by Pirateaba
A hand reached down and closed the book in front of Lady Bethal. She looked up, surprised, as her husband, the [Chevalier] Thomast, frowned at her. She sat up in bed, looking around the tent they were sharing in the army’s campgrounds outside of Izril. The two had come to the battlefield to fight against the Goblin Lord’s army. Lady Bethal had declined Magnolia Reinhart’s offer of hospitality so she could stay with her husband on the night before the battlefield.
She had been reading the history of the second Antinium wars in a delicately-bound pink book in the bed her [Knights] had carried ten miles to the camp site. Now she closed it, her hands trembling slightly as Thomast looked at her.
“I was just reading, Thomast. Is that a crime?”
Her eyes sparkled with her infamous temper. Thomast, renowned for his silence and lack of temper in contrast to his wife’s moods, simply shook his head.
“Not a crime. But you know it’s not true.”
“It’s what’s written, isn’t it? That Drake [Writer] thinks we Human [Ladies] are cowards. And perhaps we are? Isn’t that why you’re sending me away, rather than letting me watch the battle?”
“You would not watch if I was in danger. You would try to save me and we might both perish. I can’t allow that.”
“Allow? I’m your wife.”
Bethal’s eyes widened and her nostrils flared. She sat up in her bed and Thomast carefully avoided meeting her eyes, as if she were a wild animal. He looked at her hands instead. They were shaking ever so slightly as they rested on the book.
“You are my wife. And this is a war. General Shivertail is commanding—he can’t have unpredictable elements interfering with his strategy.”
“I can take orders! I have fought in a war before, Thomast.”
“I know. And I know you can fight. But not this time. Stop reading about the past, please.”
He reached for the book. Bethal clutched it to her chest. She was breathing faster now, her voice rising in agitation.
“Why can’t I read, Thomast?”
“Because it’s not true.”
“It’s what’s written!”
“And it is not true. Bethal—”
“We fought, Thomast! All of us! We fought and we died and this arrogant worm of a Drake has the nerve to question our bravery! As if we didn’t know our soldiers were dying? But we still died, and for what? If this is how history remembers us, wouldn’t it have been better to run? To be remembered as cowards, but be alive? Rather than—than this?”
She hurled the book across the tent. Thomast sighed and stroked at his mustache.
“It’s not true. You know that. I know that.”
“And what about everyone else? What about children, what about people who read this book and don’t know the truth? How can he write this? How can—”
Her husband was silent, gently sitting still as Bethal shouted. She wanted him to yell back, but found it was hard to look at him. Her vision was—swimming.
Bethal reached up and found her eyes were full of tears. She wiped them away almost absentmindedly at first. But the tears kept coming. She tried to keep her voice steady, but it began to break.
“It’s—we knew what would happen, Thomast. Magnolia told us. She said—we all agreed. No quarter. No mercy. But we still did it. We—we—”
“I know. Love, I know.”
Thomast reached out and held Bethal. Her shoulders began to shake. She kept talking, stumbling, choking, but forcing the words out.
“I remember the banners. There were so many to begin with. But each time the Goblin King charged—there were so many Goblins. Each time he charged the banners disappeared. More and more of them. Just—missing. I was separated from the others in the fighting. And when the Goblin King retreated I looked for mother, but she was gone. So were Maisy and Lady Alvita and Eruvie—all gone. Father was gone and then the horns blew again and he charged and—so many. They were gone, Thomast. All gone.”
She began to weep. Thomast held Bethal, hugging her tightly. She whispered, tears streaming down her face.
“We held the line. None of us ran, not even when the Goblin Lords appeared. Even when they cut us down. I still dream of that night. I know it shouldn’t matter, but when I read this—”
“It is not true.”
Thomast said it fiercely. Bethal clung to him.
“Say it again. Louder, please.”
“It is not true!”
The [Chevalier]’s voice raised, and Bethal lowered her head. Time passed slowly, and her shaking stopped. Thomast offered her a handkerchief to wipe her face and blow her nose. Bethal did so, and then turned to Thomast with the smallest of smiles.
