Roland and August’s forces established contact when they were about a days’ march apart from each other—about twenty-five miles or so. Their scouts had also managed to find Duke Duronius’ forces shadowing Roland’s about five miles further west, encamped on a large hill surrounded by wet, marshy forests.

The general landscape of the Southern Territories was awful by most standards—worse, in Leon’s opinion, than the rough hills and valleys of the east by far. The Naga River branched off into numerous smaller rivers, each of them added to by countless tributaries, creating hundreds and hundreds of square miles of thick, swampy forest. It was wet, it was hot, and it was humid.

They were relatively close to the eastern-most branch of the Naga River where they were, leading to a serious amount of swamp in their way, but they were also far enough away that there were more than enough places to deploy large-scale troop formations if they wanted to fight a pitched battle.

They’d need that room, for Roland had with him four full Legions, about eighty thousand soldiers in total, not including the battalions of medics and support soldiers he also had. August was coming to reinforce him with thirty thousand noble retainers.

However, Duke Duronius had a reported five Legions and fifty thousand nobles with him, leaving the prospect of fighting out in the open risky at best. Fortunately, the numbers on both sides were large enough that they had done little more than skirmish a few times between their scouts—if either side committed to a pitched battle, they’d each be savaged by the other.

And so it had been for days, reportedly. Roland kept Duronius from marching east, while Duronius kept Roland from marching west. But a tipping point had to come, and it seemed like August’s arrival was just the catalyst they needed to finally commit to a fight.

—

Roland arrayed his Legions out in their standard checkerboard pattern, with those in the front ranks drawing their swords and those further back equipping their bows. This was an immense risk, he knew that, but he followed August’s order anyway and prepared to face Duronius.

The two had been denying each other battle for a while, now, and with him in formation in a relatively open field—though, there were a few tree groves and small bogs between him and Duronius’ last reported position—that was as perfect an opportunity for Octavius’ grandfather to bring his numbers to bear as he was likely to get in the Southern Territories.

Somewhere to his northeast was August, marching his way with his reinforcements. They were hoping that Duronius would take the bait of seeing Roland finally ready to fight and commit to fighting him long enough for August to get into a flanking position.

As Roland heard the sound of Legion horns coming through the forests on the other side of the field, he knew that they were about to see if their plan worked.

—

Leon’s heart raced in his chest. Barely a few hours beforehand, he’d been given command of three battalion’s worth of noble retainers, and now he was supposed to lead them into battle. What was more, Aeneas had given him and ‘his unit’ the most important position on the right flank!

So, as Roland formed up in a rough line along a low ridge running from north to south, they’d be facing against Duke Duronius’ Legions and retainers coming in from the west. August would then try to come in from the north and hit them in the flank, while Leon would on the westernmost side of that line; he had to go further than even August, trying to hook around the edge of Duronius’ line and come in from the west—from behind them.

Leon didn’t much like that plan. For one, he hadn’t had the chance to properly establish his command authority among his people—and he could feel their stares upon him when he wasn’t looking, along with a few tiny hints of killing intent—so he wasn’t completely confident that he could properly lead such an attack.

For another, if Duronius held any Legion soldiers or retainers in reserve—and given his numerical superiority, there was no reason to assume that he wouldn’t—then Leon’s charge could be easily countered. Making matters worse for him, it was almost guaranteed that Duronius’ scouts had seen them, allowing him to enact some counter-measures to their flanking maneuver.

But even if Duronius’ scouts hadn’t seen them and he had no idea that Roland had reinforcements only a few hours’ time away, in the end, they were still trying to surround and outmaneuver a force much larger than theirs, but August and Aeneas had agreed that the risk was worth it. They couldn’t have Roland’s Legions tied down as they had been for the past few days, but neither could they allow Duronius free access into the southern reaches of the Eastern Territories.

