* Whistle *
A cold gale swept across the barren prairie, hostility clung on the very weavings of the ether. Two armies faced one another in suffocating silence.
Bone chilling silence.
The field lay calmly still and the wind sparsely blew, every living being prayed to their Gods as their minds raced back to the families they left at home.
War, the element of dread, the only occurrence left to take place.
The sun rose slowly and steadily, once its zenith was reached the battle would commence.
Formations were set, men adjusted their belts, youths clutched to their spears. Even the littlest amongst them, hidden under oversized helms and crushing armor, knew death was watching.
Javelins quivered in the hands of those who held it, the pain of a thousand cuts playing in their frail minds, to them this was surely the end.
The opposing force, a controlled horde of barbarians, looking quite clean but lacking of proper protection, nevertheless they were not to be looked down upon as they were skilled in the act of killing.
Resilient and horrifyingly outnumbering, the quake of their march could crumble a small village.
In front of both armies were two leading horsemen.
One wore a leather armor and held a crude blade adorned with a serrated edge, the other in a chainmail corselet, plumed helmet and double-pleated kilt, strapped to his decorated belt was a sheathed longsword.
A proud Roman legioneer by blood and making.
An attendant stood besides the Roman horseman as customary to his lower status holding the shield of his lord.
Among the Roman line, a boy of sixteen gripped his javelin so tightly, his knuckles paled. Sweat stung his eyes beneath his helmet.
His thoughts raced back to his mother and younger brother back at the village, he was sure they were hopefully praying for his safe return.
Fidgeting in his heavy armour, he heared a loud shout that nearly took his soul prematurely, " Peasants of Vrkyic, end your resistance, lay down your tools and we shall consider sparing your filthy existence " the Roman legioneer announced.
" Lay down our blades, so you could turn our lands to your fields, we your slaves, our wives your whores and our children your beasts of battle. "
" Impossible, the tyrant march of your impotent emperor ends this instance, your defeat would spell the end of last of Constantius foolish conquest " the opposite horseman replied in a thundering voice.
A crescent frown rigged across the Roman's face, " That's enough foul mouthing, I shall tolerate from you, Damnation, by sun and steel, your defiance shall seize " the legioneer roared unsheathing his blade and pointing it towards the barbarian.
A thunderous roar echoed throughout the battle field, dazed at the suddenly blaring of noises the boy tightened his grip on his javelin, a thug hit him from behind.
The signal which compelled his charge, though fear and tension filled his mind, his heart thumped in aspiration whereas his eyes swept through everything in the space of the battle field.
Those eyes were soon locked with those of his first opponent, a male old enough to begot his existence twice, at that moment he saw everything, the pain, the hatred, the hope which hid behind all.
He felt weak, the weight of his armor pressed against him, he raised his weapon but couldn't thrust, was this the end, was this how he was going to die.
His mind ran back to the very day his home town was raided by the Romans and he was taken away captive, taken away from the warm grasp off his mother and brother.
Their memories lingered, their tears claw back to thought, the pain he saw as he got dragged away, all was still fresh in his mind, it was indeed merely just a few days prior.
It was all too similar, he let go of his weapon, the moment he did, the cold taste of metal assaulted his taste, his hands subconsciously touched his neck, it bleed, profusely, this was truly, the end.
Dropping to the will of gravity, the coarse sand brushed against his skin, his helmet fell of its position leaving the boy supine and staring at the bright blue sky, then darkness.
He saw nothing, nothing but darkness.
Not darkness from death, but from the heels of his supposed allies stomping ceaselessly against his face, his hearing blocked by long endless grunts and screams of pain.
Yet he felt nothing, he had to think, think of his family across the sea.
The battlefield was submerged in chaos. Steel shattered steel, every swing sent a head toppling, limbs scattered like branches broken of a tree by the storm.
The earth drank covetously of blood andprojectiles[1] of damnation fell like rain reaping the lives of ally and foe.
Yet the struggle continued.
The leading commanders of both armies clashed with each other fiercely.
" Domineering Aura " the Legioneer bellowed,
" Berserker Immunity " the Commander Blared
They said simultaneously, the name of their respective Flairs[2].
Quakes split the earth as two particular horses clashed with each other, the blades of men stuck, creating another violent quake which shockwave weakened every warrior and soldier nearby.
Those who couldn't recover quickly were swiftly execute before they could.
" Asteria!!! ", the Legioneer bellowed as he ducked under the blade of his adversary, " Ha, is that how you scream for help in the gutters you crawled out from " the barbarian commander scoffed but swallowed his words as arrows rained down on him.
With inhumane prowess he dodged almost all but one which stubbornly got lodged into his shoulder, the barbarian roared and broke the arrow.
" Do you think a trick as cheap as that would bring me down " he said looking at the relatively young Roman who wasn't a year older then twenty eight.
The Roman thrust his blade at the barbarian's throat but the blade was stuck away, " Berserker Immunity Full Impact " the barbarian said leaping at the Roman from his horse.
Monstrously his body amplified mid air, his fist crashed down on the Roman, driving him to the ground.
Laying supine, the Roman felt his skull crack with the pummel which rained down on him, with each punch blood splattered on the forming crater on the ground.
His head turned side by side and he say with his eyes the hopelessness of war, his men met their extremity with each passing moment, it carried on till it stopped.
The pain stopped, he journey to death's door stopped, he looked up, his eyes blurry from tears he shed subconsciously, his adversary stood still, maybe to still.
The blurriness of his eyes cleared up, then he found redemption.
His attendant stood behind the barbarian commander with a sword in the brute's neck, the legioneer grabbing the hilt of the sword pulling himself up while stabbing the blade deeper.
The barbarian dropped when the legioneer stood on his feet, he knelt to his dying adversary, " The Roman Empire would rule, your tribe and this battle is nothing but a flea to our greatness " he whispered.
Swiftly taking the blade out of the man's neck, he sliced the barbarian's head off and stood with a loud shout, " Domineering Aura Amplified ".
A huge pressure descended on every one comrade or enemy, at the fleeting moment, a horn was sounded at a distance, The Legioneer raised his sword proclamation.
" Hold fast soldiers, the cavalry has arrived, we ride to certain victory ", as mystical as magic, his words empowered his soldiers and they fought through the confused falling formation of the barbarians.
At long last victory was theirs…, Or so they thought.
[1] Arrows, spears, javelins.
[2] Flairs or a Flair is the power system of the P.O.W verse and it can be awakened by an individual once in a lifetime, with an exception of a few anomalies. It happens when a being utilizes the forces of mana and magic. Flairs have a ranking of F,E,D,C,B,A,S,SS,SSS,X,XX,XXX.