Breaking Providence (Original Fantasy)

Deep down inside, Elsenthia had known the battle wasn’t going well long before the Dark General quite literally cut her warhorse out from under her. Really, part of her had known the moment that she sounded the calvary charge on the Destined Hero’s orders and struck out at the right flank. She and the mounted Paladins with her had come down on the horde of green-skinned monsters like a hammer. But it had barely even seemed to matter.
 
There were just too many of them. Too many hulking, snarling orcs. Too many big… strong… tch. The Crown Princess understood her mother’s fear for her now. She hadn’t felt anything from Marcus, save for admiration and respect and a budding appreciation for what she’d seen of his character so far. She liked him as a person, NOT because he was a half-orc.
 
But once she came face to face with proper orcs… yes, there was something in her blood that called to them. Something foul. Something… unrepentantly submissive. Elsenthia hadn’t bowed to that feeling, of course. She had not bent a single inch. She was the Crown Princess of the Holy Empire, and she was FAR more than her base impulses and her darkest instincts.
 
There were far too many people counting on her… on all of them to win the day. So she’d fought on, her rapier lashing out to relieve orc after orc of limbs and heads, even as her warhorse twisted this way and that, taking chunks of orc flesh with his teeth. He was a good steed. A loyal steed, even. He and Elsenthia were both born fighters. Always had been.
 
But as she goes flying through the air, she knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that her trusted steed is already dead. He’d buckled under her as General Roka-Ra’s hulking sword sliced through his legs, a sudden weightlessness to him that let Elsenthia know he would soon take his final breath.
 
Not that she had much time to spend worrying about her horse, no matter how long she’d had him. There was still a battle going on after all. Looking around for a moment… Elsenthia can tell they’re losing. The battle is not going in their favor. They’ve no doubt killed hundreds of orcs. Maybe even as many as a thousand. But the calvary she’d led into battle is all but destroyed at this point, and the Crusade’s casualties no doubt number in the hundreds by now as well. More than that, she sees no sign of the Destined Hero or his party. She has no idea where they could be, or if they’re even still alive.
 
If they’d had even one more Crusade… just another five hundred Paladins, then perhaps they could have carried the day. Unfortunately, they’d been outnumbered from the very beginning. And things had only grown more dire in the time since. All she can do is rearm herself and continue fighting until the end comes. Sending a silent apology to her mother for not heeding Lisanna’s words, Elsenthia begins looking for her weapon.
 
As she’d fallen, she’d not held on to her rapier. Holding a blade in the middle of an uncontrolled tumble off the back of a warhorse was just asking to impale yourself on your own sword. Instead, she’d flung the rapier away from her and- there! Catching its glint in the churned up mud, Elsenthia immediately lunges for it.
 
Unfortunately, she’s much too late. A shadow falls over her head and a pair of black greaves blocks out her line of sight. Looking up, Elsenthia can only scramble back at the sight of the Dark General now looming over her. Roka-Ra’s eyes pulse a glowing red as she stares down at Elsenthia, nostrils flaring.
 
… So then. This is how it ends. This is how she dies. Lips thinning out, Elsenthia ceases all movement, knowing there would be no point. She gives the Dark General her best glare and ignores the momentary twinge that shoots through her body at having the orc looming over her. She would die with pride and dignity. She would leave this world with her head held high and-
 
“You probably think I want you dead, Princess. But I don’t. I want you alive. Give me your unconditional surrender and I’ll let the survivors of your pitiful army retreat.”
 
Elsenthia’s eyes widen at the offer. Horrifying but also reluctantly arousing fantasies of torture and… other debauchery fill the half-elven Princess’ head. She couldn’t surrender. She couldn’t just give herself to the orcs. She had to die fighting, lest she given in to her elvish instincts and debase herself just like her mother warned her about.
 
But at the same time, how could she refuse? There were still brave men and women fighting on around them. Still Paladins alive who could yet be saved. She didn’t know how many were left, but she believed the Dark General was being sincere in her offer. What kind of woman would Elsenthia be if she didn’t accept the offer?
 
The Crown Princess opens her mouth to give her unconditional surrender, but before she can say a word, Marcus’ voice rings out across the battlefield, bringing everything to an abrupt and sudden halt.
 
“GENERAL ROKA-RA! I CHALLENGE YOU TO TAH-MAK-AH! WINNER TAKES ALL!”
 

The sheer volume of his voice makes Elsenthia flinch, even as his presence fills her with a strange sensation of renewed strength. She knows not what ‘Tah-Mak-Ah’ even is, only that it causes a complete cessation in fighting. The orcs of General Roka-Ra’s Warband all immediately stop fighting to look towards Marcus instead, while the paladins that still draw breath are quick to take advantage of the sudden reprieve and pull back.
 
