"Blanc!" Celine yelled, realizing what had happened behind her, but unable to do anything as the enemies in front of her made it impossible to do so.
"Agh," Blanc groaned as he kneeled beside her, trying to remove the sword that pierced his shoulder from one side and left the other, through his back.
"Young Lord," ran Ponca to his side, after noticing him on the ground, "this looks bad, how are you feeling?"
"'Tis but a scratch," Blanc sighed. "But I can't get the fucking sword out. It's stuck."
"Ponca," spoke Celine, "help him!"
"I will do my best, My Lady," Ponca replied to her, before crouching near Blanc, "All our soldiers arrived. These are not a threat any longer," he said, pointing towards the enemies they were fighting against.
"That's good," Blanc nodded, "we need to hurry and catch the rest up. After we're done here, tell your men to pick up as many arrows as possible."
"Understood," Ponca nodded, getting back on his feet, "Now come on, let me get that out for you."
Ponca grabbed the hilt of the curved sword, and his right foot stood on Blanc's left shoulder, waiting for confirmation.
And with a nod from Blanc, who was biting down on a stick he picked from the ground, he pulled the sword in a swift motion, freeing Blanc's shoulder.
This newfound freedom of his came with pain he had never felt before. As he felt the hot steel leave his body, he began biting so hard on the stick that by the end of it, the stick broke, releasing the grunt it held back until now.
"My love," said Celine, now free of enemies. "Why?"
"What? It would have killed you," replied Blanc, hissing through the pain.
She knew he was speaking the truth, but the guilt she felt did not give up.
So, she chose to let go of her pride instead.
"Come on, let me help you," she said, pulling Blanc to his feet, "and thank you… for saving me."
"I would have done it even if it killed me," he offered her a smile.
"I did not ask for that," she added.
"I know," Blanc began, "I would have done it all the same."
These were the moments were Celine found herself conflicted. Blanc was the contradiction to everything she had been taught in the past.
She was taught to survive.
To marry whoever it was decided for her and survive her husband's actions, whatever pain that brought her, be it childbirth or being treated poorly.
Yet this man treated her nicely, listened to her, and did not use her.
He actually loved her, or at least cared deeply for her. How could that be? She asked herself many times in these last few days since they got engaged.
The engagement was political, yes. Yet she felt as if it were the best thing that had happened to her. The man told her everything.
He was honest, he was curious, and he even jumped in front of a sword for her. One that would have most likely killed her.
And here he was, telling her he would have done the same thing even if it was his heart that got pierced instead of his shoulder.
Why? She did not understand it. Was it all a farce somehow? A manipulation tactic, maybe? But why would someone risk their life for that? Die for her? Who would have done that?
Her father would have tossed her aside for the good of the Blood or his survival.
No… she knew what it was. She knew it was simpler than what she made it out to be.
That was how Blanc was. Her heart told her that many times over these last few days. And so did her body.
She did not deny the fact that this was not merely an attraction or something one in a political marriage would do.
Such words as 'dear', 'my love' left her tongue so easily that she did not even realize she said them herself. She was falling in love, and she did not mind it.
Her pride was a weapon she knew she did not have to use against him.
"You will not have the strength to use your bow, Blanc," Celine concluded, seeing his wound, "at least for this fight that is."
"No matter, I can still speak and use a sword. Good enough, right?" he asked her.
"Yes, I think so. You are an impressive commander," she giggled.
He sighed, looking into the distance where the Iron Line was finally visible, fighting the main army of Blood Denegis, and the second part of their plan, "consider it a courtesy of all the books I've read on past military campaigns. It's not my talent."
"Quite humble," she began, "but let others decide that for you. Now come on, we have men to slay."
"Are your men ready, Ponca?" asked Blanc.
"Yes, we have enough arrows for the lot of them," replied Ponca, looking in the distance at the fight unfolding.
"Good," Blanc began, "we move as before. Keeping our distance and not stopping until they are all dead."
"As you command!" saluted Ponca and a few other Wardens who were near them.
The fight near the entrance of the forest began an hour earlier, as Blanc and the rest were following the back line of the enemy army.