“Do you know how I first heard of you, Thomast? It was before we met at the ball at Magnolia’s estate. I must confess I had planned running into you. Although I had not planned to actually run into you, much less dirty your clothes. I was determined to meet you. You see, I had read the open letter you had sent to this Drake [Historian].”
“Oh?”
Thomast knew what Lady Bethal was referring to, but he let her tell her story, stroking her hands. Bethal smiled up at him.
“I still remember what you wrote. Do you? I’ll repeat it. I memorized it by heart.”
“Tell me. What did I write?”
“You wrote to that horrible Drake. That Wordsmith. You said—oh, how did it begin? Oh yes, Dear Sir.”
Dear Sir,
I am writing to you in regards to the popular book you recently published, entitled The Second Antinium Wars, a History. I take issue with several passages within your historical narrative, most notably the paragraphs where you question the sacrifice of the [Ladies] of Izril during the Sacrifice of Roses.
I find it incredible that you would attack the deceased, much less from the safety of your quill, far from any actual danger. It appears that it is easy for you and others who enjoy the contempt of peace to criticize those who gave their lives in battle, knowing full well the odds against them. I hope you have a tenth of the courage it takes to stand your ground wearing nothing but a dress and holding a dagger against an oncoming Goblin army.
I trust you will retract your comments and issue a public apology swiftly as to avoid further disgracing this historical account. Your attack on the courage of the fallen is a disgrace to your class and to the truth. Species matters not. The honor and bravery displayed by Drakes, Humans, Gnolls, and every other species during the war should not be called into question, much less by someone who never fought in either war. I was there and I will never forget their sacrifice.
Sincerely,
Thomast Veniral, [Fencer]
“I fell in love with you just a bit after reading that.”
“Mm. I regret writing that. I was young and it only put his back up. I was challenged to eight duels within the week.”
“So?”
Bethal gripped Thomast’s hands fiercely, her eyes blazing.
“You were right! And that Drake will never admit it, but you spoke the truth. You were right, Thomast. Never regret telling the truth. And it was the truth. We knew what we were doing. We—”
Her voice broke again. And again Thomast held her. This time he kissed her gently on each cheek and then on her lips. Bethal’s voice trembled.
“That night the roses fought and fell. But we never ran. We marched on, through the rain and mud and death. So many of us. So few afterwards. And when the Goblin King charged we blazed and died like fireflies in the night. But we stopped him.”
“You did.”
Thomast embraced his wife. She sobbed into his vest.
“Thomast? Kiss me please.”
He did. The book lay on the floor, forgotten. But the pages went on, flawed fiction mixing with grains of truth to tell a story. Such was history.
Whatever the case, the defense of First Landing and the subsequent Sacrifice of Roses blunted the Goblin King’s attacks. The loss of the first of the Goblin Lords shook the Goblin King and he withdrew his forces after it became c
lear the Humans were too well-entrenched to uproot without sacrificing part of his army. Instead, the Goblin King ordered his Lords to conduct a campaign of fire on the landscapes, razing farmlands and smaller targets while he maintained the siege, intending to starve the Humans out.
The advance of the Goblins had stalled for the first time, a cause for celebration perhaps. But the cost was passing high. In cases where Goblins succeeded in overrunning or bypassing the Human lines and engaging the personal retinues led by said [Ladies], casualties were absolute. Over 60% of the [Ladies] who took to the front lines perished in battle along with their escorts.
Their deaths, along with their [Lord] counterparts, has led to a vacuum in the ranks of the landowning classes in the Human lands that has persisted to this day. Conversely however, those [Lords] and [Ladies] who did survive the Second Antinium War all obtained high levels and absorbed vast tracts of land into their estates.
And of course, the battle for First Landing was not yet over. The Human defenders might have faced months of deprivation and slowly dwindling food supplies under the siege warfare, but for an unexpected attack on the Goblin King’s armies from the Reinhart estate.
