Chapter 110 – The First Day Ends
The sun dipped low on the horizon, its crimson glow washing over a battlefield littered with corpses, broken spears, and streams of blood soaking into the soil. The stench of iron and sweat hung heavy in the air. The first day of war between Eisenwald and the alliance of three barons was drawing to a close.
Fenrir stood atop a small rise where Eisenwald's banner snapped in the wind. His face was streaked with mud and dried blood, but his eyes remained sharp. From below, the voices of his soldiers rose in ragged cheers. Their hands trembled with exhaustion, their armor dented and filthy—but they still stood.
---
Darius Holt's infantry held their line, though the front rank lay dead or wounded. Shields cracked, spears splintered, yet the formation endured.
Selene Aestra's archers had loosed volley after volley—more than ten great barrages—leaving the ground littered with the corpses of men and horses.
Garrik Stormhoof's cavalry swept the flanks alongside the Crimson Knights, cutting down those who faltered.
Lyra Nightshade's scouts struck like shadows, slaying enemy standard bearers, severing communications, and sowing confusion.
Roland Ironarm's artillery fired only twice before the lines closed, but those shots shattered the enemy's opening charge.
And above all, the Crimson Knights of Kael Morgenstern—just 150 men—had carved through thousands. Kael's black aura had swallowed the enemy's will. They were the storm, and the enemy broke before them.
Despite being outnumbered two to one, Eisenwald had won.
---
Kael approached, his helm cracked, his blade still dripping blood. He dismounted, knelt, and spoke with iron in his voice.
"The right flank is cleared, my lord. They left behind hundreds of corpses and horses."
Darius Holt came next, his body marked with gashes. He leaned heavily on his sword but forced his voice steady.
"One hundred dead in the infantry… but the line holds. They fought like veterans today, my lord."
Selene Aestra bowed, her face caked with dust.
"Arrows are running low. But the enemy broke faster than expected. Many died in panic, not only to our shafts."
Fenrir's gaze swept over them all. His voice was hoarse but unwavering.
"You proved something today. Numbers don't win battles. Discipline and resolve do. Tomorrow they will strike harder. But today—we stand victorious."
Cheers broke across the hill, echoing into the night.
---
Real-Time Troop Report
Fenrir willed the system to life. Cold figures appeared before his eyes, yet each was heavy with meaning.
Eisenwald Army – End of Day One
Starting: 10,500
Losses: ~300
Current strength: 10,200
Morale: Very High
Enemy Alliance – End of Day One
Starting: 15,000
Losses: ~1,500+ (mostly cavalry)
Current strength: 13,500
Morale: Shaken
---
The sky turned purple as dusk deepened. Eisenwald withdrew to their camp. Fires flickered, tents rose, and the groans of the wounded filled the air. Men with bandaged arms sang through their pain, while others sat in silence, staring at the flames.
In the command tent, Fenrir sat at a rough wooden table with a map stretched before him. Around him stood Darius, Selene, Garrik, Lyra, Roland, and Kael—faces gaunt with fatigue but lit by a fire in their eyes.
"Tomorrow," Fenrir said evenly, "they will throw everything at us. Today we held, with only light losses. But they'll adapt. And when they come again… we will break them once more."
Kael dropped to one knee, head bowed. "For you, my lord. For Eisenwald."
Night swallowed the battlefield. In the distance, wolves howled—an omen, a song. The first day belonged to the Crimson Wolf.
---
#wanD48