Chapter 1 (The Battle of Friedlund)

The horns sounded the retreat as the Prince watched from the hill above. His forces had been successful in yet another battle and the weaker armies of King Alaric were now fleeing before him. Soon all of Friedlund would be his, and with the capture of the province he would be in a position to move on the southern capital of Kiedel itself.
Below him he could see the bodies of hundreds of soldiers, both his own and the enemy. This battle had been costly, but hopefully the war would soon be over and the rest of Rohrmarch his. Fifteen years of warfare were nearly at an end, and finally he would claim what was his by right of birth, the throne of Rohrmarch. Pieter Oden almost laughed as he watched the enemy forces fleeing like rabbits towards the forests to the south. With a wave of his hand he motioned towards the battle field and spurred his horse towards the lower ground.
The Royal Mounted Guards followed him, their purple cloaks flapping in the light breeze as they rode down the hillside towards the battlefield. Once they drew closer the where the fighting had raged the Prince's party could see the true damage the battle had caused. All around them now were the twisted bodies of men, both theirs and the enemy. Over three hundred soldiers now lay dead in the fields of Friedlund and an even larger number were wounded and would be out of the war until they were healed or recovered without the aid of the priests of Kirche. Already Kurt Warkinde's priests were among the men using their powers to close the wounds of those who would recover, and ease the suffering of the dying. The prince could see that there were too few priests and too many wounded though.
The prince rode past these men towards the stream that crossed the field. There at the ford the fighting had been most intense, and Alder the Prince's oldest son had lead the cavalry against the kings main infantry units. Spotting the familiar banner just across the stream the prince rode to greet his son.
"Alder," he called out.
His son turned around and waved to his father, motioning him to come over to where Alder and the other generals where gathered around a small group of prisoners. Riding up the Prince could see that three prisoners had been tied to one of the few remaining trees on this side of the stream.
The prisoners were a motley looking bunch, obviously not members of the nobility. Each was dressed similarly, in the uniform of King Alaric's Infantry. Standing in front of the prisoners was a small group of men, including Prince Alder, General Otto Osternord, and the priest of Kirche, Kurt Warkinde. It was to the priest that the prisoners were talking, treating him more like a lost friend, than their enemies chief religious advisor. The Prince smiled grimly, obviously Kurt's magics was being put to good use.
"Greeting father," said Alder. "It is good that you are here, it seems these prisoners may have information that you might find interested."
Prince Oden dismounted from his horse and walked over the where his generals and the priest were interrogating the prisoners.
"And the King said that we would soon be getting reinforcements," the enemy soldier was saying. "We were supposed to leave from here and go to Edel where we were to combine the armies for a strike on Werthangen."
"What do you think father," ask Alder.
"He could be telling the truth, it sounds just like something Alaric would do moving against a lightly defended province while our main army were attempting to take the rest of Friedlund."
"Or he could be a spy planted to make us think that way," said General Osternord with a frown. "That is something that Alaric has tried before. You remember the battle of Faustgaan three years ago, he planted that noble, Luther Strient, who told us that Alaric was about to attack Rohrgaard. So we moved all our troops into the capital only to have King Alaric turn his forces around and take back Edel. We still haven't recovered from that loss."
"Nonsense," said the Prince. "Our forces have never been better, you saw how they crushed the enemy today. I say we strike against the enemy capital now while our armies are still fresh and his are injured and on the run. With any luck our forces can be camped around the capital before the week is out. Losing Werthangen is not important if we take Nunkappel and the fortress at Keidel. With his capital in our clutches Alaric will have no choice but to surrender and the victory will be ours."
"But my lord what if Alaric and his entire army is in Keidel, instead of Edel, then we would be up against a force equal to our own, and they would have the protection of the walls of the city and the castle itself."
"Hah, how many soldiers can he have left. He lost at least two hundred here today and close to a hundred at the battle last week when we first moved into this province. Even if he combined all his forces in Kiedel we would still out number him by maybe three hundred."
"More if we bring in the troops from Rohrgaard father," spoke up Alder. "If we stripped Rohrgaard of the armies protecting it and bought them south then we would have a force capable of destroying anything Alaric could throw against up. Also we could bring in the artillery from Osternord and use them in the battle."
"It will take time though my lord," said the General as he climbed down back up onto the saddle of his horse. "If we wait for all these troops we will be vulnerable if Alaric decides to move his entire army north, back into Friedlund. I might remind you that Alaric still has over one and a half thousand soldiers left at the very least, while we have but a thousand here and another thousand in the north. If we wait here and Alaric attacks with all his forces we will lose the gains we have made this day. I suggest moving into Edel, just in case Alaric is there, while moving the Rohrgaard army into this province in case Alaric tries to take it back. They could fortify the city and then Alaric would never retake the province."
