The Battle of Nishawa: Part 2

Busiye was a large and beautiful, but fairly dull city. Thanks to the recent increase in religious fervor, there were few places where the soldiers, bored out of their minds by the long stay, could find entertainment. There were not nearly enough taverns, while brothels and gambling dens had been made illegal, and those still operating in the shadows were unwilling to risk having crowds of unruly soldiers hanging around the entrance and making their location obvious. My friendship with Captain Nixon was a stroke of good luck, as his rank meant he had an easier time getting a table, and would frequently invite Annabel and me for drinks (Gandor would’ve been included too, had he been present, but the Duke of Tetrahedron was appointed as a temporary governor of the occupied territory and was stationed, along with his personal retinue, in Sokobanya). This kind of fraternization between an officer and common soldiery was uncommon in Manean military, but by no means forbidden, and our retrieval of the Twice-Enchanted Blade was common enough knowledge that we weren’t getting any strange looks.

Nixon’s favourite haunt was a small tavern by the name of The Shaved Mammoth, located in a small street. To reach it, one would have to enter the town from the southern gate, walk through the trade district until the central plaza, where a temple to Afrain was under construction. Until it was finished, several temples dedicated to other deities were temporarily repurposed. The king’s palace, with its remarkable ten-storey tower, typical of the Sorcerous League’s royalty, was to the east, but the eccentric monarch decided to share it with the Defenders of Afrain, a newly-established order of holy knights. Their gleaming white armor and their banners depicting a sword with an eye at its hilt were a frequent sight near the city’s center.

Our path lay in the opposite direction, in the labyrinthine streets of the western quarter. The Shaved Mammoth was a small, dimly-lit place, with five tables total. Their wine was solid, especially considering the price, and the olives one could snack on alongside it were exquisite. The Captain’s preferred table was in the far corner. Compared to other taverns, this one was fairly quiet. It offered no extra perks such as live music or a particularly charming serving wench, so it saw less traffic. For a conversation between old friends, however, it was quite enough.

Early on, our conversations tended to be focused on reminiscing about the past. We talked about the good old days, and Spiridon kept prodding us about the disaster at Adahuya, so we were forced to recount those unpleasant memories as well. Later on, our talks turned more to day-to-day politics.

“Shina is behaving strangely, not taking advantage of this mess”, I said.

Annabel shrugged, “They did carve a nice little kingdom for themselves. Maybe they want to keep things civil with their only land neighbor”.

“I doubt it”, Spiridon responded, “King Porphis is much too ambitious, ever since General Idris and his tame Ifrit are at his disposal. That man is an army in and of himself. Perhaps they are waiting until Arthacyros is personally concerned with us. Shina probably wants to avoid direct battle with the necromancer for as long as possible”.

“I hope you’re right”, I sighed, “Everything about this campaign feels wrong, and I can’t put my finger on it”.

“You’re far from the only one”, Annabel remarked, “Mistress keeps complaining that His Majesty is acting strange. He’s never been this relentless. Apparently, his advisors barely convinced him to winter here instead of continuing the march”.

“That’s the sentiment among many of the officers, too”, added Spiridon, “We were lucky nobody mounted any serious resistance so far, otherwise we would be up to our necks in it by now. But we kept winning, and morale kept increasing, and we kept marching further and further. I hope heads will cool down over the winter and we’ll start behaving less recklessly, but I doubt it”.

“The King won’t, that’s for sure”, Annabel responded, “They say he barely sleeps, conjuring military plans deep into the night. Arthacyros has really hit him where it hurts. Odelia means everything to His Majesty. I shudder to think how he would’ve reacted if the assassins succeeded”.

“I just hope we can slow down a little”, I said, “Get some reinforcements. Properly train the militia troops from Pazowa. If we keep going like this, I feel it would be easy for the enemy to cut our supply lines and leave us stranded”.

Spiridon smirked, “Don’t worry, there are people smarter than you or I thinking about things like that. We are to shoot what we are told to shoot and stab what we are told to stab”.

“I know”, I answered, “There’s not much we can do about it. I’m just afraid all these victories have clouded our superiors’ minds. Hubris is a deadly disease, and by the time you remember you are, in fact, fallible, it is often too late”.

Winter thus passed in idle talk of armchair politics and strategy. As spring came, so did the word that Arthacyros had mustered an army of his own in his capital of Medakh and was beginning to march towards us. While some advised embracing a defensive strategy, King Phyloctetes decided to meet his adversary in open battle. That was, after all, the campaign’s goal, and if everything went well, this would be the last battle of the war.

Similar to when we set off from Manea, any voices of caution ended up silenced. Desire to mete out justice was joined by confidence raised through our previous victories and the knowledge that this was the last, decisive push before going home. His Majesty boosted the morale even further, delivering a passionate speech to an ecstatic crowd.

“Comrades”, he began, “I wish to thank you once again for putting your lives on the line for the sake of an old man’s selfish expedition. You have recognized, I believe, that this is a just war, as just as a war can be, that is, and that underhanded actions of the necromancer Arthacyros cannot be allowed to go unpunished. He thought he could cut off Manea’s head, but he failed, and he shall now reap the consequences. His own allies are deserting him, and the Heavens themselves seem to be on our side, granting us easy victories one after another.

“The time now comes for the final battle, and I have to ask you to give it your all. I will not lie to you: it will be hard, for our foe this time is strong. But if you show as much mettle as you have until now – and I know you will – justice will once again prevail. The adversary that has plagued us for centuries will finally fall. But if we clear, nay, WHEN we clear this final obstacle, we shall be writing history. Let us march on, for the future of Manea!”

The army’s spirit having been raised even further, we moved further east. And when we finally met our foes at the west bank of the Nishawa River, history was written indeed.