King Mariccle: "Warriors of Issach! Have we not been dealt a great injustice? Not only have the impetuous Grannvalians deigned to make war with us over mere banditry, but so too have they slain the wise King Mananan, my honored father, in the coldest of cold blood. Now too I say, let us make war as well!" A cheer echoes across the field as the newly made king speaks from the gate of Ribaut. His people's fervor against Grannvale's recent actions since their King Azmur became too ill to lead has only reached a fever pitch.



"Just the same across Jugdral, the tyrannical Grannvalians have begun to subjugate Verdane -- and now they come for us! But we are no deep-wood barbarians, we are masters of our craft, they will not have Issach!" Mariccle raises aloft Balmung, the holy blade denoting himself as direct descendant of the Divine Crusader Od. His soldiers rally yet more at the sight, ready to begin their first campaign.

". . ."

"Ayra. . . Please take good care of Shanan. This country will need its next king dearly."

Duke Angbert: "We've only but recaptured Darna from savages and now we're expected to fight off the Issachian army?! Just my luck, heh. These ballista best put in their fair share. . ."

General Alkard: "Hmmph. . . So this is the prelude to your ascent, is it Lord Arvis? I'll be certain to play my part in realizing your dream. Cavaliers, reinforce Darna, Duke Angbert's force is already exhausted. The rest of you await further orders, our goal is to weather the Isaachians for the first month of this campaign before Price Kurth arrives alongside the Grunnenritter."

"Captain Maya! A message has arrived - orders from the capital."
We are aware of Tirnanog's difficulty raising soldiers for this campaign, yet it cannot be understated how crucial a position your forces hold in our Kingdom, be well wary of any Grannvale assault as you hold the border, it is unlikely that their forces stationed in Phinora will hold their position forever. Ganeishire yet musters their own forces and will march toward Tirnanog within the month. When at last they arrive, together you are to take Phinora castle with haste. Good graces to you on the battlefield.

A retainer of the poor little city sucks at his teeth. "Not only Grannvale, but the bandits of the Fiodmahr are certain to make their move. . ."

And sure enough.

Gilla: "Listen ta that sound boys, them Issach's're gearing up fer war. Ain't nobody''ll be rushing to aid the city against some pesky barbarians eh? Hehehe. . . Come on Tirnanog's ours!"

Aindréas: "Boss Gilla, Tirnanog is still defended by a strong-hearted garrison, so many of us will die for this. . . And after the war we'll be routed out anyway, what's the point?"

Gilla: "Shut yer damn trap! I didn't raise ye outta the kindness of me own heart so ye could question my every order, I raised ye so you'd WORK. Now get yer ass out there."

Aindréas: ". . . Yes sir."

Maya: "Ready your weapons, everyone, we have lives to defend!"

The captain and her unit prepare for battle right away, spurred by Hedwig's scouting report of some activity in the nearby woods. They all knew it was a possibility, and avoiding an ambush could go a long way. She thanks the bowman and dons her armor, ready to take to the skies.

Reiner: "Same as our practice: pair up and keep formation until contact. Lancers, defend your archer. Archers, support your lancer."

The soldiers exchange knowing glances, a nod here and there, and they get into position.

Reiner: "Hold the roads to Tirnanog!"

Reiner and Bren move towards the first bandit, attacking in tandem like practiced.

Abbe and Jarem follow suit, their allies' opening move bolstering their confidence.

Then it's Hedwig and Garit's turn.

Maya: "Good job, everyone, let us teach these bandits not to make a fool of us!"

Hedwig falls, but none of his companions dare speak a word. They do care about him and will definitely mourn the loss, but they also know he might not be the only one today.

Hasty decisions in a battle that didn't favor them... Faulting luck for what happened would be disrespectful towards the bandits' might, dishonorable may they be.

The rest of Captain Maya's men look at each other, many of them unable to find their voice in that moment. In the end, it's Lieutenant Reiner's example they all follow: swallow your pride, flee, live to fight another day.

Orius: "Well done. . . Well done indeed. With Menekos's holy blood spilling out from the pike we've hoisted him upon, there can be no question about the veracity of your convictions Lord Lycus"

Lycus: "Lord. . . Yes ser Orius, let this be the flag of our rebellion. No longer will our people stand to be used and abused by those in power merely for the sake of their lineage. Jugdral is aswarm with fleas grown fat on the backs of 'lesser' men, fleas that cannot see beyond the blood they feed on."

Argaen: "Do not let those heads of yours swell and pop. One castle and a handful of farmers and ruffians is hardly enough to take on the world. It's simply impossible that the rest of the country won't respond."

Lycus: "Of course. Men! Long have you sweat for the slave drivers who were handed our reigns more than a century ago, now all I ask is that you bleed for me, that we may cast off their yoke and see Miletos returned to the days of common men!

Orius: "Perhaps the suffering your ancestors underwent here in Miletos is our fortune. As you know, the cities are disparate and not ruled under one royal house, it is my hope that they will not be quick to to join forces. And further, though the child hunts ended more than a century ago, the armies of Miletos pale in comparison to other nations.

Argaen: "Our movement has a chance here and here alone -- the people will support our every move."

Lena: "We can't sit idly by with news like this. No matter the circumstances, this violent of a rebellion needs to be met with retribution. Get ready, soldiers, war is upon us."
Chronos' forces rally towards the city gates.

Irma: "Heh..."
Nina: "Hah..."
The two thieves exchanged a knowing look before each darting towards a nearby village.

Cornelia: "..."
She silently glides over the rough terrain, gracefully, wasting no time in inspiring her allies.

Lycus: "T'would be a fool's command Argaen. If I am to be the Liberation's leader for true, than I must lead on." The young peasant trudges ahead to his gathered men. Laborers one and all whom he'd come well to know in his time. "March on! Soon shall our blades clash, brace thyselves!"

Guarding the rear as the Liberation army marches, the old fellow, garbed in worn armor enshrouded by a ratty green cloak takes a moment, upon his steed at the crest of the port village, his sunken eyes are set out the setting sun, laying down the last rays of its light upon the sea in beauteous shimmering fashion. "Ahh but you shall endure Jugdral, no matter the scars we foolish men set upon thee. . . Forgive us for our hubris." As darkness enshrouds the village, the weary paladin rides off, the clack of his mount's hooves vanishing into the distance.