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( test replacement scene for v2ch15 )
===Chapter 11 - ???===


Admiral Vintersvend struggled to hang onto the bulwark as his skywhale plummeted through the skies. It would have been easier if he could use both hands, or if his dead familiar wasn't falling towards the ground at a near fifty-degrees tilt.
After seeing Cecylia off near the main command, Kaede left the inner camp for one of the five major dining areas inside this army's tent city. Pascal had no excuse to squeeze her into the meeting today, especially with dozens of commanders already packed into the building. With time on her hands, Kaede decided to check up on Marina instead.


Physical prowess had always been his brother's domain, not his. Furthermore, he also wasn't as young as he used to be...
She felt the gazes of men follow her down the main road between battalion campgrounds. Most of them appeared simply curious: her pseudo-uniform was Weichsen enough, but her hair was clearly not that of a common human. However, some of the ogling stares took on a more perverse shade, sending a repugnant taste up her throat as though she could feel the dirty thoughts they projected upon her in their minds.


''Finally!''
"Hey cutestuff, want to do something fun before the next battle kills us all?" jeered a drunken soldier when she passed too close to a devastated infantry battalion.


His other hand extracted the ''Air Glide Boost'' tablet from a belt pouch, which he promptly activated by pressing it against the gondola deck. He had prepared the runestone as part of his contingencies against 'all possible' emergencies. But never had he expected to actually use it.
"Come on, you'll enjoy it! They don't call me Big Jonathan for nothing!" barked another. "I'll show you how it feels to make that midriff even firmer!" He finished before the entire group began laughing.


...Certainly not today.
Unlike the regimented Weichsel forces, the Lotharin armies had no military police. Lesser nobles and their armigers took turns patrolling to maintain order with varying degrees of discipline. The female-only Knights Hospitallers were stricter in enforcing regulation, but there were too few of them to keep an eye everywhere.


They had been ''winning''! They had forced the Wickers onto the defensive and drove their boarding troops back. They were on the verge of shattering Weichsel's phantom corps and securing air dominance for the remainder of the war.
Kaede could ignore the arrogant, downcast gazes of aristocrats with ease. But the uncouth heckles of these peasants shook her self-esteem in ways that made her feel dirty.


Then, in just the span of a minute, everything had been reversed.
''No wonder why most women walk about in flocks,'' she reflected, desperately wishing for a cloak to cover up her entire body.


The hammer blow had come too quick, too fast. By the time the Admiral realized what had happened, the damage had already been done:
Thankfully, her scurrying feet soon took her to a major assembly area, where several Hospitallers kept watch and harbored zero tolerance for harassment. In fact, they were keeping order over some sort of recruitment event, as lines of soldiers shuffled forward to sign their names at registration tables.


Four heavily armed and armored skywhales -- the pride of the Skagen navy -- sunk in mere moments.  
It didn't make any sense for Kaede: ''Volunteering? Drafting? But they're already soldiers.''


The mighty Drake Outriders had been thrown into disarray, then pressed into a desperate defense like predators pounced upon by packs of angry prey.
"Hey!" shouted one of the young logistics lieutenants at a registration booth in Lotharin. "Mister! You forgot your pay!"


Over a thousand veteran marksmen, runescribes, engineers, and other experienced specialists all found themselves crashing toward their death. Those who managed to stay airborne found little mercy as roaming squads of phantoms cut them to apart.
Standing up from his chair, the officer rushed after the middle-aged soldier who just left his table. He soon caught the trooper by the shoulder and added:


It was a disaster. A calamity he had walked straight into.  
"You forgot your bonus pay for signing up..."


A catastrophe that he had no possible way to overturn.
"Don't need it," the man gruffed with a strong accent.


''The battle is lost.''  
"Then at least leave us your family's contact information. We'll send it to them, and they'll be taken care of should you..."


