The Amber Sword

Pillars of light reflected off of one another in the rain. Looking from afar, it was as if the drizzle that struck through them had turned to gold. Everyone looked up at a crack of light splitting the gloomy skies as rays of angelic white light dawned, gently caressing the faces of the people beneath. The brilliant rays stabbed through the clouds and settled down on the port.

Leider Dulo stood before a windowpane. His body seemed to be infused with inexhaustible energy, his posture upright and his fist clenched.

“Centuries have passed since King Erik parted with this world. But do the nobles of Aouine still remember the oath they made upon the sword?”

None could answer.

Marquis Balta felt restless. He was agitated, but he was more afraid of the person before him changing his mind and switching sides. Even though he was the leader of White Lion Legion, could not match Leider Dulo’s ability to call upon Aouine’s various armies.

The old militant slowly turned his body with a stern look affixed on his face, and a fierce light could be seen within his ashen eyes as if they held an unquenchable fire of determination. He lifted his head and said slowly, “Balta, the White Lion Legion has lost the ‘flag’ in their hearts for a long time, but even so, they cannot lose their pride–.”

“We have long ago strayed from the glorious path King Erik sought. And now, we can only use this Legion to redeem our honor. White Lion Legion – Death shall be our only surrender!!”

He finally knew how painful the confrontation between Buga, the White Knight Abram, and Brendel was back then.

Carglise was sweating profusely, as were the youngsters of Trentheim. Although his men had the upper hand – though they did not suffer a single casualty while their enemies were falling like logs – they knew their skill was not the reason for their advantage.

It was due to the armor they wore.

In reality, they were being beaten by the old knights of the White Lion Legion to the point that it was difficult to lift their arms. But those attacks were rendered useless due to their armor. And when they attacked even once, the enemy would suffer brutal damage.

The kingdom’s White Lion Legion only had simple tactics, and they depended solely on the standard “White Lion Armour“ which provided few abilities and limited their own skills. Even so, Carglise and his army had a hard time dealing with them. However, as time went on, Carglise grew sharper and sharper while his enemies gradually became more fatigued.

Because the White Lion Legion knew, despite their overwhelming advantage in numbers, that they could not win.

Callun knew that his enemies were no weaklings. They merely lack experience, that’s all.

Even so, Carglise and his men were getting better. Their defenses and counterattacks were constantly improving. In a way, Callun was like a teacher to Carglise’s battalion – teaching the students how to kill their teachers.

Callun closed his eyes in agony.

Carglise was not a fool. He too felt unbearable pain. If they continued, they would utterly kill the White Lion Legion’s morale. Although having too much pride would be the cause of one’s downfall, an army should never lose its pride.

And he could not help but admire his enemies’ pride.

He commanded, “Charge forward with full force! Forget about defense!” There was no need to waste effort to defend themselves; after all, their armors could do the job just fine.

Even though this command may have sounded dubious and inconceivable, it was the most effective idea Carglise could think of.

Once the youngsters from Trentheim stopped defending, they regained their composure. It was as if they had returned to the boundless Black Forest, and instead of panicking when they faced their opponents, they stood up courageously as they did back then.

And that was all they needed.

Carglise and his subordinates howled loudly, raising their swords and charging forward as their training in the Black Forest showed its results, and finally they thrust at their enemies.

At that moment, Callun knew that defeat was around the corner.

The strike was a dazzling sight.

The blade auras from the White Raven Sword Art converged like waves sieving through the rain, bringing about a hazy white mist – a perfect display of the name, White Raven.

The air coagulated and formed a flurry of greyish-white birds flying through the crowd.

Following it was a crimson rain, their enemies falling one after the other.

Callun howled in pain. He did not know why he was here. Weren’t my enemies the armies of Kirrlutz? Why am I here, leading my men to their deaths? Why am I making them lose their pride?

However, to their last moments, his men cried out with valor. They were not retreating and defending anymore. They united, throwing themselves at Carglise’s army. It wasn’t a battle anymore; they were just pleading for their demise.

Carglise couldn’t bear it and finally said, “Enough!”

“Stop!” He stood amidst the heavy rain and growled like an angry lion. “Everyone, stop!”

But they did, even before he even spoke. And then, the White Lion Legion’s men did too. Most of them were stained with blood as they stared breathlessly at their enemies with their weapons still in hand.

The street was dyed crimson.

The armies stood at both ends of the street. Silence. There were no longer screams of pain, nor the screech of metal clashing against metal. Only silence.

“I don’t know who you are,” Carglise panted heavily as his voice echoed out in the rain, “The commander on the other side, I wish you would give us a way out…This slaughter should not continue anymore.”

“The White Lion Legion will not retreat no matter what, even if the last of us dies,” Callun looked at Carglise. He was also puffing deeply, and though he was disheartened, his determination did not waver.

Carglise hissed lightly and said, “This is not about retreating,” as he closed his eyes, “Will you all still march onwards even if it’s Aouine’s people you’re facing? Is this your image of glory? Is this the reason you stand here? Answer me! Is this just for the position and power!?”

“No, this shouldn’t be what the White Lion Legion wants.”

“Then is that your path? Is that what you were marching towards when you swore your oath back under the White Lion flag? Open your damn eyes!” Carglise clenched his fists tightly as he shouted in rage,

“Look at your battle flag, dyed crimson with blood. Look at the port, where water once flowed – blood has taken its place!!”

“Blood of none other than Aouine herself!”

“Listen to the raging blaze, it’s the dying cries of the Kingdom, can’t you hear it?”

“So this is what you vowed to protect? Did you not vow to lay down your life for this land should the need arise?”

He glared at them, each word heavier than the last.

“The Kingdom is dying, by our own hands,” Carglise said.

“So I plead to you once more… step aside.”

Callun’s sword fell to the ground with a thud. He saw the blood-stained flag, the white lion emblem on it bathed in his countrymen’s blood.

Was that what I wished for?

In the midst of rain, he knelt to the ground. And with every fiber of his being, with all of his heart and soul…

He wept.