Lambs to the Slaughter
The wan ghosts of the Marukan cowered in their broken houses, but the Prince Resplendent in the Ruin of Ages paid them no heed; his ire was all for the living, and they he killed with wicked glee. He had put two range-towns to the sword in the long months since Ma-Ha-Suchi had scattered Marukan's armies, but still their Solar lords had not returned to face him. He could almost believe that they were dead.
The thought enraged the deathknight. Where went the promise of vicious battles? Armies clashing together, the dead and the living alike, the cries of the victor and the screams of the dying rising with one voice! Where were the terrible duels? Horse charging horse, champion against champion, the grim screech of blade on blade, and blood and hate enough to tear the world in two! Where was Storm of Amber, with the wild, beating heart of a nation being birthed, ready to be torn out and delivered stillborn into a ditch?
Without that? Ashes.
And so the Prince Resplendent killed, and so consumed he was by his slaughter that he did not see the arrows until they punched through his dread armor and struck his Insensate Corpse Flesh.
He wheeled his horse around, the nightmare steed Dance of Ruin, and saw infantry. Their banners proclaimed them the first wing, fourth dragon of the Vermillion Legion. So the dragons had come out of their nest. They weren’t the Solars, but here, at last, were soldiers; here, at last, was battle.
The deathknight stepped down from his saddle and issued a Declaration of Merciless Intent. "I am the Prince Resplendent in the Ruin of Ages. To war with me is suicide. I take no prisoners. I leave no survivors. You were dead men the moment you came near."
The soldiers shook, courage breaking from the truth of the deathknight’s words and the blasphemy of the charnel throne that rose beneath him as his anima poured forth. Their dragon blooded commander shouted, "stand your ground! Stand your ground and close ranks. He’s only one man!”
"Close ranks?” The Prince Resplendent tightened his grip on his soulsteel blade, the Daiklave of Tyrrany, the God-Devouring Fang. He laughed, then, and his voice rang with the power of the Morale-Shattering Method. “As if that would save you!"
Some of the soldiers tried to run at the terrible sound, but fear held them fast and the conflict within tore them apart; they turned their weapons on themselves, cut open their own bellies, or simply bled as their skin split apart. Three score soldiers died right then.
The survivors paled, they sweat, they cried. But their commander pushed them forward with his shield, harangued them from amidst their ranks, shouted for them to draw in. Slowly, with fearful steps and in numbers twenty deep, they surrounded the Prince Resplendent.
That's when the bloodbath began. The deathknight was a Glorious Carnage Typhoon; his was an Elegant Bloodletting Art. He swept his giant blade right and claimed a dozen heads. He charged his spiked pauldrons left and crushed five hearts. He was everywhere a reaper. He hunted them in the throng, left them no time for prayer. Fighters died all around, swords fell from dead hands, and the ground streamed blood!
When the Prince Resplendent paused to draw a breath he had left only three still standing: the wing’s commander; a relay, still clutching their tattered banner; and one of the lieutenants. The relay was sobbing. The deathknight, flush with the power of the kill, raised his sword to face them.
To his credit, the dragon blood didn’t hesitate. He led with the tip of his daiklave, a Dragon Graced Weapon. It was a killing blow, but the Prince Resplendent had died once before and from the experience had learned a Death Deflecting Technique.
He followed with a Broken Toys Riposte to steal the daiklave from the dragon blood’s hand. Despairing at the sight, the lieutenant slit her own throat.
A second later, the relay was the only one left. He collapsed to his knees and finally let his banner drop. “You killed commander Cathak Anano. He was a devil. Sadistic. A bully. He raped war prisoners. The world is better off without him.”
The relay was crying. “But, by the dragons, you’re worse, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” said the deathknight, and then he killed the relay, too.
The Prince Resplendent in the Ruin of Ages looked at the two hundred and fifty corpses he had made. He looked at the few remaining Marukani, cowering in their homes. He decided that he’d had done enough for one day. “Arise and Slaughter,” he said, and left the zombies that were once the first wing, fourth dragon of the Vermillion Legion to do the dirty work.
