Summer, 1329

After an exhausting all-day march that left around a tenth of his force falling out as stragglers from the breakneck pace, Colonel Rher finally reached his designated position behind a fence on the edge of a peach orchard. The brigadier immediately set about deploying his weary troops into battle formation under the watchful eyes of General Fremont.

Rher had just finished aligning his footsore brigade in striking columns of battle when General Gremenal himself rode up. Fremont’s troops were the most seasoned general infantry unit under the Iron Fist's command, and if fatigued they were unbloodied and eager for a fight. Officers and soldiers alike expectantly looked to their army commander for direction. Instead of a speech however, the Tassurian general simply pointed to a clump of human horsemen on a hill in the distance, far behind the protective lines of Auxian infantry.

‘That looks like a human king there. Let’s see if I can kill him!’ With that Gremenal suddenly spurred Trochos on and charged towards the human lines, waving Blood Drinker in long arcs over his head.

After a brief pause, Colonel Fremont raised his bishamon yari and galloped ahead as well, yelling.

‘Now is the moment to strike! Your commander is attacking the humans. Will you follow?’

‘Up men!’ Rher roared in response, unsheathing his ōdachi and pointing towards the masses of humans. “Remember that you fight for your children’s futures! Charge!” With that he took off at a run. Behind him, his eight hundred troops cheered and followed suit. Clearing hills, woods, bushes and grassy fields within minutes, the Tassurian infantry reached and then smashed into the surprised Auxian lines before the humans could react, quickly cutting a bloody swath through them. Strength and energy and effective use of the naginata immediately proved more than a match for the tired and bloodied Auxian forces. Within moments 10,000 Trasgu footmen had punched into the human lines like a spearhead, their tip centered around their brave mounted warrior commander. Gremenal forged on through the opposition like he was charging the seas themselves, every twirling swing of his twin-headed guandao hewing off enemy weapons and appendages, making Blood Drinker live up to its name, while Trochos crushed out a path forward with her hooves. And then suddenly horse and Trasgu had broken through the entirety of the human lines and were in the rear. Gremenal’s cavalry, rough horsemen from Mercia and Daicia, were quickly galloping to support their commander, riding into the ragged hole smashed through the human ranks by the infantry. The Tassurian general barely did more than glance back to acknowledge their reinforcement. Then without further pause Gremenal spurred Trochos towards the Auxian king’s party observing the battle in the distance.

***

“Commander! There’s a massive enemy force flanking us!” Liza exclaimed suddenly as Raptor made another report. Morgan’s scouts had been busy trying to work their way around the right flank of the Tassurian line. They were finally succeeding, despite the rough muddy terrain and stronger than expected opposition-even under heavy pressure, the skirmishers on the flanks stubbornly refused to retreat. Now the pendulum had suddenly shifted. The scouts within earshot immediately halted their advance.

Morgan was beside the Guester in an instant.

“What? Where did Anhake gain reinforcements? His lines are barely holding as it is.” Chomping his cigar, the commander of the elite skirmishers thought for a second.

“How many troops are coming?”

Liza stopped. “ At least ten thousand. Likely more.”

For a second, despite all the fighting going on, it was like the entire unit fell silent.

“Clever, Anhake, clever.” De Trobliand exclaimed, before turned back to drive back a small party of attacking goblins. “They were prepared for this. The force at Hannah’s Field was bait for a trap.”

“Gremenal’s forces were 40-miles ah f-” Morgan barely managed to utter before he turned back towards his line, twirling his sword in the air to halt his unit. “Fall back! Fall back immediately to the farmhouse! Defensive positions! Hold on to your asses, for we’re due for a whupping!”

***

King Tyler Walker had been watching the bloody, inconclusive fighting in front of him, waiting impatiently for a breakthrough, when suddenly there was a loud collective cry and to the king’s horror he saw the left section of his army break apart and thousands of Other Men flood through. A giant of an enemy commander, riding a dark armored horse twirling a massive, bloody two-headed guandao over his head, turned and stared right at the Auxian king, then spurred his horse to charge towards him. Instantly hundreds of Northern horsemen and thousands of enemy footmen followed suit, tearing through his feudal levies to bear down upon the royal party.

Besides the king, Grand Master Burbridge, head bandaged from a blow in the earlier fighting, briefly stared in dismay at the coming attack, before solemnly raising his sword into the air. “Defend your king!” He roared, and rallying the Royal horseguard and some of the military orders immediately led a countercharge straight into the teeth of the breakthrough. The two groups of horsemen slammed into each other- the impact of the collision knocking riders on both sides from their mounts-and a ferocious struggle began in the middle of Hannah’s Field, already slick with blood and littered with the bodies of those who had fallen earlier. The Grand Master himself began dueling the Other Man leader with the two-headed moonblade. Sword and polearm danced as the two slashed, parried, and jabbed.

