Marquess Folcon Guimont's Point Of View

The first day of our assault on Celeste Castle was over. I would say it was successful, though we suffered more losses than I expected due to unknown magic. We'd been going at it for a while when sudden clouds had filled the sky and poured rain for about half a minute before stopping. Seeing as it wasn't a natural phenomenon I had some of the water mages analyze it with the help of their faeries.

According to them it wasn't faerie magic. The faeries accordingly shook their head as they didn't know how it worked, however, the effect was clear. It was a large scale healing magic that healed everyone within the border of the rain. Except, the rain was always controlled so that the rain never passed the edge of the wall.

It was magic meant for warfare, but it wasn't magic from anywhere near here. I knew enough about foreigners to know that their magic was different. Further to the north they used magic by the help of runes.

Still, healing magic couldn't revive the dead, so as long as we focused on getting the kill, there was nothing for the enemy to do.

By the end of the day I was quite sure that somewhere between 50 and 100 of their men had died, leaving them with around 400 against our 2100. If not for the healing magic we would've killed substantially more. Furthermore, the weakest and most exhausted parts of the wall appeared to have been magically refreshed.

To make news worse, it was reported that traces of light magic was affecting the area as well. With a light magic user and a foreign healing magic we were outgunned in that matter... however... we still held the magic superiority, so I had our mages barrage the castle walls with magic. Their mages must've been running around all day till their exhaustion. Most of them should hardly have any mana left for the next day.

Still, be it fifty or a hundred a day, at one point they will not be able to take breaks from the wall, and they will fall like wheat in a storm. Losing at least a tenth of their fighting force on the first day should hit them quite hard.

There is one thing other than their two special magicians bothering me. It's the fact that the preparations for the assault failed. No. It is the manner in which it failed.

I was prepared for the bandits to fail, however, it was different for the strike force I had sent behind them. They were all good men specialized in city warfare. These otherwise experienced men I had borrowed from my neighbor were all slaughtered before they reached the city line.

I suspected that the observation tower we had taken on our way here had spotted them, however, even then the enemy commander must have predicted their entry direction and caught them unaware. Furthermore, they also spotted the plan of our explosives, though all the bodies of the bandits were quite a bit away from the guard station. The enemy commander appeared to have specifically ordered them to search, for there was no sign of torture on any of the bodies.

The enemy commander had been experienced.

Another thing that worries me is the following:

One of the survivors of the strike force reported the presence of a magic beast. I expect him to be exaggerating, of course, because he's trembling like leaf that has seen something out of this world.

The only thing I got out of him other than 'magic beast' was the following:

'It was smiling' 'Scorog' as well as him holding his ears as he thought back. Also 'Divine fang'.

Scorog was a magic beast of legends. It was said to be the unrivaled leader of all magic beast wolves, to which they all submitted and followed without doubt. Legends said that if you exterminated peaceful magic beast wolves Scorog itself would take command of its armies and eradicate the army hunting them brutally and violently with its fangs shimmering and its pelt appearing as moonlight. The tales of Scorog were drenched in blood.

However, there were no traces of magic beasts in the area where they had been fighting. In other words, someone in the enemy army reminded him of Scorog. Hearing those words I was left with no doubt that he was referring to the enemy commander... however, there should be no such person at Castle Celeste. None of their people had any combat experience.

I was considering that Castle Celeste may be hosting one or more foreign dignitaries. Lord Celeste always puts in an effort in being ready, so he might indeed have done something like that. It would explain the presence of the unexpected magicians as well.

I had only one bit of relief. Said commander didn't seem to have authority over the castle defense. Otherwise they likely would have been prepared for our first assault this morning. However, they had adjusted quite quickly, no doubt because they had a more experienced commander getting the leading knight back on his feet quickly.

However, how will you deal with the losses I wonder. By tomorrow morning your people will be trembling. What will you do, child of Scorog?

—-*—-

I watch the castle wall quietly and prepare the speech one last time. If lucky, then they should fold and accept my suggestion. At worst they'll lose morale, at least that is the plan. I want to see the commander defeating the fear of standing alone against an army of two thousand with only 400 men.

I nod to the wind mage Revon who stands next to me. He has to make sure my words reach everyone in the castle, especially the civilians. If the civilians panic then the soldiers won't have time to defend the walls.It's the best tactic for reducing losses.

"Commanders, Soldiers and citizens of Castle Celeste!"

"You have fought and you have bled, and today once more you will bleed! However! You are alone!"

With those words the men behind me raise the pike with their crucified messenger. Of course he's already dead, but it'll give them a good view.

"The word of your pain will never reach your Lord, and he will never make it back in time. You are alone! And day-!" I stop midway as something is tossed from the castle wall, and hits the hilltop gently enough to roll down to us slowly.

It's a barrel covered in flowers... but to know that it is a barrel now where it is up close is enough. The bastard went ahead and ruined my speech! Our fire magician, Raul, brace for the impact of the barrel by putting up a defensive shield around us... however... while it explodes as expected... the barrier stops only the magic, and instead everyone nearby are covered with... paint... like a violently splattered child's painting...

"We are never alone! Every man that has died protecting the citizens alongside us, still stands with us, and guides us from heaven!"

A bright voice reaches us back and almost echoes through the air. It's the voice of a child.

"The words of our people needs not people or flesh to pass, just the spirit of their hope!"

