Bab 14: Chapter 14
An hour before the start of the battle, and deep within the enemy camp, Troop Commander Gale Tate, frowned as he rested a palm against his forehead. He was young, with pale skin lined with freckles due to too much exposure to the sun, but regardless, he was just barely reaching the end of his twenty-fifth summer.
He stood at roughly seven-feet, his body donned with a large grey mantle that covered his armour of plate and leather. The upper edges of both his gauntlets and greaves were lined with silver wolf's fur, a trophy he had earned in his most recent outing with his father, a nobleman of the Saxon kingdom of Wessex.
Called the Young Wolf, he had pointed brown coloured-eyes, and a rugged square face with a glare that deterred his enemies away from him. His long dirty-blond hair was pulled back into a pony tail held together by thin strips of tied yarn.
"Fools," he whispered, watching his colleagues quarrel about placements.
They had chosen to deploy within the flood plains after watching the opposing force drawing back from the river, Glein. Either way, the situation had become more favourable as their numbers were slightly less than the amassed resistance forces. As such they would have had some difficulties maintaining formation as the enemy forces pushed alongside the rapids. Therefore, an open battle within the flood plains had become an ideal confrontation zone based on the amount of cavalry in their possession and the presently raised morale.
Cavalry had become an important factor in the art of war. Traditionally, they fought with all infantry, an ideal confrontation with no holds barred, but ever since the Britons began to utilize the massive war machines, everything changed.
He felt a migraine coming as he began to massage his temples, contemplating how to best appease his bickering superiors.
Merits and personal gain were all they were after. Rather than think about the repercussions of failure they had fallen into a dubious sense of security all because of one man. A hooded one in a white cloak whose facial features were obscured by his hood and some type of magic that lengthened the shadow cast from the fringes of the hood's lining.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, glaring at the hooded man brazenly flirting with the young noble ladies. They were brought by other nobles wishing to curry favour from them through their heroics in the battlefield, yet it was also why they were having such difficulty with the placements. Furthermore, two of the ladies were the daughters of the great Hengist, ruler of Kent, a land located in the far southeast of Britain by the border of Essex and Sussex. They weren't even supposed to be here, but after Hengist's most recent trip to Wessex, the man's daughters had pleaded to witness the heroics of his finest men and had joined along into the march.
Gale wasn't fooled however, he could see from their eyes that they simply wished for an adventure before getting married off for political purposes to various nobles owning land in other regions. Yet their presence was the deciding factor. Morale, his father had once spoken to him of its effects on the battlefield. Just as a deer would freeze at a moment's danger, a lack of morale would hinder the joints and cause muscles to grow feeble in the face of an overbearing enemy.
However, he didn't expect that it would have a hidden secondary effect within the commanding ranks. A favour from Hengist was not something to be missed in the face of ambition, and what better way that to get the fancy of one of the man's daughters? Granted, the youngest Lisa, wearing a simple violet one-piece dress, had not even seen her thirteenth summer, but her elder sister, Natalie was reaching her twentieth. She would have been married earlier had it not been for Hengist's tastes in an ideal marriage partner. It wasn't uncommon to marry and have children by the age of thirteen as the right of age for girls was twelve, and fourteen for boys.
Still, enough was enough with all the bickering.
"I'll take the rear," he ended up speaking to end the arguments. Moments later, the bickering nobles left to ready their men.
Alone, he glanced at the hooded man once more, before frowning. No matter how he looked at it, how was that man possibly a wizard?
A wizard of all things? He had no way to prove it as the man had only demonstrated first-hand of his powers to his superiors, and as such, he couldn't help but be skeptical.
"Lady Natalie and Lisa," he spoke as he approached the wizard and the two daughters of Hengist. "I would advise you to stay from this man."
Lady Natalie rose a delicate brow, causing Gale's heart to race. She was without a doubt a beautiful woman. Long dark brown hair, braided to the sides of her head to resemble a delicate crown with the rest of her hair falling freely behind her back, she was simply stunning. Her face was oval, but narrowed a bit at her chin. Fair in complexion, her cheeks possessed a rosy hue, and her thin lips, like her little sister Lisa's, was a vibrant red colour.
