Urdan-Vutheran War [Closed/IC]

[Urdale]

The acrid smelling smoke in the street billowed around General Amir Ander as he rode through the devastated city of Vin, surveying the work of his soldiers as he progressed through it. His men wore their distinct orange coats over their leather jerkins, their black lapels and cuffs denoting their common status. Among them were their commanding officers whose lighter lapels were paired with their rank insignia sewn to the sleeves of their coats. And among them being dragged to various piles by Vinian citizens under the watchful gaze of his men were the corpses of those whom fought back. Shifting his gaze around the main street as his horse clopped along he saw through the shattered wreckage of homes and general debris that several piles had already been set aflame while others were being tossed into the still burning wreckage of someone's home. His soldiers gave their tradition fist over their heart salute as he came by, while the citizenry cowered as he and his column of cavalry moved past towards the remnants of Fort Vin.


For a moment he let a scowl spread across his face as he looked down at the cowards, the half hearted line they had sent out to face his men and been pathetic and collapsed upon the first two volleys his professional valantier had let off at them. When they scattered like rats, he had to let his light cavalry regiment sweep in and run down the fools while his men set up the bombards to take down castle vin. Looking up at the remains of the castle he was unimpressed by the fort which had stopped his people from conquering this land several generations ago. The entire northern wall and tower had come crashing down upon a single volley from the bombards. Allowing his men with a little effort to walk straight into the fort and capture the self proclaimed Duke who held the city.


Speaking of the lords as he approached the cities upper courtyard he saw the Duke of Vin and most of his courtiers. They were lined up against a horse fence, with their hands and feet tied to each post along the fence, they were granted to honor of look upon a short line of Urdan soldiers as they marched in formation. Realizing what was about to happen Anders started to count just as their officer called out for the line to prime and load. With practice discipline his men turned to face their target, hefted their firearms to the priming position, opened the frizzen, grabbed a paper cartridge, cocked the flint, poured the powder in, closed the frizzen, lowered their rifle, poured the remaining powered down the barrel, stuff the cartridge and ball down the barrel, drew their ramrods, shoved the wadding, ball and powered down the rifle, returned the ramrod to position, raised their rifle towards their target, a firing grip was assumed, and then upon being ordered to fire they plastered the Duke and his men with resounding crack, killing him.


When the echos of their shot faded he called out from his horse to the men below “It took you 16 second to perform that drill.” He pounded his fist into his open palm to accent his point “Our victory is dependant upon your prowess to put down enemy soldiers as hastily as possible.” He looked over these men, young valantiers, probably recently drawn from their families as they looked down in shame. Using a disappointed down he reserved for his children and troops he said “You are valantiers, Destined from birth to serve in Combat to your Home and Duty. That duty demands that you can launch a volley in 15 seconds or less and as such I must sentence you to 100 drills and 10 lashes for each of you.” He looked over them as they sagged in dejection, except for one, who saluted and spoke up “Request to take the punishment myself Sir. It was my fault our line could not fire fast enough.”


Anders looked at him for a moment and nodded, permitting this so the regiment could build up a tighter sense of camaraderie. Even if it was based around that one man’s sacrifice, he could be promoted to an officer one day which is what he needed in his officer corp, someone the troops would blindly follow. The only thing more important than discipline was cohesion, it did not matter how fast they could fire if they could not do so as a group. A few moments later the man's sergeant came up and ordered him to take a knee while he drew his whip. Anders Pulled his horse away as he began a trot to the other side of the courtyard where he saw Vinian citizens, wearing finer cloths being pushed into a larger building of sorts. Coming up behind one of his commanders he asked if these were the other Vinian merchants and nobles he requested rounded up. Nodding his lieutenant said that was the last of them, then he looked towards Anders expectantly.


Around him were several lines of Urdan soldiers facing the building where the nobles were being corralled. Holding up his hand he gave the order to set the building and the nobles within on fire and to cut down anyone who tried to escape. Once the oil soaked building went up and people inside started to scream he watched the boys on the front line, younger soldiers who were not there when Urdan had to put down the northern revolt. Several of them took a step back and looked behind them as they watched a burning man jump out of a second story window. however all they saw behind themselves was rows of hardened veterans looking onwards coldly, behind them their horse-mounted commanders looked directly back at them, and behind them in the center of the courtyard the Urdan Dragon flew on an orange banner.


