Chapter 3

 

        Nine days after their departure from Holzstadt, the levy had arrived at Rheinmark Castletown, the capital landmark of Rheinmark County. Typically, castletowns would be at the center of a county, and this was usually true for Rheinmark as well, only now Alemannia had taken all of the baronies of the county’s western half, leaving the castle vulnerable to siege at any moment. The urgency of the situation was apparent as soon as the men entered the town.

Passing through the town gates, the group was immediately met with the Count of Rheinmark himself, Lord Varen, as he stood before them with mounted knights at his sides. He appeared old and feeble, clearly weakened by his land’s imposing fate. Upon recognizing him, Rudolf dismounted his horse and gave the Count a deep bow. Simultaneously, Rudolf’s knights dismounted and bowed as well. The young and untrained levymen exchanged panicked looks with each other until one got on his knee and kneeled, setting off a chain reaction amongst the other men. Any and all chatter between them was completely and utterly stifled in the Count’s presence.

“Greetings, my Lord Count,” Rudolf said, disrupting the silence, “I am Rudolf, Baron of Holzstadt, at your service.”

“Hello, Baron Rudolf,” Varen replied, “I presume you are among the Lords from Isenburg sent here by His Divine Majesty.”

“That is correct, my lord.”

A weak but warm smile spread across the Count’s face, almost as if he saw Rudolf as family, perhaps like a grandchild. Judging by the introduction, Luitold figured the two hadn’t met before. Maybe Varen was simply a kind old man seeking whatever solace he could find in these dark times.

“That is wonderful, indeed, Rudolf. Now, I’m sure you realize you have arrived slightly behind schedule. I will not blame you for this, as I’m sure it was a difficult journey, but I’m afraid your men won’t be given a moment to rest with the time we have left. Unfortunately, it seems Alemannia isn’t far from the horizon as we speak. With no time to build siege engines, the levy will have to function as an impromptu infantry, as old-fashioned as it may be.”

“We will make do with the time we have, my lord,” Rudolf said, “Where shall we go now?”

“To the west of the town walls is the combined forces of your fellow baronies. Join them and prepare for battle, for we may only have an hour left.”

“Thank you, I promise we will not disappoint, my lord.”

Varen nodded firmly, seemingly pleased by Rudolf’s commitment to his protection.

Rudolf returned to the saddle of his horse and looked back to his men.
“Brothers!” he called, “To the west of town we will go!”

The levymen again followed Rudolf and the knights as they circled around to the west side of the town walls. It was there Luitold witnessed the largest congregation of people he had ever seen in his life. What must have been thousands of levymen were spread across the open fields which stretched out from the walls. He was unsure of how many baronies existed within Isenburg, but he figured there must have been at least six judging by the sheer amount of men present. It seemed Holzstadt was the last to arrive based on what Count Varen said. 

“Well, here we are,” Rudolf said, now having to speak up louder than usual over the thousands of voices behind him, “There is a gap in the infantry on the side furthest from us. That is where we will head.”

Just as Rudolf began to guide his men forward, Varen reappeared. He approached Rudolf atop his horse, accompanied by the same two knights that were beside him at the front gates.

“My lord, will you be joining us?” Rudolf asked.

The Count gave him a pained stare before saying something he likely didn’t want to say.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I won’t allow any barons on this battlefield.”

Rudolf returned a confused look.

“What?” he asked, visibly taken aback by the order.

“Please,” Varen replied, “There’s another gate close to here. Please come inside. I’ll get the other barons, too.”

“But why, my lord? Is it not our duty to lead our men?”

“You are leaders, yes. That is why you must live.”

The levymen looked at each other, confused and scared. The men of the infantry in the background continued their drowning conversations, totally unaware of the orders being made behind them that would surely change their fates.

“My lord—”

“Come, baron.”

Rudolf turned to his levymen with a troubled look, then to his knights.

“Please lead them, Bernhart,” he said to the one closest to his side. The knight simply nodded his head, with his words being too muffled to hear from Luitold’s distance. Rudolf turned back to the levy once more to give a final message.

“Good luck, my men.”

He followed the lead of one of Varen’s knights beyond a bend of the wall. The Count and his remaining knight travelled across the field to speak to each of the other barons, rounding them up one by one and bringing them inside of the safety of the walls. The knight that Rudolf had spoken to, supposedly named Bernhart, turned to the men he was now in command of. He lifted his visor, revealing him to be the same knight that saved Luitold from the bleichtouvels nine days prior.