"And why should I stay away from this man?" She asked curiously.
Lisa didn't speak, but her soft blue eyes were enough of an indication of her curiousity.
Gale scratched his head while thinking of an answer, but it was then that the wizard stepped forward.
"Now, now," the wizard placated. Gale could only imagine the knowing expression on the man's face. "Pretty flowers are things that all men look to." He turned to face Lady Natalie and brought a hand forward before a violet rose sprung up from beneath his cloak's sleeve. "A violet rose to match those dazzling eyes, and-" he turned towards Lisa. "-a red rose for the young lady to match her innocence."
A friggin bard's trick!? Gale fumed. How could this man possibly be a wizard? He had seen it just as the man once again moved his arms, more roses hidden away within his sleeve.
Yet before Gale could point out the wizard's trickery, he heard the blare of the horns. It was time for battle. "Lady Natalie, Lady Lisa, the battle is beginning, and it would be best for you both to remain in the camp."
"No." It was little Lisa who spoke out in protest. "We're going to watch."
Gale was hard pressed to rebuke her. This was Hengist's daughter, but like it or not, there was no way he should bring her to the battlefield. It was nothing like how it was depicted in stories of dragons and chivalrous knights.
"Forgive her," Lady Natalie spoke. "She had grown up listening to father's battlefield boasting, and is still in need of proper etiquette lessons for noble ladies."
"O-Of course," he spoke hurriedly, grateful to Lady Natalie for the assistance, but her next words poured cold water over his relief.
"That's why I'll be going with her," Lady Natalie finished.
Gale was speechless, not even noticing as the wizard patted his shoulder.
"Look at the bright side of things, ugh, yeah, that!?" The wizard laughed awkwardly for a moment before coughing into his hands. "You have a wizard on your side."
That thought wasn't very comforting. With resignation, he asked the other noble ladies still in the tent to quickly leave the battlefield on their carriages. Even if he had just gone behind the interests of the other nobles with his order to send the ladies away, in the end, it was safer for them to do so. Now if only Lady Natalie and Lisa could understand that. He sighed dejectedly before following the two Ladies out of the tent.
The wizard left alone to his musing, breathed out slowly, his back straightening. Beneath his hood, his face was neutral, his eyes seeming to look across at everything at once. The battle had begun, and with it, it was time for him to move.
He ignored the calls of the noble ladies he was indulging just moments before. Because for now, he simply no longer had the time. Fixing the wrinkles out of his cloak, the wizard stepped out towards the tent followed by the other women.
Back with Gale,
He had readied his soldiers: Two-hundred cavalry and around eight-hundred infantry armoured with steel mesh, or plate.
Both of the daughters of Hengist were near him at the safest location in his troop of men, the very center. It was ironic really, the one given the position of rear-guard would be the one most able to gain favour from the to two noble ladies, yet Gale thought nothing of that fact. Rather, he was highly disappointed in the leisurely attitudes of the soldiers of the other nobles and even a few of his own. A wizard had that much insurance to the victory of a war. All that he could see reflected in their eyes was who would accumulate the most merits. Taking the opposing commander's head should be enough to warrant more land for the noble, and riches for his soldiers.
"I will make one thing clear," his voice resonated through his troop of men who stopped their actions to listen intently. "Do not assume the battle is won. Many of you are experienced and have once served under my father, thus you should all know what it would mean to underestimate an opponent. Life and Death!"
Not just to his soldiers, but his shouts carried across to the other companies of soldiers who stiffened at his words.
Lady Natalie had her mouth open in a large O-shape, as the speech Gale was giving was far different from the words of her father.
Make the enemies fear you, and already you have won the war. Weaklings will remain weaklings.
"Today is a red day, a dawn of another war. Let the lord bless your blades, and grant us victory in these lands. The land of our Kingdom, our new home. For Wessex!"
"For Wessex!"
"For Wessex!"
A thundering chorus of shouts resounded from Troop Commander Gale's company of men, the call spreading out further and further to the other soldiers of different regiments. Lady Natalie and Lisa were enthralled by the spectacle. Stories were on thing, but listening to the battle cry of thousands of men fighting in the name of their kingdom was on an entirely different level.
