Legends Never Die: The Weight of the Many (ch. 37) (Patreon)

The first day of the battle, I didn't fight. I sat on top of the hill with the reserves, my men seated on horseback as we waited for movement from the Paladins. However, on the first day, they didn't leave their king's side, leaving us to watch the two armies clash against each other. I watched with awe as the ground seemed to tremble underneath the many feet that charged across the field. It was almost like seeing a wall move, the air filled with war cries and defiant shouting from the Franks who held firm in what must have been a daunting sight.

Then, seconds later, the two armies slammed into one another with a thunderous strike -- almost as if they were two shields striking against each other. It was nothing like I had ever heard before. Soon after, the sounds of metal striking wood and the sounds of dying began to echo into the air, the wind carrying the sounds to my ears. It was the second battle that I had seen but didn't participate in. Despite the fact that the sheer scale of it couldn't be compared to the one back then, how the battle seemed to take shape seemed similar.

From my vantage point, I saw that a clear line between the armies had been established. The sheer numbers on our side worked to our advantage, slowly pushing the Franks back, but there wasn't a breakthrough point. The two sides were grinding away at each other, looking for a point of weakness and fighting for every inch that was given or taken. I gripped my reins a little tighter, feeling a familiar itch to rush down there and carve a line through the Frank's battle lines. Time and time again, it proved to me that it could change the tides of battle.

The action wasn't missed by Halfdan. "They're keeping their Paladins in reserve because you're in reserve," he stated. "They fear you, little brother. I doubt they'll do anything less than throw all the Paladins they have at you the moment you step onto the field."

It was annoying to hear, but I didn't think Halfdan was wrong. Meaning that I was stuck watching the battle. Worse, there was a possibility that I wouldn't be fighting in it at all. But, it was undeniably better for the Saxons if none of the Paladins fought in this battle than it would be if I helped them. We had the numbers and the terrain was to our advantage. Without either of our interference, the Saxons would win. Something that I suspected King Charlemagne knew as well.

"Then I guess we wait until they're desperate enough," I returned, swallowing my eagerness to join the battle. My gaze slid to the Dutch, who had the King and the Count behind them. They were in command of that flank, and I was keeping an eye out for this signal that Ageres was told to expect. I also wondered what King Widukind intended to do about the betrayal.

The battle continued and it seemed to drag on now that I wasn't in the thick of it. I watched the two sides oppose one another. The initial charge had lost its momentum, and the Franks found their footing, refusing to be pushed back any further. The river ended up helping the Franks because it protected that flank, leaving only one side for them to worry about the Saxons trying to spill out around. Such a thing was prevented by the Frank's cavalry, who charged into the Saxons and pinned them in place.

The sun above began to make its arc across the sky -- Sòl being chased by the wolf Sköll. Hours went by without any significant amount of progress on either side. The Saxons continued their attack and the Franks continued to hold strong. They ground away at each other, but it was as the sky began to darken that I heard a horn blast, telling everyone that the battle was done for the day. It still continued on for some minutes as the Saxons withdrew from the battle, heading back to the hill. Their withdrawal was harried by the Frankish archers, who shot at their fleeing backs.

Seeing the dead on the field, I saw that not many had died. There were piles of corpses, but compared to how many men had fought… there weren't many. I watched as the Franks collected their dead, counting their slain. In a battle of tens of thousands, barely more than a hundred had fallen. Likewise, our own losses were similar.

The wounded were treated, and I at least made myself useful there. My people knew my methods -- boiling knives and clamps in water, using clean bandages and honey to close wounds, and so on. We would have lost another fifteen, but with our treatment, they all could be expected to continue fighting.

The second day of battle began early in the morning. The Franks drew up their battle lines while the dew was still fresh on the ground. The ones that fought the day before were put in the reserves, leaving fresh faces to fight the Franks. And, when the Franks refused to charge, again, King Widukind sounded the horn to charge. Our mighty army trampled across the field, which I noticed was visibly more muddy after thousands of feet tearing up the grass. But, as the hours went by, the mud hardened under the sun.

The battle continued much the same as it did on the first day. The battle lines were quickly set, and it was hours of grinding away at each other. One thing I did notice was that King Charlemagne's forces were tired. It was evident in how they fought. While we had a great many in reserve, the Frankish King had far less simply because he needed to field more men to prevent himself from being overrun.

King Widukind decided to take advantage of this fact. When the sun reached noon, he sent another wave of reserves and recalled the ones that had been fighting for hours. Our men were kept fresh and those that were exhausted were given rest. The Franks were forced to fight until dusk that day, the horn only blowing once the sun began to dip below the horizon.

The death toll was higher that day. On both sides a grand total of three hundred people had died, though I noticed that the number favored the Franks. We had lost more men that day, but it was well worth it in King Widukind's eyes.

