A very thin rain began pouring down as the man ran for dear life. He was tired, his legs were hurting and his feet kept being stuck in the mud, which was becoming thicker by the minute due to the water accumulating on the ground. Around him were other villagers, men, women and children alike. Behind him was soldiers, and even further was his home, now turned to cinder by the attacking marauders chasing him and his fellow villagers. He had seen a woman caught and beaten to death, or almost to death...unless the man committing the act was necrophiliac. He witnessed children, the very same that were running around the fields the day before, impaled by swords and javelins as their small legs, used to playfully race one another, were too slow to bring them away from danger fast enough. He tried not to look back for it would only slow him down, but the fear within him was too strong...though each time he did look back, all he saw was death on his trail, gaining on him. A pain stronger than any he ever felt before suddenly took him as he fell to the ground. It was as if all the weight of the world had fell on his ankle. An arrow found it's mark. His foot failed him as his body found itself laid out in the mud, abandoned by the other survivors as he himself abandoned so many others behind. To say he never imagined to die like this would be a lie. Like most of the poor souls living in this once peaceful countryside, he had been petrified by fear ever since Sarife took over Valania and their soldiers began rampaging the land. The pain, fear and rain weighing him down did not keep him from trying to crawl away, provoking the laughter of the closest soldier behind him. The blade of the soldier penetrated through the villager's back, sectioning his spinal chord and, with a struck of luck, making him numb to the pain below a certain point in his body. The steel, cold as death, found its way out, only to be trusted back this time ending the poor man's life.
At that very same moment, a wall of shining grey figures appeared on the top of the hills the survivors were running up to. Their towering presence was imposing, though not all soldiers noticed them just yet. They were all wearing almost identical armors and holding their shields in the same way. All of them had a helmet which covered the whole head, yet allowed them a good horizontal vision, which was all they needed. Their mighty steeds were clad in mail, except for the frontal body which had plate, and had their head protected by a plated helmet, allowing vision through a metal sphere dotted with spaces. There was exactly 60 knights, though they probably looked like they were a lot more numerous from down that hill. Two of the mounted warriors were in the front. One of them held a flag with the symbol of the
Holy order of St. Meritas, while the other was apparently the leader of them all.
Some soldiers began noticing them and prompted others to stop focusing solely on their murderous spray to look up, but it was far too late.
Already the riders charged, signaled by their commander. The thundering noise made by the hooves of the steeds became faster and faster as they sped down the hill towards their enemies. The Shield Maidens were completely silent if not for the noise of their armor clinging together. All of them drew their weapons and raised their shields in order to block any incoming projectiles that would stop the charge, which proved successful. The sight of them, unstoppable, was like looking at the embodied form of the vengeance of all the persons they killed in the last hours, and before that even. The Sarifen soldiers formed a line as quickly as possible, but they were too scattered to be effective. Too few of them had spears, and even less had decent ones to stop such heavy cavalry. The very man who killed the fleeing man by stabbing him in the back had his eyes widen with terror as he understood what was about to happen.
They were ripe for the picking.
The commanding knight was first to have contact with the enemy soldiers. She made her flail spin ever faster and she sped up before all of her sisters. The torso armor of her steed blocked a spear while she herself blocked an incoming javelin with her shield held up high. Immediately, she swung her flail at an enemy below her, on the right side. The full strength of the horse's speed and the spinning of the flail found its way on the poor man's face, caving in his skull which, in turn, broke off into multiple fragments that exploded in particles that found their way into his brain. The man, now a bloody mess, fell upon the ground, killed on impact. The sole momentum of her horse proved enough to keep going onward, pushing aside anyone on her way. Her sisters soon joined her, completely shattering the poorly formed line of defense. The massacre lasted for a moment during which the sixty riders made sort work of close to a hundred Sarifen warriors thanks to the momentum, surprise and a bit of luck.
The battle being over, one of the sister approached the commanding officer.
''Reporting, Ma'am.''