Satisfied that most of the nobles and other possible instigators had been burned to death he turned back towards his aid and signaled for him to walk towards the castle with him. When he reached the opened gates he dismounted and handed the reins to a balvier whom wore Urdan military uniform. Anders kept his annoyance at the balvier wearing the uniform to himself, they were part of King Augis’s military even if they did not make up the valantier fighting force. Still he would prefer a bit of decency in his ranks. Walking past the horsemaster he strolled by several alniers whom at least had the decency not to wear a soldier's overcoat, most were sent from Dalton where Anders was usually stationed but some were from Vin and their allegiances was necessary to holding and utilizing the city. His personal alnier bowed to him and presented him with a written account of the cities resources he had been collecting since they secured the castle.


Satisfied there was enough food to feed their soldiers until supplies could arrive from Urdale he sent word for his commanders to began to prepare to march on Fort Bentler. Word was probably already on its way to Vulthner and he did not want to get caught in the shattered walls and aging fortress of Vin. With that he ordered an office to be set up so he could began working through the information the Alniers were trying to make available to him. He also ordered word to be sent that Vin had fallen with no casualties and the war, per Augis’s orders was under way.

[Vutharia]

Weeks before the smoking ruins of Vin had been sighted by farmers and word reached Bentler, then Vulthner of the attack, King Hasir Vulthner, Lord of Vulther and King of Vuthania rode with his wife, the Lord of Runis and Queen of Vuthania along the few stone roads the empire had to offer. Though their reign had been successful by every measure, the infrastructure of the Empire always took a backseat to the stability of the Empire's lands. Fifteen Lords ruled these lands and not all of them had accepted the marriage in 1704, let alone the creation of the empire that followed. However, their resistance was silenced in blood and gold.Now, as the couple, which could hardly be claimed to truly love one another, rode through the tiny town of Vilenche, just outside of Vulthner. Their guards rode on horseback beside them, the cuirassiers and Hussiers lining the flanks and ever watchful for some sort of attack.

Victor Von Terrif sighed silently as his horse walked slowly on the stone road. It had been a rather silent ride as the Crown's escort moved away from the town now. Despite their fame and riches, no townsfolk came out to see them pass through the town in the dim morning light. Perhaps it was the time or maybe just general lack of interest on the part of the Serfdom, but it was disconcerting to Victor. He peered into the windows of the houses as his experience told him something was amiss. He disregarded it, though, and simply obeyed his orders and training for the road ahead. Still, he breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the forest.

Despite their best training, the horsemen never could have expected the thunderous boom of a cannon from the tree line. With that roar came a small, but deadly ball of metal. It tore through the legs of men and horse alike before splintering the side of the carriage. The driver tried to whip his horse to go forward, but was hit by a musketball. As his body fell to the ground, twenty musket wielding men in gray cloaks hurriedly finished off the survivors, then stabbed the king and queen through the heart with daggers. Then, in all of a few minutes, the guards lay dead under their horses and the King and Queen's bodies lay broken on the road.

As the gray cloaked figures left the scene, even stealing the kings horses to tow the small cannon away, Victor breathed silently. He had survived, but he now wished he had not.

---

Lord Ueli Helmuth of Bentler stood silently before a table full of his aides. They had received a message this morning telling of a terrible siege at Vin that had lasted all of an hour. He sighed and sat down at the head of the table. "Let's talk about Vin first. It's an immediate and pressing threat and, without the King to respond to it, we must do it ourselves." The aides nodded. "So, what are the reports like."

"We sent scouts out and they report the City of Vin is burning and occupied." An aide said. "However, the army, which numbers anywhere from 35,000 to 70,000, is already prepping to leave. We think they are waiting on supplies before doing so, but their next obvious target would be Bentler."

Helmuth rubbed his short, gray beard as he thought. "In the forts outside of Bentler, we have 20,000. Enis may have another 20,000, but I heard that Jonas had donated 10,000 of his troops to the Crown three months ago. Those men should be in Runicia by now." He looked over the maps, the yellowing parchment feeling heavy in his hands. "So we only have 30,000 troops ready. Without the King or Queen to rally the troops, we will have to find a way to hold them off."