“We will continue to our position as we would if Lord Rudolf were here beside us,” he said, “When the time comes, I will guide you to the best of my ability. I know the battlefield is a foreign place to you all. Even I have little experience compared to the soldiers that existed before this era. Dramatically less, in fact. Even then, I wish that you put your faith in me—in us. The Count seems to believe that this battle is already lost, and that is why he has withdrawn all of the barons. I’ll admit, I’ve heard rumors of Alemannia’s strength, that it may nearly compare to that of His Divine Majesty’s, but it is unlike a warrior to abandon his duty.”

With every word, there was discomfort in the air, a growing feeling of dread. Luitold felt that he may have very well been marching to his death. It was a suspicion he founded the moment this journey began, but now at the end of it all he would truly stare death in the eye and challenge it. 

With little choice in the matter, Luitold followed his fellow men as they got in their positions among the vast infantry. There was little known about how Alemannia would enter this battle, so the infantry was set to follow a fairly rudimentary battle plan. The levy would be split among three large sections of just under a thousand men each. The groups would be organized into simple spear-wall formations of roughly thirty rows and thirty columns. It was an unsophisticated plan, but would hopefully be enough to stop typical cavalry attacks. The only issue was the mystery of it all. Alemannia had turned each of the prior battles in the county into a bloodbath, and to do that against such a powerful kingdom as Avaria meant that there was something they had up their sleeve simply so unheard of that there would be no quick way to defend against it.

Once in place, Luitold found himself right beside Bernhart. Looking up at him atop his horse, he realized he never actually thanked him for saving his life in the forest.

“Sir,” Luitold said to him.

Bernhart didn’t budge, as if nothing was said to him at all.

“Sir!” Luitold repeated.

This time, it seemed he caught the knight’s attention. Bernhart slowly turned his head down to face him.

“I am no Sir,” he said calmly, “Only a man.”

The two stared at each other for a moment. Luitold was confused by the knight’s words and didn’t know what to say.

“What is it that you need?” Bernhart continued.

“Well, I was going to thank you for something earlier, but why are you not called Sir?” Lutiold replied.

“I am not a knight,” Bernhart said, “Like you, I have no right to my own land. I fight for pay and shelter in my Lord’s quarters.”

“Well, you look like a knight,” Luitold said naively, “So you’re really a peasant yet you’ve been entrusted to lead us?”

“I’ve earned my status through skill alone. I do this for honor, for my kingdom. I’m fortunate my Lord Dietrich has allowed me this path despite my birth.”

Hearing this, Luitold’s respect for Bernhart grew even stronger. Suddenly, it made sense why Rudolf had little hesitation entrusting the levy to him in his leave. This man must have been an exceptional fighter to be regarded higher than true knights. With him on their side, maybe the infantry had a real chance at surviving this battle.

“Nevermind that right now, though,” Bernhart said, returning his stern gaze to the field in front of him, “The enemy may appear any minute now. Remain on guard.”

Just as Bernhart anticipated, within ten minutes, the men leading Alemannia’s forces began to appear over the crests of the hills ahead. As they continued to march forward, the size of Alemannia’s infantry was better revealed, and it was surprisingly small.

“They’re outnumbered!” one of the other knights nearby boasted.

Bernhart looked to the knight and slowly trotted his horse toward him.

“Don’t think this will be an easy battle, Sir Canagan,” he said to him, “We still haven’t seen their cavalry yet. It’ll be their move that decides the rhythm of this battle.”

“Their cavalry isn’t worth a damn,” Sir Canagan replied arrogantly, leaving his levymen unsure of whose side to take in this spat, “We are chosen by Lord Dietrich for a reason. He may have done you a favor, but you need to know when to trust a real knight, Bernhart.”

Bernhart looked visibly angered by this, maybe even ashamed to be in a fight like this when the young levymen were looking to him as an example.

“I am not judging your capability, Sir, only ensuring you fully prepare yourself,” Bernhart said.

At this point, the army was drawing near, their smaller size very apparent. Interesting as well was the lack of any visible knights on their end.

“Either their cavalry does not exist or it is hiding,” Bernhart called out to his nearest knights, “Do not push forward until we can be certain which it is.”

He then turned to face the levy.

