The Arkan War

War is hell. The Goddess of Decay holds all power over us mortal beings when we decide to kill each other.

During the first month, the Arkan War began, with the Arkan warriors who marched towards the border of the Northwestern Territory, possibly to seize the Dunes of Demune for significant resource deposits. Our regiments were cut down like wheat during harvest as they advanced. The Arkan Kingdom developed a weapon that could shoot pieces of metal using fire and powder. Unlike arrows, they fired further, and you could train an ape to use it. However, they had a huge blindspot: they had to “reset” their weapons, and that took some time to perform. The reasonable nobles had noticed and offered some support, but the other cowards fled before the first year even ended. Count Asshole and his dumbass son were the first to flee, leaving their entire army behind. Those men and women respected me despite serving those morons, and they joined my direct army.

We worked hard for a method or approach to counter these “fire sticks”, as my men have called them. Eventually, we resorted to heavy cavalry charges right into their ranks during their resetting stage. They were not able to defend themselves while maintaining their weapons. What did they do in response? They fired at our horses before we charged in from afar, crippling and killing them.

We consulted a few engineers to develop a countermeasure for this horridly difficult weapon. I realized that in the Dunes of Demune, there were white deposits on the flat areas in the sand that would ignite and explode from the heat. The deposits were known as the “Fist of Demune”, attributing the spectacular displays to the God of Earth. This must have been the reason why they invaded the northwestern border in the first place. I dispatched a few patrols to collect a few wagons of the powdery substance at night. With the help of our military engineers, we were able to create “thunder spheres”, and we launched them at the Arkan ranks with catapults, further than their fire sticks could hit us.

After the invention’s success, we created a supply chain with my patrol corps to keep them out of combat while we continued to beat back the bastards. To our disadvantage, the Arkan engineers learned how to duplicate our thunder spheres, and attached them to arrows that launched from huge crates on a cart carried by horses. They fired them at my conscripts at night. I watched as my commonfolk were slaughtered by raining stars from above that exploded on impact.

Some prisoners escaped from the nearby Arkan compound, Bazara, and we welcomed them to our camps. They volunteered to assist the patrol corps with the white powder, and they managed to keep them alive. One of the men, an Arkan Rebel engineer, helped me design a smaller version of the fire stick, but he suggested using the thunder spheres as ammunition. A few were produced in the coming weeks for a handful of nobles, excluding myself. I could not enjoy the efficiency of killing as much as my colleagues.

For the next year, our army stood fast against nearly endless Arkan regiments attempting to cross the border. The morale was equal between both armies, despite the technological disadvantage on our end. That was until one of the nobles decided to push back with limited knowledge of enemy whereabouts. When a lord brashly charged into combat for honor, the lord would be rewarded heavily if he was alive, or remembered as a hero if he perished. The King urged me to stay in my position and let that lord push to his death. His entire army fell in three days. Not one horse survived. Due to the new opening in our defensive line, the Arkans broke through the border. The selfishness of our nobility had endangered the entire kingdom. I feared that my Marshal Commander title had just been a formality and not a respected position after all.

The Arkans stopped at the first town and pillaged it. Hundreds of innocent commonfolk died. The King did not permit me to save the town because we were to siege it after they exhausted the supplies. Though it was a sound tactic, I could not help but mourn deeply for the people who died for nothing, like pawns in a table game. We slowly surrounded the ruins of the town, and we allowed more of the Arkans to station themselves in the town. Slowly, they starved and became desperate to retreat. We did not let them escape.

I led the largest heavy cavalry charge I could from behind, and stampeded on their dead bodies. I equipped the knights with thunder spheres in sacks, so as they were charging, they threw the spheres into the enemy ranks. They had no time to reset their fire sticks. They carried side daggers, but to armored horsemen, daggers were nothing but twigs against an elder tree.

During the last year of the war, we used the momentum of the countersiege and we continued to chase the routing soldiers to Bazara, where the prisoners escaped. Under the cover of darkness, I managed to infiltrate the outpost with General Phylx’s elite guard, and capture it without warning. We secured a large supply of fire sticks, ammunition, and the thunder arrow shooters. A few months after defending the outpost from light skirmishes, the rest of the Arkan army descended upon us on a chilly desert morning.

With only half of the King’s army left against a force 3 times the size, we had no choice but to fight for our survival within the walls of the outpost. We held out the siege for 4 months, but our supplies were no longer lasting us through the night. As soon as the Arkans observed our lack of supplies, they broke the siege and attacked us.

In one night, 24,000 soldiers perished. The Deputy did not survive the battle. He would be known as the “Hero of the Bazara”, after the outpost we defended. He tied sacks of white powder to his own body, lit himself ablaze, and charged into the last battalion of Arkan siegers, killing some of them by direct explosion. The Arkan Rebels who had helped us early in the war were inspired by the Deputy, and sacrificed themselves in the same manner. The last battalion was gone in a flash of fire and flesh.

Though we were victorious, we would be marching home with less than a third of our surviving troops. When the battle ended, no one cheered for the victory. The routing Arkans limped away and the rest of the nobles, whoever survived, fell to their knees and wept until they could not hold themselves up. I tended to my General’s wounds, but his son was lost in the battle. I could never tend that wound for him, and I blamed myself for being unable to protect him.