Elsenthia watches as the Dark General almost immediately forgets she even exists. Roka-Ra turns to face Marcus and after a heartbeat silently begins moving towards him. In mere moments, she’s sprinting to close the distance between them. And then… they clash.
 
She’s watched Marcus fight quite a few times in the sparring ring since he arrived in the Crusade’s camp. She’s watched him take fully trained Paladins and make them look like children. There’s no doubt in Elsenthia’s mind that he’s definitely the Destined Hero, because the way he fights is incredibly intense. He’s practically bursting with power, to say nothing of the armor that the Holy Pope herself was said to have helped make for him.
 
That’s why, when Marcus and Roka-Ra clash, Elsenthia feels hope swelling in her chest. Only for it to almost immediately gutter out when Roka-Ra’s bulging arms bring her sword down on the haft of his halberd… and for the first time that Elsenthia has ever seen, the Destined Hero is pushed back. Skidding through the mud, he grunts as Roka-Ra’s immense strength very nearly overwhelms him on that first pass. He’s forced to pull back, to create distance between them, but the Dark General doesn’t let up.
 
Roka-Ra is aggression made manifest. She’s unrelenting hostility and unquenchable violence in its basest form. The Dark General wields her sword like she was born to it, even growing larger as she chases Marcus down like she’s in the middle of an orcish blood rage. Which, in hindsight, she probably is. Elsenthia remembered reading about that at some point. How red eyes were the mark of an orc’s rage. How they were said to be entirely unreachable in such a state.
 
Except, Roka-Ra had spoken to Elsenthia in Empire Common just a few moments ago. Even with her eyes glowing and pulsing red, she hadn’t lost her head enough to be unable to demand Elsenthia’s surrender. Now? Now there doesn’t seem to be an ounce of sanity left in the Dark General. She fights like an animal, like a feral beast who has finally found her prey.
 
It feels like it’s all Marcus can do to keep up, and Elsenthia finally remembers herself. She’s not some damsel in distress in need of rescue. She’s not just the Crown Princess of the Holy Empire. She’s a Knight, and the battle isn’t over yet. She scrambles to pick up her rapier, finally gripping the handle once more… and then she looks back to the fight and realizes she can’t interfere.
 
She wants to, of course. She wants to get in there and help Marcus with all her heart and soul. But she can’t. Whatever Marcus has initiated, it becomes eminently obvious now that it’s a one-on-one honor duel of some sort. In fact, now that she actually takes a moment and thinks back, she thinks she recognizes the name. Tah-Mak-Ah. Something to do with orcs challenging each other for any number of reasons. It was one of their most sacred rites, if Elsenthia’s fuzzy memory wasn’t failing her.
 
… That would explain why none of the other orcs are fighting right now. Indeed, they’ve actually moved away from the paladins they were in the process of butchering. The remaining paladins have in turn pulled back, and even begun working on healing one another. No one is stopping them. Their enemies are focused entirely on the fight between Marcus and Roka-Ra.
 
The most telling sign that Elsenthia should not interfere is the inaction of Marcus’ assigned healer, the Holy Priestess Angelina. She’s keeping one concerned eye on the proceedings, but even Angelina seems to know she cannot step in here. Her hands are busy with healing a Paladin that’s familiar to Elsenthia… Paladin Eric, she thinks, the one who met her outside the Capital. His guts have been half-torn out of him, but with Angelina’s efforts, he looks like he might just live.
 
There’s nothing Elsenthia can do but watch, she realizes. It hurts to admit it, especially as a feeling of impotence wells up inside of her. She’s forced to watch as Marcus and Roka-Ra go head to head to decide the fate of everyone else here.
 
The Dark General is almost twice her original size now… and yet, the fighting has evened out, much to Elsenthia’s surprise. Marcus has recovered and is no longer fighting on the back foot. Moving incredibly fast, he no longer tries to block or deflect any of Roka-Ra’s blows. Instead, he ducks, dips, and dodges, moving under her swings and slicing out with his halberd.
 
He’s unrelenting, Elsenthia can’t help but think with ever-growing admiration. But then, so is the Dark General. At first. The more they fight, the more Roka-Ra almost seems to flag. The female orc starts out so deep in rage that it almost seems like she’ll do whatever she has to in order to rip Marcus’ spine out of his body.
 
