All's Fair in Love and War - Chapt. 11

A dozen horsemen walked over the grassy plains, with a few forests and hills to line the hoirzon far away. Far from their army, and far from that of Variland's, their almost too boring trip through the northern had been one of scouting. There was nothing left to forage through the path the army from the north had taken, having taken what the Nostrians couldn't pick first.

But Maverick among them gazed upon the horizon. He was not eagle-eyed by any means, but his eyes caught signs of movement. The slight heat distorting the horizon? Animals? He couldn't tell, but as he glanced at the other two, he found them looking in the same direction. Past a few seconds, the three halted in place.

It grew closer. Not a singular entity anymore, but rather, multiple as distance shortened. Moment past moment, Maverick and the others stared intenly, but soon enough they came to recognize the silhouettes. People on horses, no less than half a hundred galloping in their direction.

"Any chance it's one of ours?" Asked Maverick.

"Closest one is still too far, and not even a quarter those numbers." Answered the other.

With his palm over his head to shield him from the sun, Maverick narrowed his eyes.

"...Those are dullahans! What's a group that big doing here?!"

"Trying to get rid of us, I bet. Everyone, leg it!"

---

It stopped feeling like a chase. Stalking, as if. They followed, but they would not intercept. Where the Varialndians went, the Nostrians kept close.

They had marched past a hill by a river, ignoring it to instead circle around it. Vandire followed. A suspicious choice, he believed, but even as scouts had been sent to the hill, nothing happened. The great bulk of his army marched on, reaching it to stand atop it, and not too far away, Vandire saw Victoria's army slowing down.

For what they were stopping, he knew not, until he saw them turn formations to face him. Archers at the front, infantry behind, cavalry at the flanks, and more infantry and cavalry in reserve. Little by little, they rearranged.

The question was, for what? If they were going to attack, why wait till they were at the disadvantage like this? Attacking uphill, with a river protecting the defender's flanks. Perhaps they were attempting to sap their morale, taunting them. Maybe they were strong enough that the terrain would not compensate in his favor, and they figured it out at this time.

But there was nothing that wasn't a simple 'perhaps'. Still, something felt off.

"Sire, some scouts have returned." Said an officer beside him.

"Bring them in."

His interest had been caught. No doubt they'd have news if it had been brought to his attention. Turning in place, he waited for the group that approached him, with one of them arriving to him.

"Sire." Saluted Maverick. "We come from the northern reaches. The Varilandians formed hunting parties after us. We just got chased off by a large group of them yesterday. Doesn't look enough for them to blind the army, but it's only a matter of time till they get smarter on where to look."

Vandire pursed his lips, pondering as he turned his head to the army ahead of his. With their formations ready, the archers slowly began advancing, planning to enter range. Further and in the flanks, with Maverick's words in mind, he quickly estimated the numbers of cavalry. For certain, they were fewer, but even if their plan was to carry out a surprise maneuver, Vandire had enough eyes and reserves to counter it. There was hardly anything to block sight for almost a kilometer around, they'd not get caught unprepared. That, however, only made him question whether it really was what they intended.

A dullahan on horse coordinated the archer advance, moving forward at their leisure in cohesion. If his memory didn't fail him, that was the dullahan that always stood by the lilim's side in the last stand-off. A good few bodyguards and officers followed her, but as Vandire scanned the scenery to find where the lilim was, he noticed she was absent. He hurriedly looked in all corners of the enemy army, but she was nowhere to be seen. She was gone, as well as a good number of her forces.

"Crossbowmen, move back." He ordered.

The officer to heard it looked back in confusion. What a waste of a good position, but even as he furrowed his brows, he galloped forward to relay the orders.

In due time, it reached them. Crossbowmen once in position by the front of the hill, ready to let loose at the order, now unloading and withdrawing in haste. Vandire's focus lay on the opposing army, a test he gave them, and for his action, he saw a reaction:

The enemy infantry and cavalry began their advance. It was no bluff like last time, they truly sought an engagement. An engagement with missing forces, missing the power of a lilim, head-on against unfavorable terrain.

"All units, withdraw!" He commanded out loud, galloping along the line for his word to spread. "We are leaving, now!"

"Sire, are you certain?" Caught up the officer.

"They dragged us all out from Makillae! We have to get back before the lilim and those with her do! I want the cavalry covering our retreat, we can't let that army hold us here!"

Wide-eyed, the realization sunk into those who heard his words right before they shouted in turn, relaying his orders to the rest in haste.

---

A mist covered the moonlit cobblestone road of the city. He could hardly see anything past a short distance. Even the sky was obscured, the moon itself a mere blurred light.

There was not a soul outside. Desolate, as if abandoned, without life to be seen from man nor animal, other than Indrick himself walking down that road.

Far ahead, however, he came to spot a light. A warm orange glint amidst the frigid, colorless fog. He apparoched it, growing in clarity as distance shortered, and as he walked ever closer, he spotted it coming from the silhouette of a hunched over man sitting on a bench. A man in full plate, with a rosarius by his neck to be the source of the light.