And so, Leon found himself riding out into the damp, humid forests of the Southern Territories astride Anzu, Alix and Valeria at his sides on borrowed steeds, and the rest of the cavalry that his nobler subordinates had brought at his back. Further to Leon’s right were the giants, while to his left were the noblemen’s infantry in his unit. He was leading from the extreme right, with his subordinate commanders spread out along the rest of his line.

He didn’t quite trust them, but Lapis and the rest of its kith did a great deal to assuage his anxiety. Even if he couldn’t count on the nobles, he could count on the giants; and powerful allies they were, for he was certain that his hundred stone giants were easily the equal of the rest of his force.

They trudged along as best they could through the soft, muddy earth and the dense forest. The giants had to make their own path several times, mostly by directly ripping a few thick willow trees out of the ground. They made a ton of noise, but there was no way that their three thousand men and women and one hundred giants were going to be stealthy, let alone the entire thirty-thousand strong force; Leon focused on speed, they had to get into position before the battle was over, or else there was no point. It had been hours since he’d last seen August or Aeneas, and it was entirely possible that Duronius and Roland’s Legions had already met each other on the battlefield. There was no time to lose over concerns of too much noise.

A few times, though, they did slow down when Leon sensed powerful creatures in the forest. He wasn’t overly cautious since they were still close enough to the waterways of the Southern Territories that all the most dangerous beasts in the regions had been rendered extinct, but he didn’t want to lose people before they had even encountered Duronius’ line.

Waiting only just long enough for these occasional inhuman magical presences to realize just how many people were coming through the forest and vanishing, Leon pressed on. A few times, though, he thought he felt someone or something watching him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t the time to investigate, but he did feel Xaphan’s attention a few times, too, and he hoped with all that he had that the two weren’t related. He could not afford to fend off a vampire attack at this juncture.

Eventually, they reached roughly where they needed to be. There was a gap between their force of three thousand and the next unit to the east, but that was because of a small river. They weren’t made vulnerable, but they were, for most intents and purposes, on their own. If they were attacked, it could take as long as an hour for an earth or water mage to allow another unit to come and reinforce them.

‘Just another damn thing stacked against us…’ Leon thought to himself. He didn’t waste time lamenting the situation, though. If he learned anything from Trajan, it was that he needed to be aggressive and decisive when it came to leading soldiers into battle. He gave the order to advance as soon as he could see the other units close to them begin their own advance.

As they moved forward, Leon could vaguely pick up the sounds of battle in the distance. Sound didn’t penetrate the forest all that well, not to mention the relative highlands in front of them where the battle was taking place, but the sounds of war were unmistakable. It seemed that battle had been joined somewhere, but the battlefield was damned large, and Leon had no idea where it could be.

All he could do was to continue pushing forward through the trees, across filthy ponds and bogs, through green, stagnant streams, and finally up a gentle hill. They were close, now.

Finally, finally, after hours of grueling movement, of Anzu’s paws getting stuck in mud, of knights and men-at-arms up and down the line stumbling through roots and wet earth, they saw their enemy.

And Leon’s heart sank.

Duronius clearly knew they were coming and had laid out a welcome carpet; thousands of warriors waited for them at the top of the hill, mostly brandishing various polearms, like spears and pikes. There wasn’t much uniformity to their equipment, with many men in the front rank—and it was almost entirely composed of men—not even wearing a helmet, let alone any other armor. They were led by several dozen mounted knights in front, perhaps half a mile away from Leon; more than close enough for Leon’s sixth-tier eyes to pick up on a few key facts.

First, none of the knights wore Legion colors, nor did any of those standing in the horde behind them. These were peasants levied from noble lands, not professional soldiers. Leon almost laughed until he remembered that half of his own force was composed of similar people.

Second, only three of the knights were sixth-tier, compared to the two dozen Leon had on his side between himself and the giants.

Third, Leon saw that this force sent by Duronius was much larger than his, perhaps by as much as three or four times. That fact alone had him gritting his teeth and keeping himself from celebrating their magical advantage too much.