Faced with the grim situation, Vintersvend had no choice but to admit it. All that remained was to see how many survivors could still be saved from his fatal mistake.
"Should I die in the Forlorn Hope?" he looked back with a tired, expectant smile. "That's what I'm counting on."


"Milord, we have to leave!" shouted his Flag Lieutenant -- a young Wayfarer tasked to be his personal aide. "Once the Wickers see us glide, they'll hit us with overwhelming force!"
A hushing silence rippled outwards from those words, soon halting most of the recruitment center.


To effectively place a spell, even a simple ''Air Glide'', across a monster of such colossal size was no easy feat. Vintersvend doubted any of the other skywhale captains could manage the same. This meant he had just painted a bullseye on his own sinking ship. But at the same time, it offered the only real hope of survival that his men had.
Cold shivers traversed up Kaede's spine as the auto-translation worked its magic. The 'Forlorn Hope' was a Dutch concept that originally meant 'lost troop'. They were essentially volunteer suicide units tasked with extremely low survivability missions, such as the first wave in assaulting a fortress.  


"I am ''NOT'' leaving my men behind to die!" Vintersvend yelled back in fury.
In other words, the hundreds of men lined up in this clearing were waiting for their turn to sign their life away.


He had known most of the Polarlys' crew for at least twenty years. The thought of abandoning them in this critical moment was unthinkable. It would be cowardice beneath the dignity of any man alive.
"But don't you want your family..."


"But Milord...!" the aide cried again, his earnest blue eyes almost begging.
The young lieutenant's voice faded away as he looked into the older man's gaze.


"Sir, Skagen ''cannot'' afford to lose you in this war," came the voice of his First Mate from the communication tube.
Kaede could almost see the hollowed, lifeless sight that reflected off the officer's startled eyes.


As the ''Air Glide'' took hold and returned the flight deck mostly upright, Admiral Winter released the bulwark handle and dug into his pouches for two more tablets. The ''Gustcloak'' spellword was another one of his personal creations, and he reached out with both hands to project wind barriers onto the hangar deck entrances on opposite sides.
"My family are all in Heaven..." the aging soldier uttered. "My wife, my mother, my children... they all died when those demon-worshipers bombarded my town and destroyed my home."


His falling skywhale familiar had become a bunker gliding through air. Its armored mass was now charged with delivering several hundred crew members safely to the ground.
The brief silence that followed was stifling. Nobody could speak a word; nobody except those with similar sentiments as they joined in: "me too."


"No! We're all going back!" the Admiral set down his proverbial foot. "Now both of you shut up and organize the men for defense!"
"All I want is to rejoin them," the soldier added as he re-grasped his voulge from a lower spot on its handle. "And if I kill a few damned heathens before I meet the Holy Father, then all the better."


Vintersvend could already see a squad of phantoms riding towards them from beyond the wind wall. After tapping a rune behind each tablet to hold them in levitation, the Admiral reached into more pockets to pull out handfuls of lightning runes. He hurled these into the gust barrier that bulged outwards from each entrance, where cycling winds trapped them in the hurricane gales.
"Then place your trust in the Holy Father," a serene voice answered.


With one hand tilting the rune tablet toward the attackers, Vintersvend gave it a single tap on the back. The gale barrier then spat out a horde of runestones with ballistic accuracy, and the proximity-triggered electrical bursts called down a lightning volley that blasted the squad apart.
"Lady Estelle..."


But the thunderous barrage also caught people's attention. Spell rays began flying toward the entrance in the dozens. However the explosive volley never made it past the wind. The barrier detonated spells as though solid matter. Elemental and antimagic blasts rapidly weakened the hurricane gales, though they were quickly replenished as the Admiral poured more ether through his specially crafted stones.
Kaede heard the reverberating murmur echo through the crowd. She saw the heads of devout soldiers bowing in reverence. Every eye among hundreds soon fell upon the newcomer -- a lady flanked by Hospitallers, with an azure phoenix perched upon her shoulders.


