Singod, the Capital City
The crown jewel of Abaddon's empire, Singod, was burning. A fire was sweeping all through the south side of the city, and the screams of the dying and wounded rose up high in the air. The steady sound of horse hooves rang in the air as Krengel warriors darted here and there, taking everything that wasn't pinned down, and killing all those who resisted.
Women were crying in the streets, some bloody and broken from rape and beatings. Many children had been captured by the Krengels as they moved through the city, and now it seemed only a matter of time before they finished off the last of the resistance in the city, and razed it fully to the ground.
"So, its come to this?" asked a bloody man, garbed in a uniform of the city militia, standing tired and broken in the last bastion of the militia, Abaddon's palace.
A young boy, no older than fifteen, stood nearby while his hands shook with fear as he held his bow. At the older man's voice, the boy let his bow clatter to the floor, and began to cry for mercy. The captain of the desperate gang ignored the outburst, and merely nodded.
"Then all is lost. No help will come for us. What fools decided to defend the north? Why, oh why did we war with the north?" lamented the first man.
"Silence!" screamed the captain, "Those damn barbarians would have warred with us eventually. We just struck first. As much good as that has done us..."
"Then what should we do?" muttered the first man.
"A final charge, a final charge for our homes!" feverantly yelled the captain.
"There is nothing left of our homes to fight for. It would be better if we just surrendered, although we'd probably be killed outright anyway," bitterly remarked the first man. The captain laughed, before speaking again.
"Than we charge for death," he said quietly, a sadness in his voice. Those few men who were listening watched carefully for what the captains companion would say, each one hoping only for the ordeal to be over, in whatever way it ended.
The second man looked at his captain only for a moment, before simply drawing his sword, and turning towards the burning city, a symphony of screams answering his ears.
"Friends," the man began, his sword pointed towards the city, "This day is lost. Few die well that die in battle; some crying, some calling for wives, sons, daughters and debts left unanswered. Calling for mercy, but never receiving it. We have nothing left to defend, and all fair city falls into barbarian hands. Our captain asks of us to charge, one final time, for death."
The room was silent as the man spoke, a far off look in every man, boy and child's eyes. Those that had dropped their weapons took them up, and steeled themselves as the man continued to talk, hardening their hearts to fear.
"Yet, I would not exchange my place for anyman in Singod! I would not ask for men who sleep now in the East to be here to fight with us, for where would our honor be? We may not survive, but we few men will take up our weapons, and fight one last time for our homes and for honor. These beasts may desire only battle, but they respect honor. And so, this charge will be for death and honor, so that we, the last band of brothers in this fair city, will be remembered! Now charge, for glory!"
A resounding cry rang out from the men gathering the palace, and as one they charged through the doors. A small Krengel force was moving on the palace, and the charging group of men did not stop, but continued to charge towards the larger force, screams upon their lips, and fear leaving their hearts.
*****
The captain of the Krengel force watched in surprise as the Singod militia charged from their defensive position in the palace towards his force. He did not expect the broken men to make any attempt at a final stand.
"Sir? What are these fools doing? Don't they know they'll be killed?" remarked one green levee in the Captains force. The captain, a vertern of the Izanagi war laughed at his troops foolishness before answering.
"You have much to learn about Kgrit, young one. The honor and glory of battle is all that matters to him, and this charge for death and honor is an act of the highest praise. These men are not to be thought of as fools, but as heroes. If this is the mettle of the Singodian people, than I will respect them."
"I see, sir. Than I should aspire to their courage as well? Than should we capture them and keep them alive, Captain?" remarked the same soldier.
"Aspire to their courage, and remember their sacrifice. It would be dishonorable to deny their unspoken cry for combat now, and I would not deny them their fair share of honor. All troops," the captain raised his hands, and flags of the Krengel command fluttered in the wind and smoke of the burning city. As one, the Krengel force raised their bows, and as their captains hands fell, fired into the charging militia.
Felled in the deadly volleys of the Krengel host, the story of Singod bravery spread through the ranks of the Krengel host, and the respect of these men of the south grew. The desire for battle was growing throughout the Krengel host, and soon, the war would climax in an epic clash of battles.
The Krengel host could not wait.
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