’t come. Looking at his friends, he felt more pain seeing their faces than he did his wounds.

“What the hell were you thinking!” Richard demanded, “How could you be so stupid and foolish!”

Vance turned to face Richard, bowing his head, “S-sorry.”

“You promised… you promised you wouldn’t do that again…” Estrid cried, burying her face into his shoulder.

Raising his bloodied hand up, he patted her head, “I know…”

He couldn’t say anything else. He knew he fucked up by doing what he did. Too much, there was too much he did wrong here, though, he had to admit, he was surprised to see that they had found him. Hell, he had trouble finding this place.

“The explosion?” Vance worded, his throat feeling dry.

Estrid nodded into his shoulder, while Ami helped remove his cuirass.

Letting out a slight chuckle, he grimaced quickly regretting doing so as the pain from his broken ribs reminded him of his stupidity.

“That was a mistake...” He breathed.

“Be happy a few broken ribs is the worst of your wounds,” Richard sighed, kneeling beside him, “You’ll be fine in a week after the healers cover up your cuts and bruises.” He reported.

“What about William?”

“Alive, but resting back at the medical tent.” Ami answered as he rested the cuirass aside.

“The enemies?”

“Defeated. Those not dead or wounded have surrendered,” Ami added, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Good. Now, comes the fun part.” Vance joked, noting how they had to rebuild and expand the fort.

The Askalians hadn’t bothered to update the fort, and much of it was still stuck in the medieval era. The whole fort would need to be turned into a star if it was to give any sense of protection from a sieging army. For now though, all that could wait, for now, he wanted a drink.

“Throat’s dry,” Vance managed to say, swallowing what little moisture he had in his mouth.

Ami chuckled, “I’ll see what I can do.”

Just as Ami turned to look for any soldiers, a platoon of infantry came through the smoke, and immediately saw Vance sitting upright wounded, and quickly called for a stretcher. Vance just remained silent, looking up at the smoke filled sky. The sun was slowly setting, and on the tower to his right, the Askalian flag was lowered and replaced by the Crowned Lion of Kendirewen. As the flag fluttered proudly in the evening wind, Vance heard the sound of horns sound off in the distance, the Askalian main army had arrived.

Biting back the pain he felt, he looked over to Estrid, “Help me up. I need to see what’s happening.”

Estrid hesitated a moment, before Richard grabbed his arm, pulling him up. Vance winced and wobbled a moment, still shaken from the explosion, but with Estrid and Richard’s help, he was able to stand and make his way up the stairs and onto the battlements. Looking out, he saw a massive force on the horizon, the Askal army had come. Vance felt a small hint of worry. He wasn’t at all ready to face a fresh army, and neither was his army. But, just as they looked on towards the enemy army, another series of horns sounded off behind them. Twisting around, the trio saw the Kendirewen Southern Army come cresting the hill. The two great armies made themselves known, and now, it was a matter of whether Askal would risk a battle or pull back, ceding the fort and ground.

Thankfully, the massed bodies of white turned around, moving away. The battle and day had been won. Askal was likely keenly aware at the weakness of their position and make up of their army. The entire force was made up of conscripts, while the Southern Army of Kendirewen was made up of professional, veteran, and conscript troops. Plus, with the fort in the hands of Kendirewen, there was no chance of winning a pitched battle.

Vance let out a sigh of relief as he watched the Askalians leave the field. “The fort is ours.”

Richard nodded, “That it is.”

Estrid looked at Vance, her cheeks flushed from crying, but relief and a small measure of happiness now in place of the worry that was there before.

As they stare out at the retreating army, a young man from the thirteenth looked up at Vance, and like many others, they didn’t see a man or General, but rather – a hero. There wasn’t a single soldier that was under his command in that fort that didn’t trust Vance. As the young man looked up, there was no doubt in his mind, that he’d follow Vance Wolfram to hell if called to, for in his mind, and in the minds of others, General Wolfram could conquer hell. Not one doubted his bravery, his skill, and his talent in command.

Almost immediately a cheer rang out as the soldiers yelled Vance’s name.

“Wolfram! Wolfram! Wolfram!”

Vance didn’t know what to say, as his soldiers cheered out his surname. It wasn’t until Estrid nodded, helping him thrust his sword up above his head. Victory today, and victory tomorrow.