Cataclysm War | Chapter 74: Thunder of Patriotism (First Draft)

Artur Paendrag flexed his left hand idly atop his horse as the army moved on.

The latest settlement they’d encountered had been more of a pest than the last, but the Humanity Alliance had put them to the sword quickly enough, once they’d breached the rudimentary barricades that had been set up. The campaign was going surprisingly well, in fact, compared to the concerns of Elijah and his other advisors. They’d swept across half the distance to Dawnhaven with only token resistance outside of major settlements, and of those, only the latest one had afforded them any real trouble.

“Casualties?” he asked of Collette from where she rode beside him and Gwendolyn.

“We lost thirty from the Fifth Legion, Artur, but the reserves will cover them. They were all Initiates or Novices at any rate, so the loss won’t impact our objective in the grand scheme.”

Artur nodded at that as his horse trotted forward, riding alongside the main column of the army. “What of the wounded?”

“Around one hundred, but they’re mending quickly,” she answered calmly. “They’ll be battle-ready by the time we reach the target.”

“Are your Menders well-rested?”

“They will be by the time we close the distance,” Collette answered evenly. “According to the scouts, there are only two more major settlements between us and Dawnhaven, and that affords my people plenty of time to recover.”

“Good,” Artur said grimly and roved his eyes over the disciplined, victoriously marching forces of the Humanity Alliance. They could have avoided the settlements, had he desired it, but a few victories before the main contest would keep his Legions in high spirit. He knew well the euphoria of a few quick wins before the main engagement. Morale was more important than avoiding a few patently irrelevant battles.

“How are our supplies?” Artur asked instead, glancing at Elijah, who was riding slightly ahead of them in a guardian posture.

“Well in hand,” his black-bearded second reported gruffly, glancing back. “We’re still comfortably able to readily resupply from the [Aetherium Store] thanks to your funds when needed, and none of our higher ranks have gone through their potions, so we’re fully stocked for the main fight.”

“I didn’t even have a chance to draw my sword,” Gwendolyn noted from Artur’s left, her voice faintly amused. “These rabble are supposed to be System veterans, and yet they died with barely a whimper.”

“They are rabble, Gwen,” Artur rumbled in tacit agreement. “Refugees and interlopers looking to pillage our homeland, nothing more. The rest of the world can do what it wishes, but we’ll reclaim America in the next few decades, once we grow stronger.”

“As you remind me every other day, my love,” Gwendolyn said wryly, and patted her horse’s neck when it snorted in agreement. “Though I will say, the endurance of horses following the Incursion is remarkable. They’re far more intelligent, too.”

Beneath him, Artur’s mount whinnied in agreement, and the Iron Duke chortled. “I think Bucephalus agrees with you.”

They marched onward from there in relative silence, broken only by smalltalk as the force of the Humanity Alliance ate miles under feet. The power of Cultivators was not something to be taken lightly, and they were able to comfortably march the army through the fading day and into the night, while the wounded were tended to on the way. The wagons and carriages they’d brought with them served well enough as mobile treatment, and the Legionnaires that had been injured were already returned to their Cohorts by the time the Sun crested the horizon on the next day.

When at last the army was called for a brief respite, Artur heeled his horse toward the front of the host alongside his wife and lieutenants, pulling it to a halt as they crested a hill overlooking the outskirts of what had once been the city of Champaign, now no more than a destroyed shell of its prior glory. The Iron Duke surveyed the remnants of his once-proud civilization grimly, noting the collapsed buildings and swathes of destruction marking its place in the world.

“What did the scouts say?” he asked without preamble, his eyes narrowed in thought.

“Rough estimates put the population near twenty thousand,” Elijah said gruffly. “Mostly Orcs, with some other subject Fantasies, and a large number of enslaved humans. The entire city seems to have been deserted or, potentially, wiped out. There are signs of civilization, but it’s primitive at best. These ones look savage by all reports.”

Artur nodded and glanced back at his army before turning toward the city again.

“Call the Cavalry,” he said finally, gripping the reins as Bucephalus trotted eagerly beneath him. “This will be good experience for the lower ranks. Have them storm the city swiftly and wipe out the Fantasies. They’ll be feeling the march barely at all, thanks to System enhancement for the mounts. They’ll free the humans as best they can, but focus on the purge.”

Elijah glanced at him when he said it and turned back to the city.

“There’s bound to be collapsed masonry and infrastructure all over that place, Artur,” his second noted grimly. “The horses may well be impeded by it, even with their new enhancements.”

“Use the Mages to soften the landscape up,” Artur said after a moment, grimacing at his own impetuousness. He knew better than to overlook those details. He was growing impatient to reach Michigan. Champaign marked the halfway mark on their march, and with perhaps a week left, his patience was running thin. “Once the Fantasies are in chaos, sweep them and close around the city with the Legions to stop them escaping. We can’t rescue the city from its death, that’s already come and gone, but we can rescue some of its people.”

“How much softening do you want? We might risk collateral—”

“Sacrifices must be made, Elijah,” Artur said with genuine regret. “We’ll kill some of our own, true enough, but they’re dead already if they aren’t rescued. The best we can do is send them to a peaceful end. I can’t afford to ruin our army in this city, no matter the cost of expedience. Dawnhaven must remain our main focus.”

Elijah nodded with a quiet sigh of regret.

