Chapter 429

Chapter 429

Come, soldiers of Sanshu. We have been honoured with an appointment to the vanguard, so let us ride forth to glory!

Smothering the urge to scowl or spit, Dastan watched the new arrivals cheer and after their towering, silver-tongued leader, the barrel-chested Chu XinYue. Just shy of thirty years and already a Major if one could believe it, which Dastan most certainly didnt. It was undoubtedly nepotism which secured XinYue his current rank, promoted beyond his expertise thanks to a loose relation to a corrupt City Magistrate. Leadership abilities aside, nothing about the rotund, red-faced man-child suggested he could kill or even slow the weakest of Demons unless it stopped mid-battle to consume his girthy corpse. Swaddled in silks beneath his dazzling black and gold armour, XinYue certainly looked the part of heroic warrior, and it made for a touching tale to hear how the nephew of the Unstoppable Golden Vanguard had taken up his uncles mantle, but it was all pomp and pageantry without substance. To start, he wasnt even that closely related to the Magistrate, and after hours sweltering beneath the summer sun and a brief and intense clash with the Defiled, the hefty hero no longer looked so imposing. His colourful silks were soaked with sweat and blood and his polished armour streaked with dirt and viscera, but even whilst immaculate, his appearance failed to hold up to inspection. A discerning eye could easily find where the golden breastplate had been stretched and mended to make room for XinYues broad belly, and no amount of facial hair could conceal his bulbous nose or chubby cheeks.

Better if he switched his open-faced helmet for a full-faced one, assuming he could find one large enough to fit his fat head.

Most damning of all, Dastan had seen Magistrate Chu Tongzu before, a heavy-set, pot-bellied fatty who made XinYue look positively dainty. Forget riding in the vanguard, Chu Tongzu would be lucky to find a horse strong enough to carry him without breaking its back, which was why the mantle had to be passed down even though the Magistrate was in the prime of life. The greatest blacksmith in the world couldnt stretch his old armour to fit his current frame, but even a middling politician could spin dog shit into solid gold. A fat man handing down his armour to a less-fat relative became a passing of a mantle from seasoned veteran to rising dragon, and an unqualified Field Officer sent to curry favour was instead a young Major humble enough to serve and protect the Imperial Consort, Falling Rain.

Gluttonous and shameless, truly a winning combination.

At least XinYues heavy-cavalry were stalwart and dependable. A hundred veteran Elites with forty-three Spiritual Weapons, thirty of which were pole-arms crafted for mounted combat, this was a retinue to be proud of, one Dastan had once dreamed of commanding. Those dreams were dead and gone now, for hed lost the bosss respect with his repeated blunders during their first foray on the front lines. Less than a quarter of his original retinue remained, the last of his comrades from the defunct Golden Highlands Coalition, a detail which had not escaped notice. More than one new arrival had called him the Golden Highlands Golden Boy, muttered like a curse as he passed by, and his people had all gotten worse. In the eyes of the victors, Dastan and his comrades were traitors or possibly even Defiled in hiding, untrustworthy despite their Oaths because they stood on Yo Lings side during the Battle for Sanshu.

No one cared to remember Dastan Zhandos had rebelled for a good cause or that hed been tricked into serving his Defiled Masters. All that mattered was he stood against the victors and alongside the Enemy.

Considering how events unfolded, Dastan didnt blame them for their enmity. Though he regretted his decision to stand with the Coalition after learning theyd allied themselves with Butcher Bay, his core principles remained unchanged. Something had to be done about the rampant corruption and inequality in the Empire, and Sanshu had been the shining example of greed and discrimination. City walls were meant to shelter the weak and vulnerable from the dangers of the wild north, but Magistrate Chu Tongzu drove them out and turned Sanshu into a haven for the wealthy alone. How many lives had been lost to wild animals and bandit raids in the years since? No one would ever know because no one cared enough to keep count, but Dastan had seen the conditions those poor people lived in and to this day, the scenes from the Purge still haunted his nightmares. It rankled his nerves to see the fat greedy Magistrate emerge a hero from the whole debacle, especially since his decisions were largely responsible for Butcher Bays rise and the subsequent fallout.

Were it not for his Oaths, Dastan wouldve happily traded his life to bring down Chu Tongzu, for this was a travesty which he could not stomach.

No, he couldnt think like this. Circumstances had changed and Sanshu was on the mend, so from the looks of things, Tongzu had merely been a puppet, one now dancing to Marshal Yuzhens more amicable tune. Killing the man would be pointless and might even interfere with the good Marshals hard work, so Dastan reined in his temper. Choking on dust, shame, and vitriol, he fell in with his cohorts at the end of the column and lamented his failures for the umpteenth time. Though schooled in the art of command, Dastan had erred greatly in melding with his feeble-minded Natal Soul during battle, for the diminutive fellow had no head for strategy, a trait which carried over whenever they worked in harmony. The Natal Soul quite literally lived for battle and its reckless desire to close with the Enemy caused Dastan to figuratively lose his head more than once. Many a sleepless night had been spent tossing and turning in deliberation over Vichears warnings of madness and loss of control, but rather than claim the Natal Soul took over, it would be more accurate to say Dastan had been infected by its boundless enthusiasm which caused him to charge headlong into danger without regard for risk or reward.

When they were one, all he wanted to do was fight and kill, which cost him the lives of his men and the privilege of command.

A demotion which came too late, if he were being honest. The boss was a kind man, but Dastan shouldve been stripped of command after returning from their first patrol. If not for Joranis timely rescue, he wouldve lost the bosss entire heavy cavalry detachment which was only the greatest of his blunders. In the weeks since, Dastan had yet to discover a means to temper his Natal Souls passion with caution and resorted to confining his Natal Soul within his Palace, but the damage had been done. Even before XinYue arrived, Dastan expected he would be replaced, though he believed the boss would take direct control or pass it to Daxian. Even Sahb would be a better choice than XinYue.