"Yes, my lord," some aides said.

"Ok, mobilize the troops, as well as farmers North of Bentler. Pull everyone behind the Forts and prefferably send them Southeast to Ceris where that bleeding heart Siegbert can house them." He looked over the maps again. "Send a message to our lovely prince to Ceris as well. It'll need to be aboard a ship as soon as possible. Tell Siegbert that he had better send that messenger off with an escort and 2 horses. and with the money to hire the fastest ship. We need this message there now."

With that, Helmuth walked out of the chamber, shutting the thick wooden door hard enough for it to echo in the stone halls for a moment. His aides immediately went to work.

[Reykjaa]

King Skuld of Reykjaa stood there solemn as he watched the body of his beloved friend being prepared, his wife and children stood to the right of him giving him some space as kindling, along with flowers, were spread around the body laid across the logs in the massive courtyard of the castle. The Konal mountain, the tallest in the series of mountains that protected the Capital city's northern flank, could be seen high above the castle walls.

A gust of frigid air chilled the king, reminding him, once again that Spring would not come to the North here for a bit longer, the snow was yet to melt, it having been shoveled by prisoners to allow a clearing large enough for the ceremony. Already the areas where people could stand for the ceremony was packed with noblemen, officers, and the richer of citizens. Outside the walls stood an untold mass of grieving people all wearing black and green. Otrygg Gunnkelsson, King Skuld's chief advisor, had been beloved, and even though his replacement was almost as great a man as he, untold tears were shed.

After not too much time had passed, the commander of the castle guard walked up to the king, torch in hand, and took a knee holding the torch out for him. The king smiled a sad smile at him and took the torch, beckoning for him to rise. The King walked to before his friend and looked out among the assembled populace. "Otrygg was a great friend to me, a great advisor to the kingdom, and beloved by all who beheld him. His early passing has left us all a hole in our hearts. But it is a hole that will be filled. We wear black and green on these occasions for the bleakness of winter and death, but also the coming of life in Spring. The love that returns, and while for now we may be sad, spring will soon come, and Otrygg shall have tales sung of him in the meadhalls, as he would have wanted."

The king took the torch and raised it, "As we are born to life in warmth, find warmth by the fire in the coldest of winters, and are warmed by the Sun in the Summers, we send Otrygg back to the gods with warmth. For the life he had, and the life we all have to come, we give Otrygg back and thank the gods for the time with him we have had."

At that the king placed the torch on the fire and stepped back as the fire blazed forth. The band played a mourning hymn as Otrygg's body was turned to ash.

Hours later, once the fire had burned down completely, the Royal family and Otrygg's family stepped to the ashes of Otrygg and his pyre and took handfuls. They carried the handfuls to the tree planted in Otrygg's name that served, as we would call it, his tombstone. Each of them stepped forward offering an invocation, and rained the ashes onto the tree. The last being the King.

With that all over he found himself in at the top of the keep looking out over his city. To the docks he could see the Galleons preparing to set sail. With the news from Urdan that they would be marching on Vin, of which they must have by this point as Skuld was told two weeks prior, the King had deemed it prudent to mobilize the fleet once the majority of the Ice in the harbor had completely broken up. The Galleons had been in port all winter to maintain safety. Soon the marines would be ready to go to Urdan's aid if needed. The King did think that no one would be foolhardy enough to attack Urdan though, but it was better safe than sorry. Especially if the marines were needed at a moment's notice.

After a moment of thinking a large gust of wind, of which chilled him to his bones, told him it was time to go inside his study and warm by the fire while doing his kingly duties.

[Starazemya]

"Bashta na maĭka bogove po-gore! Chuyat nashite razgovori i da ni govori! Nie sme slabi i ti si silen! Pŭtevoditel ni napred veka!"

The chants rolled through the entire palace, filling every nook and cranny with a monotonous sound. No matter where one stood the sound was present, a purifying tone. They spoke in the old tounge, telling of holy victories and cleansing light. If you listened deeply, you could hear the gods own will manifesting itself. The chanting was one of the many old traditions of the Tsar's Court, a tradition that had been in place for many hundreds of years. In other countries such adherence to traditional values would seem out of place, but in Starazemya it was commonplace.

