Chương 4: Fire in the Air
A month later…
Count Edmund sifted through the reports on his desk. The candlewick burned dimly, as the butler soon came and replaced it with a new set of candles, tossing it into a pile of its deceased brothers and sisters. The moon shone slightly through the cracks in the manor's curtains, but Edmund remained determined at work.
The reports from the scouts have continued to flow in. It is certain that an invasion is afoot, as Edmund writes to the capital to send aid.
Though Coldblight County has stood staunchly against the tides of Chaos before, Edmund feared that the speed at which the border towns were destroyed heralded a far fiercer disaster. No one of sound mind wants their territory destroyed simply because they were too stubborn to ask for help.
As Edmund finished his last letter, a piece written to Duke Everbloom in the empire heartlands, he laid back in his chair, exhausted. Eventually, he began hearing faint grunts and huffs. Looking around, he found the sound coming from outside his window. He walked over and brushed his curtains aside.
He found Leonel thrusting his halberd in the manor's courtyard, repeatedly practicing his stances. Edmund watched for a bit, a small smile creeping on the edge of his mouth filled with both pride and a tinge of sadness. Closing the curtains, he turned from the window and went to his bedroom to finally rest for the night.
—
Leonel exhaled deeply as he thrust his halberd forwards twice into empty air. Then he switched his left hand into an overhand grip and lifted the halberd into the air with both hands with the tip still pointed forwards. Thrusting for a final time, he slowly came out of his stance, breathing deeply in exhaustion.
As the son of the count, Leonel felt obligated to work twice as hard as his fellow trainees at the camp. Like his father has said to him many times, one day he will be the inheritor of the territory. If he wasn't strong enough by then, he'll lose everything.
Together with the advent of a coming war, Leonel pushed himself even harder in the past month. Training at the camp in the morning, cultivating in the afternoon, and practicing the halberd again in the evening–this was Leonel's daily schedule.
Though subtle, he could feel that the air in the city was different. The marketplace felt subdued and hushed, while the instructors taught with a greater sternness and forcefulness.
Days passed without signs of the enemy, yet the people remained fearful. Grain began rising in price as people stockpiled their food. Blacksmiths and armories became overcrowded as the Count flooded their stores with orders.
Leonel walked back into the house to bathe his sweaty body and rest for the night. After a month of steady cultivation, he has managed to himself to the peak of the first stage, Spirit Trainee, from the middle stage. Relaxing to himself, Leonel did not know the turmoil about to unfold in the coming days…
—
"My lord, the new batch of recruits has arrived," saluted a captain of Coldblight County's army.
Nodding and waving the captain away, Baron Geoffrey Elrod, commander of the 1st Coldblight Legion, stood atop the walls of Whitepeak Pass. Every day for the past month, he has been preparing the Pass for battle. This was a crucial chokepoint at the north of Coldblight territory, a key passageway separating the lands of men from the desolation of the northern wastes.
A portion of the soldiers of Whitepeak Pass rotated every so often, granting them valuable training by defending against the occasion wave of beasts and Northmen invaders. The captain that just left had plenty of experience handling the transition of new recruits, so there was no need for Baron Elrod to say anything more.
He watched as the wind howled, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword at his side. Gazing off into the endless plains beyond, he saw no traces of any living soul. The statue of Usha, the goddess of frost and spirituality, stood tall behind him, her stone arms opened as if she was giving an embrace to her observer. As inhabitants of the Northern Provinces, the people of Coldblight County prayed to Usha for protection and for guidance.
After a few minutes, Baron Elrod felt a slight chill in his bones, and he could not help but turn towards the statute of Usha to say a quick prayer. Turning his head back towards the north, he suddenly spotted a glimpse of black in the faraway fog.
Moving closer to the battlements, he peered into the distance. His eyes widened in alarm as the spot of black turned quickly into a wave of darkness. The faint rumbling accompanied the encroaching wave, though it also grew louder as time passed.
"Sound the alarms," Baron Elrod turned to roar at his troops, "prepare all defenses and relay a message back to Count Coldblight."
He paused, staring back at the distance wave. Sighing slightly to himself, his eyes began filling with conviction. Shaking some snow off his pauldrons and cracking his neck, he made his way back to the edge of the battlements.
"The armies of Chaos have begun their invasion! But we, sons of the Aesir Kingdom, will hold them here at Whitepeak Pass. Our families, our homes, and our land stand behind us. The sun shines upon us today; let it continue to shine on us tomorrow. Chaos will not triumph as the hearts of our men stand tall and united against the threat beyond our lands. Let them come into the arms of slaughter! Let them know the might of the Aesir Kingdom's finest! Let the seas of terror be swept aside by us, the proud guards of Coldblight County!"