For a brief period, it almost appeared as though the ferocity of Burbridge’s counterstroke was enough to stymie the invaders. Then the weight of numbers began to tell as the Tassurians enveloped the last of the Auxian knights. At the same time, Grand Master Burbridge was just a little too slow in deflecting the last slash from his opponent. Sensing the chance, the Other Man commander dealt a ferocious uppercut with his guandao, nearly cleaving the head of the leader of the Knights Constantine from jaw to nose. The GrandMaster stood still for the briefest of seconds, before crumpling noiselessly off his horse.

***

Gremenal calmly watched his opponent fall; a brave and valiant opponent. The Tassurian general gestured for some of his troops to take care of the body, then rapidly twirled his twin crescent moonblade over his head to clear off the blood and immediately continued his attack, cleaving his way towards the next Auxian leader looking at him several hundred feet ahead.

***

King Tyler appeared frozen in place as the Tassurian forces killed the GrandMaster and overwhelmed the guards. His Royal mounted guard fought fiercely for their ruler, but nevertheless fell before the power of the Tassurian horsemen.

Then the demonic Other Man commander, celebrating the death of the leader of the Knights Constantine by spraying blood with every twirl of his weapon atop a giant warhorse, turned his attention to King Tyler himself. As the king’s blood turned cold the enemy commander roared and charged towards him.

Seized with panic, King Tyler immediately turned his stallion and fled.

***

Fifteen minutes after Liza's report, Morgan’s Scouts regrouped in a low hill with a copse of trees near the Hannah Farmstead. They had been pushed out from the right flank by the sudden arrival of Tassurian forces behind them, and though the scouts inflicted disproportionate losses on the advancing Other Men and slowed the attack, they were quickly overwhelmed and forced into a headlong retreat. The survivors rallied to this pre-arranged location while Morgan sent messengers riding to the king.

De Trobliand stood chewing khat, watching the regrouped scouts drive off scattered probes on this strongpoint. His repeating crossbow had seen much use in the fighting, and he had gone through more than two thirds of his supply of bolts. The renewed attacks were weak and unfocused, which was concerning. This was not the main axis of the assault.

Liza stood beside him, waiting for Raptor to return to her. Soon enough, the bird of prey landed on the Guester’s outstretched arm with a screech.

The news Liza relayed was expected and even more troublesome.

“The Other Men had changed direction, they’re attacking the flank of our army. Another Tassurian division has come from the left. Our entire army is getting hit from three sides.”

The Normad shook his head as he raised his weapon about. “They’re trying to bag us all.”

Morgan had been watching the fighting nearby when he overheard the news. The commander of the scouts nodded at Liza and De Trobliand.

“Rally the troops, we counterattack the rear of the force in front of us. See how they like these backside attacks.” The veteran commander raised his knife. “We’ll open up a line, and then peel West.”

The Normad was watching the field to the right. “Too late commander.”

Morgan turned to look at what De Trobliand was staring at.

“Oh fuck.”

Thetis, seeing something starting, ordered her squad to prepare for the attack then joined the assembled trio as well.

In the distance, she saw a chaotic mass of humanity, beyond all control or sanity, fleeing towards them in terror. Thousands, if not tens of thousands of Auxians, most weaponless, clearly having enough of the battle. It was like watching a mountain crumble down in front of them all.

“My heavens. Has the army dissolved?” Was all she could utter.

Suddenly from the chaos broke out a group of mounted horsemen, their bright armor and streaming banners clearly denoting leaders of the greatest importance.

“What is King Tyler doing?” De Trobliand frowned as the best-armored figure rode aimlessly in panic across the battlefield, his gold crown flickering in the sun with each rhythmic hoofbeat from his horse. Members of the King's Guard attempted to keep up, but they were more following than protecting their liege. All around, Auxian soldiers stared in shock at the recognition of their ruler seized by terror, and responded by immediately panicking as well, giving up their fights to try to flee the field as well. Wherever the king rode past the Auxian forces began to crumble completely. Everywhere the Other Men began blowing their horns for victory and started their pursuit at the retreating forces.

“He’s lost control of his army.” Thetis shook her head as she watched the sight. “We’re doomed.” The Hero of Motya immediately turned and began packing her things.

Morgan understood as well. He threw his cigar on the ground and commanded the attention of all the scouts.

“The field is lost.” Their commander bellowed. “Break off fighting and regroup at Mayfield.”