Magnolia Reinhart, one of the leading figures of the First Antinium War, led a counterattack from her estate on the Goblin King’s forces. Despite having committed virtually all of her family’s soldiers to the defense of First Landing, she appeared two weeks after the Sacrifice of Roses with another army a hundred thousand strong.
To the amazement of all, she drove the Goblin King’s army back with a magical army of constructs. She had summoned this vast force with the use of an artifact known as the Crown of Flowers. This artifact is known as one of the great treasures of the Humans of Izril, and is in fact rumored to be the very same artifact used to conquer the Drake cities when the invasion of the continent first took place thousands of years ago.
Not much is known about the Crown of Flowers as its powers are a well-guarded secret. Indeed, they are considered so potent that Magnolia Reinhart was forced to strike a deal with the Assassin’s Guild to ensure her life and the artifacts would not be targeted for the duration of the war. This was the first incident where she struck a deal with the Assassin’s Guild, but it would lead to her widespread employment of [Assassins] throughout the years following the Second Antinium War. But that is beside the point.
It is not clear why Magnolia Reinhart did not employ the Crown of Flowers as soon as the Goblin King’s forces reached Izril, but prominent [Mages] speculate that she may have in fact done so. The army summoned by the Crown of Flowers was comprised of powerful plant-based constructs which grew in power the longer they existed, ‘blooming’ into their full power over time. It may be that it was only after weeks had passed that the Crown of Flowers had been able to summon the army at this desperate hour.
Whatever the case, the interlude in the fighting had given the crown’s powers time enough to work. The army of constructs summoned by the Crown of Flowers grew out of the ground and assembled around the Reinhart Estate near First Landing and marched south. They attacked the surprised Goblin King’s army and, in tandem with the Human defenders, forced him to retreat.
This unexpected victory forced the Goblins back and earned Lady Magnolia the Reinhart the title of ‘The Deadly Flower Blooming in the North’. She had shown the Goblin King her thorns and his armies withdrew, giving the Humans some breathing room, however small.
The sudden retreat by the Goblin forces may have been due to the Goblin King’s absence from the battlefield at that time. Confident in the abilities of his Goblin Lords to maintain the siege, he had vanished from the battlefields. Reportedly, the Goblin King had rapidly moved south with a small force, entering the High Passes. There he vanished for eight days.
What he did during that time is largely unknown, but it is speculated he personally cut a path through the treacherous High Passes, fighting the myriad monsters that formed their lairs in that place. And after eight days had passed, the Goblin King appeared south of the High Passes. He had opened up a gateway between north and south Izril, bypassing the defenses of Liscor entirely. Thus, the Goblins were now able to reinforce their armies on both sides, giving them another strategic advantage over the separated Drake and Human forces.
A note at this point. While I have written exclusively about Drakes and Humans, it would be wrong to write further without touching upon the contributions, or rather, lack thereof by the Gnoll species during this time. The Gnoll tribes did indeed take part in resisting the Antinium advance and fought against the Goblin King in some numbers, but their presence was mostly seen in a defensive role, as with the First Antinium War.
The Gnoll tribes’ insular and cowardly attitude towards battle may have been seen most disgracefully in regards to the Necromancer, however. The Gnoll species as a whole has more reason than most to hate his existence—after all, the Necromancer earned his name over a century ago when he slew the beloved Chieftain of the Gnolls who some had labeled the first ‘King of Gnolls’. The Necromancer killed the Gnoll Chieftain Kerash and was thus dubbed Az’kerash, or ‘Slayer of Kerash’ by the Gnolls.
And yet, as his armies travelled south, the Necromancer faced little opposition from the Gnolls, who seemed more fearful of his advance than enraged. The Gnoll tribes contributed little to the defense of the land, and indeed, are conspicuously absent in most major battles of the Second Antinium War.
“We fought! What nonsense is this?”
Krshia’s paw slapped the book’s pages. The Gnoll [Shopkeeper] growled out loud and snarled at the text as she got up and paced around her apartment.
