Highlands of Erimoor - 541 T.E - Late Spring -
I hope that home has been kind to you. I myself miss the golden halls of Anglicion dearly. I miss the smell of roses that permeated the Royal Palace. I miss seeing the smiles of all my old friends in Porcelain Square and of coarse, I miss you most of all, mother. "
From a top of his majestic horse, Bandit, the young knight lead the cavalry into battle against the Sandi-Garians. The line of heavily armored horsemen carrying the flags and colors of Central Ishtaria stampeded directly towards the unsuspecting Colonial flanks, as their attention was mainly focused on the infantry who were battling in the middle of the fields. His speed and momentum only gained as the hooves of at least two hundred horses made every stone in Erimoor quake.
It was already high noon, but the sun was veiled by the collected clouds of the Highlands. Tristan felt the warm drops of moisture clank against his helmet and mail as the drizzle swept the battlefield. Colonial Pikemen, in a last ditch effort to counter the charge, scrambled to the flanks forming the basis for a sloppy phalanx. It was a futile effort at best however. "Men! Lower your lances!"
"Once again, I wish the gods weren't so cruel to have bestowed this fate upon me. The world, and all of written history will forever remember me as Tristan the Betrayer, which would make you the mother of such a monster if he were to be even called such. I am truly a bastard of a son. My apologies. Not for actions which I dare not regret, but for my terribly ill luck."
Crossbow bolts whistled past as they began to stampede closer. Most notably one of the bolts flew by creating a dent in his a shield, while another had killed the man who was riding right beside him along with a few scattered others. The eyes of the Sandi-Garian foot soldiers showed fear and terror. Many of which went into a desperate panic consequently breaking line in order to escape what was to only inevitably come. "Steady!"
"The Church. The Nobility, and all the courts of this realm. They are all of them but swimming in an antiquated current. They do not see, or feel where it will lead them. I simply wish to swim against it."
The two opposing forces meet and chaos ensues as Tristan's heavy cavalry quickly trampled over the broken line of pikemen, and crossbowmen slaying any in the path of their lances. Keeping their momentum as they entered in that sea of flesh and metal they slowly pierced their way towards the rendezvous point. Dropping their lances they than drew their swords for close quartered combat. Cutting their way through the hills and crags of Erimoor they rode towards a series of old ruins that had littered the grounds which was where a majority of the Central infantry were either moving towards, or fighting for at that moment.
Maybe one day we'll see each other again, and we can just put this all behind us. The consistencies of war just don't suit the life I wish for. I want to live peacefully and freely even if it means walking headlong into the jaws of hell!
In a few flash of moments, Tristan had found himself drudging himself out of the mud with the heavy rain now beating against his. Removing his helmet he sees with a heavy heart the fate that has befallen Bandit. The sadly courageous stallion simply sank into the mud as it wheezed and gasped for breath due to a shaftless head of a halberd dislodging itself deep within his neck consequently cutting off much of the air flow to the esophagus. "Bandit!"
In anger Tristan abruptly slew the now disarmed Sandi-Garian who had dared to kill his horse, instead of making the attempt at slaying a true man. Going to the stallion he attempted to pull the bladed head out, but to no avail. Seeing the misery and fear that Bandit harbored within his large black eyes Tristan did what any friend would do in the heat of battle. Slitting the poor creatures throat he let the lifeblood of the animal flow with the rest as he softly whispered into his ears, "I'm sorry my dear friend. We will once again ride together through gates of Stygia. I promise."
Now surrounded and outnumbered he rose his shield up to block the first of many swords to come. Fending off blade and spear alike the battle had been severely one sided even to the point where a pike had actually pierced through his armor. The wound wasn't deep but it had caused him to falter for a second. Parrying a broadsword he kicked it's wielder to the ground following it by locking another opponent's blade with his hilt, while keeping a spearmen busy with his shield. Breaking the lock and stepping back he skillfully skewered a soldier who had charged recklessly towards him and sliced off the leg of another who had done the same. Tristan's ring began to glow white hot, as he fought fluctuating in intensity with each swing of his sword.
Luckily, the rest of those Colonials who still lingered fled just as some of his cavalry unit returned to rescue him. Tristan sheathed Legato into it's scabbard and pushed his rain soaked hair from out of his face with a mixture of dirt and blood running down from off his cheeks. He took a deep breath, and relaxed for the moment. The ring dimmed back to it's seemingly average qualities.
"Tristan, we thought we had lost you back there! I'm glad to see that you are alright", said the knight known as Ser Baerthar. A bit of a pompous high nose, but slightly more tolerable than others of his station Tristan thought.
"For a minute there I had thought I was lost there as well." Tristan sat down on a piece of rubble to help rest his aching muscles. "How is the battle progressing so far?"
"All is well. Most of the Sandi-Garians have all but fled the field . A foothold has almost been established in the ruins, and we've actually caught quite a number of prisoners so the battle is at it's close."
"Excellent, give the orders to start preparing camp for the army. Send the heralds to retrieve a body count, and the war meeting will commence in approximately an hour." Tristan's face became a little discomforted at that thought, "I wonder how the generals in command will think of all this. It was a little bit more chaotic than we had expected, but I believe in battle it is best to embrace such chaos."
"With all due respect m'lord, but I disagree. As knights who have sworn to uphold order what you are saying implies blasphemy against the gods themselves."
Tristan without even looking up, or even giving him much interest says gravely, "Than you are currently speaking to the wrong knight."
"Aye, as you wish m'lord. I shall go off to carry out your orders. We'll meet back at the war meeting."
Looking at the vast battlefield which hosted the bodies of probably about a thousand men he could see the silhouettes of a few scattered figures walking in the distance stepping over the bodies tired and downtrodden, as they search for lost friends. Which made him wonder like he had always wondered after a battle, what was the current condition of his own friends? Had they survived, or have they succumb to the will of the Sad God? Did Claudia and Isaac make it? Without his horse, Tristan had a good thirty minute walk before he reached the ruins where the army will be camping. Hopefully, a familiar face might show up to give him some much needed company as he carefully stepped over the corpses of the fallen while rubbing the mysterious ring that seemed be wrapped around his finger at all times of the day.
This war is wearing on me however. My martial prowess never wavers but all this death takes its toll and only causes me to miss home more. Please send forth a letter in reply to at the least give my mind solace. What has happened to you, mother? Do you shun your only son? Are you alive and well? Until I receive word otherwise I will continue to send letters. Once more and not from the monster, Tristan the Betrayer, but as your once beloved son, 'I miss you with all my heart'"
Sincerely, Tristan Cyril