The Graelian side of the Crostignon battlefield was awash with the bustle of activity. Crostignon's backdrop of lush, placid, verdant plains where little ever happened were replaced with the movement of tens of thousands of feet and the voices of thousands of people. To any person that may have seen the plains just a week before, the unbroken tranquil and unfettered scenery had been entirely replaced as fortresses had been constructed, trenches and fortifications placed and observation posts with reporters had been erected. There was a certain amount of tension over the Graelian soldiers. It hadn't been just the fact that the country had not participated in a war for several, several years, it was also the fact that their opponent had been that intimidating. Sure, a large ratio of the force's bulk had now been drilled, prepared, educated and had most importantly participated in mock battles, all in preparation for this day, but it couldn't help the cautious and entirely warranted nervousness that preceded something that a group had become mostly unfamiliar with, then abruptly yanked up and told to do. However, it would be inaccurate to say that morale itself was low. Confusing the eagerness and anticipation that accompanied the fact that they were about to face a truly formidable enemy with a lack of fighting spirit would be a terrible mistake. If the Graelians were short on fighting spirit, levies from around the country and even the soldiery itself would not have willingly participated. No, they were nervous, but it was this nervousness that gave them an itch to fight it out as ferociously as they could. In particular, the soldiers of Graelian's standing army were in a particularly well-dispositioned spirit. After all, they had their now-beloved commander to lead them, her hand picked captains to guide them, and their own solidarity to move them. Thinking about it, the anticipation and tension only made them more interested in what was coming. It was a thrill. One great, positive force of maximized [i]tension[/i]. A metaphorically veritable storm that they would be weathering: the first war that most of the young adults and teens of the army would ever participate in. It was sure to be [i]glorious[/i]. It was definitely going to be [b]awesome[/b]. The mentality of a large crowd of like-minded individuals was staggering as occasionally a hyped up cheer would resound through the entire fortress. The Graelians wished to be unleashed, even waiting was starting to get to them... To any commander worth their position, it would be blatantly obvious to them that this was both a positive blessing and a most negative curse. It was beginning to get to the point that the swell of soldiers and levies wouldn't be able to keep their competitive nature and anticipatory emotions in check; there would be no focus and they would fight and lose the battle against the more numerous and better funded armies of Vilante. Willpower meant little in the face of sheer and overwhelming multiplications of force. Hotblooded-ness meant little when put up against veterancy, the experience that those Knights and commanders of Vilante carried. Most importantly: the focus on bringing glory to Graelian with a successful and great battle was lacking—replaced with thoughts of achieving victory for themselves and their families. Knight-Commander Anisette sighed deeply and rubbed her temples for a brief moment as she stood in the command tent, going over the briefing with several of the captains and Kisielia, her second in command, for a second time that day to make sure that the tactics and necessary knowledge of the enemy were fresh in their minds. The Commander had to speak louder inside the "indoor" confines of the tent tent than she was accustomed to as the bustle outside was just that booming. Not only with the cheering, shouting and conversing, but the sounds of the incoming levies and the soldiers being passed shields and weapons, along with a select few units being passed light armor and additional weapons. She could practically feel the charged atmosphere inside the tent, and it seeped into the tent from outside with every yelp for glory vibrating the ground. This couldn't do. It surprised no one when the order passed through the whole of the gathered army to gather into parade formation. None took their time to get to their respective places. It was [i]about time[/i]! "[b]She's heeeeeere~![/b]" called out Pierre, who had up to this point been talking about the battlefield and giving a short history of Graelian to the audience. The enthused announcer stood up and made a gesture to the stage that had been set up for the top tiers of the commanding staff, particularly motioning to Knight-Commander Anisette, "[b]Knight-Commander, Princess Anisette of Pasticiotto! She doesn't need much of an introduction to all of you out there in Graelian, so let's just give her an applause, everyone![/b]" Off in the distance, there were sounds of applause and cheers from the audience, echoing from the theater-like seating that had been raised for those people that came to watch the battles from as close as they possibly could without the need to actually participate themselves. On the other hand, the soldiers save for the reserves that had come for some money and a chance to participate stayed mostly silent and stared up at their commander. Anisette, in her full suit of armor, adjusted the back straps of her forehead guard and looked out to the crowd with a serious expression. The stage was set to face the morning sun, only a minor annoyance when her half-helmet of a forehead guard shaded her eyes and reflected some of the light away. It was preferrable to casting a shadow on her own soldiers. The brown haired commander clasped her hands behind herself. [b][i]THUMP.[/i][/b] The ground shook as the tens of thousands of feet of soldiers that she had trained and fostered saluted, tapping their feet together and each making an audible step as they uniformly held their arms at their sides, their hands occupied with pikes, spears, swords, bows, crossbows and shields. In all, Vilante had about twenty thousand soldiers to its name, and Graelian had about fifteen thousand. She returned the gesture of salute in true military fashion, making a similar hop step and placing a clenched fist over her heart. Only when she relaxed did the soldiers permit themselves to relax, letting their feet spread apart with the pikemen tapping the rear end of their pikes on the ground at a relaxed position, shaking the ground once more. Finally arriving at this stage, Anisette tapped the microphone-like device, a few loud bumps reverberating the air for the near two square kilometers that comprised the parade formation. "Hehe. Now's the time for one of those rousing speeches!" Kisielia said off to the side, her bear ears perked up in the anticipation for what her master would say. ...And then she spoke. A personal address from one commander to her soldiers. Her microphone wasn't even hooked up to the global news feed, though the speakers could still be clearly heard. "[b]First off, to those of you who think that just because this is Graelian's first battle that you are allowed to lose... [i]Leave. Go home[/i] and watch these War Games from afar,[/b]" she let that settle into the peoples' minds for a moment, surveying the crowd to see if any of the levies would leave. Leave, some did, disinterested by the seemingly hostile dare extended by the commander. "[b]That being said and out of the way...