A small figure stands tall on top of the castle crenelations, and as if to reach for the heavens he straightens his arm into the air. The still morning wind stirs awake and the flags and banners of our armies sway towards the castle.

Then on his hand forms a bright bird of wind, a falcon. With one it sets off from his hand and sets the direction north.

"We will never fall! If you want to take the castle, Marquess Folcon, you will have to take it from the grasp of this 8-year old, you filthy cowards! For I will protect it until I die!"

My mind is blank, but locks onto the bird.

"GET THAT BIRD!"

Is all I manage to scream from the top of my lungs.

"CHARGE!!!!"

If they don't get it we need to get the castle before Lord Celeste returns or we will be stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Our fire magician sends off a fireball towards the kid, but it's blocked by a shield of water that instead causes a small explosion, and next to the kid appears Eric Celeste.

The troops charge in with a fury and desperation... and much... much too late I notice the survivor I had brought with me. He's trembling and cowering.

"Scorog... Scorog will kill us," he mumbles while crumbling to the ground.

If I hadn't heard the kid's speech just now, then I would've thought he meant Eric... but I was left with no doubt as I stared up at the kid with a sudden realization. I feel my heart sink into the pit of my stomach and blood drain from my face.

I made a fatal mistake. I fell for his taunt.

More flower covered barrels are tossed down from the wall at our charging troops, and our magicians hesitate to waste their mana just a moment too long... before a fire magician of theirs send small fireballs at the flying barrels.

"RETREAT!" I scream on top of my lungs, but it's expelled by the blast of the explosions that rip the soldiers apart and send them flying, only to hit the ground like lifeless rag dolls.

But... why now? Why not yesterday?

I stared at the smoking hillside as I scream once more:

"RETREAT!"

Multiple barrels go off around the castle walls, likely hitting with part help from magicians of theirs... magicians that should have been exhausted. I hadn't considered that the fatigue relief could have had an effect on mana.

A scream like the howl of Scorog sounds from the castle wall. Up there a sword, longer than the child holding it, reaches for the skies. A flood wave larger than anything I've ever seen appears out of the blue like the fury of heaven has been called upon us.

"Fetch the water magicians!" I scream to the men nearby me that still stand.

"I've lost contact with them!" Revon declares back at me with a pallid expression... and in that moment I realize why this plan wasn't used yesterday.

They hadn't been aiming at the men...

They'd been aiming at our water magicians... and must've spent yesterday probing out ranks for them amidst the chaos... so that we would be helpless against the flood wave coming against us... Revon grabs be violently and with a gentle blast of wind he sends me out of range of the flood wave.

"Escape Lord Folcon! You must live!"

That is the last I hear before he's swallowed by the flood.

I stumble back, and that is when I realize. The child of Scorog is on top of the flood wave on a piece of wood, followed by a squad lead by a water mage gone mad with mana. He intends to slaughter everyone that hasn't run.

I look to where Revon and Raul stood moments before and grit my teeth. I need to take responsibility for his sacrifice and run. There is no choice. The survivor was right to call that boy a monster, for his eyes gleam with joy though his body and mouth screams with killing intent. The men behind him move to his will without words, and only his howl reaches through the air as he charges in with the fury of a beast.

I rush to get to my horse, and as I glance back towards the battlefield my eyes meet with those of the child of Scorog. They lock onto me like wolves' on a hunt.

His presence, despite being a child stands out like a leader among pups. A naturally born leader.

I feel dread crawl down my spine with regret at being in his blue eyes.

I almost feel sorry for the royal family of the Ristaze, kids like that do not become commanders, they become kings.

I prepare to set off when the air shakes with a violent feeling, and in the boy's howl joins hundreds. The ladders that were once for climbing up become ladders for climbing down, the battlefield flips as my people scream with fear... but our command was broken along with the magicians, for they were the officers as well. I set off, I mustn't be caught. My head on a stake would truly be the last hit for our army, so I think as I ride down the hillside... but as if to haunt me the sound of hooves appear behind me.

The child of Scorog appears in the distance behind me with a speed that is inhuman, even for being on horse. No, my horse is good, the boy must have used magic to reinforce the horse. He smiles at me as if to say 'you cannot run'. Their air magician is extending the sound, and I realize he is inducing fear. He's letting me know that he isn't letting me off.

I get down to the road leading back and stir my horse harder. I must go, I mustn't be caught. So... why is it that they keep gaining at such a terrible speed?

I look to the observation tower on the path in front of me, it's still far off. It is still much too far off. If I could get there I could start a defense, but I will not make it. Our speeds are too different. I wasn't wrong when I thought the magic had been for war. It was cold and brutal magic. Like fleeing from the fangs of a wolf... it would run you up and dig into your throat and back.

My throat goes dry and I reach for my sword. I am a pretty good rider. The boy had been defended by Eric when a fireball was cast. Perhaps he didn't know how to block fire magic.

I send a blast of fire back at the boy as he gets close, but it goes over them with a blast of air, and I remember in my panic that he has a wind mage with him.

He closes the gap in an instant, and I finally realize why the survivor had been reminded of Scorog instead of a demon. The boy's wolf mantle glittered under the sun with the swing of his fang.

I feel a final chill at my neck after his sword passed mine in a moment of hesitance.

I roll to the ground and shiver.

The boy's eyes had peered into mine as he cut, without a hint of fear or regret.

Merely fury turning to disappointment.