Vintersvend was soon breathing hard as he strained his magic reserves. No individual archmage could match ether endurance against dozens, hundreds of battlemages and win. He still carried plenty of runestones for combat use, but he had to hold those barriers firm with his own power -- at least long enough to persuade the Wickers to cease their 'worthless' bombardment.
Kaede had alway thought of Ariadne's appearance as 'angelic'; but if so, then Edith-Estellise was nothing less than a goddess.


It took half a minute before they stopped. Then, as the Admiral finally took a slow breath, he saw a single knight phantom charge in the wake of the barrage.
The Saint and Oriflamme stepped across the open ground as though gliding gracefully through tranquil air. Her soft, wavy blond hair grazed just past narrow shoulders as they billowed in the gentle breeze. A benign, Mona Lisa smile permeates the air in serenity. But the most prominent of them all was her tender gaze, promising truth and eternity through alluring irises of lapiz and wisteria.


Another tap of the rune tablet hurled out a dozen more stones, but the phantom vanished in a bolt of his own lightning before the salvo struck. Yet just before striking the wind wall, the attacker rematerialized into physical form once more.
Standing at a height of one-seventy-four (5'8"), Lady Estelle's lean stature stood proud but not imposing. Her battledress contrasted the white fabric over her endowed chest to black-bordered midnight-blue. It extended past her narrow waist belt and down a wide skirt to just above plated knees. The rest of her body remain unarmored, though bands of soft leather embraced her waist, chest, arms, and shoulders, ready to strap on protective steel.


Vintersvend's eyes grew wide with astonishment as he watched the intruder fall into his hangar. The gale barrier had torn his uniform into bloody shreds. If it hadn't been for the man's steel and arcane armor, the cutting winds would have ripped him apart.
It wasn't until later when Kaede discovered that the battledress was a gift from Emperor Geoffroi, hence the design similarities to the Princess' own wardrobe. After all, nuns who took knightly vows weren't supposed to be any richer, and Edith still wore a half-veil draped behind the ears, bearing the white cross on black background of the Hospitallers.


''The sheer audacity of this... this boy!''
"Weep for those whose presence we miss. Embrace our duty with fortitude and faith..."


The Admiral stared with near disbelief as the Knight Phantom crashed hard onto the steel floor and gradually rolled to a stop just five paces away. A dozen gashes had cut the attacker's face into a bloody mess beyond recognition. But Vintersvend estimated that the short redhead who appeared a teen couldn't be older than early twenties at most!
Stopping before the middle-aged soldier, Edith-Estellise spoke in a voice that rang clear as the gospel:


What it bravery? Overconfidence? Outright stupidity? Vintersvend didn't know what compelled the boy to perform such a foolhardy act. But it hardly mattered anymore.
"--But do not bring with you the essence of ruin. You family is waiting for you in eternity. Should you not meet them as the son, the husband, and the father you once were -- a loving heart clear of hatred?"


A handful of his housecarl bodyguards were rushing over from the entrances. The Wicker boy would never be allowed to stand up again.
"Milady," the middle-aged man bowed in respect, only to be supported back up by the saint's own hand.


But as the hateful, blood-covered eyes turned to glare at the Admiral, Vintersvend realized that the kid wasn't finished yet. The redhead tossed one of the two kukris in his hands, hurling out the curved steel like a bladed boomerang.
"Remember," Lady Estelle took his wrinkled hand and clasped it between her gentle fingers. "Our own merciful Savior prayed for his enemies as he completed the True Cross. He forgave those who betrayed and condemned him for teaching humankind the grace of magic. It is his example we aspire to -- our lives laid down to defend all that is Holy. But we shall do so without tainting our souls through wrath and hatred."


However the kid was too badly hurt. His aim was terrible even at so close a range. The kukri merely tore the edge of the Admiral's billowing cloak.
"Then..." a single tear dropped from the corner of his gaze. "Will I be able to see my family again with a clear conscience?"


