De Haguns Family/Orpheu/The Battle of Woolton

THE LAST DAY OF PEACE, THE FIRST DAY OF OUR LIVES

Timeframe: War! The Battle of Woolton looms in the horizon.

The Knight of the Perdan Mines strode through his soldiers, inspecting the troops with his judgmental, distant eyes. He nodded affirmatively towards captain Falstaff, although it was clear by his semblance that he was not confident at all in the troops. Orpheu just hoped they would not realize this. And there was Thea, back in the tent, who had felt nauseous earlier. He just hoped that she was feeling better by now.

“Falstaff, is squire Theodora’s horse saddled and ready? Are her two escorts ready as well?”

“Yes, sir. And the sooner she goes, the easier it will be to cross into Bisciye. Still, my lord, is it wise to send two men to accompany her? We may need them within the army.”

“Do as you are told.”, said Orpheu, as he glanced at the sky with disinterest.

Miners, not soldiers… they are not ready yet. He thought, entering into his pavilion. It was lavish, with wool rugs covering the ground, and delicate cushions placed with furs where he would sleep. His squire Thea was already awoke, and dressed in her leather gambeson and half plate, sharpening Orpheu’s longsword. Her own sword was by her side.

Seeing as there was no one nearby, she smiled vividly as she saw the man she loved. “Orpheu, there you are! I am sorry, I was feeling unwell in the morning, I did not want to trouble you… how is the Silver Guard?”

The knight smiled gently as he saw her, and without a word, went straight into her arms, embracing Theodora fondly. He caressed her neck and face, and their lips touched, the passionate, desperate kiss of lovers who hide from the world.

“You need to undress from your armor…”, he started, leaving her embrace.

“Now? With battle almost upon us?”, asked the woman, puzzled.

“Let me finish. You need to change into clothes suited to travel because you will not accompany me into battle. In fact, I want you to retreat into Bisciye, and should I fall in battle, go straight to Aix.”, he replied, taking the longsword and examining its polishment, his voice unmoved. “From there, back to the Mines, back to Pelasgia. If everything goes well, however, I will send you word.”

“No, I won’t”, started out the squire. “I promised, or better, you promised we would always be together… to think I could lose you, I won’t stand that!”, she protested.

“And I must protect you, my love. Ever since that day in the Mines… after we returned from Alexandria, do you think I would even risk your life in the battlefield? I brought you with me because I want you to live with me, not die for me.”

Thea crossed her arms, pouting playfully, while Orpheu remained serious and stoic. “Thea, this is not a game… only the Crone, Ballisa of the North Wind knows how many may die. And I would fight better knowing you are safe. I have already ordered your horse readied and saddled, and two of my most trusted soldiers will accompany you. Coins have been set aside for this. Besides, how do you plan on fighting, if you were feeling unwell earlier today?”

Thea sighed, and eyed Orpheu. The handsome knight was right, but she feared for him. She feared he might be wounded, or even die. She made a little prayer to the warrior goddess Aulysia, so that the south winds would strength his arm and help him land his sword true on his opponents, while protecting him.

“I will only leave you as it is an order from my sir… but as your woman, it does not please me. I should be at your side, protecting you.”, and with that, she once again embraced the Haguns knight. “It is spring. And we are young… do not die on me, my love. May Elysia, Aulysia and Zama protect you…”

Taken by surprise, he just let himself fall in her embrace, and hugged her tightly, kissing her neck and ears, which caused Thea to laugh as she felt it tickling. He laughed together with her. “Enough doom and gloom, I love when you laugh. Now, shall we prepare you?”, said Thea.

After Thea changed into lighter clothes, better suited to travel by horse, she helped Orpheu to put his full plate. “Thunderlight has already been donned for war. Now, let us go, we cannot lose more time”, said Orpheu, motioning for them to leave the tent. As they did, they noticed that the men were all silent, their backs turned, looking at the sky.

Crows flew through darkened skies, and there was an eerie feeling throughout the Haguns campsite. Thea held his armored arm. “What is that?”, she whispered.

“Something… I have never seen before, only read about in books. Magic, evil arcane arts… it must be Shadowdale, if the tales are true. To delve into the darkness like this… Now, more than ever, I want you to go. And do not stop until you reach a safe town in Bisciye!”, he said, rushing Thea to his horse and giving the signal for her and the escorts to go away. As she galloped far away, she turned back to look at him one more time.