Upon noticing the reaction Gale's words had on their soldiers, and quickly realizing the presence of the daughters of Hengist beside him, the other nobles bitterly reigned in their displeasure. Their only hope of recognition now lied in their ability to acquire victory and the enemy commander's heads.
Therefore, the other nobles sent out an initial cavalry charge of the newest recruits as they saved the more experienced for later.
However, with ambitions blinding their judgment, they acted hastily.
When the opposing side sent in their cavalry lead by Baron Barwheld, they readily sent even more of their own cavalry. However, unlike the charging Baron, the other nobles did not leave from the safety of their positions for they believed their lives more valuable than the soldiers before them.
This was a stark difference between them and the Baron who lead from the front.
As the two cavalries collided, spittle flew as Baron Barwheld tossed his mace at a soldier's face before pulling his sword out from his sheath. The horses neighed as they bucked and kicked at the other horses nearby. The men who had been dismounted were left at their mercy, kicked or trampled to death under seven-hundred-and-fifty-pounds of force that caved in their chest cavities and crushed bones.
We have the advantage, Gale deduced. They had the larger cavalry and even now he could see the Baron's cavalry slowly retreating. Yet Gale was suspicious due to the lack of panic present on the Baron's forces. Furthermore, from his distance at the rear-guard, he could see the infantry of the opposing army spreading thin on either flank as the Baron's forces continued to retreat. His eyes widened in that instant.
"The cowards, they're retreating. Charge!" One of the nobles mobilized their men and pushed forth to pursue the fleeing enemy.
"No!" Gale yelled, but he was too far in the rear for his voice to carry in all the noise of the battlefield. "Damn it," he clenched his fists before staring towards his men. "Form flanks. Left flank and Right Flank, we can't allow the enemy to encircle us! Left flank with me to-"
His voice trailed off as he caught sight of Lady Natalie and Lisa who were ignorant of the circumstance. He couldn't leave them, nor could he spare too many of his troops to aid in the war-front as it was imperative to protect the daughters of the ruler of Kent. Why the hell did he allow them to be here? So what if he earned Hengist's ire, it would be still be better for them to live. Grudgingly, he accepted his decision before turning a solemn gaze to his Right flank. "Right flank," they stared back without judgment, they knew what he was going to say. "Divide in two and do your best to stop them from fully encircling us."
It was a death sentence, and they knew it. They were only a company of a thousand men strong, and of them, only two -hundred-and-fifty were going to be sent on either side of the encirclement to buy time for their comrades to realize what was happening. Gale did not have as much of a standing as the other nobles that came with him, and as such, he had less troops. In contrast, the enemy army held a substantial amount to maintain the encirclement.
"Understood," the men spoke solemnly, but even before they could leave, the thundering noise of steel alerted them to the presence of another force.
Gale cursed as he saw a troop of roughly two-hundred men strong approaching from the rear. Based on the flag held by the flag bearer, the symbol of the wolf, this was a trained regiment of another noble. Their steel armaments further proved the notion as only a noble, or individuals with high standing would have access to such material. Even for him, the common soldiers in his troop utilized iron with thin strips of steel welded in place by local blacksmiths to give the swords their sharp edge.
A wolf? Gale mused. Perhaps it was time to go on another hunt. The sudden indignant yells of the other nobles behind him alerted him that they finally understood what they had done. Their best hope now was to pierce through the thinnest flank.
"Shield formation," he called. His men quickly formed a row of men with large shields held forward, while archers readied themselves in the back. This should be enough to halt the advance of the troop of two-hundred strong. Still, the circumstances had already turned dire, so, where the bloody hell was the wizard?
His eyes scanned the battlefield, only to see nothing. His intuition had been right, the man was a fraud. And now all those soldiers who took their victory for granted were caged in by the enemy.
This wasn't good, but he was confident that the battle was not yet lost. He would have to endanger the two daughters, but if he positioned his troops to aid in a piercing attack with the main force, they could break the encirclement and send the opposing army into pandemonium by flipping the situation around.
But first, they would have to deal with the enemy in the back.