"...Dirk?" Asked Indrick, arriving to him.

But the man did nothing, remaining still with his head aimed low, helmet obscuring his face.

"You only needed to kill the lilim." Said the man, confirming Indrick's doubt with his voice alone. "Everyone depended on you."

Indrick could say nothing. Much as he tried to get words out, his heart choked his throat, his body refused to move. A deer caught in headlights.

"We all risked our lives to give you that chance." Continued Dirk. "Why did you not take it?"

In Indrick's silence, Dirk raised his head. Though his helmet's visor still remained down, Indrick's eyes widened at what he spotted beneath it by the slits. Morbid details he couldn't unglue his eyes from, seeing underneath the texture of bones. A skull devoid of flesh, looking at him with its void, expressionless sockets.

Then, the warm orange glint waned. It extinguished, to then begin siphoning the light around it. A pitch black glint.

"Traitor."

---

A gasp signalled his rude awakening, jerking upright enough to prop himself by his elbow. Cold sweat had settled in, but as he breathed in and out, he quickly concluded it had only been a nightmare.

There was a light. Something illuminated the room, something strong enough to just reach the walls. An orange hue, a color he had grown to instinctively abhor, and as he took his rosarius almost in reflex, he saw that the light originated from within. What anxiety the nightmare had given him now was replaced in full, suspecting a far stronger infiltration of succubi until his peripheral view caught something in the shadows.

She stood by the end of the room. Cross-armed, leaning against the wall, looking at him, illuminated in part. The eerie silence was almost enough to have his skyrocketing heartbeat be heard, if his heavy breathing did not drown it out.

"It's been a while." She greeted with a faint smirk.

He could not say a thing. Rather, there was nothing for him to say. His eyes stared widened, focused, and though he'd not wish to admit it, terrified to the core. The demigod they had tried to much to kill was in his own room. In the fortress-city of Makillae, no less.

With her smirk not fading in the slightest, she brought herself forward from the wall for a few calm steps towards Indrick. The slight heels of her boots clicked against the otherwise deafeningly silent room, echoing within. Soon enough she was hardly more than arms reach from him.

But what struck him strangest was not what she did, but what she did not. Granted all the reasons in the world to do anything to him, she still did not lift a finger at him. Her presence must've made every other rosarius in Makillae shine just as strong, and yet here she was wasting time instead of ridding herself of him.

She only stared. Those eyes, piercing into his soul with that smile to only make it as unnerving as it would ever get. Though he had just woken up from a nightmare, his heartbeat believed what he had woken up to a far worse one.

"Why aren't you... turning me?" He asked.

However, dread befell him once more, knowing the possibility that the answer would be far worse than the doubt. That she turned aside to the window at her leisure in silence, reaching over to slowly pull the curtains shut, gave him no relief.

"Do you feel you have earned it?" She said. "To turn into a monster, or and incubus... The Order likes to call it a curse, when it's nothing short of a blessing. Do you feel you've earned a blessing?"

In her pause, she took a deep breath.

"Do you remember back then, when I told you what I'd do?"

Though he could not, in a moment he remembered all too well.

"...I will tear your nation apart," she said, a tone ominous, "corrupt all I see in my path, and force you to watch. Then, when Nostrum is mine..." She slowly turned to him. "I will see what to do you with you."

Not long before finishing, she approached Indrick far closer. Almost in reflex he crawled back up to the head of his bed, but the lilim still moved closer, to then lean forward with a hand on her waist at the other reaching for him. Trembling and petrified, he saw her move her finger to the bottom of his chin, gently pushing it up enough for him to face her head on.

"Can you smell the ashes...?"

And then, a cloud of smoke engulfed her. He felt the pressure under his chin go, and with the smoke dissipating, she was nowhere to be seen.

He couldn't do a thing. His muscles refused to act, sitting there in shock at what he had seen, and how vulnerable he only now realized he'd be. However, a far greater terror sank in: Victoria was in Makillae, and most likely not alone. Jumping off his bed, he desperately ran to his closet where his clothes were, along with his armor and weapons on a stand next to it.

---

Desperate steps led out, his boots reaching the cobblestone road with the clanking of his armor stopping with him. He was not the only one, hearing more movements of metal and thuds as a group came forth. Among them, a pendant shone: A paladin, followed by half a dozen soldiers with shield and spear or sword.

"Indrick!" Greeted the raspy voice, that of Sigismund arriving to him with the others. "Dullahans to the west, they're inside the walls."

"How many?"

"Enough to call everyone. Let's go."

"The lilim is here."

Silence befell all present, not even their breaths to be heard. Grim looks took over, quietly shifting glances with each other yet not daring say a word. Sigismund lifted his rosarius to give it a look, though the great glinting only left a frown to contort his face, to then let it go. Rather than speak, still with his grim look he nodded aside westward and moving on. In silent acknowledgment, all ran with him, catching up to the west.

---

Index
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