“And men of the levy, you will stay where you stand. Remember, our role here is to defend, not attack.”

As the enemy infantry reached about two hundred feet ahead of Avaria’s, they suddenly came to a pause. It was then that they lit two fires, one on each side of the army. At the base of each fire was a carefully assembled pile of firewood, which previously blended in with the dirt of the field. It was strange that the wood was already there, since it would have been impossible for any Alemannians to come here beforehand. If the firewood had been placed by Avarians, it was still unknown what its purpose would have served, and why it had been arranged in such a symmetrical manner. 

Even more alarming was the immediate lighting of four more fires, these stretching beside and even past the Avarian infantry. Again, they stood atop neatly placed piles of firewood and were arranged in perfect symmetry.

“What the hell?” Bernhart said, his head on a swivel as he looked between the fires, “Be careful, this must be some kind of ambush!”

This was the only logical conclusion he could have come to. Seemingly, Alemannia had sent out scouts to hide in the grass or maybe blend in with the Avarians until their cue to split off and light these flames, but the question of why still persisted. A knight charged toward the nearest fire to the right, his halberd raised and ready to swing.

“There’s an enemy here!” he called out. 

Trying to see between the heads of his fellow soldiers, Luitold could just barely make out the presence of a lowly unarmored man near the fire, who must have been the one to light it. The knight swept his halberd down towards the helpless man and sent him flying backwards into the grass as it plunged into his chest.

“Ignore the fires for now!” Bernhart said to the knight, “For all we know it’s just a distraction. Stay focused on their infantry.”

As the tall fires burned on, Luitold couldn’t help but notice the prevailing smell of brimstone being carried through the air. It was a horrible scent, but one he was used to from the mines back home. It was only strange why it was present here of all places.

Still, the Alemannians had not moved an inch since they stopped to light the fires. As the two armies remained at a standstill, a man emerged from the very center of the enemy infantry with a large hollowed-out animal horn in his hand. He slowly raised the horn to his mouth, and after a great deep breath, he spoke.

“Come, red dragon!” he yelled for all to hear.

Immediately, the patient silence of the levy broke as soldiers turned to confirm if what they heard was correct. Bernhart slammed the end of his halberd on the ground, shaking the earth beneath him for those close enough to feel it.

“Quiet!” he demanded, “We can’t be sure what he means.”

Suddenly, an ear-piercing roar erupted from the left. Luitold looked to the sky, only there was no sky to see. Above was an endless pattern of red plated scales, casting a shadow across the battlefield. But the shadow was quickly replaced by light, the most overwhelming light Luitold had ever seen. And with light came heat, and again, it was the most intense heat Luitold had ever felt. He closed his eyes tight, fearing they could have been burned to ash had he stared a moment longer. There was absolutely nothing he understood about what was going on. In the brief seconds he spent standing in place, shielding his eyes with his forearm, he tried with all his might to piece these sensations together, and it was then that he came to his grim conclusion. Alemannia had summoned a dragon, a creature of myth, and it had come to kill Luitold and every last one of his companions. This was it, he thought. This was how it would all come to an end. Just as he began to accept his fate, he felt the firm grip of an armored hand on his arm.

“Move, God damn it!” a voice said to him.

And quickly, the hand pulled him off of his feet at an incredible speed. The ever-growing heat of the flames began to ease on his body, and he was forced to again open his eyes in the shock of it all. The hand belonged to Bernhart, who was dragging him along from atop his horse, charging at full speed away from the light. Luitold’s limp ankles bounced across the ground as he tailed behind.

“Try to get on!” Bernhart yelled.

Luitold swung his other arm onto the top of the horse’s saddle and gripped as hard as he could and then swung his right leg over its back as well. Bernhart let go of him, allowing him to fully settle himself on top. It was then that he looked back at the chaos behind them. Indeed stood a towering red dragon, exhaling a cascade of flames from its mouth, swallowing men whole in the inferno.

“I hate to flee a battle but there is nothing we can do against a dragon,” Bernhart said through gritted teeth, “This is no longer a man’s war.”

They dashed across the plain, nearing one of the six bonfires when two other knights on horseback came into view, charging directly at Bernhart.

“Shit!” he bellowed in terror.

