I tried to stand, but my legs failed me...as they had, for perhaps the hundredth time. Exhaustion was a tiny measure of what I felt. My world spun, and my arm ached bitterly. I looked down at the bleeding arm and watched in disgust as a persistent piece of arrow protruded through my flesh. Without thought, I broke the arrow and yanked it out of my arm. I winced as I struggled back up.

The dripping of blood reminded me that life was still in its measure. It yet reminded me of the turmoil that had hit our party. My eyes swept around, taking in the carnage. A good number of our men were displaced, their bodies broken and battered. The thunder of the blow still resounded in my ears. I watched in horror as my men ran hither and thither, trying to make sense of the chaos.

Soldiers of either side had fallen prey to the blow. Wails strong like it was the judgment day echoed through the air. Bones and flesh were smashed into absurd paste. Entrails ran off the bodies of several soldiers. Debris lay upon soldiers, the least of their sufferings on this blood-soaked ground.

The taste and smell of smoke and dust was far more appealing than the profound gore and death. The stench of sweat and finished flesh hung heavy in the air. This was the true taste of warfare -- death and suffering.

The bellow and wails of several anguished soldiers yanked me back to the reality of this battle. I took in sight of the grounds with a struck of depression. Our casualty would have been much more. But by the heavens, our forces had fought off the band that had seized our own artillery and had used it at us.

A sudden movement caught my eye. Thunk! An arrow soared slimly pass me. With a sudden jolt, I evaded the vice while bracing for the charging enemy. The stench of sweat and blood hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid smell of smoke and dust. Thwack! I shifted aside, allowing his blade sink into the blank air. I was without hesitance. I pushed my blade through his throat. Spurting of the red fluid preceded his dull fall.

"Pedrel!" I saw the gallant lieutenant fighting off from some distance. The enemies were much around him. They would surely whelm him. I dashed for him, my heart racing with urgency. Hurling rigorously the spear in hand, an enemy fell with no sound. Pedrel seized chance to finish the other foes. Poor skilled soldiers.

"Regroup! Regroup!" I shouted as I approached him. Twined deeply with the foes, it was almost impossible for all our men to hearken. A handful of us drew back, our shields held up to form the wall as we braced for the horde to encompass us again. The clash of steel on steel echoed through the air, punctuated by the screams of the wounded.

Where were our allies? This was not how it ought to have played out. I turned to Pedrel, my eyes locked on his. "Blow the conch," I growled, my voice low and urgent.

"But we did," he pouted.

"Blow it again. Now," I bellowed firmly. He frowned, his eyes flashing with concern.

"Am not leaving your side," he grimed his face.

This was the problem with fanatical loyalty. The South gate. Were they facing same terror? Why hadn't aid come for us? I gritted my teeth, my mind racing with the implications.

More of our men fought their way back to formation, their faces set with determination. The others faced the doom of the horde, their screams echoing through the air. A smattering number of men to an army still strong and anxious for blood. This was suicide. "Brace!" I roared as the foes charged on us, their blades glinting in the sunlight.

Fresh enemy soldiers poured into the city, their armor clanking as they moved. How many of them could we curtail? A miracle needed to happen now. We couldn't hold them much longer...verily. I jammed my shield against a soldier with force as a battering ram. He flew aside, crashing into more men. My sword sank into yet another man, the sound of steel on flesh making my stomach turn.

The fighting had ensued. The sudden roar of my men thrilled me. Their valiancy was not inferior to mine. Before such number, they would still stand strong. This was how I hoped to die. A death while fighting. Such glory. I smiled grimly as more soldiers poured in; their faces twisted with hatred.

In my heart, I sealed my fate. "I embrace my destiny -- glory or doom," I told myself, the words echoing in my mind. I grabbed a fallen spear and readied myself for the next wave of attackers.

A deafening sound cut off each party's motion. The grounds were shaky -- trembling. Horse hooves. With a birthed agitation, I looked up. Alas, a host of cavalry was crossing towards us, their horses' coats gleaming in the sunlight. The sight sent a sickening stab through my spine that dared turn me numb. More foes? Where was the will to fight in the presence of this charging horde? This was catastrophe charging on us.

I peered deeper amid the turmoil, my eyes scanning the chaos for any sign of hope. And then, I saw them - the raised banners, emblazoned with the emblem of a lion with reindeer antlers, braced for assault. Kedrone's emblem. Our allies had finally arrived.

