Battle of Azohib
Written Eyewitness Account by Maltheo, Duke of Osaliel, Six Days Following the Battle
Our Forces, on the day of the main battle of Azohib, consisted of 253 Infantry, 237 Archers, a unit of 32 mixed Infantry under Sir Conan’s command, and 30 Cavalry under General Karpur. As well, the Senate Elite, then under command of NLaw, took up position in the second line amongst the bowmen. I commanded a cadre of 53 bowmen, mostly Cutnipaniel Eastern Bowmen and recruited archers of the City of Osaliel.
The enemy gathered along a broad and thin line to greet us, with 49 horsemen in their rear. There were nobles from Annwn’s Secession, but also three Nighthelm nobles; Senoske, former ruler of Nighthelm, Sarig, and Gomorrah. There were troops lead by Valius and Nemrus of Batesaor, and a large portion of Antoza Commonwealth troops. In total, our scouts counted 123 archers, 355 infantry, and 68 cavalry. Banners held high and proud, as if they were wont to let the world know of their treachery. We saw the Hall of Blood and Battle's "V" banner marking no fewer than five of their units, the display of the illegal network of guilds which, no doubt, also shared an interest in attacking and bringing down the Republic of the Light. The Batesaor troops, as it turned out, did not fight that day, perhaps out of respect for our alliance with that realm.
The combat was fevered but quick; our troops enveloped the enemy forces at the cost of 123 Soliferum souls, including nearly all of the Senate Elite. I remember Sir Alpha, now of the Secessionists, fell wounded to spear thrust during the last minutes of the melee. I remember the one they called Olwe, whom Lady Ariana had fought together with once upon a time, was killed as he charged our archer line. At the time I did not know who he was, only that he flew the ~~V~~ banner alongside Commonwealth colors, and that he had been brought here to wage war on behalf of one woman’s pride. Every death, mostly Soliferum deaths, was needless; brought on by Annwn’s foolish decision to rebel, to betray the one master for whom betrayal is not assassination but treason – our glorious Realm, the Republic of Soliferum.
When Soliferum is reunited, it’s victory will have come at a high cost in our own blood.
A Son's Account
My name is Olwe, like my father before me. I was born and raised in the cold, hard mountains of Toren Stronghold on the South-West Island. I spent my childhood within the walls of that great mountain fortress, and there was granted the honor of living among and learning from the Knights of the White Lion – men like my father who dedicated themselves to honor and bravery.
Being the only son in my Father's line, he denied my request to step forward as a full noble. He told me once that I must wait to take his place as head of our line until he was dead – that way, he was assured not to die without an heir. My father is dead now, and even yet his ashes still smolder on a pyre in Azohib. I am my father's heir – and I swear vengeance on those who marched against him.
Let me tell you all about how my father died, before the heat of his ashes cool. I feel that everyone must know how he died in service to the Commonwealth. My grief over his loss is indescribable, but so is the pride that I feel in his actions. From the letters I have been sent from his guildbrothers who witnessed his fall, and from other eyewitness accounts, I have learned of the events which transpired during his final glorius hour on this earth. This is how he stood.
He was unhorsed, nearly alone, surrounded by the advance of Soliferum. The thought of surrender, or being held as a prisoner for ransom never crossed his mind. He drew his sword, lifted his banner, and fought his way across a corpse-strewn landscape to a grassy knoll a few dozen yards away. There, all the men still alive rallied and made their last stand. My father stood with them.
His shoulder was dislocated and shattered by a lance. He suffered a number of broken ribs from a mace blow that was blunted only by his armor. He was pierced through the side by a spear which punctured his right lung. But none of that killed him. He fought on that knoll with his sword in one hand, spinning to face each attacker. When all others were dead, and they sought to overwhelm him and take him a prisoner, he hacked limbs off of each man that touched him. At last, the infantry drew back, and left him alone on that knoll. He was choking on his own blood, gasping for air, and blinded by pain – but he stood. He stood there, leaning on his sword, smiling out of one corner of his mouth.
Then a handful of Soliferum's archers stepped forward. They nocked their shafts, drew their bow strings back, and took aim. My father, rather then die standing like a man being executed, raised his sword into the air and charged them. How he managed to charge down that corpse-choked knoll with his injuries, I cannot fathom – but he did so, with his sword held high, and with one last battlecry.
The archers loosed their volley. Several arrows missed, and several were deflected by his plate and chain mail; but two arrows struck him square in the chest. He sank to his knees, kneeling in the blood soaked grass, surrounded by a sea of the dead.
When my father came to the Lodge, he found peace and meditation. He was able to be a happy man, at peace with himself and his past for the first time in years. The experience he had there was something deeply spiritual. I believe that it allowed him to detatch himself from horror or despair during his final moments. According to all accounts – he did indeed meet death with a smile, as he said he would.
As his eyes lost focus, he looked up at the sky one last blessed time, sighed out his last breath, and gently fell to the earth with a thin smile on his lips.
That is how he died… the man who fed me when I was a child, held me when I was hurt, and loved me like only a father could. There are no words to describe the blackness within me, the absolute sorrow at his loss. Perhaps, someday, I shall be reunited with him in Valhalla – to feast and rest in eternal glory. Then he can tell me if he was as proud of me as I was of him.