Mere infantry was all they were, not even a single horse to aid them, and no spears of any kind either. "Send a cavalry and see if we can end this early."
Fifty of the two-hundred cavalry charged forward, no doubt about the outcome. One of the most dangerous situations on the battlefield was fighting a cavalry without spears or horses to combat the charge. War horses were large and heavy animals that could break through any number of men standing in the path. Therefore, it was the invention of spears that were able to deter horses as they could be propped into the ground with their bladed tips pointed forwards. Thus, killing the horse before it could do any damage.
The cavalry should have no problem dealing with ground infantry which was the entire purpose of mounted warfare.
Yet, the wolf's troop of two-hundred didn't falter in their charge, blades held out at the ready.
It was then that Gale noticed it, a lone archer at the crest of a small elevated portion of land. He wore a faded brown mantle over his shoulders, his body covered in light leathers that allowed him extra mobility to navigate around. His face was plain: Square, high cheek bones, and a rough scraggily beard.
The winds blew gently down the hills, swaying the long grass and water lilies of the flood plain before a single word echoed out across the flat expanse.
"Àirde na Gaoithe."
The wind stopped, the sudden stillness confusing the charging cavalry men, but their horses were different. Neighing, they frantically attempted to disperse in multiple directions to the bewilderment of their riders who forced them back on the path, yet by then it was too late.
Like the coming of a summer storm.
Nature calls upon its own. It is the wind.
Strong.
Unrelenting.
Chilling.
With the dancing of the flowing grass,
It was a herald to the rapid return of the wind.
Gale couldn't breath as he watched the fifty-cavalry he had sent suddenly disappear into the air in a storm of twisting wind after a single arrow embedded itself in the middle of the charging formation. Mind racing, he immediately ordered for the rest of the cavalry to attack the lone archer. "Disperse! Do not remain in groups and attack him from all sides," his words were spoken with a hint of panic. What he had just seen could only be one thing, magic. Real magic.
Were they facing a wizard? No, he shook his head. A wizard wouldn't rely on a single bow. Then a magic bowman? His face fell as he remembered the rumours spreading throughout Wessex. The Swift Wind.
He didn't believe that it could possibly have been true. It should have been no more than an enemy scare tactic designed to demoralize their men. His heart began to race. If the rumour of the bowman were true, then-!? He would have to report to his father, all of Wessex even about his findings.
Before he could think further, the wolf knights arrived within meters of his ordered shield formation. Arrows pelted them relentlessly from the archers, but not even a scratch could be seen.
What was far more horrifying however, was when he witnessed for himself how easily their swords pierced through steel. Whenever blade met shield and armour, it would cut straight through. Even their weapons were reduced to stumps with each swing.
The weapons and armour of the Iron Forge.
In the face of the wolf knight's onslaught, the shield formation quickly fell with the archers retreating.
Gale had just lost a hundred men, and not a single wolf knight had been killed. Although some had become tired, their armour stained crimson. The weight of the situation began to weigh heavily on his shoulders.
"Lady Natalie, Lady Lisa, get on the horses!" He yelled urgently. Things had just drastically changed. If anything, retreat was the best option, but he would have to make sure that the daughters made it out alive.
Numbers were still on his side, and despite the superiority of the wolf knight's equipment, they were only human.
When they can no longer swing their swords, that would be the single moment.
But,
Already in the face of inevitable defeat, Gale and the Saxon army's faces fell into despair as they looked to the heavens and its looming shadow.
Gods, have you forsaken us?
As if a bloody devil from the depth of hell were staring daggers at their backs, a massive bird with a wing span of twelve-feet soared within the sky, its eyes scouring the battlefield. Pinioned feathers of the darkest brown, and smaller feathers of a lighter shade, emitted an ominous ethereal blue glow.
The men on either side of the opposing forces paused and swallowed slowly. Their mouths went dry, a cold sweat perspiring from their bodies as they tensed their muscles. Eyes dilated, they held back their instinct to run when the bird cawed and descended down from the sky in a wisp like trail of azure mist. What kind of infernal beast was this?
The world erupted in pillars of blue flame, lined and tinted on the edges was a shimmering shade of crimson fire.
Efret had landed.
