by John Nest
“That’s Chouchou, a Fire Brawler,” whispered Tritank to his Sonstwelter companions.
“I know, and he’s married to Xantana,” whispered back Bones. “Stop trying to make yourself look important.”
“Bones, bring Guro and Cynar with us,” interrupted Tristan.
“Sure thing.”
After calling them, Tristan, Aurora, Bones, Tritank, Guro, and Cynar followed Chouchou into the strategy room. Walking up to the third floor of the castle, they were led into an expansive room that was bare, except for a table with the map of the Sawtorn continent on it.
“Please have a seat. Duke Trottel will be with you shortly,” said Chouchou. When he finished talking, he did not leave the room but waited near the door.
“Tritank! What the hell are you doing here!” boomed Trottel, the old tiger Lioumerean looked ready to pounce.
“Duke Trottel, please forgive our sudden intrusion,” said Tristan in a firm and confident tone. “We’ve respectfully come to offer our assistance.”
“Don’t need your stinking help,” gruffed Trottel. “A back of the knife is what I’ll most likely get from the likes of you people.”
Despite Trottel’s harsh words, Tristan still smiled at him. “Please forgive the incidents of the past. Those are far behind us.”
“Ha! If it were only you, maybe I could so reason,” said Trottel. “Frankly, I’ve heard of your accomplishments. But that brother of yours is—”
Tristan loudly cleared his throat, impeding Trottel. “The King of Thayotl once told me; the weak can never forgive, forgiveness is an attribute belonging only to those who are truly strong.”
“Hogwash!” exclaimed Trottel. “But for the heck of it. Why are you here?”
“Didn’t Xantana—” began Tritank, but was silenced by Aurora’s hand covering his mouth.
Tristan glared at his younger brother, before turning to Trottel. “My great Duke, we’ve come to some knowledge that Snide will be coming to your city.”
“When is this?” asked Trottel. The old Lioumerean looked troubled.
Nodding sympathetically, Tristan replied. “Less than two days from now.”
“Then we must prepare!” boomed Trottel. “Alert King Kajou. We must ask for reinforcements!”
“But, Duke Trottel, don’t you think that you’d gain more glory if you were to defeat Snide by yourself?” blurted out Tristan. “Of course, my men and I will gladly face them on the ground, while your powerful spells rain down on them from above your walls. Don’t you think that should be enough to stop them?”
“Hm… That does sound appealing,” mumbled Trottel. “How many men did you bring again?”
“About thirty-thousand Mercenaries imported from the tough lands of Wysteria,” began Tristan, pointing towards Guro. “And another thirty-thousand OrkElves who survived the previous Ork war,” he added pointing to Cynar.
“A Lioumerean leader is always dependable indeed,” said Trottel, looking at Guro. “But OrkElves… that traitorous Faux commanded the OrkElves,” he added with much disgust.
“My Lord, we never knew what Faux’s dealings with the Orks. And I don’t think that Faux would—” defended Cynar but was cut short.
“That’s enough!” shouted Tristan, regaining control of the conversation. “My great Duke, didn’t the OrkElves fight with their lives on the line. And weren’t they the ones who killed Wertlosvati? Heck, Cynar personally killed that bastard!” he added, proudly pointing at the OrkElf.
“That’s right, he did, didn’t he?” mused Trottel.
Pacing around the spacious strategy room, the old tiger Lioumerean was mumbling to himself. “Fine! Let’s do it! But the plan stays the same. My men and I stay behind our walls, while yours face them on the ground.”
“Perfect!” said Tristan, smiling widely.
* * * * * *
With the news discreetly spread only to the Sonstwelters and Zectians residing near Vlahui city, the preparations were finished but isolated. Nevertheless, the city was prepared as it could be for the coming attack of General Snide and his united Ork tribes.
All of the Sonstwelters near the city were invited for the special quest “Vlahui’s Last Stand” which gave a turn out of over ten-thousand participants. Most of them were Mages and Wizards, but there were some who chose Jobs in the front lines. Hidden Jobs like Pugilists and Bruisers, these were the ones who bathed in blood and glory, hoping to earn favor with the Duke and eventually the King of this Wizarding Kingdom.
