Overwhelming Firepower

The Half a month that Vardon gave was about to come. Lucen was now standing in front of all the members of Thornefang. The new recruits in front of him no longer looked like new recruits.

The soldiers from the capital were sent back home since they could no longer continue training due to the incoming monster wave.

Lucen looked at the new members of Thornefang. Their stances were steady, their shoulders squared, their arquebuses held without trembling. Smoke and sweat had burned the softness from their faces.

Of course, there were some who had already been to many battlefields before, and there were others who were talented enough that the training they received did not change them much.

Daniel was still the lazy man who kept on yawning, despite looking very nice in the new uniform.

Thrall was feeling incredibly uncomfortable in wearing the uniform, but he was very excited by the thought of what Lucen was about to say, as he could smell the scent of an upcoming battle.

Veronica looked even more stunning in her Thornefang uniform; her old shield was replaced with the shield given to her that had a small slot where she would shoot. She still had her spear, but it was now a secondary weapon.

Bram was able to adapt quickly to the new weapons and was now carrying two arquebuses, one of which was the normal one and the other the Thunderstor.

Lucen’s eyes lingered on each of them, Daniel with his lazy yawn, Thrall vibrating like a hound before the hunt, Veronica calm and unshakable behind her new shield, Bram with his reckless confidence and double guns.

Unlike the other recruits, these four with the strongest personalities did not change, and if they did, it wasn’t much.

The older members of Thornefang stood in front of the group, and his right-hand man, Harlik, was standing beside him.

Lucen stood before all of them, about ready to say something. Normally, at this moment, he would use Acting Adept to increase the chances of inspiring them, but today he felt like using his own words.

Besides, with how many times he had used Acting Adept, some of the qualities of the characters he acted out were still lingering within him.

Lucen let the silence stretch, the weight of it pressing on every chest in the yard. The cold northern wind tugged at their cloaks and uniforms, carrying with it the faint scent of gunpowder that seemed to cling to Ironhold itself.

”Tomorrow we will be marching to the First Fortress. We call it that, since it is the fortress that confronts whatever comes from the deep north. It is our first defense against whatever monsters come to us.”

Lucen’s voice rang across the yard, steady as steel.

”All of us here should have never seen a monster wave. That’s good. It just means our first taste of it will be with Thornefang, not with strangers who don’t know if they can trust the man beside them. I trust in you lot who have forged yourselves together into an unstoppable force.”

Lucen’s gaze swept across the gathered soldiers. Not a single one looked away.

”This monster wave threatens everything we wish to defend. Our homeland, our family, ourselves. I know some of you might think that this might be an easy mission and we would only be there to support the knights of Stellhart that my Father leads, but do not take this lightly.”

Lucen’s tone and look became sharper.

”Even the renowned Knight of Stellhart the shiels of Norvaegard are not sure that they would be able to get home safely. So we must show this monster wave the might of Thornefang, and its overwhelming firepower!”

A low murmur rippled through the ranks, swelling into a roar. Boots stamped, arquebuses butts struck stone, the yard thundered with the sound of men and women who had chosen to stand as one.

Thrall shouted first, his grin savage. ”Time for a hunt!”

Daniel only sighed, rubbing his eyes mid-yawn. ”I guess it’s time to work,” he muttered, though even his lazy drawl couldn’t hide the spark of resolve in his eyes.

Veronica raised her shield, and she roared alongside the others. This was her chance to make her name known, to push onward to fulfill Erwin’s dream.

Bram said nothing. He simply checked the equipment in his hands. He was ready to go to battle. His eyes were hard, shadowed by memories no one dared ask about, but his silence carried as much weight as any cheer.

Lucen let their voices and movements rise, then raised his hand. The clamor fell away like a tide.

”Remember this,” he said, his tone steady, ironclad. ”We are marching to protect Norvaegard and to prove that firepower can shield Norvaegard better than steel alone. The very second we see that monster wave...”

His hand clenched into a fist.

”…then we will bury it in lead and flame.”

The yard erupted again, a thunderous chant of Thornefang! Thornefang! rolling against the walls of Ironhold.