[/b]" The commander pointed to the south, to Vilante's gathering point, "[b]Over there stands a powerful group of [i]individuals[/i]. The rider-knights of Vilante are a formidable force to be reckoned with. They are strong, and they are a terrible foe that we have to face. Those of you that are staying here should know that you are to face an opponent tempered by experience, gifted with power and trained well so that they may win for their own beloved country. A respectable people that has taken our invitation to participate in War Games with grace and clear hearts.[/b]" The soldiers mumbled amongst themselves. It was almost as if... "[b]I will tell you now that [i]you[/i] will lose.[/b]" The shuffling of discontent rose. This negativity was not at all what they wanted to hear. What was their commander saying before the battle? "[b]Better funded, better equipped, and having longer been in the field of battle, there is no doubt that each of those rider-knights are a force of sheer, overwhelming might. They are even reinforced by a more numerous army, [i]also[/i] equipped with [i]more[/i] to them both physical and mental on average than [i]you[/i] have. [i]You[/i] are a humble people that only just months ago were unfamiliar with battle and there is little that can prepare you for what is to come against an opponent that steps on willpower and hotblooded-ness with a boot of force multiplied. If this intimidates you, if you are discouraged, then you too should leave. You too should go home and watch these War Games from afar.[/b]" So that was it: a purposeful, meaningful and altogether reprimanding reversed delivery. Negative reinforcement to weed out the weak. Anisette meant every word and every slight that she had just directed at her soldiers. Behind her, her apprentice seemed to still maintain a completely positive expression, as did some of the lieutenants and captains. This time, no one left. Anisette took a long breath and let out a sigh, then smiled. This was more like it. There was a time for hotblooded-ness and singular strives for achievement. “[b][i]But[/i], what is the powerful individual in the face of [i]unity[/i]. When I had been assigned to this army, you were disheveled, you were disorganized, you were derelict, you had a lack of discipline… Most of all, to the beloved Graelian, you were a [i]disgrace[/i]. You were divided, a discouraging mass. Combined together, directed to one goal, [i]we[/i] are now a force of a single and overwhelming goal: [i]We[/i] are the army of Graelian. Our people depend on us to deliver them victory, to give them honor, and to show the world that Graelian is a mighty power that will not yield. Are you intimidated by those individuals? Are you [i]afraid[/i] of their power?[/b]” There was a booming shout of unison as the men and women found a new purpose to their battle, to bring light anew to Graelian. For a third time the ground shook. “[b]The seemingly insurmountable power of those individuals is completely dwarfed by our solidarity![/b]” [b][u]YES![/u][/b] “[b]The gifts of singular power can not compete with the treasure of companionship![/b]” [b][u]YES![/u][/b] “[b]STAND UP, you sons and daughters of Graelian! STAND PROUD, for [i]WE[/i] are this nation’s might!!![/b]” [b][u]YES! YES! YES![/u][/b] The air was abuzz with the cheers and the battle-cry, the collective shout of fifteen-thousand shook the ground and could be heard for many kilometers. Knight-Commander Anisette gave a simple nod to her troops and walked away from the podium, off the stage and mounted her horse, followed by the members of her personal unit. While she wished that Countess Mystere Chiffon was there to help support her, she knew that the Countess would come later. Despite not considering herself fit for making hotblooded speeches, she felt relatively proud of herself. What she had built just then with her troops was good. [i]Their efforts were going to work[/i]. ♦♦♦ Over an hour later, the battle lines were formed, the troops were assembled, and again the air was alight with tension. For one and a half kilometers stretched a line of pike armed troops, each unit assembled into a line of ten shield bearing pikemen, followed by a line of ten crossbowmen, then ten lines of more pikes behind each to comprise fighting units of 110 each. Slightly behind those lines were a long line of longbowmen, the troops that required the most training of everyone, and behind those ranged units were the Auxiliary regiments, armed with swords and shorter spears along with shields. In any wooded area was a unit of short spears and swords, and to the sides of the massive line were light and heavy cavalry. Anyone versed in the history of Earth would recognize this as a modified version of a Macedonian Phalanx. But, this being Franlanthe, this was the first time such a formation had been imposed onto a battlefield. [i]Thump. Thump. Thu-thump.[/i] A line of large and small drums placed on wheeled carts were behind everyone else. Their purpose was to give an effective and simple to understand battle rhythm for the soldiers to follow. Strangely, for a line of Pike “squares”, they were currently rather loose in formation, actually standing with enough room to fit two more men shoulder to shoulder between them. Anisette and her unit paced the length of the battle line on their horses, making sure everyone was in place… The battle would start soon. Pierre, the announcer for the battle went on to describe the proceedings and give more fluff to keep the audience’s attention as the troops assumed their positions. To the other side was Vilante, cavalry up front organized in groups of forty riders in a wedge formation, their lances held at a parade ready, behind them were javelin throwing skirmishers armed with short swords and light armor, and finally were legions of sword and short spear armed troops, well organized into a tight formation and interspersed with each battalion’s respective commanders. Vilante’s Grand Marshall surveyed their opponents’ battle lines, frowning in the displeasure that Graelian’s army was composed entirely different to what intelligence reports and history had mentioned. Then there was this business of Princess Sfogliatine's “surprise”...