On top of the city gates, Tristan, Duke Tritank, Aurora, Bones, Xantana, Chouchou, and Duke Trottel were waiting for the Orks’ arrival. Whereas, Cynar and Guro, together with their respective armies were joined by five hundred Sonstwelters in front of the outer city walls.
With their elite soldiers were scattered, Cynar and his OrkElves were guarding the back gates. Whereas, Guro and her Avendre Mercenaries were right in the front lines. The Sonstwelters and their own private armies were scattered in between the two large Zectian forces.
“Remember, we’ll be closing the gates the entire time,” said Trottel. “So, you and your men are out there by yourselves.”
Casually, Tristan bowed down. “No worries, great Duke, my men are prepared for what’s to come.”
“By the way, what were your Avendre Mercenaries doing the last two days?” asked Trottel. “They only stayed outside the city walls the entire time.”
“I believe they were making hidden earth-traps and excavating ditches. Guro said that they have plenty of experience working with the earth,” replied Tristan. “I’m sure you’ll see their handiwork today.”
“There are no Earth Manipulators with them, right?” inquired Trottel.
Tristan shook his head. “Not to my knowledge.”
“Good. I detest earth magic,” mocked Trottel, his large Lioumerean nose wrinkling. “I take it everything’s already prepared?”
“Of course,” proudly answered Tristan.
“So, what are you still doing in my city?” asked Trottel. “Go and see to your men. Make sure no Ork enters Vlahui.”
“As you command, mighty Duke,” said Tristan. He then gave the signal to Tritank, Aurora, and Bones. Without another word, all four Sonstwelters leaped off the fortified city gates. In complete synchronicity, two wyverns swooped them up as they flew over the gathered Avendre Mercenaries,
On the back of the disguised Truffatore, Tristan and Bones flew over Guro and her Avendre Mercenaries.
Meanwhile, Tritank and Aurora were soaring above Cynar and his OrkElves.
“They’re here!” cried out Tristan from above.
As expected, the desert sands of Vitzytl turned into a sea of green behemoths.
The united Ork tribes surrounded Vlahui city from all four sides. Their main forces aimed at the vulnerable Sonstwelters and their fewer numbers.
Guro and Cynar stayed in their same positions. Unfazed by Snide’s unresponsive strategy.
As the flood of Orks rushed towards them, Cynar’s and Guro’s armies made slight adjustments to aid the Sonstwelters and their private armies.
Yet, before their armies could clash, all of Vlahui’s defenders retreated towards the city’s walls.
Enthralled by the defenders’ retreat, the Orks bellowed their loudest battle cries. Blindly, the Orks rushed on.
However, before the green monsters could even scratch the backs of the retreating defenders, they were pelted with a hail storm of elemental spells. Unceasing, the magical attacks from Vlahui’s walls continued on for ten minutes. This gave the defenders on the ground the chance to regroup and prepare for the Orks next attack.
When the magical spells finally stopped and the dust settled, the fallen Orks scattered on the ground numbered in the thousands. Yet, despite this high death toll, there were, even more rushing towards the city.
Then, without warning, Tritank and his gray wyvern flew around the city. Spewing out the Ponderous Mist, careful not to include the defenders on the ground.
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Covered in the cumbersome haze, the magic attacks blindly pelted at the gray fog. The Orks that managed to come out of the mist were already gravely injured and weakened.
Faced with half dead opponents, Guro’s Mercenaries and Cynar’s OrkElves finished off the injured Orks with ease.
On the back of Truffatore, Tristan observed the battle around the city. “It can’t be this easy.”
“Funny, I was happy because it was,” replied Bones, sitting behind him.
Forthwith, Tristan spotted Snide’s banner. “There!” he said, pointing at it.
“But what about that one? Isn’t that Snide’s flag?” asked Bones, pointing at the opposite direction.
Using his Draconic Vision, Tristan spotted the Supreme Ork General under the first banner. “No, that’s probably just a decoy. He’s over there,” he said again, directing towards the Orks in front of Guro’s Mercenaries.
Bones adamantly shook his head. “No. I used my Buzzard’s Sight and he’s right there,” he argued, pointing at the Orks before Cynar’s army.
