He lowered his spear, directing it towards a wooden target, which was one in a straight line of targets. Facing these wooden dummies was an equal line of heavily armored cataphracts, all in similar positions. Among these cataphracts was Arasen, a famed warrior that led several successful attacks on the nomadic tribes that harassed the northern Verigarde cities. Now a seasoned cataphract, Arasen's days were now spent training new members of the heavy guardsmen, transforming young boys into Verigarde's iron fist.

Arasen's horse slowly moved forward. “Watch, and you will learn.” he shouted coldly as the horse gained speed, charging towards the wooden man that stood some 50 meters away from him. The spear connected with the wooden soldier, dismembering it immediately with a loud wooden crack. He triumphantly drew his lance upward, holding it in the air as the horse rotated to face the new recruits. “Now, repeat the process. Destroy the enemy for Verigarde!”

The cataphracts all lowered their lances in a similar manner before charging their own wooden targets. Arasen watched as his students mimicked his form perfectly, hitting their targets directly in the upper torso before trampling over what was left. 

After they completed their exercise, the warriors formed three rows of eight, all waiting for their leader to inform them of their performance. Riding up to the front of the ranks, Arasen congratulated his trainees before looking back towards a hill in the distance, where the furious galloping of a horse rapidly droned closer and closer. In the distance was a child, no older than fourteen, riding the dark brown horse. Arasen turned to face the boy's horse, which stopped nearly ten meters away from the cataphract.

“The Tabudai are attacking!” the boy shouted, clearly exasperated. “There are dozens of them!”

Arasen exhaled furiously before turning back to his cataphracts. A part of the unification process was the destruction of the northern nomadic tribes that preyed on unprotected villages that were under the influence of the Verigarde. While the mission was mostly successful, handfuls of these nomadic people still dwell within the northern regions, occasionally raiding unprotected border villages.

“Remember your training.  Prove yourselves as true Verigarde cataphracts.” he held his spear up towards the air before starting his charge back to the village, which was a little over a kilometer away. The cataphracts followed closely in formation, spears extended and ready for combat.

The village remained intact, with no visible fires, which led Arasen to believe the defenders were doing their job of protecting the infrastructure. However, the messenger was right. The raid was much larger, and the nomadic forces vastly outnumbered the Verigarde cataphracts. With that in mind, the cataphracts charged fearlessly towards the village. The raiders on the outside began calling out in their primitive language, warning the others about the incoming soldiers, but their cries were almost pointless, as the armored horsemen broke rank and began forcefully dismounting their opponents. Arasen wasted no time, entering the village almost immediately. As he rode, his spear impaled a raider that had left his horse, presumably to continue the assault on foot. The man's body broke under the force, tearing open the left side of his torso, killing him almost instantly. The cataphracts continued unopposed, striking down their enemies in a similar gruesome manner. 

Arasen threw himself off of his horse after most of the raiders were presumably dead or captured. Before him stood half a dozen raiders, all of which were using villagers as meat shields to protect them from the vastly superior cataphracts. He drew his sword before holding out his other hand, as if he were telling the invaders to stop. Particularly, he was looking straight at the one in front of him, for his hostage was none other than his younger sister.

“End this. Now.” Arasen ordered flatly. Of course, the underdeveloped savages wouldn't understand his sophisticated and sensible language, but his priority was the safety of the villagers, especially his sibling.

The barbarian literally spat at him, holding a sharpened piece of metal to his captive's throat. All of the raiders slowly stepped back defensively. 

“Let them go!” he ordered again, a fierce tone in his voice. He slowly stepped forward, lowering his hand and raising his blade in a threatening manner.

The barbarian shouted something in his own language, which was incomprehensible to anyone other than his fellow animals that stood beside him.

It was that moment that Arasen realized that the hostages were all dead, their throats just had not been slit yet. He wished his sister could see the apologetic gaze in his eyes, but they were masked by his cold steel helmet. After taking in a deep breath, he advanced towards the leading raider.

The raider, without hesitation, drove his knife into the young woman's throat. Almost immediately as he did, Arasen intercepted him, driving his sword into the barbarian's lower torso. The raider staggered backwards before falling over, tossing his hostage to his side. As the other cataphracts engaged the surviving barbarians, Arasen turned his attention to his dying sibling, who was bleeding profusely from the wound in the side of her neck. He removed his helmet and placed his hands around her neck, slowly suffocating her.  Small tears ran from the corners of her eyes, but after an uncountable amount of bitter seconds, her breathing stopped, and her lifeless body rested on the ground.

Arasen rose to his feet, and it was then that he noticed the carnage that was left behind by this futile attempt to strike back at Verigarde. Deceased villagers lay strewn across the streets, many of which were women and children. Arasen bent over and picked up his sword upon noticing the barely breathing barbarian that he had struck down. He stood over the figure, with the blood on his palms slowly clustering and falling down to the ground. The raider began babbling in his own language, but was cut off by Arasen's blade, which was driven through his upper torso. Reluctantly, he turned back to the other caraphracts, who observed his actions silently.

“What are our casualties?” Arasen asked one of the riders.

“None of our cataphracts have fallen. Some fifty villagers dead, probably more.” the cataphract reported flatly, his hands resting on the back of his horse.

“Prepare our column.” he ordered, referring to the 500 cataphracts that were under his command, most of which were situated in a neighboring village. “We ride at dusk, and we will not return until we have properly cleansed our land of these impurities.”