Orpheu stood still for a long while as he saw them crossing the camp and deep into the woodlands, towards the east. He said a little prayer, so she would remain safe.

THEY WERE THE FIRST TO FLEE

The march home was not the crowning glory Orpheu hoped for, but the crushing defeat that was his nightmare. Worse than a defeat, it was his personal defeat.

He rode Thunderlight in front of what remained o the Silver Guard. Instead of bloodied battleaxes, there were bloodied men.

Thirty six they were in Woolton, seven now, shaken by alive. Fourteen struggling to live. And the rest, left to rot in the battlefield…

He looked back at the gloomy warriors that accompanied him. Their shields were covered in arrows, and they were lucky for this. Their comrade bodies had been pierced by so many times they were barely recognizable.

His soldiers, his shame.

They were the first to run when the battle started. Arrows flew everywhere, black bolts that landed true on the Haguns Silver Guard. When Orpheu cried for his soldiers to raise their shields and protect themselves, it was too late. One by one they fell like paper warriors. Only Orpheu himself and a few others – the lucky few he now led – had enough time and dexterity to seek cover. It was a massacre, and these miners dressed as soldiers panicked, running in every direction. The Knight of the Perdan Mines lost his composure and fled as well, as he found himself without any soldiers to support him in the battle.

The battle had barely started and the knight had left it with the few survivors from his infantry unit.

His soldiers, his shame.

It seemed as the ominous crows and the darkened sky of earlier had truly revealed dark magic, and cursed him to suffer this humiliation. The first to route in the battle of Woolton, just as it began.

If there was one thing he was thankful was for his sound judgement when he sent Thea away from the battle. She would have died, had she stayed. Now, he hoped, she was safe in Bisciye and soon in Aix, heading to the Mines. They would soon meet again. As the wind blew, he felt a shrill down his spine. He heard a name clearly spoken to him, but tried to brush it off as a hallucination. Once again he heard the name, once gain he tried to forget it. Was he going mad?

He looked upon the skies and sighed. It would be a long march, but he was hopeful, for the one he cared most had been spared from the bloodshed. And for this he thanked the goddess Elysia. And they marched on.

YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN'T RIDE

Timeframe: War! The Battle of Woolton lost, his pride hurt, now Orpheu is truly wounded after a shameful retreat.

Orpheu and what remained of the Silver Guard marched slowly, hidden under the shadow of the night. Deep within the woods of Woolton and Montauban they went, trying to cross the border, avoiding open spaces and farms. Thunderlight throttled and he wished he could just gallop away, but honor bound him to lead his men behind enemy lines.

He could not abandon them, he would never abandon them. There had been some wounded that had lost the path and took refuge within Woolton and Montauban, but the knight was certain that they would eventually find their way back to Perdan and rally once again under his command.

If they lived, of course.

Thunderlight neighed frustrated. The stallion was tired, carrying both Orpheu in his platemail and the horse armor that a mysterious benefactor that had given him through Winstersgreen.

“Silver Guards, halt. We will rest.” Said the knight slid from his horse, and petted the horse’s mane in an affable manner. He loved that horse, and knew his man deserved some rest as well.

They found a clearance within the woods and prepared to spend a few hours there, before they resumed the march. “No fire.”, had said the Haguns knight, as he tied the destriers of his horse to a large tree. The soldiers only nodded, afraid as they were of attracting unwanted attention.

They all rested against some trees, never a sword or battleaxe away from their hand’s reach. Wary and tired, it was useless to relax and the smallest sound was met with worrying glances between themselves.

The knight did not eat, but he drank all that remained from his wineskin.

Three hours of dreadful silence later, the night deepened and the skies became darker. “We should move.”, he said, and the soldiers grunted as they rose to their feet. “We are closing on Montauban.”

They resumed their march, and while their feet did not ache as much, they felt tired.

A hunted man has no respite.

Despite their circumstances, they slowed their march. Knowing they could have a better place, Orpheu did not complain. He knew his men were under much duress after the battle. What a bloody nightmare.

After hours of silence, they emerged from the woods of Grandbell Forest, and Orpheu realized that they must have crossed already into Montauban. Probably deeper into the region, as he could see the mountains of Ubent from a long distance.

They continued until they saw familiar banners. Hamilton’s, the former Viscount of Lundel, the one that had changed the banners of Alexandria for Perdan. He did not know the man, but knew well his banners, as he had travelled to Alexandria to escort the Queen during the diplomatic mission.