Dubious, Tristan looked at the flag Bones was pointing at. At once, he spotted the same face he had seen a few seconds earlier. “What’s going on? Think that’s a clone or something?”
“Was thinking the same thing,” replied Bones. “So? What’s our move? Which Snide do we attack?”
“Let’s have Third attack with Guro,” said Tristan. “Aurora will stick with Cynar and stay on the defensive.”
After sending a whisper to Tritank, updating them with their new plan, both wyverns flew towards Guro and the Avendre Mercenaries.
“You think this one’s the real one?” asked Tritank as their wyverns got closer.
Tristan shrugged. “Not sure, but might as well start with this one.”
Flying over the Avendre Mercenaries, the imminent clash between the Orks and Guro’s forces was drawing closer.
“Want me to attack first?” asked Tritank.
“No, wait until they’re actually fighting,” replied Tristan.
“But I’d also hit our men,” said Tritank.
Tristan shook his head. “They’re not our men. They’re just Mercenaries.”
CLANK CLASH CLANK
Sounds of halberds and swords resonated as the Avendre and the Orks finally connected.
Listening to his brother, Tritank waited for both forces to be completely enthralled before attacking.
Now dependent on his wyvern, Tritank always led with the same move—the Ponderous Mist. Flying in the air, he covered everything below him with the cumbersome fog. Steadily, he was making his way towards Snide’s flag. Yet, before he could reach it, a bolt with the width of half a meter pierced through his wyvern’s right leg.
Alarmed, Tristan used his Draconic Vision. he spotted two wagons carrying massive ballistae. They were well hidden among the Ork formations. Then, five more bolts flew out from the sea of green giants and struck Tritank’s wyvern off the air. Tritank’s silver plated armor blended well with the gray mist as he fell into it and disappeared.
“Well, that’s a surprise,” said Tristan out loud. He scanned the Orks near Snide’s flag and found four more ballistae camouflaged among the Orks. “The bastard’s got more,” pointing towards them.
Uncaring, Tristan watched his younger brother fall into the Ponderous Mist, filled with fighting Mercenaries and Orks.
“Should we go and help?” asked Bones.
Without a word, Tristan only glared at him.
“Just kidding,” nervously said Bones. “He knows how to take care of himself.”
Ignoring his brother’s plight, Tristan ordered Truffatore to target the specially designed ballistae.
Glowing like brilliant rubies, the flames from inside Truffatore’s mouth swelled to a fireball. But before it could even hurl its attack, five bolts which struck down Tritank’s wyvern came at them. Fortunately, unlike the gray wyvern, Truffatore was agile and dodge all of them. The disguised dragon was about to fly closer but was stopped by Tristan. “No, Truff, we can’t risk it. I don’t want you getting hit,” he said, patting its head. “Bones, get the location of those damn contraptions.”
“Nothing to it,” replied Bones, using his Buzzard’s Sight to get the exact map location.
While Bones was doing this, Tristan made a call to Trottel.
“What is it?” asked Trottel, impatient.
“Snide has anti-dragon devices,” replied Tristan. “Do you have a spell that could hit a target over a kilometer from the city?”
“Ha! Even if it’s two, I could still do it,” boasted Trottel. “Just tell me where.”
At once, Bones began dictating the specific coordinates of the carriage ballistae.
“You got that?” asked Tristan.
“Whoa! You seem to forget who you’re talking to,” reprimanded Trottel.
“Apologies, my great Duke, was just overwhelmed with the battle,” quickly said Tristan, letting out an inaudible sigh and glared at the direction of Vlahui City.
“Good. Always know your place,” went on Trottel. “Give me a few minutes.”
“Thanks!” said Tristan, dropping the call. He then turned to Bones. “Think he can do it?”
“Doubtful,” replied Bones. “Remember, that old coot lost to someone like Faux.”
Tristan let out an even deeper sigh. “Let’s just give him a few minutes.”
Exactly five minutes later, a melded spell of Fire and Lightning came hurtling down at one of the wagon ballistae. Both arms of the massive ballista came flying off as the rest of its main body splintered into pieces.
Shortly after, a series of the same melded magic struck down the rest of the hidden wagon ballistae.