Again, night turned into day and the Franks drew up their battle lines, as did the Saxons on the third day of battle. And, again, the two mighty armies clashed in the field. The morning dew turned it into a thick muck as the grass was thoroughly trampled and ripped up. The fighting lasted the day, and again, the Saxons retreated back to our position and the dead were collected. A hundred and fifty Franks and a hundred Saxons.

It was on the fourth day that I took up my position, feeling restless due to my inaction. The losses were mounting on both sides, but the Franks were by far feeling the worst of it I saw, peering through a low hanging fog at them. They looked exhausted and spent. For three long days, they had spent fighting with little hope in the way of respite. It had taken a toll on them physically and mentally. Before, they shouted at us, challenging us to attack them, but this morning, with the sun barely peeking above the horizon, they were almost silent.

"It will be today," King Widukind decided, looking at me as we readied ourselves for another long day of battle.

I glanced at him, surprised by how certain of it he sounded. "Today?"

"The fog," King Widukind answered, gesturing around us. It was a dense fog that hung low to the ground, obscuring everything in a gaze, but it wasn't so thick that we couldn't see through it. "King Charlemagne is clever, but I am determined to not underestimate him. Four days of fighting have turned the terrain into mud, which will slow our charge. The fog obscures the terrain around us. We know that he desires inaction from the Dutch, which leads me to believe it shall come from the river. And, after three days of fighting, he lulled us into a false sense of security," he elaborated.

I gazed out at the field, and the words made a worrying amount of sense to me. "We are ready for it. The Dutch will take action, I will see to it," I reassured King Widukind, who nodded. He did seem reassured.

"Today may not be the final battle, but what happens this morning shall decide the victor," King Widukind ventured, inclining his head to me. As if to say it would be decided by me. I returned the gesture with a shallow nod, feeling a jolt of anticipation rush through me, realizing that I would finally be participating in the battle. As well as feeling a heavy weight on my shoulders, knowing that it really did come down to my actions.

"I'll prepare my men," I told him, passing the word to Thorkell, Halstien, and Halfdan. The three of them welcomed a change in scenery, as we took up a different position in the army, standing closer to the Dutch. Something that seemed to make King Ageres nervous. I couldn't hear what he said to the Count, who was subtly eying me, but I could guess he was demanding to know why I was suddenly so close to him.

On the fourth day, the battle began with a long blast from the Saxon horn. Our men charged across the field, and true to King Widukind's words, with the field turning into such a thick muck, our advance was slowed. The Franks unleashed volleys of arrows, hundreds of them to feather our warriors as they pushed through the slog. More than once, I saw men being forced to leave a boot behind that was quickly claimed by the mud. With the slowed advance, we were exposed to the archers for far longer. Enough so that King Widukind gave the order for our reserves to advance to support our own archers.

King Widukind was proven right once again because today's battle was already different in nature. As the Frankish archers fell behind the warriors, the Saxons drawing close, the Franks unleashed a war cry that was drowned out by a horn blasting. The Frankish warriors surged forward, along with their cavalry, and it was their horsemen that smashed into our warriors first.

The only time I had ever seen a cavalry charge was back in Frankfurt, and the one that I saw now was no less devastating. The horsemen slammed into the Saxons, trampling through the disorganized and slowed charge. The Saxons recoiled from it, offering little resistance to it, and from where I sat I could see the Saxon army buckling under the deadly blow. The mud slowed down the charge as much as it slowed our army, meaning the momentum was quickly lost but the effects of it had a rippling effect.

Not long after, the Franks met the Saxon charge, providing cover for the cavalry to pull back and get ready for another charge.

"Fuck me," Thorkell muttered under his breath, seeing how the single charge seemed to affect the army. The Saxons were still fighting, and still pushing forward, but it was halted and stilted. I could hear their confusion and fear. And I was forced to consider something.

"All those men were prepared to kill… how many of them were prepared to die?" I wondered aloud, seeing how badly morale suddenly became. Something that worsened significantly when the horsemen surged forward for another charge. It wasn't as bad as the first one, but I could see the toll that it took on the wing. It was starting to buckle. The Frankish cavalry was everything my father had said they were and a great deal more.

Overconfidence had made their morale fragile. They felt victory was at hand, that they were winning, and so a single devastating charge had far more effect than it might otherwise have. They went from certain victory to possible defeat in an instant.

"Reserves, charge!" King Widukind shouted, sending in some of the reserves to reinforce the crumbling flank. I saw Grimar and more Saxons start to surge forward, crossing the field and were being feathered by arrows the entire time. My grip tightened on the reins to my horse, waiting for the signal that I knew was coming. I searched for it as the reinforcements cleared the muddy field, and almost as soon as they were committed, I saw King Charlemagne give it. He raised a hand, then let it fall.