But something happens. Something changes. Elsenthia doesn’t quite know what. To your average viewer, it probably just looks like Roka-Ra starts getting tired. That’s not it though. Elsenthia honestly can’t explain it, but when the tide begins to turn, it doesn’t feel like a stamina issue. It’s almost too sudden for that.
 
At the same time, it’s not sudden at all. Roka-Ra keeps fighting for some time after the change. But it’s almost like her heart isn’t in it anymore. It’s as though she’s lost her rage, her anger. Elsenthia feels nothing but confusion at the sight. She doesn’t understand what would drain the fight out of the Dark General so effectively.
 
And then, all of the sudden… it’s over. Elsenthia’s eyes widen as the fight comes to an abrupt end as Roka-Ra’s defense crumples. Her sword falls from spasming fingers and her helm is torn from her head by a blow Marcus clearly expected her to block or dodge. As his glowing halberd cuts the dark plate away from her face, he almost pulls back, as though shocked. It certainly gives him pause, Elsenthia can see that much.
 
However, as Roka-Ra collapses to her knees, Marcus doesn’t fully let his guard down. His halberd is inches from her neck in an instant, his blue eyes blazing as he says something that Elsenthia doesn’t quite catch to the Dark General. She says something back, but its too far away to hear. Then…
 
“I surrender! I am defeated! The rite of Tah-Mak-Ah MUST be respected!”
 
Elsenthia’s eyes widen as the kneeling Dark General calls out to her warriors. A ripple runs through all of them, the hulking monsters shifting from foot to foot, their beady eyes darting back and forth to see what each other will do. Until Marcus speaks up as well, his voice laced with… with Holy Authority. That’s the only way Elsenthia can possibly describe it, in the end.
 
“The battle is over. Return to your territory. Trouble the Empire NO MORE!”
 
Breath hitching, Elsenthia watches the orcs, her grip tightening around her rapier. There’s no way… right? But then, much to the Crown Princess’ absolute shock, it works. The horde of warriors slowly begins to shuffle back… and once some of them start to do it, the rest follow suit. It’s not exactly a retreat, truth be told. Neither organized nor disorganized. Perhaps that was why Marcus didn’t use the word ‘retreat’ to begin with.
 
The orcs leave, but they do so with glares in their eyes. They’re certainly not happy about it, and Elsenthia can’t say for sure if they’ll accept this outcome in the long run or not. And yet, it doesn’t really matter, because they ARE leaving. They’re going back from whence they came, their Warband defeated.
 
It was just as Marcus said. The battle WAS over and somehow, against all odds, THEY had won.
 
However, watching them go, Elsenthia catches a strange sight as a result of looking in the right place at the right time. There’s a much smaller orc suddenly exposed by the retreating Warband. She stands there, noticeable both because she’s little more than the size of a child, but also because she’s the only orc besides Roka-Ra that’s not currently leaving the battlefield.
 
Except, as Elsenthia stares at her, the orcish child turns out to not be an orcish child at all. Her image flickers and then transforms… into Eris, Marcus’ Beastkin Thief. The Crown Princess gapes at this. She’d never heard of a Thief having the ability to change their appearance like that. And yet, the proof was right in front of her, wasn’t it? Luckily for them, Eris was under Marcus’ control. Such an ability would be undeniably strong and incredibly dangerous.
 
There were just two other noticeably strange things about the Beastkin, Elsenthia finds herself noting. She seems to be the only one to notice Eris’ presence. One, there was blood dripping from the air just beneath her hands. Not from her claws, as one would expect from a Beastkin who had just got done fighting. No, the blood was coming out of thin air, or so it seemed.
 
Two… there was a look of poorly concealed glee on Eris’ face as she stared at the kneeling form of General Roka-Ra. As though this outcome was the best she could have ever hoped for. Which to be fair, it definitely was. In hindsight, this was the best outcome ANY of them could have hoped for. They weren’t all dead, they’d defeated the Orc Warband, Elsenthia herself was not currently the prisoner of a Dark General, and Marcus had taken Roka-Ra prisoner. They would return to the Capital with Roka-Ra in chains and she would face Divine Judgment.
 
… But still, it was a little strange that Eris seemed so happy about all of it. Wasn’t it? Or maybe Elsenthia was reading too much into it.
 
Finally pulling her eyes off of the Beastkin Thief, the Crown Princess rises to her feet. She gasps, feeling a spiking pain in her chest that lets her know she’s broken a rib or two. Using her rapier as a walking stick, the Princess makes her way over to the surviving members of the Crusade for some much needed healing. As she does, she puts the mysteries out of her mind for now.
 
They’d won… and surely that was all that mattered. Everything would be so much simpler going forward. It had to be.

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