From the beginning, the fight appeared one-sided on Elion's side. As the difference in numbers between the vanguard of the Iron Line and his army was not that large.
He had a standing army of forty-three thousand, with two extra thousand creeping in from behind.
Such a small difference was instantly nullified by Elion's prowess as a military strategist and monster of a fighter.
And this was not the only advantage his side had. For there were two more that would ensure their victory this time. His wives. Another two powerhouses of Blood Denegis.
The Marks the three of them had, and which offered most of their might, were unknown to most, and such, nobody could have prepared themselves for their presence on the battlefield.
And in just an hour after the start of the fight, the military strategies of Elion, the prowess of Mera and Auren, the talent of Valar, and the unyielding loyalty of the Warden commanders and soldiers, reduced the fight to a retreating battle for the enemy.
As at least seventy thousand lay dead before their feet, and watering the earth of the Golden Forest.
"My dear," came Mera near Elion, speaking.
"Mera dear, what is it? Are you wounded?" he asked, worried, as she appeared in pain.
"Nothing of the sort, no," she replied, sending a wave towards a dozen enemy soldiers, making their bodies useless as they fell to the ground, already dead.
"Then what troubles you?" Elion asked.
"Don't you find it too simple? The way the soldiers act. It feels… weird. Where are their commanders? This army feels like a snake without its head, wriggling around until it bleeds out," she thought.
"Now that you mention it," started Elion, "Such carnage could not have been possible if they had proper leadership to convey orders and keep the lines intact. Are they deserters, maybe?"
"Perhaps. I would suggest capturing as many as possible and questioning them all. Maybe we will find something," she suggested.
"I have to agree with my sister on this," said Auren, arriving near them with her spear in hand, before sending it flying and impaling three people at once into the trunk of a tree. "They are too weak. And not in a good way. The kind that makes you think this is a distraction."
"But it can't be a distraction. We had our people confirm the location of the main army. The Iron Line is a few days away," said Elion, as he walked leisurely, lost in thought, before coming to agree with his wives, "very well. Capture as many as you can. Enough killing from us."
And with a nod from both of them, they took off running in different directions.
"Ponca, tell your men to be careful who they shoot. The enemy lines grow thinner, and we do not want to hit our own," ordered Blanc, seeing the battlefield.
"As you command!" nodded Ponca before giving orders above him.
Blanc stood watch from a short distance away, using a dead tree as a seat, since his exhaustion over two days awake started showing. That or the quantity of blood he kept losing.
Celine was a few feet away, nocking arrow after arrow. She kept such a close distance so that she could keep an eye on Blanc at all times and ensure his safety.
But safety did not matter anymore, their victory was all but assured as minute after minute more enemies fell to the might of Blood Denegis and its Wardens.
"You are wounded," said a voice near him.
As he turned around to see who it was, he saw Elion standing over him.
But he was not the only one who felt his presence near Blanc. As Celine also did.
She spun and was about to release an arrow upon Elion, when she realised who she was about to hit, so she held back.
"Lord Elion, apologies," Celine bowed deeply for her mistake.
"Father?" Blanc asked, shocked by the scene in front of him.
"It was my mistake, Celine. Thank you for keeping my wounded son safe." Elion offered her a smile, "And call me Elion."
"Of course I would. He protected me. If he hadn't, I would have surely been dead or heavily wounded," she explained.
"Is that what happened?" asked Elion, as he sat near Blanc, "either way, you are both alive, and that is what matters. We will talk about the details later."
"What brings you here, Father?" Blanc asked.
Elion shrugged, "To see how things were going on your side."
"They went well, as well as they could. Except for this hole in my shoulder, but I will be fine." Blanc nodded.
Elion laughed, hearing his son, "Well then, let me congratulate you on your first victory."
"Victory? But we are still fighting." Blanc replied.
"The real fight is over, Blanc. Our presence is not needed anymore. Orders have been given, so we can return home."
"I agree with Elion, my love. You are wounded and you need rest," said Celine.
"Is it really fine to go?" asked Blanc, moving his eyes from Elion to Celine and back.
"Yes, my son. You did wonderfully. Now, it's time to rest," replied Elion, offering him a warm smile that told Blanc it was over. For now.