The dawn of that first day was filled with all manner of sounds. Soldiers marched from both sides like two bands of horses galloping through the field. The battle lines were formed and slowly our armies stood facing each other. On my legion’s side, my banners were held aloft, flowing with their brilliant colors of gold,black and blazing red. My legionnaires stood shoulder to shoulder with their spears pointed upward and their shields facing our enemies, each marked with the same emblem as the banners.

  They stood together in several rows, single file. They shouted orders and made sure that every man and woman was in his place. Those brave soldiers who would give their lives to me. Ours was the very portrait of order and civilization. Each soldier knew their role. Men side by side with ophidian. Everything that could have been done to prepare had already been done. We made the appropriate sacrifices to Ile’Sethak, gathering the finest cuts of prized animals and presenting them as burnt offerings.

  The soldiers were trained; their weapons sharpened, their armor fitted, their shields tempered and each of us knew that death would greet us today. If he would take us or not was a different question.

  And unlike some sickly soft rulers who watched from a hilltop while others fought my battles —if those worms were even brave enough to do that, let alone come to the battle themselves— I stood with my men prepared to die just as everyone else did. I was a king who fought my own battles. To my right, Kallista sat atop her mount boldly and prepared to send many of the Bull’s men to the gates of hell before they could even scratch her. To my left was Octavian adorned in his armor. His armor was the color of polished steel and the plume of his helmet was made of bright red feathers laid out horizontally.

  On the other side of the field was the Bull and his army. Theirs was a massive hoard of men wearing ramshackle armor that was ill fitting. A disorganized band of raiders and vagabonds that laid with animals. They were a horde of wastrels that was the very face of chaos that waged war against the order I forged. While my army stood straight and silent, our enemies banged their weapons against their shields and jeered at us. They chanted obscenities and hurled insults.

  At some point they brought out a large snake that was the size of a fully grown man. They threw the animal on the ground. One man took his sword and severed the head from the snake. Kicking the body away, they raised the head up in the air while placing a crudely made laurel wreath on the serpent’s head. They pointed and laughed at me. The insult was not lost on me and I remember scowling at the sight.

  There, standing in front of his forces next to his steed was the Bull. He was the only one who wasn’t chanting or joining in the mocking. There was nothing inside him but the anticipation of battle. He was a man of focus and determination. While his warriors saw the battle as a chance to prove their greatness, the Bull saw it as a means to enjoy the simple act of battle. Win or lose, the Bull was at peace for simply fighting. I recognized that determination, because it was akin to how I felt at that same exact moment.

  As we stood there listening to the taunts of the Bull’s army, I turned to face Kallista as she sat on her mount.

  “Go to your people, Kallista. You know what to do.”

  Without a word she nodded and joined with the rest of the calvary. There were other mounted warriors in the Bull’s forces. Her task was to harass their forces and keep them from attacking our lines. If they were routed or all slain, then we had a great advantage. Time would only tell. I turned to face my men and spoke to them.

  “Do you see what stands before us, brothers and sisters? Do you see the rabid, mongrel horde that stands in our way? The biting, gnashing filth that has met us here on the field of battle? Does it not just make you sick?”

  “Look at them. Look at them! They are a race of inbred bastards. Sons of tired whores, and fathers of corruption and chaos. This is the very thing we are fighting against. This abomination that insults us with every breath they take! Each one of them is a murderer and a fiend. They spew nothing but filth from their mouths. And they are what stands in our way from uniting this region!”

  “If we defeat them; if we prove to the world that we can tame the Blasted Lands here, then we can tame the world itself! Do not let any of these degenerates frighten you, for Ile’Sethak protects us. Ile’Sethak grants us strength and power. Ile’Sethak has gifted us these lands, and it is by his will that we offer up these freaks of nature as a fitting sacrifice to his glory! We have conquered tribes all across our homeland. I have turned slaves into warriors, and our enemies into slaves. We have become a waking nightmare for all who would challenge us. On this day, we become the nightmare for the whole of this corrupted world. Peace will be established, and all nations will bend the knee to our new glorious empire! For the glory of Ile’Sethak!”

  One by one, my soldiers chanted Ile’Sethak’s name, raising their spears high in the air and thrusting them at every utterance of his name.