Lastly, he could see the looks of confidence and bravado on the faces of many of Duronius’ knights begin to vanish as Lapis and the rest of giants began to appear from amongst the trees. Leon could also see ripples of panic moving through the ranks of the levies behind them, too, and their rough spear wall began quivering as Leon’s force slowly crept its way forward.

Leon didn’t call a halt to their movement. If he didn’t have the giants, he would’ve absolutely done so, but as they were, he felt like they had a good chance of pulling this off.

They drew closer and closer to Octavius’ army, huddled at the top of the hill. Duronius’ people remained up top, either unwilling or unable to move, just waiting for Leon’s troops to climb up past the dense forest below and up to the relatively bare hilltop. They weren’t giving up their height advantage, but it seemed they were going to give Leon some time be a bit more thorough about this.

He had a few minutes to think before they drew to within arrow range. He figured that the best way to play this would be to use an oblique attack, with him, the giants, and the cavalry on the right wing charging first. They needed to smash this force in front of them, for the river to their left that snaked around the hill wasn’t going to allow—

Suddenly, from the center of Leon’s line, a loud horn blast sounded, and about five hundred knights began to sprint out of the line and toward the Octavian force atop the hill. The man leading them was one of the Barons that Leon had been assigned, and he rode his horse like a man possessed, waving a two-handed claymore above his head like it weighed nothing at all and roaring a guttural, almost bestial battle cry as his horse thundered ahead of his charging knights.

Leon had not given any order to charge, he was doing so on his own.

Leon clenched his jaw for a moment in frustration, swore under his breath, and then said, “Sound the charge. We can’t let them attack without support.” The tone of his voice was grave and the killing intent it carried caused many of the knights behind him to shiver.

As his order was being carried out, he heard Alix vocalize exactly what was on his mind, clicking her tongue and muttering under her breath as she stared at the charging Baron’s troops, “What an ass.”

From the way Valeria glared at the Baron’s charging form, Leon knew that he and Alix weren’t alone in their anger.

“Who is he?” Leon growlingly asked. “I’ll admit that I haven’t had the time to really learn everyone’s names, yet…”

A knight behind him helpfully said, “That would be Baron Mettius Gellius, Sir.”

“Ah, yes. Him. Thank you,” Leon replied as the horns up and down the line began to sound off. “I’ll definitely remember him now…” he murmured as he ran his fingers through Anzu’s feathers, giving him the signal to begin charging.

And charge Anzu did, bolting out ahead of the rest of the unit as if he were afraid he’d miss out on all the fun. Valeria, Alix, and the light cavalry behind them struggled to keep up, but the giants with their massive legs managed to stick with Leon. They were fast enough that even though Baron Gellius charged first, Leon and the giants came into arrow range first.

Leon prepared to shield both himself and Anzu from the expected arrow fire, channeling his fire magic and making a few last-second adjustments to his armor, but not a single arrow was loosed, to Leon’s immense surprise.

‘Do they not have archers?’ Leon thought. That his side didn’t fire any arrows either occurred to him, too, and he made a mental note to get a better idea of the composition of his unit after the battle, assuming they survived. He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t checked beforehand.

They closed to five hundred feet. The Octavian knights shouted for the spear wall to be reformed and discipline maintained as the levies were wavering at the sight of a hundred powerful stone giants thundering up their hill.

Four hundred feet. Leon switched from fire magic to lightning, and his left hand began to spark and crackle, the black metal of his gauntlet flashing with lightning magic.

Three hundred feet. Leon could see the whites of the eyes of the knight he was targeting through the man’s visor. His eyes were wide enough that he seemed to be panicking, but he wasn’t running away.

Two hundred feet. The knight was only a fifth-tier mage, and he could doubtlessly sense the power of Leon and the giants, yet he stood firm against them. Leon couldn’t help but admire the man in this last moment before all the hells broke loose.

One hundred feet. Leon let loose with a bolt of lightning. With a golden flash and thunderous boom, the Octavian knights’ horse was ripped apart beneath him before he could even muster a defense.

And like that, the very first large-scale open battle that Leon had ever participated in began.