Prince Oden looked around at his advisors for a minute, then turn to the priest. "And what says you Kurt, have you no words of wisdom to offer us".
"My Prince, I am but a humble servant of Kirche not a skilled warrior like your son or the general here."
"That rubbish Kurt, you have been fighting as long as Otto here, and much longer than either me or my son. Come now what ideas to you have to assist us."
Kurt Warkinde smiled at that, and slowly got to his feet and left the side to the prisoners to stand next to his prince. "I agree with you my lord, if at all possible we must strike against Alaric now, crush his armies before he has a chance to regroup. My sources in the capital say that he has far too few soldiers left to successful defend it and if we strike we may take it quickly before he can muster and train new troops in Kiedel. But we must move quickly if we are to do this. For if we wait the we will fail."
"Then it is decided," the Prince said with a grin. "Alder you will go to Rohrgaard and gather as many soldiers as you can and then come back here to Friedlund. Next you will bring the infantry and Artillery from Osternord south as well in case they are needed. While you are doing this the rest of the army will head south and take Kiedel from that fool Alaric. With any luck the war will be over by winter and we can spend the Eve of the Dead in the Kiedel fortress. Now let us be off before the enemy has time to stop running and start picking up their swords again. Kurt, Otto, you are with me."
With that final remark Pieter Oden leapt into the saddle of his horse and spurred it towards the camp where the rest of the men were based. Otto von Osternord and Kurt Warkinde followed suit, but not before the priest stopped and said a few words to one of the guards standing near this prisoners. The guard nodded and as the trio rode off he pulled out his dagger and slit the throats of the three prisoners. Alder Oden watched the now dead prisoners slowly slide to the ground before he too mounted his horse and rode off towards the camp, his five personal guards in tow. As he rode he could see the army being gathered up by their commanders and being prepared to march south. Men were groaning at the thought of a long march after a hard battle and he hoped his father had the sense to give them some rest before fighting Alaric's army or they would fail because the men would be too tired to hold their weapons. But Alder knew that his father was no fool and he would ensure that his army was ready before attacking Keidel.
As Alder passed the camp the shadows of the coming night drew ever closer and he could almost see the spirits of the dead walking the battle field that he was now riding through. A faint mist also was spreading across the field. Although common enough in Rohrmarch this night it brought a feeling of dread to the young prince and the soldiers in the camp. It was on night like this the legends said that the dead walked the earth and the creatures of shadow crept out from the other world to claim the souls of the living. Alder didn't believe all of the stories, but he still drew his cloak tighter around him as he rode on into the night.

As darkness fell across Cerilia something was stirring. It may not have been a creature of the Shadow world but this monster was even more feared and deadly than a skeleton, or ghost. Price Raesene, known to others as the Gorgon watched the sun slowly dipping towards the western horizon. To the west the Gorgon could see the fires of one of the twin volcanos that stood on either side of Kal-Saitharak, the fortress known as Battlewaite by the Anuireans. As the sun set he watch the fires grow brighter until the reddish light they cast lit up the fortress.
It was said that Kal-Saitharak was never truly in darkness and this night that statement was certainly correct. The western volcano was erupting again with rivers of fire slowly snaking their way down the side of the mountain. The Gorgon noted this and more as he watched from the throne room of his fortress. But where others might be worried he was only concerned that the lava may damage the roads leading away from Kal-Saitharak to the south. He knew that the fires could never damage the fortress, although it might be amusing to watch his subjects burning in the flame. Soon he grew tired of watching the lava and returned to his throne, a massive iron structure crafted to support his eight foot tall stony skinned body. Lowering himself onto the throne he sat and watch his latest generals fighting amongst themselves over who was to have the honour of meeting with him first.
"Pathetic fools the lot of them," he thought. "Still at least this bunch were better than the last lot. I wonder if they will make as amusing sounds when I finally get tired of their petty squabbling and throw them out the window of the throne room."
As he watched the two massive doors leading into the throne room slowly opened and a young woman dressed in a long black robe entered. Clutched in her hands were a large number of scrolls and books. She moved quickly to the Gorgon's throne she knelt before him and prostrated herself on the floor. The Gorgon turned a looked at her with a bored indifference, noting the papers she was clutching in her hands. With a sigh he motioned for her to rise. "It is not that time of year again is it Hand."
"Yes my Prince, the latest figures have been sent in from the outer provinces. All we need is your decisions."
The Gorgon took the scroll from her hands and slowly looked over the long lines of figures written tiny, neat script. "These look rather high this year."
