//------------------------------// // Seas Would Rise When I Gave the Word // Story: Viva la Vida // by Tekkonair //------------------------------// Age of Rebirth The King growled under his breath as he rooted through the berry bush. “Reduced to foraging for my own food,” he grumbled. “King Juras Bastillion, second of his name, scrounging berries in a forest,” he continued to mutter, “living off vegetable broth and stream water. At least it is clean.” He winced as a vicious thorn sliced into his foreleg. “Knew I should have at least brought my gauntlets.” He sighed as he inspected the wound. It wasn’t deep, but it still bled, meaning there was a chance of infection. Grumbling once more, he tore a strip of fabric from the hem of his cloak and tied it around the cut. “For the days that I still held my power…” Age of Benevolence “My lord! The enemy are coming!” A pegasus messenger called from the front of King Juras' tent. The king nodded once, turning to face the pegasus. “Give this order to the Captain of Artillery; tell him to load all weapons and hold fire until I give the signal.” King Juras ordered, levitating his sword and scabbard to his side as his armourer passed him his helmet, which he swiftly donned. He strode out of the tent as the messenger pegasus flew off to the artillery camp, flying low to avoid being spotted by enemy archers. “Hold fast soldiers!” He bellowed, cantering towards the front barricades. “We will show these dogs what real ponies are made of!” The camp cheered as he ran, a group of eight knights joining him. The Granite Shields, a brotherhood of the best knights the kingdom had to offer, sworn to dedicate their lives to defending the monarch of the Kingdom of Whitecliff. “Make way for the king!” Bellowed the front most of the eight, soldiers parting to allow the king and his guard through. “Hail Juras!” “Long live the king!” “For Whitefall!” The soldiers chanted and cheered as they got to their positions, the king himself mounting the step behind the defensive line, gazing out over the flat, open ground between them and the encroaching enemy horde. “Stand your ground soldiers!” He bellowed. “Give your thoughts to your families. Your friends. Those unable to defend themselves. Those that may yet sleep soundly if we, nay, when we win this day! The enemy approaches, and the kingdom looks to us to halt them. Shall we abandon our people? No, we shall not! For every single one of you is the equal of five of them! They are saplings in the wake of our storm!” He gestured to the hostile army. “They fight to claim an unfamiliar land, in a war they were forced to fight! But you, every one of you is here because you chose to be! We fight for our homes, our families, and our very lives! And we shall not sit idle in the face of those that wish to take these things from us! For Whitefall!” He levitated his ancestral sword into the air, the sun gleaming off it. “For Whitefall!” The thunderous reply of his soldiers brought a smile to Juras’ lips. He looked to the side as the pegasus messenger returned. The haggard mare cleared her throat. “My liege, the Captain of Artillery is awaiting your command,” she reported. Juras nodded. “You have done well messenger. Rest now, we will need the pegasi before this day is done.” He ordered with a kind smile, turning his attention back to the approaching enemy. The pegasus mare trotted off, resting her wings for the battle to come. “They are nearly within range my king.” Reported an earth pony archer. Peering out across the battlefield, Juras snorted as he saw the shield wall approaching his lines, the formation all but impervious to archers. “Let me know exactly when.” Juras responded, golden aura surrounding his horn as he charged a spell. “In range!” Shouted an archer from further down the line. “Archers hold!” Ordered Juras, before releasing the spell. The gold light fired into the air before detonating in a burst of light, almost matching the morning sun. A distant ‘Fire!’ Came from the artillery camp, before the air was filled with the deafening boom of cannon fire and the creaking of wood. Seconds later, ground and ponies were thrown into the air as steel balls and boulders found their mark in the enemy ranks, reaping a deadly toll. The ballistae were no less dangerous, each bolt felling at least two ponies, the few enchanted bolts either detonating in blazes of fire or freezing the surrounding air, leaving many ponies rolling on the ground or frozen in place. “Archers fire!” The artillery had done their duty; the enemy shield wall was shattered, leaving them open and vulnerable. The first volley of arrows fell upon the scattered enemy line, felling dozens in the bitter barrage. “Archers reload and hold fire.” The enemy line swiftly rallied from the punishing onslaught, the shield wall reforming, patchy in places but still enough to weather arrows. "My lord, the artillery camp is ready to fire!" Juras glanced over to see the fading green light over the camp and nodded, firing another gold light into the air. The second barrage was as devastating as the first, but it barely robbed the enemy forces of any momentum, and they kept coming, leaping over or simply trampling their fallen comrades. "Archers fire!" The archers fired their second volley, reaping a heavy toll on the hasty enemy vanguard, picking off the front-runners with ease and forcing them to slow and reform their shield wall. The damage was now showing, the shield wall ragged and flimsy. “Pegasi, to the skies!” Shouted Juras. The sky rapidly became full of armoured pegasi, equipped with foreleg-mounted crossbows and wing-blades, swooping ahead of the defensive line to rain death upon the foe. Scattered amongst the pegasi were the marksponies, pegasi warriors armed with powerful compound bows and an array of enchanted arrows instead of the usual crossbow. They coordinated the battle in the skies, guiding the other pegasi onto vulnerable targets. Juras’ horn lit up again, this time sending a purple bolt into the skies. The moment it detonated, the forests on the sides of the enemy were filled with blasts, musket shot shredding the flanks of the foe. Seconds later, lightly armoured earth pony soldiers, led by more heavily armed knights, charged from the same forests. “Knights, to me!” Commanded Juras, galloping towards the front line. “Captain, you have command!” He shouted to the captain of the archers. The captain saluted him and began bellowing orders. Juras grinned as he looked over the ranks of knights ready to meet the enemy charge. Armoured in heavy armour and kite shields, and armed with lances and heavy swords, they were some of the best soldiers the kingdom had to offer. “Knights, now we take the fight to them! For Whitefall!” Juras commanded. "For Whitefall!" “Charge!” He bellowed, drawing his own sword with his magic and galloping out onto the plains, flanked by the Granite Shields. His knights roared their battle cries as they ran, heads low to the ground and shields ready, lances tipped with deadly spikes. The enemy shouted in return, picking up speed to counter Juras’ charge. Juras laughed and grinned, as the two lines drew closer and closer… The exiled king shook himself from his memories, glancing around as if confirming his true location. “For the days I fought the good fight…” he muttered, disheartened. When will it end, this exile? Will I ever be able to show my face in Whitefall again? Is this what I am to be until my heart gives out?