“Allies ahead of us, let us press forward, it is safer to travel together than alone”, said the knight, as he galloped forward, his troops coming slowly behind him. Soon the knight was alone in the field, between his own Silver Guards and the retinue of Hamilton.

It was then that he saw the banners of Perleone, that cursed golden lion feasting on a pool of blood, not far ahead. They had outmaneuvered him! By the time the knight realized there was no turning back, he had already crossed half the field. There was no turning back now for him. They had been spotted, and battle was inevitable.

Drawing his sword, he turned back to his soldiers and tried to send them away, but they did not listen, they were far behind. “Run! Run! Run away”, he cried, but the soldiers understood his command to run as fast as they could to join him.

A volley of arrows flew through the night, black bolts almost invisible. They fell on his soldiers, and they would fall once again to the ground.

Orpheu could barely see in the darkness. How did they have such precision? Or were there too many that they rained arrows from the sky?

Suddenly, a horrible pain. Orpheu grunted and cried loudly, as an arrow found a tiny breach in his plated right calf and the knight almost fell from his warhorse. He braced Thunderstorm mightly, trying to keep himself steady, but the pain was unberable. He could not feel it, but blood was dripping from the wound as the stallion galloped fast towards the moonlit fields, carrying a bloodied knight that left a trail of blood behind him.

For the first time Orpheu feared, for he was alone and in pain.

"I DREAMED OF TRIUMPH, AND NOW I HAVE NOTHING"

Timeframe: After the Battle of Woolton, the Knight was ambushed in Montauban. He fled to Brive, only.

The wounded knight fell from Thunderlight and the tired horse neighed, exhausted. His face was caressed by the gentle grass in Brive, and he grabbed the soil, almost crying in pain and anger.

Any notion of day was lost to him, he only knew the sun was rising.

Rising his head as much as he could, he looked at his legs. There was a black arrow protruding from his right calf and his cuisses were bloodied, but at least it seemed to have stopped bleeding.

He dreaded that part, but with a swift movement pulled the arrow away and cried once again as the blood started to trickle down. Alone as he was, he wept shortly after, the pain and loneliness creeping on him.

The tired stallion was his only companion, loyal as ever. He reached to touch the animal, but could not.

The sky was cloudless and light blue, the sun shone upon him and a gentle spring breeze gave him comfort. He lay amongst a field of grass, with blooming lavender flowers to keep him company. As youthful as he was.

The plate clad knight tried to rise, but he could not. His leg wouldn’t allow it. Another try, another failure. And pain. The armor was too heavy for him to raise on his own, and the wound was too painful.

He glanced at the sky as the pain started to subside as he kept his right leg unmoved. Woolton. I had hoped to write my story there… yet what have I achieved? I dreamed of triumph, and now I have nothing…, thought the knight.

He laughed as he thought of his youthful reveries, and then wept again. He thought of everything so far, of his brother Marcellus, of his bride Cerise… and he thought of Thea. He only thought of her, he longed for her like he had never before. Why am I so alone? Why do you punish me like this, goddesses of the winds? What have I done to suffer this?

He did not fear being taken anymore by the enemy. Perhaps a jail with food would be better than to rot in those flowery hills.

The knight fainted due to exhaustion.

When he woke up, calloused hands were groping his face. His eyes widened in fear and he saw men and women towering over him, all wearing brown and beige clothes. Their faces were hardened by the work under the sun. When the knight looked at them, they stepped away in fear.

“Help me”, he muttered weakly.

The peasants took the knight by his limbs and lifted him into a cart. One man touched his wounded leg and Orpheu cried again in pain. “My horse, my horse”, he pleaded.

He could not hear their replies, but as he adjusted himself in the peasant’s wagon, amongst bushels of food, he could see that Thunderlight had been unharnessed and was on tow with what seemed their caravan. There was a metallic feeling by his side and he touched it, feeling the warhorse’s armor.

A young woman approached him in the cart, and with another man, unharnessed the plate in his right leg. Orpheu watched them act quietly as they started to apply an ointment and then place a small wooden splint against his leg, and then wrap it with cloth. Then the healer placed her hand on his forehead.

The knight fainted again.

Hours later, he was woken up by one of the peasants.

“Where are we?”

“Perdan, m’lord.”

“The Mines?”

“Approaching the city, m’lord.”

Orpheu nodded and took a small satchel of leather he had with him. He just let the gold coins fall and muttered a shy “thank you”.