Ruin

A tall, built human male kneeled on a single knee near the edge of a cliff. As he shifted, his blue plate mail clanked quite loudly. He removed his helm and placed it near his right knee. The lonely figure looked out on the ruined landscape; fire fell from the skies, fissures littered the green pastures before him, steel monsters crushed whole men below their heels, a terrible wind flew from the east, bellowing like a banshee, and a heavy rain drenched the whole of the world before the man. Through his brown, rain soaked bangs, the lone warrior sighed. He drew his broadsword and placed it in the surface of the rock cliff. In the distance he spotted a white light, purer than lightning, yet certainly more fearsome. It seemed as if the universe was tearing at the seams as the light devoured all in its path, obliterating all life present in the whole of the world.

The man in blue rested his head on his chest, just below his shoulders. Though he wanted to sleep, though he was afraid, he couldn't close his eye-lids. It was as if blinking was some voluntary motion, a motion which required much effort. As he prepared to die, a meteor landed just at his back. He was vaulted from the cliff surface, but managed to find a hold at the edge. He found it ironic, even in the face of certain death, he clung on to every last second of life. Finally, the warrior closed his eyes. First he released his index finger, by far the easiest task. Even harder was releasing his middle finger, but he managed. Sweat mingled with the sweet rain as he released his last two fingers. He opened his eyes as the cliff's edge grew smaller and smaller.

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Where did this start? Where did this all begin? Twelve days ago...

Day 1, Morning (8 AM Earth time)

A large regiment stood at attention as a Friedan general delivered a combat address. His second in command stood idly at his side, beaming with pride. His blue plate mail shone brilliantly in the Shalan sun. As the general finished his address, he leaned towards his most trusted officer and whispered into his ear.

"They're green, Danton. I need you to lead them..."

The one named Danton looked visibly shaken up. He tried to hide it from his mentor but found himself stuttering.

"T-these are y-y-your men, sir. I have no right to... to lead them!"

Those who stood closest to the general would raise eyebrows or shift slightly as they heard the back end of Danton's statement to the general. The wise general placed his helm upon his balding head before mounting a brown mare.

"The king has called for an audience with me, the regiment marches on Meed tomorrow morning. You MUST lead them."

As he galloped off into the distance, the general issued words of encouragement.

"I would trust you with my life, Danton. This won't be the last time you hear from me."

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Same day, Morning (10 AM Earth time)

A mountain chieftain sat shirtless in a decorated cave. He stroked the stone walls with his blood stained fingers and drew beautiful pictographs depicting his past exploits. This was his cave, his mountain, and Meed was his kingdom. If he perished, all who succeeded him would know he was the single most gifted warrior all of Tanmaiel had ever seen. As his fingers began to dry, the chieftain dug his finger into a wound on his left thigh. Soon enough, he fit three other fingers in the gruesome wound and continued his writing. A strong, fit looking young
man approached the chieftain who was absorbed by his art.

"The earth rumbles and shakes. The iron men have woken in the south. Their flesh brothers challenge us from the west. We shall wait under the mountain, for she will protect us from the iron men and their flesh brothers. And then we will strike, and She will swallow them whole."

The young man sat down next to his chieftain and observed his gentle strokes and perfect writing. The coming war worried him, but the chieftain had put his mind at ease. The Mountain would protect them, She always had.

Beside Danton's regiment, there was a similar one lead by Jin Feng. Both regiments were filled with inexperienced soldiers, young men, most of which had never seen combat. Jin looked over his shoulder and shook his head before looking ahead again.

"When greedy old men wage war, it's the young who die."

Jin was only in his early thirties, but that made him more than a decade older than most of the people he was leading. That wasn't the only thing that separated him from his brothers in arms. He was clearly a foreigner, his narrow eyes, shorter height, and insistence on wearing a purple tabard displaying his affinity with his god over his country's armor further distanced him from his companions. But looking beyond his skin and outfit, one could see that this man was similar to his men in many more ways. He cared about them, and had a deep respect for the sacrifices they were all willing to make.

"We're going to war, not day care, what do our leaders hope to accomplish by putting it's nation's future on the front lines?"

The silver insignia on his tabard shimmered when light hit it. It was the head of the dragon god Iro.

"Iro, how can I prepare these men for war with but a single day to prepare them?"

Jin had trained men before, but he had months to train his last regiment, not hours. Perhaps he performed so well with his men that they decided to give him a new squad so that he could make another excellent team. But there was no way he could do that with so little time. What could he possibly teach them in a single day?

"Gentlemen, do any of you know what this is?"

He pointed to his tabard, the silver dragon head more specifically. Everyone shook their head or verbally stated they didn't know. He smiled.

"You will know by tomorrow ."

After giving his platoon a respective bow, an attractive woman walked behind him. As she moved further away from him he was able to catch a glimpse of her. From what he could see, she had long, dark hair, and was wearing a soldiers uniform. The battle hardened commander would typically never think about looking at a woman while bowing, but she reminded him of one of his earlier blunders.

"Captain?"

Jin raised his head.

"Right, everyone head to the barracks, I have some reading material to scrap together."

With a nod, the soldiers all headed to their quarters. Jin still wasn't sure if this was a good idea, but there wasn't a hole lot more he could teach them.

Before scuffing off to grab what he needed, he turned to look at Danton in the next field over.

"Guess I'm not the only one struggling."

Sai breathed shallowly as his ship slowly drifted into the modest port. The town was little more than a military logistical base, but it would be better than hearing the ropes and hull of the old caravel creak and groan in protest. While not naturally seasick, even the hardened killer was nauseous from the asymmetric motions the Ghost Lady as it listed drunkenly in even the gentlest waves. He touched a cloth handkerchief to the corner of his lip with an effeminate and aristocratic grace. Kervyn Almanth would have been proud, had he been alive to comment on his imposter.

Sai didn’t have to feign discomfort as the large, rank, and overly hairy captain slapped a heavy hand on him. He suppressed a flash of murderous rage; that shoulder was still a little sore from being dislocated. Sai wrinkled his nose in outrage and made a few fluttering gestures before rubbing his still healing wounds. They would scar, he thought absently. Poison coated weapons always did. Sai snorted at the last blast of fetid air coming from the captain’s mouth. The ship creaked and groaned violently as it docked. Sai finally spoke to the rambling captain as he stooped to pick up his two bags.

“It’s been a pleasure captain.” Sai scampered down the docks after the quick sneering comment. He made his escape onto the streets, walking quickly. The imperious manner and regal sneer drove most common rabble away from him. He scanned for the portmaster or quartermaster for supplies for the 8th. Being a factor’s master agent was convenient for the time being. It would allow him a considerable line of credit and legitimacy. The port was clean and tidy. The porters were moving with economic speed and the merchants were slow in doing business. It was actually a perfect business opportunity, except that Sai only knew the basics.

Sai strode confidently along the wooden docks heading for the large stone building at the end. “Should be it,” he muttered. The building smelled faintly of mold. A slim acne-scarred clerk looked up politely as he entered.

“The door creaks on purpose?”
“Salon… I mean the quartermaster hasn’t fixed it yet…” The man looked down in embarrassment.
“Ah… where is he?” Sai said in a diffident and compassionate voice. He had noticed the clerk’s trembling hand and ink stained fingers and made a few quick assumptions. This man clearly did all the work and was terrorized by his superior.
“He is with legion…” The man voiced the tidbit with quiet anxiety.
“Do not worry, I have the blood of Kings!” On my hands at least… The man murmured out a few directions.

Sai strode out and commandeered an idle horse near the stables. It wouldn’t take more than half an hour if the clerk had been precise in his directions.