“We fought! We did! Not all tribes, but did all Drakes fight? No! My tribe fought, and countless others! We did not fear the Necromancer, no! How dare this Drake write otherwise? He calls himself a historian? I have seen more accurate histories written on shopping lists!”
She hurled the book to the ground and stomped on it before picking it up and checking it for damage.
“Hrr. I can still sell this, though. Perhaps I can even sell it for more if I rip out these pages. They would make good toilet paper, no?”
Grudgingly, Krshia flicked the book open and kept reading, although her tail was angrily thrashing back and forth.
Regardless, the Necromancer advanced south, largely undeterred by the war going on between Goblins and Humans. To my understanding he only clashed with the Goblin King’s forces once, and the battle ended as a stalemate between Az’kerash and the Goblin King. It appears both forces largely ignored each other after that, and the Necromancer exploited the fractured militaries of both Humans and Drakes by marching his army to Liscor unimpeded.
It was there the Necromancer’s armies besieged the Drake city and cut the continent in two. The Drakes could not assist the Humans and vice versa. Perhaps this was to aid the Goblin King after all, because it meant neither side could assist one another while the Goblins enjoyed the use of the High Passes. And meanwhile, the Necromancer’s forces spread out, heading south of the Blood Fields and harvesting more bodies for his army.
The siege of Liscor is of course a famous and heroic tale of defiance by the courageous Drake defenders and I fear I can do it little justice with only a few pages of writing. However, let us begin by saying that the Liscorian army had withdrawn around their city in advance of the Necromancer’s assaults, and held the walls of their city as the Necromancer concentrated the bulk of his forces in an attempt to bring it down.
Liscor had never fallen to siege once since its creation as a city-state. The natural geography of the city combined with their advanced walls and powerful army meant that they were able to repel most assaults with ease. However, the Necromancer had brought armies of powerful undead and the aforementioned Bone Giants to assault Liscor’s walls. The Liscorian army was forced to fight the undead on the walls and slew the giants only at great cost. And though the Necromancer’s giants failed to break Liscor’s walls, they had done such terrible damage th
at there was no hope of Liscor repelling the undead alone.
A truly grueling siege of Liscor began, as the Necromancer inflicted plagues on the city’s inhabitants, launched rotting corpses over the walls and personally unleashed his magics on the city’s defenders. It was an onslaught that would have felled a lesser city, much less a Human one in a single day. And yet, Liscor held on. Against all odds, they endured first one week, then two, and then four weeks against the Necromancer’s onslaught. Every citizen fought to defend the city, hoping against hope for relief.
And it came from none of than Zel Shivertail, the Tidebreaker himself. The Drake [General] had heard of Liscor’s plight and abandoned his battles against the Antinium to march north. He, the former student and friend of General Sserys of Liscor would not abandon Sserys’ people in their hour of need. Shivertail did not march alone either; three other Drake [Generals] joined him with their armies, and they cut a path to the Necromancer and assaulted his army at Liscor.
This climatic battle would be known as one of the most famous battles of the Second Antinium War. It began as Zel Shivertail’s forces attacked the Necromancer’s entrenched army around the city. Accounts of the battle have been verified and multiple perspectives have been recorded. To summarize the tragic opening to the battle, I will be brief.
On the first day, Az’kerash slew [General] Hekiss. On the second, [General] Vusso fell and two hours later, [General] Misa. Only Zel Shivertail remained as the Necromancer’s forces threatened to overwhelm both the city of Liscor and the attacking army.
S02 – The Antinium Wars (Pt.4)
Dear readers, it is not in my nature to exaggerate or lie. I, Krysyl Wordsmith, attempt to tell you the most unbiased of accounts possible. But I cannot suppress my patriotic pride for my people. And the following account of the Siege of Liscor by the Necromancer, Az’kerash, is almost impossible to tell without appreciating the grave odds of the struggle, the desperation, and above all, the hope and courage exhibited by the brave Drakes of Liscor and the hero Zel Shivertail himself.
