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The Swordmaiden barged through the infirmary door, dulling the noise of the commotion from the battle outside. Mikasa stumbled towards a table, grunting heavily. It did not take long for her to realize the earlier wound had opened up. She sighed angrily, but quickly gathered herself and raised her sword high again, as the pursuers ran through the door. Or, that would mean the pursuer. The sight of the half-breed caused frown on the face of the bloodied woman. The two took a step closer, both ready with their weapons. There were no words between them yet, as they prepared for a gracious dance of swords and scarlet droplets. Meldarion’s eyes went to the Swordmaiden’s stomach. Her hand was covering it up, as she limped around in the circle the two were walking in.

“I gave you all the chances to flee. You’re as persistent as ever.” He almost smirked at that, but nonetheless kept his cool. Mikasa came to a halt, eyeing him up and down with a heavy frown. “You speak as if you know me.” She muttered back.
“Perhaps I do.”

The two moved towards each other, blades crashing and slashing furiously. Mikasa fought with a surprising ferocity considering her injury. The distance was closed, and with a swift elbow, Meldarion knocked Mikasa’s blade out of her hand. With a yelp of pain she sent her leg high, sending it right towards his hand. Both blades were knocked out, and the two now stood barehanded. The Swordmaiden was lightly equipped, holding up her two wrapped hands. With a swift nod Meldarion accepted the challenge, moving forward. The two engaged in a bloody sea-saw battle. Swift strikes flew from each soldier, blocking and countering left and right. Meldarion sent his lead hand forward twice, and quickly followed up by sending a swift knee right for Mikasa’s injured stomach. She gasped in pain, but threw herself forward to grab him by the neck.
Short of breath she returned the knee, before Meldarion separated them with a frown.

The man charged forward, directing one of his hands under her armpit, and the other flying for control of her bicep. Trying to hold her stance against the stronger man, Mikasa was struggling. Meldarion shot his hips around, tossing the woman over himself. The man locked her down, threatening with an elbow.
“Had enough?”

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Meldarion's face looked carved from granite, and he added pressure to her neck as she struggled, holding her tightly for many moments. "I said, have you had enough?" he asked her, deathly calm.

"What is it to you?" she gasped. "You'll just...kill me anyway!" Her face was full of anger, but her struggles were now weakening. She could hardly breath. It was just when she felt as if she was to pass out when he let her go.

She was surprised to say the least, hacking and coughing before scrambling away to look at the Half Breed. Meldarion gazed at her calmly, before drawing himself up. He pointed out the door. "Do you know what is happening out there?" he asked her. "Your people are being slaughtered, and will all soon be dead no matter what you do."

"No!" she cried, before she realized that it was her emotions getting the better of her. She knew he was speaking the truth. "Why are you telling me this?"

"To show you that you can do better than dying here. You can save your people." he told her, and strode toward her. Her guard was up, but he moved passed her, and felt his hands along the wall before he found a crick in the structure and clicked it. A stone moved out of the way. It was an underground passage.

Meldarion was not doing this out of concern for her, and he let her know that. But he knew that a peaceful east, or better yet, a divided east, was easier to both negotiate with...and perhaps conquer.
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Mikasa scoffed heavily at Meldarion. She did not doubt that his actions were to ensure a western victory in the long run, and of course she was reluctant to follow his ‘advice’. But as much as she –hated- it, she knew he was right. There was little she could do here, especially in her state. Her body was aching in more than one way, and she was still recovering from the wound she suffered the night before. Mikasa gave Meldarion an empty stare, before she went to pick up her swords, sheathing them in the scabbards. With limping steps the woman approach the Half Breed again, standing less than a feet away from him. Once she spoke, her voice was hushed, but had a truthful undertone hidden behind it.

“My nation would have taken you in, you know. These Westerners… they have no respect for others, let alone another country. They’re ruthless. And they’ll rather see Heroshida burned to the ground before leaving us alone. We would have cared for you, half-breed or not. Just… remember that. Remember that when you’re tearing villages apart and watching families and children get slaughtered.” Her last words were as heavy as words could come, and her eyes stared directly into his, a mix of defeat and sorrow in her gaze. The noblewoman lowered her gaze, breaking the eye contact. From a little pocket by her hip she fished out a small sigil, representing a white dove, bowing its head. Reluctantly she went to grab Meldarion’s hand, gentle as she was. She placed the sigil in his hand, folding his fingers with hers. Her gaze went back up to him again.

“If you regret, or if you and your friend truly want peace. Show it to any soldier that bears that mark, and you’ll be taken to the House Shuenaii. If you’ve studied any of the Heroshidan history, you’ll know who they are.” Mikasa muttered, on the brink of regret. Abruptly she turned away, walking towards the exit, which Meldarion had mysteriously and worryingly known about. Before heading out she turned her head, looking towards him. She opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, but instead furrowed her brows and halted herself. Instead, she went through the tunnel, into the darkness.

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Chapter 2:


The first stronghold that had been taken set off a conflict that spanned thousands of miles from all across the Eastern mountains. Cries of open war and civil unrest spread throughout the Heroshidan lands as the West gained a foothold, capturing more of the border cities in the name of their God and for the transgressions that had been set upon them by the East. It was months before they were halted, but the battle of the Xinyang Ford halted their progression, and it became anyone's guess who would win the war now.