A split second later, an arrow with a burning rag attached to it was shot through the air.

I took in a deep breath, knowing that was the signal. I didn't know what the signal meant, but I had to trust King Widukind's gut. "Brave warriors of Holland!" I shouted out, urging my horse forward as my men followed me. "Charge!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, having my men charge with me.

I spoke the words in Dutch.

I knew how people acted in battle. I saw plenty of it over the past few years. When people saw others fleeing, they would flee. When they saw others standing strong, they would take heart and fight. And when they saw someone charging, who gave the command in their own tongue?

It was only natural that they would follow.

I glanced over my shoulder to see Ageres screaming at the top of his lungs to stop the charge, but his words were completely drowned out by the thunderous roar of the Dutch, who were as restless as I was. Ageres had gathered up as many pagans in his 'kingdom' as he could. They were here to fight for their freedom. Meaning that Ageres' betrayal was on behalf of himself, not the Dutch as a whole. A smirk found its way onto my face as I took the Dutch army, leading near four thousand men to the river.

King Widukind knew King Charlemagne well, it seemed, because before I saw them, I heard the thunderous charge of cavalry. My heart picked up, "Spears! Spears!" I shouted out, the mud delaying my men, but we still arrived just in time to see the arrival of the Frankish cavalry that came rushing toward the river. I didn't need True Sight to know who led the charge -- members of King Charlemagne's Paladins.

Three of them. Roland. Olivier. And one other that I didn't know.

Three against one. This was going to be a challenge unlike anything I had ever experienced before, but I was undaunted. My grip tightened on my dane axe as I arrived at the crossing, the Dutchmen layering their spears to block off the point they were trying to enter. The river was deep and it would slow them greatly in the crossing, something that they must know, but Roland simply unsheathed a sword and pointed it forward. At me. The Franks continued their reckless charge, heading directly towards us while my men hastily readied themselves.

"Archers! Loose!" I shouted, and my archers began to fire as soon as they could. Roland smacked an arrow away with his blade and I saw it earnestly for the first time. It was a long sword with oddly dark gray metal, with a crossguard seemingly made out of gold with an inlay. It was the single most beautiful weapon that I had ever seen. Roland only seemed to have eyes for me. While the Paladins continued to surge forward, other horsemen fell as their horses suddenly fell underneath them. They reached the river not long after, and I realized that either the river wasn't nearly as deep as I was told it was… or the Franks had prepared this strategy well in advance.

Still, wading through chest deep water on a horse slowed the charge a great deal, and my archers felled a number of their horses, sweeping away their riders in the flowing river. Between these two things, the charge was massively blunted by the time it reached us. However, it simply didn't matter in the face of Roland and his two supporting paladins.

I saw Roland effortlessly hack a man in half, cutting through his ribs and spine, and chainmail with a single swipe. The other two lashed out with their spears, cutting a line through the Dutch as easily as I did Franks. It was a daunting thing to see, I could admit, steeling myself for the battle to come. However, because I knew the effect I had on the battlefield, I wasn't so keen on letting the Paladins have the same effect on us. "Charge!"

I screamed the words in Dutch, sending the Dutchmen forward to close the gap that the Paladins had formed while I raced forward to meet them. The Cavalry's charge was blunted and then stalled entirely, making them perfect targets for my archers.

I set my sights on Roland. We clashed in the center of the army, the Paladins finding themselves cut off from most of their support. He swung his blade and I rushed to meet it with my dane axe, only to discover how terrible of a decision that was when the edge of his blade bit into my axe and cut right through the steel and wood. And he nearly took my head off with that same stroke.

We passed each other, and I glanced at my axe, finding that the blade was cut in half. The cut wasn't clean, though. It was more like it was ripped in two rather than cut. I circled around, the Dutchmen giving us space even as the battle was waged.

"That's some sword you have there," I remarked, my gaze flickering to the other two.

"It is the holy blade Durandal. A blade given to me by King Charlemagne, who in turn was bequeathed the blade from an angel from heaven," Roland stated, evident pride in his voice. He should be proud of it. That blade didn't have so much as a scratch on it after ripping through my axe.

I was tempted to think it could simply cut through anything, but something Astolfo said led me to believe otherwise. "It's indestructible, but it's your own strength that cuts through everything."

To that, Roland offered a thin smile and inclined his head to me. "Exactly so," he confirmed before he seemed to settle on his horse. "I will not ask for your surrender. There would be no point in it. And as much as I would like for this to be settled in an honorable duel, my king has tasked me with the defeat of your army. A task that means more to me than my honor," Roland stated while the other two Paladins flanked out. All three of them were coming at once. "For that, you have my apologies, Seigfried the Wolf-Kissed, but you shall die on this field. May God have mercy on your soul."