The commanding officer, still holding her flail, which was dripping a mixture of blood and water, was looking upon the body of her weapon's most recent victim still laying right in front of her, unrecognizable. ''Speak, sister.''
''The enemy was not, as we previously thought, simple marauders. It seems they were still Sarifen soldiers, pillaging the countryside. What are we to do, Ma'am?''
The commander removed her helmet, revealing a brown haired woman of relatively young age. Maria was overjoyed by the death of so many Sarifen scum, but she was no fool. Had it been ex-Sarifen soldiers, as they thought before, everything would be fine. Now if the Empire happened to learn of this, it would give that son of a whore Conqvist, and the Empire, reason to crucify them all. Holding her helmet under her shoulder, she turned around to answer.
''Send a scouting party to check the area, kill any survivors as well as any witnesses that are not civilians. Round up the villagers and leave half our forces to escort them to the nearest village. They hate the Empire as much we do, they will not speak of this. The rest of you, gather these wretches around and purify them by fire, send the scum to hell. Once done, report to me. Understood, lieutenant?''
''Understood, Madam.'' And with that, she walked away.
Half of Maria's maidens were out escorting the villagers to a nearby village while she herself led the rest of her troop back to Voltas. The rain had long since stopped and, as they approached the city, the earth was getting more dry hinting Maria that the rain clouds had been focused solely above them. She saw it as a divine message that the action they committed today had been seen by her gods. She could hardly imagine that killing Sarifen soldiers, who desecrated every Augirian shrines, would be punishable and, thus, she had been blessed by Yadin-Hamon AND Athirat in this doing. Proud as can be, the Valkyrie Apostle signaled her troop to speed up as the walls of Voltas were now in sight. The gates were closed, and there were many more guards than usual, which meant something had happened earlier. Curious, but careful, she asked no question but, instead, requested entry. The guards, under the tyrant's influence, hesitated. Maria did not budge an inch and remained silent, fully confident in the fact they would obey in the end, which they did. As the gates opened and the bridge descended, she noticed they had gathered on the other side and had formed a thick line. It was not to keep them out, but rather to keep something in. It was probable a fugitive was on the loose within the walls, but if that was the case...who could it be so that even these scums give it their all to catch him, or her?
As the maidens approached, the guards made way for them to go through and as soon as the last knight was in, the bridge began raising again. A simple fugitive did not matter one bit to the Apostle, especially if it was this important to the Empire. Day after day after day she was forced to look at the people of Voltas, and all of Valania, suffer. Her hands were tied, as were those of the Order itself. The Order was supposed to defend the people of the city and maintain peace, but no more. While still holding the task of keeping peace in the streets on one hand, they were threaten not to do anything on the other. Everywhere she looked she saw children suffer, and people dying. The lord regent was doing nothing to keep this from happening. Politics mattered little to her, and to her nothing could justify this mass murder. Her hands clenched into a fist within her steel gauntlets as she did her best not to look at hose begging them for help. People gathered around the horses to ask for assistance, deliverance and justice. There was a time when the Sisterhood could deliver such things, but this time was no more.
It was getting late, and something caught Maria's attention. No one was around these parts of town, which was unusual. Soon, she saw why as a scene caught her attention. Numerous thugs were gathered up ahead and threatened some civilians. Such a sight was nothing new, and just as the was about to move on, despite the anger, she saw one of the civilian actually defend herself. This sparked a flame within her...she could not remain by and do nothing. She raised her hand and ordered the troop to change course.
''Madam, I strongly advise you not to...'' the lieutenant, Jennyfer Marah her name, said, but to no avail. As the thirty knights approached, they deployed into an arc and filled the whole street and drew weapons. Maria advanced further than the rest of them and noticed that a couple of thugs were actually dead, which did not bode well for anyone.
''What, by Yadin-Hamon's name, is happening over here?'' she stated menacingly and with a strong voice. The Order may not be as strong as they had been, but they ought to command a little respect still. She was betting on that to avoid unnecessary bloodshed.