The Battle of Saksenlong

August 17, 1713 — Saksenlong, Izaan

The sun rose, revealing endless columns of Izaani soldiers stretched in defense beyond sight. Their yellow uniforms caught the emerging light. Rows of faces young and old alike stared ahead. Many had never seen battle.

Artillery burst among them. Soldiers recoiled as mud rained down. A man fell forward, grasping what was left of his shattered leg; two men beside him were knocked off their feet. A young girl collapsed. Another vomited.

The commander of the Army of the Grand Order, Field Marshal Irena Moruane, 1st Duchess of Lerissa, sat still on her mount and observed the chaos. She committed her three corps. The advance began.

On the right, the Sombhrae Dominion moved in loose formation — vampiric skirmishers in purple coats maneuvered between cover.

At the center, the Kharmin Covenant surged forward — a mass of orcish musketeers with orange tunics firing in rapid succession.

On the left, the Kingdom of Virmellia advanced — columns of elven soldiers in green greatcoats marched with rigid discipline, their volleys cracking in perfect sequence.

Lieutenant Lyra Morveth surged uphill toward the gun battery. Cannons’ muzzles flashed and recoiled. Canister tore into the lead ranks. Shreds of guts and cloth obscured her sight as ranks vanished.

“Keep pushing, no retreat!” a sergeant barked before his head jerked back and collapsed.

Lyra clawed her way onto the crest. An Izaani soldier charged at her. She parried his bayonet, then sliced his exposed abdomen with her saber. He froze as his insides fell to the ground. Lyra hesitated before pushing onward. One of her soldiers took a bayonet to the throat. Another fell from a musket ball. Some hesitated and stood their ground.

Her platoon was wavering.

Lyra raised her saber and screamed at the top of her lungs, “For Virmellia! Charge with me!” She pushed herself towards the enemy line.

A bullet whistled past Lyra’s ear. She swung at the Izaani soldier, but she ducked. The musket butt slammed into her stomach. She tensed but held her saber. She drove her elbow into the Izaani’s face. The bayonet rose toward her throat.

A shot cracked behind her. The back of the Izaani’s head sprayed red. The soldier collapsed.

A dozen Virmellian soldiers passed Lyra as they fired controlled volleys into the enemy. One Izaani soldier fell, then another.

Bullets passed the cannons; the hands of the crews trembled. One dropped his ramrod. A cannon fired but missed.

One Izaani dropped his musket and fled. Another followed. The Izaani soldiers scattered. Many couldn’t escape and raised their hands.

The sun had set. The Army of the Grand Order won a decisive victory.

Many Izaani were captured; among them was Field Marshal Jin Keller, humanity’s best commander.

The guards’ hands were shaking as they escorted him. He was brought before Lerissa on his knees in chains — his purple uniform was covered in dirt.

Lerissa remained on her mount, eyeing the field marshal.

A vampire stood beside her to translate.

“Your army is defeated. I demand humanity’s unconditional surrender.”

The field marshal laughed, then spat at the ground.

Lerissa dismounted and stood in front of Keller. She picked him up with one hand and bit his neck. Blood splattered outward and his eyes rolled back. She dropped him.

“What a waste of time.”

She turned to her generals.

The elven corps commander crossed her arms.

“Your grace, you shouldn’t have done that. He could have been a valuable asset.”

The orc corps commander slammed his scimitar into the mud.

“What a foolish protest! Killing humans is our ultimate goal!” His nostrils flared.

“I understand our mission, orc. I’m not advocating for human lives. I was hoping to learn more about the enemy. We could minimize our casualties.”

The vampiric corps commander raised his eyebrow.

“You may be onto something, elf.” He turned away. “But we’ve already learned how Izaan fights. We’ve interrogated their officers in previous engagements.”

The elf’s eyes widened.

“If I may, how long ago was this?”

“A week ago, during a skirmish at Saranlaya.”

“Saranlaya? I don’t recall ever committing offensive operations there.”

“I hadn’t told you or the orcs. I sent a brigade there and learned a lot.”

“You’ve been withholding valuable information?!” The elf clenched her fists. “On top of that, you’ve been acting on your own without communicating with us!” She turned to Lerissa. “Did your grace know of this?”

Lerissa did not respond. She stared at the body of the field marshal.

The orc roared, grabbing his scimitar.

“Explain! Why are the vampires holding secrets?”

“Because some cannot be trusted.” The vampire commander grinned.

Lerissa’s eyes glowed yellow as she held out her hand. She grasped it tightly. The vampiric corps commander squeezed his chest, vomiting blood, then collapsed.

The elf and orc froze.

“No, we did not withhold information from you. I had ordered the information to be shared, but obviously it wasn’t done.” A deathly silence filled the air before she continued. “I’ll assign another commander to the vampiric corps who communicates better. Will this be satisfactory?”

The elf bowed, then the orc.

“Thank you for your transparency, your grace.”

Lerissa mounted her horse.

“Humanity wants to keep fighting. I need the next battle to be an annihilation. We must break their spirits. I want victory within a year.”

Her generals bowed.

Lyra stood out of breath on the hill.

Thirty percent of her platoon survived.

Eight Izaani cannons sat with their barrels burning. Izaani and Virmellian bodies filled the hill. Flies and rats feasted on the dead. Prisoners marched in a line toward the rear, escorted by elven soldiers. Their heads remained low. Their eyes stared blankly.

The body of the man she had killed earlier was pale. His intestines were exposed.

Lyra searched through his belongings and found a miniature painted portrait of him and his family — a young girl and boy beside their mother. She took a deep breath before putting it in her pocket.

“Find anything interesting, ma’am?” a corporal asked.

“Nothing worth keeping, no.” She gave a faint smile.

From the hill, Lyra could see the entire field. Bodies filled the open ground where ranks had stood that morning. Smoke lingered in the air, drifting over broken guns and scattered muskets. The sounds of battle had faded. What remained was silence and the dead.