Lucen held their gaze one last time, then turned sharply on his heel. The speech was over. It was time to rest, as for tomorrow, resting would be a privilege.

***

That night, Ironhold did not sleep easily. The recruits sharpened bayonets until sparks flew, veterans sat in silence with their arquebuses across their knees, and the cold northern wind carried the restless scent of smoke across the fortress city.

The following day arrived, the knights of Stellhart, alongside the elite soldiers, were in formation and were about ready to march.

***

The banners of Stellhart snapped in the wind, blue and silver against the pale northern sky. The Thornehart family banner, as well as the Thornefang banner, were also swaying in the wind. They caught the morning light like frozen flame, a symbol of the Iron Duke’s shield raised once more.

The sound of hooves, steel, and wooden wheels clattering in unison filled the air like a war drum.

Vardon sat tall at the very front, his presence a wall of iron that none dared look away from. Behind him, Sir Thalos rode with the knights of Stellhart, men clad in plate, their azure trimmed cloaks trailing, lances like a forest of steel catching the light. Some of the knights were equipped with the Crimson Lord Mk IV, like Lucen. Their disciplined silence was almost oppressive.

Then came the soldiers, their lines steady, some holding spears, and others had arquebuses cradled in their arms. Powder horns and swords at their belts.

At the rear, Thornefang marched. They looked different, less like a knight’s retinue, more like a new breed of warband.

Their arquebuses gleamed in the gray light, the Thunderstorms heavier and bulkier than standard guns, slung across the backs of the strongest.

War wagons creaked forward, armored beasts of wood and iron, their wheels reinforced, their iron-bound sides braced. Mounted upon them were the Thunderspears, long, menacing cannons

Lucen rode at the head of his unit, the cold air biting at his face, the trench coat he was wearing fluttering a little in the wind. Harlik was riding beside him, with Robert as well.

Despite not needing to join in this battle, Robert insisted that he be there to see how the inventions he and Lucen created fare in a real battle.

He was also there to make sure that Lucen got home safely. He did not want the person who helped him advance to the future to die from something like a monster wave.

To Robert, the only death worthy of Lucen would be dying while he was creating something, or while he was comprehending the truths of the world.

***

From the walls and streets of Ironhold, the people gathered. Blacksmiths still in soot-stained aprons, merchants who had closed their stalls, children perched on shoulders to catch a glimpse, all stood to see their protectors march.

Among the crowd of people was Lucen’s younger brother, Cael, and the old butler Vahn. The two came to bid goodbye alongside the citizens to the warriors going to battle.

A cheer rose, ragged at first, then swelling like a tide.

”Iron Duke!”

”For Stellhart!”

The voices of the city clashed together, pride and desperation woven into every cry. Women tossed sprigs of northern pine into the road, a traditional gesture for safe return. Old men raised their gnarled hands in salute, remembering the last wave and those who never came back.

The knights of Stellhart kept their discipline, eyes forward, their armored steps falling like the toll of a bell. The soldiers in the middle ranks held firm, though more than a few let faint smiles slip as the crowd called their names.

But it was when Thornefang passed that the cheering shifted. The people leaned forward, eyes wide at the strange new weapons rolling past, the Thunderstorms glinting in the sun, the war wagons dragging the iron-throated Thunderspears like beasts of war.

”Thornefang!”

”Send those bloody monsters back to the abyss they came from!”

Unlike the knights and soldiers under Duke Vardon, the members of Thornefang properly waved at the crowd cheering for them.

Thrall grinned like a wolf, baring his teeth to the crowd. Daniel tipped his head and yawned. Veronica lifted her shield so that people would remember her, her spear resting at her side like a banner. Bram never looked away from the road ahead.

Lucen smiled at the sight before him. Getting such a celebration as they were going to battle made him feel excited. It was like a truly beautiful cutscene, with the falling snow.

The people’s cheers followed them long after they had crossed the outer gate, fading into the distance until all that remained was the creak of wagons and the steady rhythm of marching boots.

The time to protect what they hold dear was upon them; it was time to face the monster wave.