No... it also grazed his layered wards, and the weapon's discharged ''Catalyst Dispel'' overwhelmed them with a cascading failure.
"When your time has come, yes," the Saint's smile beamed like the gates of Heaven itself. "But do not embrace death too hastily. Perhaps the Holy Father sees even greater joys in your future; and when your live if fulfilled, your soul shall rest with your loved one for an eternity."


With a jerk of his hands, the Admiral summoned runic pebbles into his reach to replenish the wards. But a sharp, slashing pain from his right forearm caused him to drop the stones.
"Yes," the man squeezed his eyes shut. "Thank you, Milady."


"''Armor Screen!''" the bloodied boy spat out, curving the protective bubble around the Admiral and enclosing his space against the steel bulwark.
Looking around the silence crowd of hundreds, perhaps even swelling to thousands, the Saint and Oriflamme addressed them all:


''Why would he...'' Vintersvend wondered in confusion before he saw the re-emerging threat.
"Soldiers of Rhin-Lotharingie, I am proud to stand here before you! There is nothing ahead to fear, not when we uphold the virtues that the Lord has given us all!"


The kukri had bounced off the wall and came back, somehow tripling itself in the process. Then, with another rebound off the translucent bubble, another two copies duplicated into existence.
With a hand grasping the hilt by her waist, Lady Estelle pulls out Sword of Charity. Its pristine blade shined under the late afternoon sun as she raised it to the heavens.


A shallow cut across his shin; a slash grazing his bony shoulder; a hacking stab deep into his back. The whirlwind of steel escalated quickly, and Vintersvend soon tasted iron as blood flowed into his mouth.
"--When the time comes, it shall be my honor to stand beside you, first in line at the river crossings in defense of this land, this nation, and this people that we love above all! Take heart that even should any of us fall, we shall depart for eternity with a life fulfilled! But until then, ''fight''! Not only for victory, but for a better future, a better world!"


He knew he had only moments to think of a counterspell, to figure out which prepared rune to use. But as the sharp outbursts of pain accelerated and multiplied, maintaining focus grew impossible as his consciousness began to scream out.






...




Anne: "nice speech, but now we are ''really late'' for the meeting."
Estelle: "His Grace will just have to forgive me then; it was for a good cause."


Reynald never found out if the Admiral lacked the right prepared spell to deal with the unusual threat or if he simply didn't react fast enough. But within seconds, the swarm of flying steel created by the Bladestorm Kukri -- a 'gift' from the Imperial Mantis Blades weeks ago -- had cut the old man to pieces.


Which left three armed and now outraged Northmen surrounding Reynald.
Marina: "don't get all starry-eyed yet; you should hear what I've got to tell you"
 
(Marina tells Kaede about the officers' behavior)
''Too bad... I won't get to show Gerd my medal for this...''
Kaede: "''Saint Estelle'' is planning on backstabbing the Princess with a coup?"
 
Marina: "Makes you wonder how 'saintly' she really is, doesn't it?"
Lying face-up on the floor, Reynald cough up more blood as he glanced over. Not at the swords about to end his life, but the fading winds that once protected the entrance.
 
''...At least I can tell the Holy Father... that I did my job.''
 
Exhausted enough to sleep for an eternity, he finally allowed himself to close his eyes.
 
But there was no sharp escalation of pain. No ending of consciousness.
 
Instead he heard cries of agony above him, accompanied by an avian screech.
 
...The wail of a gryphon.
 
Reynald opened his eyes once more and there it was -- an armored gryphon of Weichsel standing next to him, with a middle-aged man bearing a Colonel's insignia riding on top.
 
As another spatter of blood flew across the air, the officer who wore a tall, bearskin hat with skulls and crossbones finally glanced down at him.
 
"Rest easy son. You did us proud."
 
Reynald spat out the blood in his mouth at he stared blankly at Colonel von Mackensen, commander of the ''Falcon Force.''
 
"I-I'm not dead yet."
 
