CHAPTER 9.5: RESENTFUL SENTIMENTS

***The city of Berondin***

The defenders of the city were quickly mobilized as a pair eagle beastmen appeared above Berondin. Just as the archers positioned themselves and nocked arrows on their bows, the Lord Ingwer of Dorian and the Lady Elsa ordered them to stand down. High above the air was the former spy, Cerdan, calling from above that the invasion force of the Lord Kuro had finally come.

“Gather the armies, milady,” the Dorian lord told the commander of the Berondin warriors. “We’ll be rushing to the Saint’s Tree.”

At once, the Lady Elsa went on her way, as the eagle beastmen, Cerdan and the captain of the airborne patrol he encountered earlier landed. The Lord Ingwer was the one who welcomed them, reaching a hand for a shake.

“I believe you’re from the Lord Kuro’s army?” the elf lord asked.

“Yes, milord,” the captain confirmed with a salute. “Are you the commander of the armies of this city?”

“Not really, especially in normal times. But I’m in command as of this moment, yes.”

The officer smiled, “Mister Cerdan told us that we can ask for your support in our struggle against the enemies of Her Holiness, the Elf Saint.”

“No worries, captain,” the Lord Ingwer assured him. “We’re mustering the armies; we’ll soon head out in concert of your forces. Tell us where we can find you.”

The captain then brought out a map and gave it to him. “If you can also gather support from other cities, we would greatly appreciate it. Or at least, tell them not to attack us, if they can’t send forces.”

“There’s no need for that. Every elvish city near the Saint’s Tree have been obliterated by whoever sitting on the Elf Saint’s throne, a consequence for letting that monster, as well as for rebelling against her holy authority,” the Dorian lord then pointed to the other settlements. “As for the others, they were all cowering behind the safety of their walls, scared to fight back against the evil plaguing their land.”

The elvish captain only stared back at the Lord Ingwer, unsure of how he would answer the latter’s words. Nevertheless, the Dorian lord continued, “You don’t need to understand what I’m saying, captain. Time is of the essence; once the armies of Berondin is ready, we’re heading out. For now, go back to your elves. They might need you as soon as possible.”

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***On the beaches of Cherwoods, near the enemy trenches…***

While technologically-inferior to their forces, the ‘undead’ armies of the Saint’s Tree gave the elvish invaders a challenge in overcoming the defenses. All throughout the stretch of the shores were elevated picket lines, reinforced by a system of trenches where the wights could shoot volley after volley of arrows to the attacking army. While the aerial bombings, as well as the seaborne artillery barrages destroyed the supply centers behind the defenses, the fortified lines itself remained unscathed. As such, the ‘undead’ defenders mounted a near-successful defense of the beaches.

And while the tanks proved its worth in the battle, the Duke of Maverny had to use his god-powers to make them effective.

“…”

In any case, before the end of the day, an order came from the higher-ups telling the soldiers to fortify their lines, and dig in for the ‘long sleep’. The decision came as a relief to the regiments, who were uneasy leaving their dead friends behind on the beaches, as well as to allow the soldiers rest after the close battle. Nevertheless, the units had to bivouac themselves where they were, like Behrien and Glamden’s squad, one of those that positioned themselves in the forward lines facing the interior of Cherwoods. They had to work on the ground to make foxholes to hide into.

“…”

As the hour for supper came, no one attempted to make anything. Not only everyone was tired of the battle earlier, nearly all of them was in no mood to eat, after losing some friends and acquaintances to death and injuries.

Glamden, as he sat above their foxhole, stared back at the forest before him. He was on guard duty, together with Behrien, who had just arrived from the ‘field kitchen’ carrying some rations.

“Hey, dude,” his gave bread to the little elf. “You got to eat, you know? You’re the squad’s carrier, after all.”

“I’m not hungry,” Glamden answered; though his voice was grumpy, Behrien could tell that it was because of the horrific events earlier than his usual ill-tempered self.

The taller elf took a chair nearby and sat a few distances away from him. As Behrien ate in silence, he heard Glamden mutter,

“I didn’t know this is war truly looks like.”

“Neither did I,” the other elf spoke as he stuffed his mouth with food. “The stories I remember speak of swords swinging, and contests of strengths and valor, not people getting skewered by arrows, and exploding sands.”

“I’ve seen them die before my very eyes,” Glamden continued, as if oblivious to Behrien’s words. “They tried asking us for help, but what can we do aside from watching them get killed?”

“It’s pretty different from what they tell us in the stories, no?” the latter pointed out, to which, the former nodded.

“Abishai and Cervel were already dead…”

“Yes…I know. They got caught in the arrow volleys earlier. I couldn’t even recognize their faces…full of arrow wounds…turned into a blood mess,” the taller elf revealed. “I…I don’t even know how I would tell to their families that they died in that way; they haven’t been able to fire a single bullet from their demon weapons. Yet, they died with their faces mutilated beyond recognition.”

“Have I known that battles are like this, I would’ve been content in just staying at home.”

“Can’t help it now that we’re here, though,” Behrien replied, who held off blaming his little companion for his decision to join the army at any cost. However, he aired his own sentiments, “But yeah, this will be the first and last war I’ll involve myself in.”

“Me, too…fuck those battlefield glories, and being popular,” Glamden declared. “It’s useless when we’re dead. And I don’t want to die like Abishai and Cervel.”

The two of them then fell silent as Behrien continued to eat. The forests of Cherwoods, no matter corrupted it was, still swayed at the gentle wind blowing through their positions.