With that the legendary Other Man fighter turned and walked off. Taking their cue from their leader, Morgan’s Scouts began to leave, those with orders from Thetis collecting important supplies and weapons, while most of the others simply began disappearing.

“A most unfortunate defeat. I’ll have to evaluate some of my backup options.” The Normad sighed as he placed his repeating crossbow onto his back and picked up his pack.

“Ugh what a waste.” Liza cursed as she followed suit.

Thetis was already ready to leave, raven’s beak in her hands.

“May we meet upon a better field of battle.” She concluded with a respectful nod to the Guester and the Normad and with that turned and disappeared into the grass. Liza and de Trobliand followed soon enough, leaving the damned battle of Hannah’s Field.

***

Gremenal’s other units were now also coming into play. Colonel Pope’s aggressive Northern Tassurians, having worked their way around the hills to the East suddenly charged out of the cornfields and hit the Auxian army from the right, while Carmel’s hard marching Akkiadoans, having gone all the way around the battlefield, hit the humans from the rear. Tassurians troops were everywhere, and the human army was rapidly becoming surrounded.

That set off a chain reaction of panic.

“The Tassurians are behind us!”

That message rippled through the ranks, cracking the morale of the human fighters all over Hannah’s Field.

And then came a worse message.

“The king is fleeing!”

Auxians everywhere turned to see their liege bolting from the field, quickly followed by some of the surviving and scattered knights from the most illustrious military orders, powerful satraps and wealthy lords.

“The battle is lost!”

Cries of panic echoed throughout the human ranks. People lost heart, seeing the symbol of the kingdom take off like a frightened rabbit, seeing the enemy come at them from all sides, seeing that after a hard day of fighting, there was suddenly nowhere safe to retreat.

People began running. First a trickle, then a flood. And then the King’s army shattered like a dam bursting.

***

As his troops fled from the field, Lord Fairfax desperately tried to rally together a defense, wildly swinging his arming sword in the air.

“No retreat! Fight you cowards!”

The Lord of Corioli struck down a retreating soldier running past him.

“All such cowards will suffer the same fate!” He yelled.

In a few minutes with such tactics, Lord Fairfax managed to scrape together a few dozen people; however most of the troops, seeing the small group, simply fled away from both them and the Tassurians. With only minimal success in stemming the rout, the Lord of Corioli led his regrouped troops to the top of a small knoll. “Hold here!”

His little battalion huddled around the satrap, Corioli's banner fluttering defiantly in the wind, but this small retinue was but a stone against a flood of routing troops. It was clearly hopeless; Lord Fairfax saw the Other Men- ignoring his unit isolated upon their hill- run all around his defenders, cutting down fleeing troops both in front and behind him.

Then suddenly the satrap saw something that made his blood run cold: King Tyler with a retinue of other lords, riding wildly past Lord Fairfax’s defenders while fleeing from a pursuing company of Mercian riders, some newly equipped with bloody helmets and lances. After a second's pause, Fairfax gave up on his attempts to hold a force together and rode off to join the royal party. His small force of defenders quickly fell apart, with most continuing to flee though some individuals bravely stood and were slaughtered by the advancing enemy.

***

Viller’s unit counterattacked as the Auxian forces began to pull back-initially in an orderly withdrawal, then in a disordered retreat, and finally as a full-on chaotic rout.
With a cheer, the Tassurians surged forward, cutting down those fleeing, capturing lucky survivors who surrendered quickly enough, and driving all in confusion before them. Still after a brief pursuit, the unit’s efforts faltered and finally stopped. Viller and the others in his unit were temporarily depleted as a fighting force: the First Brigade had lost a fourth of their number, and everyone was bloodied and exhausted, the troops happy and satisfied enough to rest on the great laurels that they had already gained.

***

Dodge slowly regained consciousness to find himself covered in bodies of his fallen comrades. Gingerly he felt his head: there was blood. The Brekshirean quickly felt his helm, and found to his relief that it was bent, but not broken; the Other Man blade had deflected off of his helmet instead of cutting through. Dodge slowly looked around among the piles of bodies piled all around him. He had been extremely lucky.
Slowly the Brekshirean dug his way out of the pile of bodies and accessed the situation.

It was not good.

All around was chaos; the army had broken, everywhere Auxians were fleeing, victorious Other Men were attacking and slaughtering people by the hundreds. Ironically, Dodge himself was not in immediate danger; having temporarily joined the fallen, he had been unconscious while the fighting had passed over him, and he was now behind the front lines, a chaotic no-man’s land of dead, wounded, camp followers, healers, stragglers, prisoners, and looters. Equally lucky, no one was close around him, and the Brekshirean was relieved to see a sheltered path among a small gully leading away from the field.