 
 
<noinclude>
{| border="1" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" style="margin: 1em 1em 1em 0; background: #f9f9f9; border: 1px #aaaaaa solid; padding: 0.2em; border-collapse: collapse;"
|-
| Back to [[Daybreak:Volume_2_Chapter_14|Chapter 14]]
| Return to [[Daybreak_on_Hyperion|Main Page]]
| Forward to [[Daybreak:Volume_2_Chapter_16|Chapter 16]]
|-
|}
</noinclude>

Revision as of 22:06, 21 June 2016

Chapter 11 - ???

After seeing Cecylia off near the main command, Kaede left the inner camp for one of the five major dining areas inside this army's tent city. Pascal had no excuse to squeeze her into the meeting today, especially with dozens of commanders already packed into the building. With time on her hands, Kaede decided to check up on Marina instead.

She felt the gazes of men follow her down the main road between battalion campgrounds. Most of them appeared simply curious: her pseudo-uniform was Weichsen enough, but her hair was clearly not that of a common human. However, some of the ogling stares took on a more perverse shade, sending a repugnant taste up her throat as though she could feel the dirty thoughts they projected upon her in their minds.

"Hey cutestuff, want to do something fun before the next battle kills us all?" jeered a drunken soldier when she passed too close to a devastated infantry battalion.

"Come on, you'll enjoy it! They don't call me Big Jonathan for nothing!" barked another. "I'll show you how it feels to make that midriff even firmer!" He finished before the entire group began laughing.

Unlike the regimented Weichsel forces, the Lotharin armies had no military police. Lesser nobles and their armigers took turns patrolling to maintain order with varying degrees of discipline. The female-only Knights Hospitallers were stricter in enforcing regulation, but there were too few of them to keep an eye everywhere.

Kaede could ignore the arrogant, downcast gazes of aristocrats with ease. But the uncouth heckles of these peasants shook her self-esteem in ways that made her feel dirty.

No wonder why most women walk about in flocks, she reflected, desperately wishing for a cloak to cover up her entire body.

Thankfully, her scurrying feet soon took her to a major assembly area, where several Hospitallers kept watch and harbored zero tolerance for harassment. In fact, they were keeping order over some sort of recruitment event, as lines of soldiers shuffled forward to sign their names at registration tables.

It didn't make any sense for Kaede: Volunteering? Drafting? But they're already soldiers.

"Hey!" shouted one of the young logistics lieutenants at a registration booth in Lotharin. "Mister! You forgot your pay!"

Standing up from his chair, the officer rushed after the middle-aged soldier who just left his table. He soon caught the trooper by the shoulder and added:

"You forgot your bonus pay for signing up..."

"Don't need it," the man gruffed with a strong accent.

"Then at least leave us your family's contact information. We'll send it to them, and they'll be taken care of should you..."

"Should I die in the Forlorn Hope?" he looked back with a tired, expectant smile. "That's what I'm counting on."

A hushing silence rippled outwards from those words, soon halting most of the recruitment center.

Cold shivers traversed up Kaede's spine as the auto-translation worked its magic. The 'Forlorn Hope' was a Dutch concept that originally meant 'lost troop'. They were essentially volunteer suicide units tasked with extremely low survivability missions, such as the first wave in assaulting a fortress.

In other words, the hundreds of men lined up in this clearing were waiting for their turn to sign their life away.

"But don't you want your family..."

The young lieutenant's voice faded away as he looked into the older man's gaze.

Kaede could almost see the hollowed, lifeless sight that reflected off the officer's startled eyes.

"My family are all in Heaven..." the aging soldier uttered. "My wife, my mother, my children... they all died when those demon-worshipers bombarded my town and destroyed my home."

The brief silence that followed was stifling. Nobody could speak a word; nobody except those with similar sentiments as they joined in: "me too."

"All I want is to rejoin them," the soldier added as he re-grasped his voulge from a lower spot on its handle. "And if I kill a few damned heathens before I meet the Holy Father, then all the better."