"May the Valkyries find you and Odin welcome you to his hall," I returned, expecting nothing less. The battle was going well in our favor. I saw it all around me. The Franks had relied on the element of surprise, and without it, their gambit failed. However, I knew that could all too easily change if the Paladins got involved. It was best if all three of them were focused on me. They could single handedlyhandily turn the tide of the battle.

With that, I flung what was left of my axe at Roland's horse before I urged mine forward to Olivier. Even as he hacked at the axe, cutting through the wooden shaft, it still stabbed into the horse's chest, making it rear back. Roland fought to keep his horse steady as it kept trying to buck him off, but I focused on the other two for the moment. Olivier leveled a spear at me as I galloped to him, but he was ill prepared for me to jump from my horse and throw myself at the third Paladin, slamming into him and bringing him to the ground.

"No quarter given!" I shouted in Dutch, the Paladin and I struggling in the mud. A hand went to one of my seaxes, trying to stab it into the unarmed Paladin's neck. His white cloak was covered in mud as he struggled to prevent me from overpowering him. Olivier rushed to his aid, but he was beset by Dutchmen that were trying to rip him off of his horse. He stabbed down with a spear, only for his horse to buck when it was stabbed. The back of his cloak was grabbed but he released it, ripping out his sword before he fell to the ground.

"God… damn you!" The Paladin cursed at me, swinging up to catch me in the side of the head with a mailed fist. The blow hurt, and I felt blood dripping down my face, but all I could think of was how the action cost him. Because of it, he didn't notice my hand snaking back to draw the other seaxe on my belt and drive it under his armpit. He cried out in pain, cringing in agony, and he took another swing at my face despite the injury. I stabbed him again at a different angle, but before I could hope for a third time, I saw Roland appear out of the corner of my eye as he chopped a man in half along with his weapon.

His expression was one of sheer fury, splattered with blood and mud, his gaze affixed to me. "Rinaldo!" He exclaimed while I rose to my feet, going to face Roland while Olivier was fending off Dutchmen that threw themselves at him, despite how many of them he killed. He wielded an oddly thin sword that struck out quick as lightning, seemingly able to be everywhere at once and ruthlessly killing with but a swipe of the blade.

While they were preoccupied, I rushed to Roland, hoping to break them apart. Kill one, then another, then the last one. It was the only hope I had of defeating all three of them. Unlike Olivier, the Dutchmen feared Roland, letting him stomp toward me and taking a slash at me. The very first thing that I noticed was that he was fast for his size. Not as fast as Astolfo, but I knew that blocking his attacks wasn't in the cards. Leaving me to dodge in thick mud with poor footing.

I leaned out of the way of the strike, darting forward, but I found a large metal shield in my face and it was only then that I realized how large it was. It was about four feet long and two feet wide, and with how he used it, I only just barely saw his eyes over the edge. I looked at Roland in that moment and my heart started pounding.

He seemed more like a fortress than any castle I had encountered so far. I had absolutely no idea how to attack him. His footing? He was wearing heavier armor than me. I only had my chainmail on, but he seemed more surefooted than I was as he ruthlessly advanced towards me.

My hesitation cost me. A split second later, I felt a cut on my arm as Olivier joined the fight and Rinaldo was covering their backs with his own sword, driving the Dutch away as much as he could. I dodged under his next attack, then narrowly kept my leg when Roland took a swipe at me, the two working in sync. Olivier wasn't as fast as Astolfo, but he was faster than Roland. Between the two, I didn't have any opportunity to attack, pushed completely on the defensive. Unbreakable Guard helped me survive despite Olivier's relentless attacks, but I had no choice but to dodge Roland's.

I was losing, I realized, feeling the sharp sting of a cut just above my knee. My blood was soaking into my clothes, and my arms were starting to burn with effort. Sweat stung at my wounds, making them an irritation.

The two before me were showing signs of their own tiredness, but they still seemed strong. Enough so that no Dutchman would dare to attack them, even from behind.

It was then that I heard it. A sharp whistle that rang out three times.

Just in time.

Expanded vision.

The user's vision expands in scope. The 90 degrees of vision becomes the full 190.

Uncanny Dodge

The user always knows just how to avoid a blow if it is possible to dodge it at all.

The reward for defeating Astolfo. Despite the fact that Uncanny Dodge might seem more useful at the moment, what I chose was Expanded Vision. And, in response, my vision grew. The things that I could only see at the fringes of my eyes suddenly appeared as if I was looking directly at them. It was for that reason I could see everything in position. Thorkell, Halstien, and even Halfdan.

Just as I could see Rinaldo rushing me from behind, a sword leveled at my back as he intended to run me through.

I took in a deep breath and let it out, regaining my stamina from Second Wind.

The real battle began now.