The East was now fully mobilized and ready for a counter attack, though there were rumors of rebellion and unrest within the government and its people throughout the land. The Crusaders on the other hand had no such problems, but they were tired and in unfamiliar territory.

It had been less than a year, but Rylen felt like it had been a lifetime ago. The young Crusader Captain gazed over the parapets of the captured fortress of the Song Province, looking further east. They had not yet reached the Heroshidan capital, and probably wouldn't for a long time coming. Supplies were needed from back west, and a shipment was to arrive soon. As of now, his mind was on tomorrow's raid on the small woodland town a few hours northeast of their fortress. Capturing that would give them one more foothold that would help them take the Xinyang river, and some foodstores.
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The streets of Takanori had been so silent, and so eerie the last few months. It felt like a flood was about to overrun the riverbank of a peaceful forest. The population, who had mysteriously been armed, had already forced several nobles to their knees. Still, the Shuenaii family had not been a target for the rioting and anger of the citizens yet. It was most likely due to their size and importance, and the fact that the family had quite an important role to the Dynasty. The household stood tall and prideful still, even as the servants of the House were as wary as ever. Something was brewing in the streets.

Mikasa stared emptily into the mirror in front of her. Once again her hair had been neatly braided, and Naria Hayashi had found a pretty silk robe for her. She grazed her shoulder with a melancholic sigh following it. Her mother had barely allowed her to carry her swords since the encounters back at the Dorochai Pass, almost a year ago. The fort had fallen, sadly followed by others. No, her mother had decided that the Shuenaii family could not fight two wars at once – and right now, the family needed to be prepared for whatever their enemies within the city wanted. Mikasa’s big brother, Johven, had already expressed his opinion to the House. He did not doubt who had sparked the inevitable riots. No, he knew. Her mother had already spoken of preparing for a full-out civil war, and Liandra Shuenaii was not a woman to jump to conclusions.

Naria had come for Mikasa and guided her along throughout the household. They passed a room filled with a couple of men, including her brother Johven. They muttered about yet another battle, but apparently it had come to a stalemate. The young Lady Mikasa folded her hands as they wandered on. A war fought with swords was no challenge, but a war fought with words and politics was something else to her. The two of them entered a large room, with a long table in the middle of it. Behind it, Liandra turned around.

“Miss Hayashi, if you would. I need to speak with my daughter on my own.” Mikasa’s mother nodded towards the young Naria as she held her posture high and proud. The young woman nodded and curtsied kindly before she left.

“Of course, Queen Liandra.”

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Arrows arced towards them in a rough but widespread volley. The slick sounds of the missiles sinking into flesh was drowned out by the louder noise of them embedded and bouncing off armor, and the even louder warcries of the Western Knights as they advanced. Their horses thundered down the mellow slope, before splashing through shallow river. Rylen had been Knighted not 3 months ago, and had been given his own company of horseman, 200 strong.

Only a scant dozen had fallen before they had crossed the river, but their armor held strong and the milia force they fought now were mostly mere conscripts with hunting bows. They lacked the firepower to punch through the thinnest parts of their armor, only a few lucky shots slipping through the vulnerable areas.

The town had made a hastily built barrier and trench for the folk to set their spears upon and mount a defense. Rylen waved to his unit, and they followed his orders. Fifty on each side swung left and right to flank the enemy as Rylen and his men dismounted, using the sparse trees between the village and the river as cover, before charging forward with their swords and shields. Twenty minutes later, the small town past the river barrier was theirs.

It had been taken once before, but the Westerners had been pushed back. It was only a single village, but it was across the no man's land. The forward vanguard of the entire west. The villagers and militia there were spared, if they surrendered. Their food stuffs were taken, and men began to set up the perimeter. In the distance, down a rolling forested hill further east, a large city loomed.
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The Takanorian people had hid in their homes lately. Especially after the war had begun so many months ago. And with the rider galloping silently through the now abandoned streets in the evening, the eerie aura became even harder to ignore. The horse echoed through the town, as the lone rider approached a larger mansion. With hasty steps up the cold stone stairs he marched forward, into the house. Within, he was met by a larger collection of military men. All of them discussed silently amongst themselves.

“Pardon me, Sir?” The rider spoke up, addressing General Harakushi.
“Yes?” the old man muttered, looking up at the soldier. The rider stepped forward, handing over a letter as he spoke.

“The village towards the west has been hit. More than a hundred Western soldiers.” He straightened his back, awaiting the general’s response. Said general raised his eyebrow carefully as he skimmed the letter. With a swift mutter and a gentle hand movement, the rider was dismissed again.

“Prepare a night squad. We’re hitting them while they sleep.” General Harakushi frowned.

The garrison silently prepared a large force of soldiers for a swift response attack. The lot was as experienced as they came. There was about sixty of them in total, but that was far more than what they needed. In the dead of night they’d storm the enemy camp with steps of a cat, and slice throats wherever they stepped.

Mikasa watched the garrison from her window with a wrinkled nose, grunting in dismay.

“Mikasa?” Her mother entered the room and eyed her daughter with a careful eye.

“I should be with them, Mother.” Mikasa sighed to herself.

“Absolutely not. The battlefield is not a place for someone like you.” Her mother sternly said, folding her arms in the most motherly way she could. The young woman simply kept staring at the garrison, as the troops silently rode off into the dark night.

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