"Then place your trust in the Holy Father," a serene voice answered.

"Lady Estelle..."

Kaede heard the reverberating murmur echo through the crowd. She saw the heads of devout soldiers bowing in reverence. Every eye among hundreds soon fell upon the newcomer -- a lady flanked by Hospitallers, with an azure phoenix perched upon her shoulders.

Kaede had alway thought of Ariadne's appearance as 'angelic'; but if so, then Edith-Estellise was nothing less than a goddess.

The Saint and Oriflamme stepped across the open ground as though gliding gracefully through tranquil air. Her soft, wavy blond hair grazed just past narrow shoulders as they billowed in the gentle breeze. A benign, Mona Lisa smile permeates the air in serenity. But the most prominent of them all was her tender gaze, promising truth and eternity through alluring irises of lapiz and wisteria.

Standing at a height of one-seventy-four (5'8"), Lady Estelle's lean stature stood proud but not imposing. Her battledress contrasted the white fabric over her endowed chest to black-bordered midnight-blue. It extended past her narrow waist belt and down a wide skirt to just above plated knees. The rest of her body remain unarmored, though bands of soft leather embraced her waist, chest, arms, and shoulders, ready to strap on protective steel.

It wasn't until later when Kaede discovered that the battledress was a gift from Emperor Geoffroi, hence the design similarities to the Princess' own wardrobe. After all, nuns who took knightly vows weren't supposed to be any richer, and Edith still wore a half-veil draped behind the ears, bearing the white cross on black background of the Hospitallers.

"Weep for those whose presence we miss. Embrace our duty with fortitude and faith..."

Stopping before the middle-aged soldier, Edith-Estellise spoke in a voice that rang clear as the gospel:

"--But do not bring with you the essence of ruin. You family is waiting for you in eternity. Should you not meet them as the son, the husband, and the father you once were -- a loving heart clear of hatred?"

"Milady," the middle-aged man bowed in respect, only to be supported back up by the saint's own hand.

"Remember," Lady Estelle took his wrinkled hand and clasped it between her gentle fingers. "Our own merciful Savior prayed for his enemies as he completed the True Cross. He forgave those who betrayed and condemned him for teaching humankind the grace of magic. It is his example we aspire to -- our lives laid down to defend all that is Holy. But we shall do so without tainting our souls through wrath and hatred."

"Then..." a single tear dropped from the corner of his gaze. "Will I be able to see my family again with a clear conscience?"

"When your time has come, yes," the Saint's smile beamed like the gates of Heaven itself. "But do not embrace death too hastily. Perhaps the Holy Father sees even greater joys in your future; and when your live if fulfilled, your soul shall rest with your loved one for an eternity."

"Yes," the man squeezed his eyes shut. "Thank you, Milady."

Looking around the silence crowd of hundreds, perhaps even swelling to thousands, the Saint and Oriflamme addressed them all:

"Soldiers of Rhin-Lotharingie, I am proud to stand here before you! There is nothing ahead to fear, not when we uphold the virtues that the Lord has given us all!"

With a hand grasping the hilt by her waist, Lady Estelle pulls out Sword of Charity. Its pristine blade shined under the late afternoon sun as she raised it to the heavens.

"--When the time comes, it shall be my honor to stand beside you, first in line at the river crossings in defense of this land, this nation, and this people that we love above all! Take heart that even should any of us fall, we shall depart for eternity with a life fulfilled! But until then, fight! Not only for victory, but for a better future, a better world!"




Anne: "nice speech, but now we are really late for the meeting." Estelle: "His Grace will just have to forgive me then; it was for a good cause."


Marina: "don't get all starry-eyed yet; you should hear what I've got to tell you" (Marina tells Kaede about the officers' behavior) Kaede: "Saint Estelle is planning on backstabbing the Princess with a coup?" Marina: "Makes you wonder how 'saintly' she really is, doesn't it?"

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