A surge of relief and joy swept through me, and I couldn't help but smile. The rest of my party broke out in a roar for glory, their voices echoing across the battlefield as the approaching troop became manifested.

Two companies of cavalry troops charged from East and West, their horses' hooves pounding the ground in unison. As they converged, their banners fluttering in the wind, they formed a single, unstoppable force. The enemies, caught off guard, stumbled backward in disarray.

Everything was falling into place, just as our stratagem had demanded. The enemies would have no chance. This fight was all but over.

As I stood amidst the chaos, my mind racing with the din of battle, I couldn't help but think that our plan was unfolding perfectly. The plan was simple; our adversaries had entered our lands, and they wanted to face us at the open fields. It was a losing ground for us, our best point was defending against them from our walls. But they were unwilling to engage our fortress. We had to give them a little incentive to persuade them, and we did, and they took it.

We had lured the enemy into the city with a fragment of an assault force pretending to be weak and disorganized. They were motivated with the thought of a quick victory and cast-off reasoning. But little did they know, we had a surprise waiting for them.

I recalled the words of our strategist, "The key to victory lies not in brute strength, but in cunning and deception." We had used the enemy's own momentum against them, letting them breach the gate and pour inside.

The signal, the turbo blare, had been meant to trigger the next phase of our plan. But even without it, our allies by sheer luck had arrived, their cavalry charging into the fray like a storm. I watched with a grim smile as the enemy lines wavered, their soldiers stumbling backward in disarray.

It was a beautiful thing, really. The core of our strategy had been to create chaos and confusion, to make the enemy think they had the upper hand. But in reality, we had been manipulating them all along, using their own aggression against them.

The calvaries hit the enemy force already half way into the city from both sides. Cries, splatter of blood, torn ligament were about the little tales told, as this power sweep continued for a while against our foes.

And now, as the dust settled and the enemy lines broke, I knew that we had won. It was a victory born of cunning and deception, but a victory nonetheless. I felt a sense of pride and satisfaction, knowing that our plan had come together perfectly.

¶¶¶

I frowned as I drew my blade from the pleading soldier. The weight of his lifeless body was a grim reminder of the true cost of war. This was the world we were in; kill or be killed.

"Soldiers of Kedrone, today the heavens and the gods bore witness to your bravery!" Karmadin's voice boomed across the battlefield, his words stirring the soldiers into a frenzy of cheers and chants. But I stood apart, my eyes scanning the carnage-strewn landscape with a sense of disquiet.

Alas, this was no glory for me. The battle may have been won, but at what cost? The faces of the fallen soldiers haunted me, their eyes accusing me of taking their lives. I felt a pang of guilt and regret, my heart heavy with the weight of my actions.

Karmadin's words were lost on me as I turned away from the celebration. I couldn't join in the revelry, not when the memories of the battle still lingered in my mind. The cheers and chants of the soldiers seemed hollow, a shallow attempt to mask the true horror of war.

"The gods have blessed us with a legend — a war god in flesh!" Karmadin's voice rose above the din, his words echoing across the battlefield. "He is the same man who has brought us this victory! The Victor of the Unending Night, my son by law, and now the Breaker of Siege...Dorack son of Dun!"

The soldiers erupted into cheers, their voices chanting my name in a frenzy of adoration. But I didn't look back. I didn't acknowledge their praise. I would not be comforted by this hollow victory.

A single battle didn't make us conquerors. Dakor, the madman, still breathed. I had underestimated him, thinking him a fool driven by love. But he had proven me wrong. His absence from the battlefield was a stark reminder that this war was far from over.

King Hadero's men had invaded our lands, and now Karmadin was calling for a counterattack. "We have proven how formidable we are," he roared. "We have a battle god among us. We will not sit back and wait for another attack. We will take the fight to them!"

The symphony of bellows, screams, and chants filled the air. But I couldn't shake off the feeling that we were making a mistake. A single battle didn't make us formidable. We had won through strategy and luck, not brute strength.

Marching an army out of the confines of our walls wasn't the smartest choice. But if this would give me a chance to confront Dakor, then perhaps I should be consoled by it. For as long as Dakor breathed, I felt hunted.

Heavens, were we making the right call? Or were our own desires ensnaring us? I couldn't shake off the feeling that we were walking into a trap, driven by our own hubris and desire for glory.