LINE BREAK
"Rally to the Lord's Hawk!" Baron Barwheld exclaimed with vigour as he head-butted the knight crossing swords with him. It was the Duke's hawk, there was no doubt about it despite its size. The bird who had always found its favourite spot to be perched on the shoulders of a great man.
Ashton blood lives.
Baron Barwheld could feel the blood roaring from within him, the flames of loyalty to his most revered benefactor once again igniting from the pits of his being. On this day, on a single oath, he decided for the sake of that one man and the gratitude he felt towards him, that Ashton blood would never again be spilled.
The encirclement had worked, and in the confusion, the enemy commanders had been unable to effectively rally their men. Yet that was due to the efforts of the wolf knights who were facing a force five times their own and stalling them from aiding the main force.
He had no doubts anymore as he charged forth with his men at center march. He would end things quickly and see for himself the descendant of the wayward Duke of Bristol.
LINE BREAK
Shirou had yet to truly participate in the fighting yet. All he had been doing was use a bow to ward off any fatal attacks to the Knights of Wolfred.
Palamid was fighting near him, a flag pole in his left hand, and his sword in the other. For that was the intended purpose. Looking from the enemy's view, Palamid looked to be the leader of the troop, but his true intentions came to light after shouting his next order. "Go!"
Palamid nodded before he waved the flag and lead half of the troop to rally before the enemy, the action drawing the enemy's eyes away as Sir Ector, Kay, and Sir Anders lead a small group to the enemy archers. Despite the reinforced equipment, the user could still feel the impact of the collision. Even worse was when the sound would resound within their helmets, disorientating them.
Orders aside, Shirou turned to stare at the biggest surprise of the battlefield. Efret.
It was able to distinguish friend from foe and was mercilessly burning away any who would oppose it. Yet, the more pressing issue was how had it gotten so large?
He blinked, watching as two blond heads, followed by a brown one popped up from Efret's back before fumbling down towards the ground.
"Land," the brown-haired boy laughed strangely. "Land. Never again will I ever part with you!"
"I-I agree," the other two blonds seconded the notion.
Arturia?! And was that Emily?
Instinct nearly caused him to leap the large distance towards them through reinforcement, but there was a reason he hadn't acted out too much on the battlefield. Even now he could still smell it, the signature of another magus. He couldn't recklessly display his abilities, nor could he show his weakness in helping others.
If the magus was cruel enough, he or she may very well use the people he cared about against him. Instead, he locked eyes with Efret and placed his trust in the bird who had proven its loyalty time and time again.
For now, he would lay low and continue to scour the battlefield for the mysterious magus. Based on the smell, the magus was not stationary, but rather was moving around the battlefield. How difficult.
Nodding one last time to Efret, Shirou went to aid Sir Ector who was fighting alongside Kay. Rather than use his new sword, Kay had opted to use a simple reinforced one. No matter how lethal the blade of poison was, for a knight like Kay, he would never use it unless necessary. Regardless, he and Sir Ector were making quick work with the archers and the men blocking their way.
As for Sir Anders, each swing of his sword was enough to launch two men a distance of over twelve-feet as the mystic code of density imbued within the sword caused it to switch from extremely light, to extremely heavy.
Looking at them work their way through the enemy force, Shirou decided that it would be better to continue aiding the front line. Many of the wolf knights had already begun to tire out, their strikes flying lazily in the air. In fact, if it weren't for the sharpness of their blades able to cut through steel, he wouldn't be surprised if the Saxons easily parried their blows away.
Glancing towards the elevated land, he nodded as he made sure Gerrard was doing alright against the cavalry. If anything, he had to give the man credit. He was fast, and quick witted, creating a trench around him using his special arrows which he then switched out for normal ones. The horses were unable to even get close to him.
With the knowledge of the safety of his friends, Shirou began to earnestly end the battle.
Arrow after arrow was let loose from his bow, each striking and killing an enemy.
Seeing this, the Knights of Wolfred pushed forth, drawing strength from their courage. They didn't voice it, but they were grateful to Shirou for saving them from fatal situations. A sword to the eye, a chipped blade to the exposed neck, all were circumstances that the young troop commander had saved them from. Granted he wasn't able to save everyone, but the situation was highly favourable.