  Both sides continued to chant. The first battle was not one of sword and shield, but of voices. Their discordant grunts and hollering and our rejoiceful praising and chanting. Then, a war horn was raised in the air on the bull’s side. It was tall and made of brass, affixed with a Bull’s head on top of it. It blew hard and the sound we heard was an awful bellowing, like the braying of a wild beast. Aetherial and haunting. Then, our enemy let out war cries and charged. Quickly, we moved into position and raised our shield wall, and like a great tidal wave of men, our enemies crashed against our battle lines.

  They hit our shields with an echoing, resounding bang. Though they tried to push us back with their sheer numbers, our forces continued to hold the line. Many of them tried to climb over one another just to throw themselves into our ranks, but our men were well trained. A thrust of a spear into their hearts made their chest spray fountains of blood before falling over, already having died before they hit the ground.

  They continued to crash against us with every ounce of strength that they had. It was a relentless, brutal attack. Most of the Bull’s men were like rabid animals wearing the skins of men. Not only did they swing their swords and sweep with their axes, but they also tried to bite and claw at us in a berserker fury. One of these men tried leapt against my shield. I held him back but he simply smiled as he bit at me. He gnashed his teeth and snarled like a dog. He was frothing at the mouth and wild eyed as if some evil spirit had possessed him. Swiftly I slammed the blunt side of my shield into his throat with such force that it caved his windpipe in. He spat up blood and fell down.

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  After several minutes, every decanus in the legion fighting blew his whistle and the first rotation began. The front fighters moved to the back of the line while the next man moved forward with full strength. This made it to where our forces were like a well oiled machine that was not so easily tired. This was the strength of the Roharim army, and it would prove to be a great boon for mine.

  Meanwhile, Kallista and her forces were in charge of keeping the enemy cavalry units away from our main forces. They had moved to the far south of us where they lined up and began a charge, riding their mounts back and forth to swing and joust. Kallista was —to put it simply— death incarnate on her mount. She led her men to a full frontal charge. She let out a battle cry that was so loud, I could hear it from the main battlefield amid the barking of orders and the screams of the dying. She took her spear, and on her carnivorous mount, she sprinted faster and faster. When she got to the enemy horse lord, her mount jumped in the air and sunk its sickle like toe claw into the horse’s neck and ripped its throat out. Kallista had jumped off of her steed. The rider was on the ground, the weight of the horse trapped his leg. She took hold of her spear and pinned the man to the ground by his throat.

  Another enemy rider saw this and charged, seeking an easy kill. Kallista was prepared for it. She held her sword with two hands and was ready to strike. She stood firm without any sense of fear on her face. Only a stern, stoic determination. Anyone else would have ran when they saw a horse charging at full speed at them, but not Kallista. As soon as the horse was close enough, she yelled again and stepped out of the horse's way before swinging with all of her strength. In one stroke she severed the horse’s leg. It crashed on the ground, tumbling as limp as a child's doll, breaking its neck on impact and instantly killing the beast. The rider was not in much better shape. He had survived, but most of his bones were broken, jutting out of his flesh. Kallista moved over to him and severed his head. She then called her mount to her. It stopped eating the horse and went to her. Setting herself on it again, she resumed her mission.

  And then there was Brutus who, as always, fought valiantly. Despite his grumbling, he was a master of war with strength unlike any man. Tall, proud, and capable. He wielded two axes that day, and with them he reflected the savagery of the Bull’s men right back at them. Every swing from his trunk like arms severed limb and head alike. Blood sprayed from the stumps like a bright crimson fountain. It splashed on his face, and one could tell that he was most at home on a battlefield. He licked the blood off of his face and then let out a hearty laugh.

  One of the Bull’s men was used as a morbid display of Brutus’s power. He swung one of his axes and embedded it right into the warrior’s head. Then with a simple flick of his wrist, Brutus broke the man’s neck as easily as one breaks silence. Another man felt Brutus’s axe dig into his shoulder before Brutus headbutted the man and caved his head in. One could not deny that Brutus was effective.

  And there I was, side by side with Octavian. We continued to hold the line as fiercely as any of my men. As we stood our ground, men on both sides fell to the ground. Both my legionnaires and the barbarians littered the ground with their corpses. There was so much blood spilt that it stained the ground red and turned the earth into thick mud. Yet still no ground from either side was taken.

  Not one inch advanced or subtracted. That first bloody day was a deadlock. The screams and violence echoed all through the day. Minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like long years. Exhaustion set in, yet still no one had managed to gain any new territory. Each man fought as hard and as brutally as one would expect. The immovable object and the unstoppable force. O gods, I tell you that it was a battle worthy of legend.