Baron Elrod took out his sword and filled it with a surge of spiritual energy. Pointing it towards the incoming wave of enemies, he shot out a phantasmal sword that grew as it flew. When it met the first of the Chaos horsemen, an enormous explosion ruptured the frontlines. Blowing many apart and sweeping even more back in its shockwave, the Chaos tide remained undaunted in its charge.
But it was enough to gather the hearts of the defenders. Roaring with a cry of their own the defenders of the pass stepped into their positions and readied their weapons, spears straight and bows postured to fire.
"Ready arms, men!"
"Bows up!"
"Shields ready!"
"LET THE CHAOS COME. FOR IT IS NOT US WHO ARE BESIEGED BY THEM, BUT THEY, WHO HAVE DELIVERED THEMSELVES TO US!" Baron Elrod bellowed a final time before the Chaos tide crashed into the walls, the monstrosities clawing toward the defenders above.
The true battle for survival has begun.
—
The sun is setting on Hossendorf city. As merchant prepared to return to their abodes and the marketplace stalls closed down their shops for the day, an beautiful observatory on the edge of the city brimmed bright with a shocking teal light.
The light grew brighter and brighter, lighting up the dimming skies with a tinge of color. At the certain point, the energy coalesced into a ball of terrifying energy and began raising into the air.
Ripples of spiritual force prevented any from getting close. With a loud *THOOM*, the ball of energy shot towards the northern wastes.
"Zavastra, you alright?" asked Count Edmund concernedly. He was breathing roughly. So too was the short man standing next to him in regal robes, coughing with his staff being used as support.
"Just fine, My Lord." said Hossendorf's head psyker, Zavastra Lumos. Psykers like Zavastra are deployed all over the world, though under the banners of their respective regions. With a regal status beyond most nobles and lords, their gaze preens into the secrets of the heavens, drawing power from an otherworldly dimension to fuel their power.
"There's bad news and good news," Zavastra started, "whic-"
"Bad. Then good," interrupted Count Edmund without hesitation.
"Well, the northmen have besieged Whitepeak Pass with a army of uncountable size. Without rapid reinforcements, the Pass is doomed to fall, Baron Elrod or not," Zavastra replied. The Count furrowed his brows in contemplation, nodding along as he thought.
"And the good news?" he asked after some time.
"Morale seems high so far. The Pass will hold for the time being, at least from what I saw in the Far-Sight Orb. But My Lord must hurry. I do not like the whispers from the void. Heretical beings they are. Temptous and treacherous with ominous preachings. Yet at times of danger they can be of use to forsee a disaster."
He paused, taking a breath to continue.
"And this time, they're screaming in my ear."
—
Returning to the manor again, Leonel found his father missing from his usual spot at the dinner table. Looking around, he found his worried mother waiting for him by the stairs to the second floor.
Noticing him, Alea hurried towards Leonel and grabbed him by the arm. She dragged him towards the study upstairs without saying a word, only giving Leonel a hushing look towards his confused expression filled with a thousand questions. In the study, Count Edmund stood with a brooding expression. Seeing Leonel, his face lit up for a second before quickly falling back to his former stoic state.
"Father, whats th–"
"Sit."
Leonel followed obediently. His father had always been strict but relatively carefree about his growth, therefore Leonel knew something was up when he was commanded so sternly.
"The timeline has moved up. We no longer have the luxury of peace," Edmund stated flatly, "Your training will become more rigorous and tough. More people will join you to prepare for conscription."
"Is the enemy here?" wondered Leonel. Though he sat with a straight face, his eyes betrayed his excited thoughts.
"Not yet," answered Edmund, "But if they get pass Whitepeak Pass, they will be, and that's very bad for the kingdom. With Tamaria hovering like a mantis stalking a prey to the east and the Mistwalker Islands to the west, the only path of escape will be the independent city state of Ain to the south, past the kingdom."
Turning to Leonel's mother, he said, "Alea, can your family…"
"I will do everything I must if we need to get Leo out of here," she immediately responded. With a determined glint in her eye that Leonel never saw before in his gentle and softhearted mother, Alea turned to give Leonel one last worried look before leaving the room.
"If you can cultivate to the next level, Spirit Apprentice, you might still have a chance to survive the oncoming storm," Edmund said with conviction. "Your current rank as a Spirit Trainee will not grant the power necessary to run away fast enough."
Leonel gulped as he listened to his father's pessimistic words, such words coming from a reverent lord who'd always looked optimistically towards the future.
"In the coming future," His father slowly spoke, "you must be prepared to fight. You turned fourteen earlier this year, and though you aren't nearly old enough to be fighting a war, you must be prepared for it nontheless. Our enemies will show no mercy, nor will you, when the time arrives."
"Now, go to bed and get some rest. I'm setting out for the frontlines tomorrow."
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