At the front line with Palamid.
Palamid used the banner in his arm to make distance from the enemy. He wasn't the person in charge. That role fell onto Bors, Sir Anders's senior apprenticed knight who had just made it past his fifteenth summer. He didn't like to talk much about his past, but Sir Anders had always been respectful.
Bors stood a head taller than him, his height making him stand out amongst the rest of the knights, but that was why Sir Anders had entrusted him with the duty of second in command. He had great vision and was clever and insightful beyond his years. His quick judgements were always carefully instructed with self-scrutiny, never calling for an order that couldn't be done.
Admittedly, it made Palamid a tad jealous of him. While he ended up forced to work on the fields, Bors continued to diligently train, but he supposed the experience was enlightening. For despite losing to that blond squire, for there was no way a mere commoner could possess such sword skill, he had realized that they both possessed the same problem.
He ducked under an enemy's swing and mercilessly stabbed forward with the short blade in his right. The strike rent armour, flesh, and bone apart like paper. Each strike he delivered was met with hardly any resistance, something all the wolf knights could relate to. The Ashton was amazing. He knew he was an Ashton as Sir Anders was very loose lipped when drinking his preferred poison, but only he and Bors knew that. More to the point, the ramifications of his magic were enormous. With an army of only two-hundred infantry, they were pushing back a squadron of a thousand. He couldn't even imagine what it would be like to fight an army whose armour never chipped or broke, and whose swords could cut through any other weapons of warfare.
There was no doubt in Palamid's mind. After this battle, word would soon spread of the calibre of the weapons they were using. He would have to be more cautious when leaving his armour and swords unattended from now on. Thieves and bandits would jump at the chance if presented.
He blocked an incoming strike with the pole arm and finally decided to get rid of the thing before drawing his other sword. Besides, he had already fulfilled what the Ashton had wanted of him.
It was then that he noticed that fighting near the oddly familiar glowing bird, was the son of Wolfred. He clicked his tongue as he signaled to Bors about the situation.
With a nod of confirmation in return, Palamid left to fight beside the Lord's son.
For as tough as Lord Wolfred could be, he did not want to see the man grieve for the loss of his only child. Besides, the Son of Wolfred was still his friend.
The Son of Wolfred's presence took him by surprise, but it didn't stop him from thinking rationally. Therefore, he tossed the son of Wolfred his second sword. That sword that was able to cut through shield and armour as if it were nothing would be his lifeline should he get into a situation he could not escape from.
Shoving past an enemy, he froze as he stared down at the blond who had defeated him all those years ago. "You," he spoke in surprise. His father had said that the particular individual would not be coming.
Rather than speak, Arturia batted away an enemy's blade and disarmed him before hesitating to go in for the kill. She had killed animals before during game hunts, but killing another person was completely different. Still,
Her hesitation had allowed the enemy to reorient himself. Striking again with a sword he had picked up from the ground, Arturia reacted on instinct and stabbed her blade forward. She froze as the warm blood began to seep over her hands.
"Idiot," Palamid grimaced as his body moved to protect a comrade.
In her frozen state, Arturia had not reacted fast enough to the attack of another enemy.
Clang!
In a collision of steel, the offending blade shattered upon contact with Palamid's helm, but in exchange, the helm was lopped right of his head.
Long silky brown locks fell in waves down his back. His face, angelic with smooth skin and a small nose in contrast to his narrow jaw-line. He was leagues above merely beautiful. It was enough to temporarily take the enemy's breath away, and long enough before the enemy was completely smothered by Efret's flame.
Arturia stared in shock at Palamid, and he simply stared back carefully because at that moment, both came to their own assumptions.
For Palamid, as he continued to stare at Arturia's feminine face, he ascertained once again why he had come to her aid. The exact same problem that they no doubt both possessed.
Because Arturia was like himself, a boy cursed with the beauty of a woman.
"All hands, retreat!" Gale shouted once again. "Protect the daughters of Hengist with your lives!"
The battlefield was a nightmare. His forces were getting systematically decimated, and he could expect no help from the other nobles as they two were on the verge of defeat.
