The salt flats of the Rhumid wastes presented an interested challenge for Sepruxian warriors. Though they were flat, much like the Sepruxian plains, and surrounded by mountains just the same, the sheer logistical challenges they presented proved frustrating to some of the most hardened warriors.
They were inhospitably windswept and cold in the nights, and blisteringly hot during the day, even when sheltered in tents made of the thickest leather and fur the myriad wildlife of Sepruxia could offer.
Water was cruelly scarce in the salt-flats, and the little that could be found was often already polluted by salt – requiring time and supplies that could not be afforded in such wastelands.
The animals, of course, had a dislike for the wastes inherent in their very instincts – Many animals could not adapt as readily as humans, and were essentially unable to hunt or forage for food in the eternally lifeless flats.
The Sepruxian plains, of course, being rich with farmland and species that made viable livestock, made its inhabitants well-equipped on their trek, though they were limited in use of supplies by the distance and the harsh terrain that lay before them. Even despite the plenty of food that they had fought to defend, it was an impossibility for them, as with any other family, to ensure merely acceptable conditions in the Rhumid lands would be nigh-impossible.
The Sepruxians, of course, were not of the ilk that would be disturbed by a lack of comfort. Despite the abundance of food in their homeland, they were plagued by terrible dangers – warring tribes, pirates, vicious wildlife, and disease; their people fought hard for their lands, just as the Calydonians; particularly Syros, earned their everlasting respect by defeating them in battle.
Although Syro’s death was certainly mourned by the Sepruxians (and the family of Magesanitus Valentinus that had come to rule the region), their people were one of the first to leap to action after Syros’s death – rather than wallow is misery, they had made the choice that the best was to remember Syros would be to honor him through battle.
Valentinus sighed, turning his blade against the fire at the center of his tent as if to examine its glint in the light. The blade was, despite its age, rather ornate; engraved with the founders and heroes of the Magesanitus family, gleaming in the light of the roaring flames despite the many battles it had fought. Though the blade itself had been largely destroyed many years ago, what little remained of the blade, along with its hilt, had long since been re-forged into a short sword, more alike that which the Sepruxians wielded.
The narrower, longer blade, sheathed behind his back, was ornate much alike the first, though intended for a far different purpose. Whereas the short blade was intended for close-quarters combat on foot when paired with the shield, the narrow blade was designed for combat on horseback – to stab and slash from the side of the user that was not protected by the shield.
Valentinus fully realized that he may die in the coming battle. Soldiers were suffering from exhaustion, thirst, and hunger, and word of traitors had already begun to spread through the camps. Normally, as per his family’s tradition, the eldest son most experienced in combat would accompany the patriarch, and, in the event of his death, prepare the body for burial and immediately inherit leadership of the clan in order to avoid the chaos that might follow a leader’s death. Valentinus faced one inherent problem in this fact – he had no living male heirs, and only one daughter who possessed the combat skill required to inherit leadership. Although it was an incredibly rare occurrence, in such times, desperate measures had to be taken, as was the case. Aemilia, the daughter he wished to marry off for political purposes, was the only one eligible to perform these rites.
He shook his head, lifting open the flap of his tent. There were a few lone souls wandering his family’s camp, but the majority had retired, excluding those who stood watch. The night was lit with stars and the moon, but even the chirp of crickets Valentinus had grown to find comfort in on sleepless nights was missing from the salt-wastes. There was nothing – only the howling wind and the bitter cold.
Valentinus, despite his many years of combat skill, feared the casualties that would befall his family if the coming battle was to go wrong. His daughter, he hoped, would not die with him.
Aemilia, though one may be unable to see it in her armor, was a pinnacle of Sepruxian beauty. Though she was certainly physically toned by the rigors of combat, the typical role of Sepruxian woman in combat – as saboteurs, rangers, and skirmishers meant that they preferred agility and lithe tone over the sheer brawn that benefitted the heavier varieties of infantry. She maintained her figure even with her specialized training, a fact designed into the training the few lucky Sepruxian women received.
With hair a soft blonde-brown, typical of many Sepruxians, it accented the medium tan of her skin so well that it seemed to almost have been purposely designed. Her hair was cut short to her ears to allow easier movement in combat, though the dark red of her irises was often sufficient to distract from that fact, though her hourglass figure was often enough to distract from any physical flaws she possessed. Her bust, though certainly luscious, pert, and even pillowy, was often hidden from sight by the binding she was forced to use in order to keep it from posing an obstruction in combat – especially with the bounce they normally possessed. Her hips were quite obviously built for child-bearing, wide and sculpted to be an attractive feature for any man wishing to continue his family’s line. It was accented, too, by her deliciously round heart-shaped rear, legs smooth, long, and slender enough that they would draw eyes for miles around. All of that, though, except for a few rare occasions, was hidden from most any eye by layers of cloth, leather, and metal.
This presented Valentinus with a unique problem – if he sent his daughter into the thickest of combat, she would be proven as a worthy heir, though such may mean turning away prospective alliances. It was a unique problem that Valentinus could not avoid, and it was a decision he would have to make very soon.