Without hesitation, Bernhart tightened his grip on his trusty halberd until the enemy knights came close enough to swing, but once they did, his efforts were in vain. Nearly in sync, the two men swung at the front legs of Bernhart’s horse, completely removing them from its body in a cruel mess of blood. The horse’s chest and neck slammed into the dirt and sent its lower body up into the air, ejecting Luitold and Bernhart both from its back. Luitold found his body limp and suspended in the air in a dizzying flight until he painfully landed on his side, rolling over multiple times until his body stopped right beside the fire. 

His body in shock from the impact, Luitold slowly jittered his upper body off of the ground. Before he had the chance to get back on his feet, a group of Alemannian footsoldiers had drawn nearer. Though a seemingly useless piece of information in a time of battle, Luitold found it strange that each and every one of the enemy soldiers had their faces covered with some kind of wool cloth from the nose down. At this point, it seemed they had noticed him, as they began to charge toward him at rapid speed with their swords raised. In desperation, Luitold scrambled up onto his feet with all of the energy he could muster and attempted to hide behind the tall burning fire. In the chaos earlier he had lost his spear, this one being given to him after the first one broke. Again, Luitold found himself completely defenseless and in dire need, only this time Bernhart certainly had his own situation to deal with.

Still, the soldiers drew closer. Realizing his plan to hide had no chance of working, Luitold frantically looked around to see if there was anything at all he could use to protect himself. It was then he noticed something. Beside the pile of firewood was a small collection of three glass jars, each about the size of a fist. Strangely, two of them were filled with opaque white crystals mixed with bits of what Luitold recognized as brimstone, with a sort of whiteish-blueish vapor emitting from them both. The third jar was totally empty and had its cork lid on the ground beside it. 

Luitold grabbed the jar nearest to him and gripped it tight. It was cold to the touch, bizarrely so. As the first of the soldiers turned around the fire and raised his spear, Luitold lurched forward and shattered the jar against his face. The result of this attack, however, would catch Luitold off guard immensely. With the soldier falling to his knees, shards of glass flew all around as the cloud of vapor that was held within expanded at great speed until it completely engulfed Luitold in a matter of seconds.

From there, it was dark. Though the vapor was white in nature, once it had expanded and thickened, there was nothing to see at all. Luitold struggled to tell if his eyes were even open to begin with. And there was not a sound either besides the subtle pulse of blood travelling past his ear canals. That was until he heard a voice, or rather, a multitude of voices, all speaking together in unison.

“P-p-pleeaaassse,” they said to him, “do n-not j-join usss.”

They spoke in whisper, yet so incredibly loudly it sounded as if they were inside his brain. Their voices were old and weak, almost tortured sounding.

“What’s going on?” Luitold cried out, “Where am I?”

In the darkness, a small wind seemed to blow, pushing away a layer of fog, revealing a mass of pale ghostly faces hovering against the nothingness, all staring into him with their faces devoid of eyes or color, or anything. All that remained of them were black holes vaguely resembling eye sockets and mouths. They seemed to be a good distance away judging by their size from Luitold’s perspective, but there was an inescapable intimacy between them and him. There was nowhere he could go that would lead him away from their watchful gaze.

“Do n-not c-c-consssume the hhhholy b-bark,” they pleaded, “N-no moooore.”

Luitold stared back into their empty eyes, with so much to question but nothing to say.

“The s-sky will s-show its true c-color, and you will know.”

“I will know what?” Luitold asked, his confusion becoming angrier in his uneasy state, “What will I know?”

“That your f-f-fate is s-sealed,” they replied.

Before he could ask them any more, the fog again enshrouded the faces before the winds picked up even more. Luitold could feel his hair blowing frantically as the darkness spun around him. Suddenly, the fog began to thin and light crept back into his vision. He reemerged on the battlefield, only—something had changed, dramatically.

Surrounding him were the lifeless bodies of dozens of men, all Alemannian judging by their cloth masks. Their bodies were covered in bloody gashes, as if they had been mauled by wolves. Beyond them were the dead bodies of the Avarians, likely taken out by the dragon, although the dragon no longer seemed to be on the scene. Fifteen feet to his left was Bernhart, lying on his back with more Alemannian bodies surrounding him as well, though it seemed they had been facing Luitold when they died. Bernhart looked at Luitold with genuine fear in his eyes.

“Kid,” he said between panting breaths, “What the hell did you do?”

Luitold again looked around him on all sides and saw nothing but dead men, yet not a speck of blood appeared on his own hands.

It was then that the world began spinning, and the boy fell to the ground and slept.