With the arrival of the damned bird, all morale had been lost. There was simply no winning this battle.
He stared across off towards the giant bird, watching as two younglings, one with long brown hair and the other with short blond, make quick work of his men trying to put an end to the beast. They moved far too skilled to merely be green horns, and the blond one was cutting down troop after troop. At first, he had assumed that the blond was dead the moment she froze upon taking a life, but the blond was saved and had gotten over her first kill. The fact that she froze proved to him however, that they were green horns.
What kind of monsters did the Britons train? How could a child be that skilled at that young an age?
It didn't matter.
He quickly mounted his horse and rode off in the opposite direction from the daughters of Hengist. This was suicide, and he knew it, but it must be done for the sake of the daughters. "I am Troop Commander Gale Tate, come after me if you dare!"
Gale's proclamation was met with silence before he heard the battle cries honing in on his location. They were retreating, half of his remaining three-hundred men had ridden with him while the others stayed behind to distract the Britons from realizing the daughters escape. And it had worked.
Losing a few men and horses in the chase, Gale was able to get away on the speed of his horse, just barely escaping the sights of a knocked arrow.
Gerrard sighed as he dropped his sights away from the fleeing troop commander.
There was no point in anymore blood shed for the battle was already won. Besides, from his distance away, he had come to understand Gale Tate's plan. His consciousness wouldn't allow him to strike such a brave man in the back. Not when he had already painted such a big target to divert the attention away from the two fleeing horses only he could see on the other side of the battlefield.
For all Gale Tate knew, the plan had completely worked. At least he believed so, not knowing that Kay had unexpectedly run into the two daughters. And that was why Gerrard could only pity the man and his efforts.
LINE BREAK
At this point, Kay didn't know what to do. The noble women in front of him were quivering in fright, realizing the danger they had found themselves in.
He could instantly tell based on their colours that they were noble ladies of standing. Purple on the little one's dress was a dead give-away. He knew what he had to do. As hostages, they could no doubt prove highly valuable, but, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He knew what happened to hostages behind closed doors, and now more than ever with the rising hostilities on both sides, how could he possibly condemn a girl no older than Arturia? Honour and Chivalry, it was his basis as a knight that he had spent years subtly training Arturia in. He'd be a hypocrite to his own ideals should he follow through. At first, he had contemplated just taking the older one, but how would the younger possibly be able to return home? She wouldn't. Nobles were easy to distinguish between the common people, and more than a few had animosity towards them. What kind of situation did he find himself in?
He frowned as he sheathed his sword. Enough blood had been spilled today. He locked eyes with Natalie, his face heating up as he fully comprehended how beautiful she looked. "Go," he spoke slowly before turning around to his approaching comrades. "There are no enemies here!" He called before leaving the two women alone to escape.
And thus, the battle had ended with a complete victory, the resounding cheers of his comrades the signal to rest after a long day of violence.
However, for Shirou, the battle had just begun. He had finally found him, the other magus.
Rather than celebrating, Shirou quietly slipped away and maneuvered around the battlefield to its furthest vacant perimeter.
Breathing slowly, his eyes narrowed as he made for the distant hills where the potent scent of magic continued to filter through his nose.
There, he met a hooded man resting his back against a tree, and staring curiously at him. There wasn't any doubt in Shirou's mind that the man knew he was a magus as well, which lead to his first questions. "Who are you and why are you here?" He would rather not fight against another magus unless necessary, especially the magi of an older generation as the strength of a magus decreased generation after generation as their mysteries were lost through time.
Furthermore, the man had not lent his aid to the Saxon army which meant he wasn't affiliated with the enemy, or at least that his interests lied elsewhere. Therefore, if he had attacked first, he would have gave the other magus an incentive to retaliate against him, and he saw no purpose in making more enemies.
The man pushed off the tree, and brushed off the dirt over his cloak before standing proudly with both hands resting by his waist. A moment later he spoke.
"Well, my little fiery Magus friend," the hooded man took a bow before drawing back his hood which then transformed his attire into a stunning white robe. "You may call me the Wizard Nilrem."
Status Power Mingguan
-- Peringkat
Power 
-- Power
stone