Perhaps if the fat bastard died in combat, Dastan would have command back...

Even though he refused to arm his people with crossbows, at least XinYue was willing to let Dastans people use them. A shame, really. Hed been ready to rage at the fat man for being a stubborn, wilfully ignorant fool, but how was he supposed to relieve all his suppressed resentment if his replacement was actually a reasonable and competent commander?

Hold fire! Crossbows hold, lances forward. Charge! Already several meters ahead, XinYue led from the front with his maul held high, glimmering in the afternoon sun as he waved it about like it was made of paper despite being over a meter long with a handle thicker than Dastans wrist. The lances followed on his heels and the rest behind, forming a loose triangle as they charged the Enemy without uttering a word. Not that it would have mattered if they screamed their lungs out, for the thunder of hooves drowned out all else as Dastan fumbled with crossbow, shield, and axe while simultaneously struggling to keep up. His weapons in hand, Dastan reached for Balance and merged with his Natal Soul moments before the front lines crashed into the Enemy. Ready to spill blood, he made to veer off and find someone to kill, but XinYues voice cut through the din of battle. Stay close! he shouted, so clear it sounded like he was standing directly beside Dastan. Follow! Into the teeth of the Enemy! Victory or Death!

Growling beneath his breath, Dastan closed the gap to keep within a horse-length of the soldier in front of him. Stranded in the middle of his soldiers, he sat surrounded by allies in every direction while the chaos of battle raged unseen in the distance, leaving him with nothing to do except follow orders to stay close. Seconds passed by and he looked down to see his horse trample over pulverized corpses while they sank deeper and deeper into the mass of Defiled, the same mistake Dastan made during their first patrol. Truly a man with more courage than sense, one who was going to get them all killed thanks to his idiotic -

Without warning, the surroundings changed and Dastan realized they were free of the battle, though still galloping at full speed. Slowing after a few hundred meters, XinYue set their pace at an easy walk, still moving away from the battle behind them but on a wide circle around. Straightening in his saddle, Dastan turned around and finally understood what XinYue had done, and his appreciation for the mans skills shot up a few notches. Rather than charging in a straight line, XinYue had led them on an easy curve, cutting a bloody swathe through the thin, blockading line of Defiled and across the rear of their beleaguered allied forces. Not only did their passing cavalry ease the pressure on their allies, the Enemy force which had gathered to intercept them was now bloodied, reeling, and out of position to reengage since XinYue was now leading his cavalry to the opposite side of the battlefield. Unwilling to leave the heavy cavalry free to pick and choose their targets, the Enemy had no choice but to splinter off another third of their numbers to meet the second charge, relieving even more pressure from their allies while the Enemy manoeuvred to meet them.

A simple concept in theory, but not so easy to keep ones head in the heat of battle. A single moment of hesitation might have seen the entire unit bogged down and surrounded, but the results spoke for themselves.

Wounded to the centre, XinYue commanded, and Dastan immediately gave way, edging through his people to stand on the right flank. Fresh warriors to the sides. No crossbows.Follow close and wait for my command.

The seconds slowly ticked by and Dastan brimmed with impatience, thinking they were to hit the Defiled before they could form up. Loose infantry were like paper in the face of a proper charge, but XinYue continued at their slow, almost lazy pace around the edge of the battlefield, presumably to give the horses time to rest and cool down. Again, Dastan found himself disagreeing with his new commander, for while they lacked stamina compared to Acasian Trotters, Guonei Chargers were bred for battle, his own mount barely panting despite the exertion. They should spread out, perhaps two or three lines deep to maximize impact and charge in. The Defiled would scatter before them and they could withdraw and regroup for another charge, then another, until no Enemy was left standing on the battlefield.

One minute became two, then three, but still XinYue did not order the charge. From his new position, Dastan had an unobstructed view of the battle, and it pained him to see the Imperial forces being ground away by the surging Defiled. Dastan didnt even know the name of the allied commander theyd come to rescue, for even the bannermen had abandoned their standards to add their blades to the defence efforts. How much longer could the poor bastards hold out? They were clearly on their last legs, so why was XinYue still twiddling his thumbs? Perhaps the commander was a rival and he intended to watch them die, the initial attack only made so he could honestly claim he made an attempt. Dastan wouldnt put it past him, for nobles were a -

The familiar twang of arrows sounded and the bosss bunny banner appeared on the other side of the battlefield, surrounded by a horde of voracious quins. Deceptively fast on the charge, the roosequins closed the gap in a matter of heartbeats and tore into the vulnerable backside of the Defiled, wreaking havoc with fang and fury.

Victory or Death! For the second time, XinYue waited too long before ordering the charge, already well ahead of the pack. As he watched the others racing to catch up, Dastan realized XinYue had delayed his orders for good reason. In their scramble to support their heroic leader, the lancers naturally closed in and formed a loose wedge without need for drills or preparation, which he supposed was the formation XinYue desired. The cavalry were a spearhead and he was its tip, penetrating deep into the flesh of the Enemy while the edge parted flesh and bone, with each subsequent rider adding to the mass and momentum of their charge.

The last vestiges of resentment melted away as Dastan accepted his inferiority, for even if XinYue was an undeserving Major, he was still the superior choice for commander by far. Giving himself over completely to his Natal Soul, Dastan threw away the shackles of leadership and hacked and cleaved to his hearts content, following XinYues orders without a shred of hesitation.

Why should it matter whose orders he followed? In the end, they all served under Falling Rain, and it was he who would reap the rewards.

Chapter Meme