Seeing the opportunity, Dodge began running, leaping over bodies, carefully avoiding any Other Men patrols he spotted, before diving into the small defile that was evidently filled with sheltering wounded.

Then the lone militiaman continued to run down the gully, trying to get as far away from this cursed slaughter as possible.

No one appeared to care.

***

The Fourth Royal Brigade was tottering under heavy pressure from three sides. When massive Tassurian reinforcements suddenly appeared on the field and caved in the Auxian left flank, Martin had immediately ordered his unit to halt its attack and assume defensive positions while Towser pulled several companies from the right to reinforce the threatened left. Through this method, the unit managed to hold itself together as it slowly withdrew South despite ferocious Other Men attacks.

Martin was not sure how much longer they could hold as he hacked back against the sea of blades thrust towards him when Major Towser reappeared after cutting his way through to his commander, bloody and panting hard.

“The army is breaking apart.” His subordinate stated simply. “We have to flee.”

The colonel was shocked. Towser had always been a stickler for regulations and duty. “But the king!”

The old warrior shook his head, gesturing towards the ornately dressed knight on horseback fleeing in the distance. “The king is doomed. We will be as well if we don’t leave. Now.”

Martin stole a glance over at King Tyler in the distance, rapidly getting overtaken by the Tassurian cavalry, then disappearing into the mass of Other Men horse and footmen.

The enemy was everywhere.

They could not hope to rescue the king.

As Towser said, their liege was a captive, if not dead.

Finding a respite, Martin took a deep breath, then raised his sword over his head and roared out at the top of his voice:

“Retreat!”

***

Rher’s forces were sweeping all opposition before them. Human morale had been broken, and only isolated pockets of resistance remained, all of which were quickly and easily overwhelmed and dispatched with.

The vice was rapidly closing; the colonel could see Pope’s forces approaching in the distance, while the humans between them desperately attempted to flee the envelope. They were about to trap nearly a third of the human army in a cauldron of death.

Then suddenly an Auxian lord and his guard approached from a distance, trying to evade the tightening noose, golden barbute and chestplate shining in the sun. Rher sensed blood. His orders had been to fight his way West with his three regiments. Two would continue with the original objective. The colonel turned to the third regiment marching directly beside him.

‘Come with me!’ The Mercian yelled. ‘We’re bagging ourselves a high lord!’

***

What a disaster, Lord Fairfax thought as he galloped through the battlefield, a half dozen of his household guards protecting him from both the enemy and the rabble that had been his soldiers and allies. The king had disgraced himself. Auxia had disgraced itself. The satrap would need to return to his home base at Averbury Castle and reassess his options. He could regroup, raise a new force, and send letters to any surviving satraps to discuss how to handle the Other Men. Perhaps they were too strong and too brutal to fight. If he could reach some accommodation with the Other Men, then perhaps he could shift his focus to Pometia and take advantage there. After all, the new Lord Colfax would not be of age, and the widowed Lady Colfax might be open for-

“The enemy!” One of his guards yelled.

Lord Fairfax violently reared his mount as suddenly a battalion of Other Men troops suddenly appeared out of nowhere, intercepting his column of fleeing horsemen. Before the satrap and his host were able to respond, the Tassurians were upon them. Several knights immediately went down, man or mount impaled through gaps in their armor by naginatas. The survivors fought back, swinging around, hacking at the figures below with their swords while their horses trampled others below them. The Tassurian numbers were overwhelming however; despite the piles of enemy dead, the knights were quickly taken down one-by-one, dismounted by attacks or pulled off their horses. Lord Fairfax circled his deister again and again, parrying naginata blades and cutting off errant limbs trying to find a way out, but enemies were everywhere. Then a blade went through a gap in the armor between his horse’s neck and with a shudder, the lord’s mount collapsed.

And Lord Fairfax, Satrap of Corioli, fell straight into the jaws of dozens of awaiting naginata blades.

***

Anhake calmly watched the Auxian Army crumble like an unstable cliff that had been given one hard kick. Tens of thousands of humans fled southward in terror, trying to escape the snare that Anhake had created and Gremenal was now rapidly closing. Those who stumbled were trampled to death. Those too close to the front lines were hemmed in and slaughtered like sheep in a pen. In the distance Gremenal was visible atop Trochos in the thick of things like he was an avatar of war, Blood Drinker swinging in the air and spraying blood every time it descended.

The battle had turned into a massacre.

***

Finally as the sun began to descend over the field, the fighting mercifully ended as the last of the enemy died, surrendered, or scattered.

