527 Deadlands
A couple hundred soldiers wandered the deadlands with slow and heavy feet, dragging themselves through the dirt and mud as they aimlessly continued on, in fear of being caught, taken, and eaten. Remnants of the men who were stationed throughout the series of defensive structures, in which humanity had painstakingly conquered and reinforced. Perhaps there were plenty more just like the, men who failed to honour their oaths, their loyalty to the kingdom, and routed, retreating like dogs with tails between their legs as they abandoned the defences appointed to them.
Surrounded by feral wildlife, the rustling of leaves, and the smell of decay, they continued to aimless trudge onwards. Whilst the majority of the men were religious, and certainly believed in divine-intervention as well as the existence of such heavenly-beings. As the church, the pope, cardinals and their military which consisted of inquisitors and crusaders; a force designed to hammer down internal dissent, whilst another to remove external-threats. Had remained entirely unresponsive, almost as if uncaring of the fates of the people, had maintained their non-involvement stance.
Whilst arguing that they had simply received no orders, no prophecies of such, to muster their maces as they served only the goddess and not the people nor the royal family for that matter. Utilized their impunity from such worldly affairs unless ordered to.
The knights, soldiers and people, greatly disappointed in their decision to remain indifferent to their suffering, as they offered no support, even in the forms of supplies and donations. Now turned their daily prayers and thoughts to the one person who has thus far ignored the church and had invested herself into fighting amongst the chaotic frontlines.
"Dearest heavenly-mother, sacred saintess, Robin Sol, I implore you to watch over us once more as we give thanks to the bread we consume, the water we drink, and the life that flows through us. Amen."
With many variations of prayers whispered and spoken throughout the hundreds of wandering-men, the soldiers wished and prayed that the saintess herself would by miracle or goddess' grace, bestow them with her presence once more. And bring forth with her, her blessings and a path to a better future.
Perhaps it was thanks to Robin's efforts of patrolling the duchy, and recklessly training her mana-tolerance by utilizing her skills for weeks without end. As she had been sighted by a large enough population to reinvigorate the beliefs of people, that perhaps the church hadn't forsaken them, and that Robin was actually their trump-card, their most powerful living-weapon, someone who was stronger in correspondence to faith.
And for those who hadn't been fortunate to see the white-haired beauty, who's skin was like marble, sporting wings of glorious golden in addition to her clearly radiant halo. There was always the town and village board postings that would host portraits, artist depictions of the saintess.
..
Having finished their daily prayer, and shoved the miniscule rations left to them into their stomachs, the men rose off the dry and dead land before sighting a group of giants approaching them.
"G-giants?"
"Friend or foe!?" Desperately asked another, as he prepared himself to run the other direction.
"Idiot! Have you forgotten? The giants are allies, they assisted His Highness during one of their confrontations against the blue-skinned lizards. Also, you might not be privy to the information, but I am. Last I heard, rumours were that the duke of war had personally travelled to their kingdom to form a military-alliance. So pack up your bags boys! We're saved!" A knight, who had been knocked unconscious, and miraculously saved by his beloved horse that ran like the wind, shared his greater insight. Filling the men with hope as they rose, cheered and waved towards the giants that were steadily approaching them.
Filled with smiles, carrying bags of supplies, and riding upon tamed white and grey furred sabre-tooth tigers. The giants waved as they greeted the smaller humanoids.
"Warriors! Guard the area, ensure no beast, monster or dekan manages to sneak up on our friends here!"
""YES SIR!"" A few dozen riders created a formation around the humans who appeared weakened, tired and almost starving.
Shifting his red eyes towards the lone human who approached him, figuring him to be the appointed leader, the giant introduced himself.
"I am Logan Travarre, prince of Draftt. Tell me friend, are there any more of you out there? If so, could you point the way, so that my warriors may safely escort them?"
The knight sprung into stance, as he straightened his back and saluted the member of royalty.
"No, Your Highness. As far as I'm aware, what you see before you is everyone who made it out alive..."
"I see... What a shame."
Hearing the sympathy within his deep-voice, the knight almost allowed his emotions to show as his heart ached in remembrance of his brothers-in-arms.
"KILL THEM ALL!" The prince of giants shouted, loud and clear for all to hear. His warriors and riders roared in enthusiasm as their axes and polearms shifted from their backs, to their muscular hands.
The knight looked around in confusion, as he was about to pull his sword out, to fend off against the beast or monsters the prince had sighted. Only to find the vicinity clear, and the giants who had already formed their circle around the humans to be closing in.
Before the human could enough turn to question the prince, as he was certain they were allies and not enemies. A battle-axe larger than the knight's torso tore through his body diagonally, severing him into two as he instantly died out.
Prince Logan raised his weapon up high, as he counted the knight's death as an achievement, one that granted merit upon killing the commander or general of an unit. Roaring and boasting as he enjoyed the show before him. Flanked by his royal-guards who were eager to draw blood, to hunt down the lesser-species.
Roars, cheers, screams and voices that pleaded for life sounded like music to his ears. The remnant soldiers didn't stand a chance, as both sword and steel were torn-asunder by the mighty battle-axes and pole-arms that cleaved through them and their plated-armour.
When the music finally died down, and the hunt was over, a rucksack that contained the heads was utilized as their counter. Throwing the rucksack into a wagon that carried 6 more like it, equally filled with just heads still bleeding out.
"Move out! There's more dogs to hunt!"
Fighting against time, competing against his brothers who were also combing the deadlands for humans, to further their merits and increasing their chances of inheritance. The giants continued to ride on, slaughtering hundreds more.