On the vast meadows that stretched before Godeylet, the army of the county—eight thousand strong—formed their lines. The cavalry strode in the front, led by Captain Marren.
They were outnumbered, but they held their ground, their weapons gleaming, their faces grim but determined.
Across the field, the massive force from Chittera Province spread like a dark tide—barbarians from the southern territories, known for their brutality and their scorched-earth approach to conquest.
At their head rode Dagur the Merciless, the giant of a man whose battle-axe was said to be heavier than most men and stained with the blood of a hundred chieftains.
Beside him rode a figure that seemed out of place among the barbarian horde—Yilar the Nynthrall, slender and pale, dressed in the purple robes of a scholar rather than the furs and leathers of a warrior. His violet eyes, however, held a hunger that matched any barbarian's bloodlust.
"We need to get to that pillar and obtain that item," Yilar said, his voice soft yet somehow cutting through the din of the preparing armies.
Dagur spat on the ground. "How many fucking times have I told you to stop riding beside me?" he growled.
Yilar giggled as he said, "Dagur, stop acting like a pup."
Dagur raised an eyebrow at him. "Hey mongrel, it's better if you shut your mouth."
Yilar sighed as he turned to Dagur, "Dagur, why don't you start being friendly with me? I can help you a lot. After all, we have the same enemy."
Dagur spat on the ground beside him, "No, I will say as many times as you want, we aren't working together, just headed towards the same target."
Yilar said, "Yes indeed. The treasure is inside the castle; if we get our hands on it, then it can be a huge advantage on our side."
Dagur turned to the city, where he could see the castle towers. "What's so great about that that would make my lord so eager?"
Dagur's lord, one of the strongest lords in the Chittera's province. He had sent Dagur, giving him an army of twenty thousand, one-fourth of their main army.
And Dagur was told to be patient with Yilar, though he hated the fact that he had to cooperate with a Nynthrall.
Yilar's thin lips curved into a knowing smile. "You don't understand the power of that pillar, which is inside the pillar. The count's family had built the castle to protect it.
Nobody knows the fact that the pillar is actually a tomb, Dagur—the tomb of the Beast King who ruled these lands centuries ago. Na'rajina was his name, and the power sealed within could demolish a country, perhaps even a continent."
This caught Dagur's attention.
The barbarian chieftain turned to the Nynthrall, scepticism and intrigue battling in his expression.
"Beast King?" he questioned.
Yilar nodded, moving his horse closer. "I believe the Vaemani Stone is with the family of Count Hamen. It's how they've controlled the beasts that lurk beneath their lands. It's why no one has dared to attack this county recklessly for generations."
His eyes gleamed with a fanatical light. "Help me get to the pillar, and I will change the tide of battle in ways you cannot imagine."
Dagur considered this, his massive hand gripping the handle of his axe.
Finally, he nodded. "Very well. My forces will create a diversion. You find your way to this pillar and claim your prize."
He leaned down from his mount, bringing his face close to Yilar's. "But if this is some trick, you lowly mutt, I'll feed your entrails to my hounds while you watch."
Yilar merely smiled, unperturbed by the threat. "When the beasts rise from the pit, focus your men on Hamen. I'm sure the stone will be one him, that is the key. Without it, the beasts will run wild, and in the chaos, I'll make my way to the pillar."
As they spoke, a horn sounded from the walls of Godeylet.
The armies of Count Hamen began to advance, their banners fluttering in the breeze.
The Count's army of eight thousand warriors marched in perfect formation across the expansive meadow, their armour gleaming under the afternoon sun.
Banners of Godeylet County—emerald green with the silver emblem of a beast's claw—fluttered in the wind.
As they approached, they could see the Chitteran forces already positioned in a rigid line that stretched across the horizon, a dark mass of twenty thousand barbarians with Dagur's massive frame visible at the centre.
There were giant men who towered over ten feet, with a muscular frame. The sight of them sent shivers down the spines of the soldiers of the count's army.
The disparity in numbers was stark: eight thousand against twenty thousand.
Seeing that their numbers were way lower, barbarians made fun of them.
From the Chitteran lines came waves of mocking laughter, deep and thunderous from thousands of throats. Bearded warriors banged their axes against their shields, creating a cacophony of intimidation.
"Where is their precious Count?" shouted one of Dagur's lieutenants. "Hiding behind his castle walls?"
"He must have run away seeing the numbers on our side," said one of them, making the laughter continue.
They continued to make such comments, making the soldiers of the county burn with rage. But they just endured as they were waiting.
And their answer came not as words but as a sound—a piercing screech that cut through the battlefield noise like a blade through silk.
All eyes turned skyward as a massive shadow passed over the meadow. They saw a wyvern flying over them. Official source ıs novel⟡fire.net
The wyvern descended in a controlled spiral, its wingspan casting a moving shadow over the Count's forces. Unlike the dragons of legend, this beast had only two powerful hind legs and massive leathery wings tipped with razor-sharp claws. Its serpentine neck ended in a horned head with jaws that could snap a war horse in two.
Atop this magnificent beast sat Count Hamen, his armour now complemented by a flowing cape of deep green. And a sheathed sword at his waist.