“Must’ve used a melded magic with Xantana,” blurted out Bones.
Abruptly, Tristan’s attention was taken from the destroyed ballistae and directed towards the voice of his younger brother.
Tritank was yelling directly below him. “What’s going on? What happened to Guro and her Avendre Mercenaries?” he asked, standing next to his injured gray wyvern, which was still nursing the wound from the anti-dragon bolt.
With Tritank’s wyvern injured, the Ponderous Mist dissipated. The battleground previously rife with Mercenaries and Orks was replaced with an empty field, filled with nothing but discarded weapons. The Mercenaries’ halberds and the Orks’ claymores confusingly scattered on the ground.
“Where are they, Third?” asked Tristan. “You better not—” he stopped himself mid sentence when he saw where the Orks were.
The green beasts were almost near Vlahui’s walls. Discarding their weapons, their movement speed increased by a third.
“What’s going on?” asked the grounded Tritank, confused.
Tristan did not reply, instead, he had Truffatore fly straight for one of Snide’s banners. Decoy or not, he was determined to know the truth.
Truffatore’s mouth blazed like the inferno as it targeted the Orks around the flag.
“Bones, you and Truff take care of them. I’ll handle Snide,” said Tristan.
Equipped with his royal golden armor, Tristan leaped down from over thirty meters. He was hoping to catch the Supreme Ork General off guard with his ruby glaive.
THUD
When he landed on the ground, the Ork standing next to the flag was an ordinary grunt.
Laughing hard, the Ork grunt began talking. “Boangi, natiksarin kanir—” but the grunt was silenced with a single stroke of Tristan’s zweihänder.
After seeing the Ork grunt’s head roll down on the ground, Tristan pieced together the situation. Using his Draconic Vision, he saw a swarm of Orks already on top of the walls. Zooming in further, he spotted Snide near Trottel’s command post.
* * * * * *
From on top of the bastion city, Trottel watched Tritank cover the Avendre Mercenaries and Orks in the Ponderous Mist.
“Ha! How predictable!” exclaimed Trottel, his tail waved as he chuckled. “It’s like he doesn’t hav
e any other move.”
Unresponsive, Xantana and Chouchou continued giving out orders to launch elemental spells at the charging Orks on the ground.
“Hey, you two seem to have forgotten who allowed an Elf and a Lioumerean to get married!”
“Hahahaha,” forcibly laughed Xantana, she then punched Chouchou’s chest.
“Great Duke, forgive us for not catching on,” said Chouchou, bowing down before the old Lioumerean. “Our puny minds can’t possibly keep up with your wit.”
Trottel nodded, combing his whiskers with his paws. “That’s understandable. Even King Kajou can’t sometimes understand my humor. Anyway, concentrate on firing those spells.”
At once, Chouchou and Xantana resumed directing elemental attacks at the advancing Orks.
Without warning, Trottel saw a massive bolt strike down Tritank and his wyvern from the skies.
“Hey! That gray wyvern and the idiot just got shot down,” Trottel said to Xantana and Chouchou. A split second later, he got a call from Tristan. “What is it?” he asked, impatient.
“Snide has anti-dragon devices,” hurriedly came out Tristan’s voice. “Do you have a spell that could hit a target over a kilometer from the city?”
“You heard that?” Trottel said to Chouchou and Xantana, muting the call. “The mighty Tristan’s asking for our help. Chouchou, listen in. You might learn something.”
Posthaste, Chouchou moved closer to Trottel, giving him a respectful bow.
“Ha! Even if it’s two, I could still do it,” boasted Trottel, over the call. “Just tell me where.”
Shortly after, Trottel heard the Sonstwelter named Bones give out rapid coordinates.
“You got that?” asked Tristan.
“Whoa! You seem to forget who you’re talking to,” reprimanded Trottel. He then muted the call and asked Chouchou. “You got the locations, right?”
Chouchou nodded.
“Apologies, my great Duke, was just overwhelmed with the battle,” quickly came Tristan’s voice.
“Good. Always know your place,” went on Trottel. “Give me a few minutes.”
“Thanks!” said Tristan and ended their call.
“Xantana, your Comet Strike could reach over two kilometers, right?”