The Battle of Hannah’s Field was over.

Under the sun’s dying glow, General Anhake rode Lurin through the center of the blood-soaked battlefield where so many on both sides had fallen under his orders. The ground was carpeted with bodies up to ten deep, the grasses and soil stained red and green with gore. Though his stallion moved with finesse, purposefully avoiding the bodies, it proved impossible to maneuver cleanly around the rivers of blood, and the horse’s hooves were quickly stained.

Eventually Anhake came across General Ewerme, standing at the low hill in the apex of his lines, where the Tassurian First Brigade was said to have repulsed 14 Auxian attacks. The commander of the left wing warily smiled as he saluted his commanding officer, which Anhake returned.

‘Your men did well.’ The Tassurian commander stated.

‘They did their duty.’ Came his subordinate’s reply, before a clenched fist shot into the air. ‘Glory to Tassure! Glory to General Anhake!’

‘Glory to Tassure, Ewerme.’

All around the two generals, battered and bloody but victorious troops cheered.

Two miles down the battlefield, Anhake came across General Gremenal, standing in front of Hannah’s Farm, burning in the twilight. The commander of the right wing also saluted, before pointing to a bloody figure on the ground, half buried under a horse collapsed atop it.

Anhake rode up to see King Tyler, crown askew on his head, staring blankly up at the sky from the open visor of his armet. An ugly blade wound sprouted from under the mail collar at his neck.

‘The human king is dead, Anhake.’ Gremenal stated matter-of-factly.

Anhake frowned. ‘He was just a child.’

‘That he was. Perhaps that was lucky for us.’

‘Perhaps, Gremenal. Perhaps it shows the desperation of the humans.’

Gremenal waved that away. ‘Eh, you know I try to avoid political talk. But glory to you, Anhake. This battle will go down in song and be remembered for centuries.’

‘Glory to your men. And Glory to Tassure, Gremenal.’ Anhake corrected as his subordinate lit a cigarillo.

‘Yah that too.’

Anhake chuckled at that comment.

‘Any other enemy losses of note you have found, Gremenal?’

‘We’re still counting, but we also found the bodies of two satraps and captured one. Four Grand Masters of military orders are dead.’ Gremenal casually waved his arm in an arc across Hannah’s Field. ‘Enemy losses are heavy. Perhaps a full third of the human king’s forces remain here, dead or wounded. Tens of thousands more prisoners. Only a few units left the field intact, most in complete disorder. I don’t think we’ll see many of them again.’

‘Let us hope so, my right arm.’

Gremenal took a big puff. ‘If I’m your right arm, then I certainly hope to get to swing some more before this is over. Be a shame if this war has ended so soon.’

‘I believe it will. Nalbin is large, and we may still have a way to go before this is over.’

Gremenal laughed. ‘Always so dour. Celebrate your victory, commander. And let’s keep dealing blows until Auxia begs for mercy.’

***

Anhake continued across the field. It remained busy as nightfall began to fall; columns of troops were still marching to new positions, dead were being looted and stacked, wounded were being tended to and loaded into wagons, sullen and listless prisoners were being rounded up and prodded to the prison encampments. Everywhere he rode however, his troops noticed their commander, and cheered wildly for him.

‘General! Victor! Conqueror!’

The commanding general politely acknowledged his troops. They were ecstatic at the outcome, and they deserved some honor.

Anhake was less certain. He had won the battle. The road to the Auxian capital of Satrium was open, and with it possibly control of all Auxia. It was the greatest victory the Trasgu had ever won, far greater than anything even Orander the Great himself had accomplished.

You are the greatest general in all of Nalbin, an elated voice called from the back of his head. Anhake brushed those thoughts away. There was no time for pride in a struggle between great peoples of whom only one could win. The Battle of Hannah’s Field was a great victory, but was it decisive? Though his forces had slaughtered the Auxian leadership, inflicted many times the casualties that they had suffered, and destroyed all opposition before them, they had also suffered heavy losses, especially in the light infantry that were needed for pursuit, and whom were exhausted by the engagement. Many of the enemy had escaped, and they may become more experienced and dangerous if left unchecked. There would need to be a pause to collect the dead, tend the wounded, corral the prisoners and regroup and reorganize. The seasons were changing, timetables were slipping, and every day that victory was not declared was victory getting out of reach.

After riding Lurin into fresh grass to wipe off the blood on her hooves, Anhake rode back towards camp with its victory celebrations starting, pondering the next steps toward the human capital.

---

Conan the Adventurer - Opening Theme

Courtesty of  TheDinosaurMann!

Original: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/58151836/