The negotiations between both Kings were very swift and mellow. The Arkan Sultan acknowledged the strength of our Kingdom of Regalius, and quickly signed a white peace treaty. King Theatus III decided that this victory was in vain, hinting at the looming danger of the next usurper due to our considerably weakened military. For the King to lose his confidence after a war was staggering. Historically, this war was the bloodiest war that had ever taken place, as Perseus War was a skirmish compared to this bloodbath. It was no wonder that we marched home in deep solemnity.

Coming home felt as if I were seeing my mother again after my day school as a child. My soldiers cried along with me as we saw many commonfolk still waiting for their beloved to come home. I failed them as their lord. I failed them as their protector. I failed them as their hero.

A woman rushed to me and pulled on my cloak while I was on horseback.

“Lord Baron, Sire, I do not see Paxton… Paxton Casus! My husband! Do you know where he is? When will he be returning?”

I could not muster the courage to face her, or the General. Phylx slowly dismounted from his horse and embraced her as tightly as possible. After a moment, I heard the most unbearable screech of agony. It was the agony of never seeing her husband ever again. It was also the agony of the father who believed that he failed his son. I remembered the moment I lost my Helena and Issac. I remembered the moment my mother and father perished. The memories splattered all over my mind. I vomited and I fell off my horse. I did not remember what happened after the incident, but I was back at my keep with many commonfolk and some court members surrounding my bed chambers.

Though I lost so many of the people who had families and friends waiting for them at home, it was apparent that my commonfolk were eager to forgive me for my weakness.

“My beautiful people, I apologize for being unable to bring your loved ones home. I failed them, and I failed you all.”

“Sire, if I may… You saved my life many times before. When you were just a very young Lord, you gave me land and a job that supported my family. You saved the town with the Thraliga expedition. You gave my son a chance to fight for his homeland, and he died with honor. You tended to my wounds on the final day of the siege. I am proud to say that you are our lord. As your subjects, we acknowledge that you have done more good for our people than any mighty kingdom or the Imperium, or any god ever could. We are grateful that you made it home alive, and that you brought home who you could. We could not ask for more.”

The General saluted in attention stance, and the entire crowd followed. Everyone in the room allowed their tears to flow down their faces. They mourned, but they also celebrated. They missed their loved ones, but they cherished who they had today, and who had made it back home. When I felt that all was lost, my people helped me gain myself again. My pride, my passion, my perseverance. My love.

It had been 3 years since my last letter to her. I had to see if she wrote back to me. And there it was… one letter with the same envelope as always. It was dated only a week after I left for the capital. But no bird. Oh, how I wished to turn back time to wait one more week to read one last letter before the war. My heart was not ready to open the message, but I needed her words to carry me…

“My Dearest Love,

I wish you the best in your travels to the capital… I understand that my pleas have been met with contention, but I trust in your abilities to survive, and I will trust that you will come home to write back soon.

As with your pleas, I have attempted to hold true to them. I have discussed this proposition for a few nights with my mother and my people. I told them about your realm, and how commonfolk are treated with equity and respect. I told them that the lord of your land is a reasonable and kind man. I begged them to consider the proposition… It is right. We cannot allow ourselves to move between lands to run from danger anymore. We must find somewhere to take refuge and rebuild what we have lost in recent times.

My people are distrusting of you, but they all believe in the same mission as I, and as you and your lord. They are willing to discuss these matters with you in person. I have much faith that we would be able to convince them.

Lastly, I want to trust you as well. Ever since you have written back, I have felt uneasy… I felt that I may not have known who had written back. However, through these years, you have proven yourself as a lover to me, and I have proven myself as a lover to you.

I have always known that you are not Marcus Tabot… You are your lord, are you not?

Who are you, really?

Your Eternal Beloved.”

As soon as I finished reading the letter, I kicked my tables, threw my trinkets, and crushed my cape rack. I pushed everything standing in my chambers to fall. I drew my sword and stabbed my bed repeatedly until I could barely grasp it anymore. I screamed in agony, much like soldiers in the battlefield, much like the woman who lost her husband.

My guards rushed to my side after the tantrum. They had never seen me as broken before. Watching my mother and father wither to their end, my wife and child in a pool of blood from a failed birth, all of the soldiers who perished under my command… This letter was the last weight in my heart before everything collapsed into despair.

For three fucking years, I could not answer her and help her people. Her people had probably barred me from ever communicating with them. I probably killed them by not writing back in time. Where else would they be able to move? Where were they in the first place? Who were they to not have a land to settle? I had every chance to tell the truth of who I was, and I was never able to. After all of these years, I wanted to know who she was, and I wanted to meet her and hold her. I wanted to have children with her. I wanted to protect her people as I have protected mine. My wishes were crushed by the God of Luck.

To Underearth with war. To Underearth with the nobility. It was entirely their fault. If they learned to use their gold for their people instead of shoving it up their bottoms, this would have never happened. I would be with my lover, and my life would finally be at peace.