  Yet even so, our fatigue was starting to take its toll. We could feel our body’s on the verge of breaking. We continued to hold the line, but the Bull’s forces were numerous. It was as if for every one we killed, two took their place. The Bull had brought his entire force with him, and it seemed like his strategy was to use sheer numbers against us. I could feel my arms straining. It was like all of my limbs were on fire.

  However, just when it seemed like we were about to be overwhelmed, losing some ground on our side, Kallista and her forces rallied. They routed the enemy calvary and joined our ranks. Suddenly the great pressure on us was lifted, and we could breathe. We took back what little land we lost and continued fighting with a renewed spirit. Kallista went down the line and swung her blade back and forth, severing heads as if she was harvesting wheat. Yet even with that short reprieve, exhaustion fell upon our heads. Fortunately, it came to the Bull’s men too. They were growing tired just as we were.

  ***

  At last, the day had finally ended when sunset came. The horns from the Bull sounded and everyone simply stopped fighting. Slowly, we all moved away from each other, leaving our dead where they laid. When the heat of battle had worn off, we finally saw just how many were felled. Fields of corpses strewn across the battle ground. So much blood had been shed that it flowed like a literal river and pooled on the ground, all mixing together. The Bull’s men, my legionnaires both human and ophidian, all shared the same red blood that day. We counted our dead and theirs. Yet despite the great numbers of slain, not one side managed to overtake the other. The first day had ended in a stalemate.

  That night, each of us were caked in mud and blood. Even dipping a single limb into a pool of water turned it bright red. There was no cause to sing, no victories to be had. We simply survived. It was the same for the Bull’s forces, because all through the night, there was a great silence. The only one who was actually celebrating was Brutus. While the rest of us were simply recovering from long hours of fighting, He washed his face and smiled with pride.

  “A glorious day, Hadrian! Scores of the Bull’s men lay dead at our feet!”

  “What's that?” I asked, too tired to fully register what he had said. I had finished cleaning myself, but it wasn’t a thorough cleaning. More blood would be spilt in the following day. I rubbed my eyes and felt so tired.

  “The battle went well, Hadrian. Fighting useless tribals is one thing, but finally we have a worthy battle. And there are still more days to come from this!”

  “Brutus…” I said as I pinched the bridge of my nose and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. “We failed to gain any ground today.”

  “So too did the Bull’s army, Hadrian. I call that a victory, even if you don't.”

  “An Aquillus victory, more like it.” Aquillus was an ancient Roharim general who once laid siege to a mighty city. He was victorious, but it cost him most of his army to do so, and it left him with so few warriors to defend the city. The type of victory that was so costly that it would have been far better to have lost the fight.

  “Oh do not be such a complainer. That is your problem, Hadrian. You love it when things are easy. Easy victories make you feel great, but if you don’t get something done immediately, you are in a sour mood. An Aquillus victory? Oh, far from it. We still have many men and women, and we’ll kill far more than they will of us. Once we have the Bull’s head on a silver platter, then, Oh then will we have a true victory. And maybe that will cure your sour mood.”

  I shook my head and sighed. “Perhaps you’re right, Brutus. Still. I’d like to be cautious.”

  “So then be cautious, Hadrian. Just do not look sour. The battle was good. I am sure that your god would appreciate that.”

  My eyebrow cocked up and I turned to face Brutus. “You mean our god?”

  Brutus’s voice hitched in the back of his throat and he nodded.

  “Slip of the tongue. Our god. Bah, Enough of this. I am going to get drunk. Play with that new concubine of yours.”

  “I’m not sure I have the strength to partake in a woman tonight. Not after this battle. We still have two days to go. Do not drink too much.”

  Brutus chuckled loudly. “Oh I don’t intend to. There's no finer wine than the blood of our enemies.” He left right after that. I rubbed my knees and stood up. I was sore, but I pressed on. I traveled back to my tent, but stopped when I laid eyes on Kallista. She was bandaging herself up. Nothing major, just a few scrapes here and there. She did this while sitting next to her steed. She tossed some meat at the creature, which it happily ate. I could see the tiredness in Kallista’s eyes as well. And yet the rest of her body didn’t show it. She hid it very well.

  She cut her eyes to me. I simply gave her a brief nod and she returned it before I went back to my tent. I was too tired to take Abessa for pleasure. I simply held her in my arms and we shared each other’s warmth. The child in her belly grew nicely, and would be a fine adult one day. I then sank into a deep, dark, dreamless sleep.