“This will upset some of the Legionnaires,” he murmured. “You’ll have to address them afterward.”

“I know,” Artur said grimly. “But this is a war for survival. If we can’t accept collateral damage, we’ve already lost. These unholy invaders will use our own people as shields if we show hesitance, and that will start the swift spiral toward doom. Carry my orders, Elijah. I want the Cavalry ready to ride the moment the mages clear the path.”

“I’ll have my Menders on standby,” Collette said calmly. “We can probably restore anyone that isn’t killed outright.”

“What if they have Elites or Ascendants?” Gwendolyn asked after a moment. “You’re the only one that can handle those easily, husband.”

Artur rumbled at that.

“A fine point. I’ll lead the charge myself, then,” the Iron Duke said decisively, drawing a glance from Elijah. “I can’t be seen to avoid risks, anyway. A General shouldn’t lead from the front, but sometimes a symbol is needed. Marshal the soldiers, and I’ll lead them in personally. Gwen! Oversee the bombardment. I want you to clear as much of the impeding debris as you can. I’ll use my Affinity to handle anything remaining.”

His wife nodded and turned to Elijah.

“Do you have the exact location of their defenses?”

“Ricardo’s scouts are good,” Elijah said with a calm nod, seemingly out of objections now that Artur had made his decision clear. “I can have them guide the bombardment.”

“Make sure they don’t collapse any more buildings,” Artur said sharply. “The last thing we need is more rubble in place of what’s already there.”

More nods followed, and Gwendolyn, Elijah, and Collette heeled away their mounts as Artur patted Bucephalus’ neck. “Easy, old friend,” he growled quietly. “We’ll get plenty of revenge for our world soon enough.”

The dark horse whinnied its agreement, and Artur finally heeled him away, cantering down the incline toward where Elijah was roaring orders to the Army’s Cavalry, and assembling them in good order in Legion ranks. The Army only had a little over 3,500 of them—one Cohort per Legion.

I’ll lead them in a flying wedge through the main thoroughfare, Artur thought to himself as he cantered into position ahead of the assembling Terran force. We’ll sweep through after the bombardment and hit the Fantasy bastards like a wall. I can use my Affinity to clear the path. This will work.

He heeled Bucephalus to a halt as the horse snorted, pawing at the earth eagerly while Artur surveyed the assembling Cavalry. Banners rose as the Legion standards were raised, and Artur felt his chest swell with pride. This, after all the tragedy, was one of the few things that had been for the better: a return to a more brutal, more honorable time—before every criminal and unwanted invader had been able to contend with true heroes using a stolen firearm.

It was a far more savage form of warfare, in some ways, and yet invariably more honest. The System only cared about effort and rewarded talent; there were no gap-closing force multipliers like the modern age had created—only Magic, and that in and of itself was just as subject to effort and talent as anything else.

“Soldiers of the Alliance!” Artur bellowed when the last of the Cavalry settled into position, and he noted the ranks of Mages hurrying up the incline with Gwendolyn. “We have come upon the ruins of Champaign! This City, once a pride of Illinois, has become a cesspit of infection! Fantasies enslave our fellow humans and corrode a monument of our civilization!”

Artur drew his sword as he spoke, holding it low in his right hand, and let his [Titansteel Core] hum in his dantian. “The battle before us is but a prelude to our looming greater victory, but it will be a fitting marker on our campaign to liberate our homeland! Today, we will drive these repugnant animals from this place of once-glorious civilization, and reclaim yet another part of our world from the filth that seeks to steal it for their own ends!”

The Cavalry slammed their fists against their warplate, and Artur wheeled Bucephalus as the horse whinnied and reared to paw at the air.

“I will not deceive you! The bombardment we unleash may claim innocent lives, lives we cannot save, lives we are too late to defend—but that sacrifice comes in the name of God! We will slay the monsters that would turn our own people into their demented slaves, and we will leave them a home they can make their own!”

Another slam of fists to warplate echoed, and Artur raised his blade.

“Sons and Daughters of Humanity, the enemy is before us!” he proclaimed, as the first ripples of magic exploded from atop the hill, and he felt a reactive tingle on his skin beneath his Regalia when the distant explosions and screams echoed from the City. “The foe would see us broken and compliant, reduced to a servile state of subordinate rabble! Today, we will disabuse this colony of malodorous filth of their notions of supremacy! Today, the sword of judgment will descend upon them, as if wielded by Damocles himself!”

More explosions sounded in the distance, and Artur felt his [Titansteel Core] accelerate in his dantian as the bombardment grew more violent.

“All that is required for the triumph of evil, is that we good people do nothing! Today, we will be God’s judgment! Today, we will show these curs the meaning of TERRAN MIGHT!”

A roar met his words, and Artur heeled Bucephalus around.

“Cavalry, with me!” he bellowed in response. “To Victory! For our Blue and Pure World!”

“FOR OUR BLUE AND PURE WORLD!” the Cavalry echoed, and Artur galloped forward, joined by the earth-shaking impetus of three and a half thousand System-enhanced hoofbeats as they crashed against the earth, heralding a charge unseen for over two hundred years as the host at his back stormed toward the corpse of a once-great metropolism in a thunder of patriotism.

The smile on his face, when they did, was euphoric.

Soon, my boy! He thought with manic glee. I’ll be there soon!