Starazemya was a land consumed by hanging on to the last vestiges of their great past. Even the name, literally translated as "the old land", clung on to the past. The people of Starazemya were conservative and insular, if not outright xenophobic then close to it. Among their own people they were open and caring, but foreigners were given the cold shoulder. It was famously stated that "the Starazemyans are as cold as their land, and equally uninviting." Such opinions mattered little to the Starazemyans themselves, who just carried on in their own way. They stuck to their traditions with pride, their iron resolve and dedication holding firm against the forces of modernity.

Tsar Dimitri was such a man. As ruler of the Tsardom he had extraordinary power over his lower subjects, a privelidge he only used when he believed that it was for the best. His rule was best described as tough, but just. Crimes were punished harshly, but without bias. Infrastructure was constructed, but the economy and military were more important. He sat upon a brass throne, the seat inlaid with gold and the pillows soft with Eastern silk from Kaiming. He sat deep in thoughts, reflecting on the chants that filled the room. There were sixteen priests chanting at any one time in his court, a fact he was proud of. While the nation was not in the best position economically, their spiritual wealth could not be doubted. His peaceful reflections were shattered as a trumpet blared, followed by a cry.

"Your Grace! A message from Vutharia!" Bellowed his portly minister of information, his red face showing the urgency of the situation.

He replied, hoping his voice hid the small amount of anger he harboured at th breaking of his tranquil thought train. "Tell me, Boris. What is the news?"

"A Raven from Vutharia! Urdale has marched to war. Lady Sedrehvi, the spiteful maiden goddess of bloodshed, has played her hand. We are called upon to aid our allies!"

These were grave tidings indeed, and his thoughts of anger melted away like the frosts in spring. He gulped unwillingly, before regaining his composure. A king must act appropriately at all times, lest he be seen as unfit for purpose. He reminded himself. The path of kings brought much glory if trodden right, but a fool who tread it would be swiftly deposed. Such was the way of the gods. He replied, his tone composed and forceful.

"You wer eright to tell me of this. The black banners of war have been raised, and only through combat shall they be lowered. Send word to my Boyars. I want the army ready for war before the snows thaw. Divert the blacksmiths to the creation of pikes and shot, helms and cuirasses. We shall meet the challenge of battle and be stronger from it."

Boris nodded solemnly, then turned and walked away slowly. Dimitri sighed. These coming days were to be a trying time for the entire land. For when Sedrehvi and her demons walk the land, death is but a moment away.

[Reykjaa]

The deck of the galleon was almost as stable as the land it sat beside, although the tiny waves, gave it that tiny tilt that made many men a bit shaky. Admiral Arfast Vifilsson was not one of those men. Having spent 35 of his 53 years on the oceans he was as sturdy as an oak tree on the deck of a ship. He was the saltiest, grumpiest, but also one of the most inspiring and brave men out there. If the men who served under him could get past the cold exterior, they met a man they would follow into the Frosts.

The pride of the fleet, the Northern Wind, was the admiral's flagship. It was the largest ship in the fleet, and the most powerful. With 140 guns, the Northern Wind, as the Admiral liked to say to his men, "Could kick the shit out of any fuck unlucky enough to cross her." Its massive sails, high-up crow's nests, and large decks bristling with guns could strike fear into any ship crossing her path. The flotilla that sailed with her were no less imposing, just two and three deckers instead of the four decker the Northern Wind was.

As he stood there looking over his men as they made their preparations, he could hear a horse's hooves on the dock approaching the gangway. He turned in time to see the rider about to dismount next to the gang way. "Permission to board sir?" The rider shouted, the Admiral responded with a gruff "granted". The rider came up and handed a missive to the Admiral. "Where's this from son?" The rider looked to the Admiral and responded, "The King sir. I must report back to him." The Admiral nodded and beckoned him away turning towards the boat's castle.

Once he got in he sat down and opened the missive.