"Yes lord Raesene the Goblins have been bored and a bored Goblin always seems to breed much faster than a busy Goblin."
"So we have a rather large increase in the Goblin and Orog population this year, can we still feed them all."
"No my lord, even with the fishing fleet in Kiergard adding to our resources we can not feed the increasing population in Markazor or even the Crown itself. I would suggest a culling may be called for."
The Gorgon smiled. "Yes it has been some time since we sent the rabble out to fight, perhaps it is now that time again. I must admit that even I have grown bored here in Kal-Saitharak with nothing to do but watch my generals fight each other. I think it is time that they began fighting someone else instead. The only question who shall it be this time."
"Perhaps we should let the generals decide this time Raesene, it would make them appear more important in their eyes and perhaps make them fight all the harder."
"Not too hard though Hand, we are trying to kill off as many troops as possible, not create more problems by taking even more territory. Until we have finished the northern expansion we can not afford to take more worthless land under my banner."
"Of course not my Lord, shall I summon the generals?"
"Very well, tell them to come to the war room, I will meet with them there."
With that the Gorgon rose from his throne and tossed aside the parchment he had been reading before striding out of the chamber towards the lower floors and the massive war room of Kal-Saitharak.
It took almost an hour to round up all the Generals, Lieutenants, and Chieftains that served as the Gorgon's advisory council but eventually they were all seated around the central table in the War Room. The table was in fact a giant replica of Cerilia showing the mountains, deserts, rivers and cities of the continent. It was at this map the Gorgon and his servants were looking.
"I suggest an attack on the Elves of Tuarhievel my Lord." one of the Orog chief was saying. "With a quick strike into the heart of their forests we can all be roasting Elf ears over the fire before winter is on us."
"No, No, I disagree we should attack Mhoried and crush the Anuireans. They can not hope to stand against our combined armies."
The comments of the Goblin chief Jarn the Mighty soon led to a fight between the Orogs and Goblins over which suggestion was the better and shortly after both sides had drawn weapons and a battle had begun.
The Gorgon ignored all of this watching instead his three top advisors sitting together on the far side of the table. All three seemed to be pointing towards the south, far away from either Mhoried or Tuarhievel. As soon as the discussions were complete the Dwarven General Kiras Earthcore picked up a pile of papers and walked with the others to the Gorgon's side.
"I believe that we have come up with a suitable target Lord Raesene." said Kiras pointing on the map to a point south of Kiergard. "The humans there are busy fighting each other at the moment, and if we strike when they are most vulnerable we will soon take control of much of their kingdom."
"I also have a suggest to offer Lord," spoke up Baruk One-Eye the new head of the Elite Guard. "Forge a treaty with the new head of the Chimaeron, or the Iron Hills as it is called now. I sure you will have no difficulty convincing that money grabbing little fool to allow your troops onto his lands. Then when we attack we can move all the way south to this province here, I believe it is called Mhowe and take all of the lands from the Crown to the southern seas."
"Thus we would soon have a fleet at the gates of Anuire itself, good thinking Baruk."
With that the Gorgon had made his decision and rose to his feet. At once the fights still going on between his general ceased as they waited for their master to speak.
"I have made my decision, in a months time we march for Rohrmarch, may all who stand before us perish in fire. Generals you are all to return to your tribes and gather together as many warriors as you can find. I want half of my entire army gathered at the Fellport in by the end of this month."
The Generals quickly gathered up their weapons, shields, and dead comrades and left the war room. After they had gone the Gorgon turned to the Hand of Azari, the most loyal of his servants.
"I want you, Hand to send a message south to the Chimaeron. Invite this fool el-Hadid north to visit us. Offer him what ever you think will make him come, maybe control over all the guilds in my realm. That should be enough to entice him out of his tower. Kiras I want you to gather together a force of loyal soldiers who are to travel to the Iron Hills and be ready for the signal to attack. Make sure you only select the most loyal of your Dwarves. I don't want my army deserting to the enemy like last time."
"Yes great Prince." shouted Kiras and the Hand together before marching out of the War Room together. The Gorgon turned to the last of his advisors still in the room.
"Baruk I have a special job for you."
"Anything my lord."
"Good, I want you to go to Kiergard ahead of the others. I have arranged for you to take command of a new army I have been working on for some time."
"A new army my Lord, what kind of new army."
"You will see," the Gorgon said with a savage grin. "Now go, I have much to think about."
Baruk bowed deeply and spun around, marching out of the room.
With all of his servants now gone the Gorgon sat once more in his massive chair and slowly examined the edge of his mighty sword, Lifender.
"Soon old friend, soon once more you will taste the blood of the petty fools who think they rule these lands. Yes soon, very soon now."