Admiral Arfast Vifilsson

With the lack of word from our cousins Southward, I grow concerned. I expect soon we shall receive news and that it will not be good. I wish to see a complete review of the fleet's status. A report like this will also be gathered from the Marshal of the Marines. I ask that it be on my desk within two days. Thank you.

Your liege, King Skuld of Reykjaa

The Admiral just sighed and penned a response to the King.

[Kaiming Dynasty]

Yi walked solemnly and slowly behind the carry wagons, that had the emperor inside them. Priests, advicers, generals and others followed the wagons, as it was carried towards the palace through the court yards of the Heavenly City, decorated and empty from the holyness of this event. The year of mourning for the last emperor had passed and the time for new emperor had came. Entire nation's mourning changed to joy as the new emperor would take the Dragon Throne and lead the already great empire into further greatness.

Yi and the entourage reached the palace, opening one of it's magnificent doors and walking through it's majestic hallways to the hall, where the Dragon Throne was. Others stayed before the Throne, standing and bowing, while the carry wagon of the emperor and the priests walked in front of it. Servants lowered the the wagon and parting the decorative curtains of the wagon, giving the way for the emperor, who rose from them in his decorative silk suit and sat on the throne. That's when one of he preists started the final part of ceremony. Prayers were heard and after the not so long ceremony, the emperor rose from the throne, when Yi and others ended the bowing. Emperor and his entourage started walking through the palace's hallways to a balcony, where the people could see their new holy ruler for the first time.

---

Couple days later

Few knocks ended the silence in Yi's office. Yi raised his eyes from his papers and said in Chinese, "Please, come in."

The door was opened and the man who came in wasn't anyone who Yi thought he would see now. It was Prince Danyll, an honored quest to the empire from Vutharia. Yi remembered seeing him attending to the enthronement from the beginning, a thing that was wierd considering he was a foreigner. Yi was suprised at his sudden appearance to his office. Yi couched a little and changed the language to German, "Oh, it is our honored quest from Vutharia. Please, have a seat." As Danyll thanked and sat down to the chair on the other side of Yi's mahogany table, Yi could see from the face of the prince that everything was not alright.

"It is good to see you once again. Might I ask, just out of curiosity, why did you come here on this short notice?"

Danyll said with a slightly frantic voice and with perfect German, "I must see the Emperor Weiyuan immeaditly."

Yi leaned slightly on his chair, "Im afraid on just cannot pop to the Holy Emperor. I believe he is in a meeting with the military officials currently. I can though..."

Yi couldn't even end what he was saying, before Danyll interrupted him, a thing that was very rude to do in Kāimìng, especially to a person in the position of Yi. "If he is in a military meeting, this is the best moment to go and see him and the generals! My subject is important. Just..." Danyll showed a letter, a thing that Yi hadn't seen when Danyll came to the office. "...if you don't believe me that what I have to say is important, believe the word that came from others from my homeland."

Yi took the letter gently and took some time reading the letter three times, and was also himself convinced that the prince's subject was important enough, if not the mist important thing that the Emperor would see in the meeting.

Yi rised from his seat and motioned Danyll to do the same. Yi said with a serious voice, "Follow me" and took the prince before one of the big doors that led to the Dragon Throne. Before them, Yi gulped a little, knowing that Weiyuan, as arrogant he sometimes was, wouldn't like a intervention like this. Getting him self together, he knocked the door using the handle and opened them, showing the area familiar to both, only with not so ceremonial mood. All the generals and the emperor looked suprised at Yi and Danyll.

Yi bowed a little and said with easily heard voice, "Oh my Emperor, I beg your forgivness for my rude interruption to your such important meeting, but I have news from the land of Vutharia, given to me by their Prince and Heir to both crowns. The treacherous Urdale, have attacked the lands of Vin and our allies are in need for our help."

Emperor Weiyuan looked for a moment at Yi. "Show me the letter". Yi walked next to Weiyuan and showed the letter to him, while translating the German used in the letter to Chinese so that the emperor could understand.

The emperor looked at his generals after hearing what was in the letter. After some time, he started to speak at the generals with his young voice, "My generals, from this point on our holy empire is at war. Gather my armies and navies, let our great flag of Dragon fly and send them west, to help our allies."

[Vutharia]

He woke up at precisely one hour from sun-up every morning. Unlike his friend in Ceris, Helmuth had never fancied the hordes of servants who would wake you each morning, slippers in hand, breakfast on a platter, and "My Lord" rolling off their lips in an almost fearful manner. That was how his father, the previous Lord of Bentler, had lived. He had wielded his power as if the gods themselves had handpicked him for the throne. When Vultharia was in crisis, he was strong. When the marriage was announced, he had resigned himself to the Empire. And, when Death overtook him, he had shaken its hand firmly.

Ueli, though, was different. He hated the throne and its cumbersome requirements. The management of his armies and of Ceris was simple, easy. It was the image of being a ruler among the snakes of the court that he had always lacked. There, it didn't matter how good of a leader you were. If you didn't dance with the right people at the ball, be polite with those who warranted it, a fox to those who doubted you, and rude when necessary, Helmuth knew he would not be lord for long. At the end of the day, his supposed friends would depose of him faster than any army hammering away at the gates of Bentler.

Ueli dressed quickly now, putting on his Yellow cloak at the end to hide the dagger he carried. Finally, he left his chambers and entered a long hallway. At the end of it, the servants that would have been in his room stood quietly as they waited for their master.

"Good morning." He said as he approached. "What do you have for me today?"

His head servant stepped up with a piece of Parchment. "A report from the captains on the field, sir."

Helmuth took it and looked over it slowly. "Hmm They didn't buy it." He looked out the window of his Castle, an age old fort of the Helmuth Family, and saw his generals awaiting near his horse for their morning ride. "Thank you."

With that, he left the servants who began to move to his chambers to clean it all and make it orderly for him. Ueli walked calmly down the steps from this hallway to the Great Hall of Bentler, which acted as a throne room when he felt the need to use it. From there, he went into a small side hallway and then out a thick, wooden door. Ueli stood for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the Eastern light, then looked down to the generals. He doubted this would be a fun ride. The Generals saw him and saluted him before mounting their horses. Ueli returned the salute and moved down the small hill between the castle and the stable.

"Good morning, my Lord," General Ulixi said. "Did you see the reports?"

"Yes, Ulixi, I did," Ueli Helmuth said as he mounted his stallion. "It seems they crossed the plains faster than we thought and failed to buy our tricks."

"That's how it appears, my Lord," another general said.

Ueli nodded. "Let's ride."

With that, the three men clad in yellow and red cloaks made their way along the paths around the city of Bentler. As they did, Ueli saw the women and men heading out to fields or to their shops. Boys went out with their fathers and girls with their mothers. Soon, these people would be in his castle or fleeing their homes, his city besieged, and his Lordship in danger. It was not a pleasant thought. Yet, he let it drown out to the clacking noise of the hoofs below him as they exited the city.

"You know what this means, Ulixi?" Ueli said sternly.

"I do, My Lord," Ulixi said.

"We have traitors in our midst," The last General said.

"Aye," Ueli said slowly. "Ulixi, we will continue with our plans. They have crossed the planes. Pull our troops back to the forts outside of Bentler, keep some hidden behind the hills to the North, I'd say a thousand."

"Aye, sir. The reports said most troops have started that way without orders. They haven't engaged the enemy except in a few skirmishes."

"How fared those?"

"Not well." The men were silent for a moment. Every engagement had resulted in a route. The Urdan tactics and numbers were too great for their inexperienced officers on the field.

"Very well," Ueli said finally. "Also, send a runner to Vulther, Ceris, Enis, and Runis informing them of the situation. Explain our evidence for the spies."

"How can we be sure the runners are safe?"

"Get new ones from the people. There are many fine riders with good military history. Send them out as fast as you can. Ensure them that they will be well compensated."

Ulixi nodded. "Yes, my lord."

As they had been talking, they had circled through the edge of the woodlands to Bentler's west and now came up to the first fort. It was a great thing of stone, built only 20 years ago as part of King Hasil Vulthner's expansion of the military. Its walls were sloped to help against the anger of a cannonball, its Ramparts well manned, and its guard of the elite in Bentler's forces. The whole of the Urdan army would come crashing down on this fort and its older, but sturdy, sister fort in the East. Silently, he prayed for them. They would need all the help they could in the battles ahead.