I Became the First Prince

A Song Dedicated to the Big, Beautiful Green Mass (3)

The Orc Warrior had his arms, which were thicker than his arms, covering his face. An arrow struck into his one arm then, an arrow which he casually pulled out without showing any signs of pain. His face had a murderous cast to it, and he gave a great boisterous roar. I was watched by this Orc Warrior as I descended the slope. He grabbed his ax and charged at me with thundering footsteps. He took a misstep, though, and smacked into the ground with a satisfying thud, blood flowing from where he had hit his head.

I laughed at his poor display, and I knew that I could not have asked for something more fun than this. After righting himself he charged at me once more. When within distance, he swung his ax at me in a downward arc. I used my momentum and rolled in under his swing, feeling the displaced air at the near-miss. My entire head shivered as my brain registered how close it had come to departing from its body. I sprang up and put some distance between myself and the Orc Warrior, drawing twilight. My entire body was filled with ecstasy as adrenaline rushed through it. Once more I dodged, this time making a clean cut into the Orc Warrior’s midsection.

I could hear him raw his pain, though I had already swiveled around to face the Orc who now stood in front of me. Smaller and not as fierce as the Orc Warrior, it could still singe-handedly rip a man apart with its bare hands. As he rushed at me, I held Twilight in a horizontal two-handed grip before me. I time my trap perfectly. When he swung at me with his own blade, I twisted Twilight at an angle and cut into the Orcs empty hand, severing his fingers. He managed to block my next swing, though I deftly launched another that scraped over his shoulder and cut into his neck. Blood spurted from the gaping wound in a sickening gurgle as I wrenched my blade free, having cut through muscle and sinew.

A soft sigh escaped from the Orc’s lips as his eyes fluttered in confusion, his nostrils flaring as he snorted the fishy smell of his own blood.

I gave a chuckle upon smelling the fragrant scent. Why does the smell of blood excite me so?

Energy flowed throughout my body. I hadn’t even activated my mana heart and still, I was filled with vitality. In that instant, I heard something rush at me, and I instinctively dodged. An axe slammed into the Orc’s chest as he was thrown back. I swiveled around, seeing that the Orc Warrior had thrown the weapon. The bloody Orc Warrior sprang into a last desperate charge, roaring his anger, his face taking on the mien of some grotesque carving of a gargoyle. Suddenly, a hail of arrows flew through the air and thudded into him. He gave a pained bellow as his torso sprouted crimson roses of blood and viscera where the arrow had slammed into him

“Charge!” came the order as Arwen, her weeping blade in hand, rushed down the slope. Royal infantrymen, armed with blade and shield, rushed after her.

“You’re late,” I stated as she reached me.

“Your Majesty, you were too fast!” she near shouted at me, her voice filled with a passion that I’ve never heard from her before. The Orc Warrior, not yet put out of its misery, continued to whimper in pain.

‘The day was sunny, and yet the smell of blood lingers everywhere.’

‘The body is light, and the master’s wielded sword is sharp.’

“This feels so good.”

It felt like my body was floating as many pleasant sensations entered it.

“Your Majesty!” shouted Arwen as she ripped me from my elated stupor. I saw the Orcs spreading out, their intention of surrounding me quite clear. Arwen was prepared to rush at them.

“Do not enter the fray! They will overwhelm you!” I commanded her.

I readied Twilight as I racked my brain for any tidbit of knowledge that would aid me, for I had existed for more than four centuries and ken of war and its in and outs was considerable. Back then, Orcs had not been mere crude monsters, no, they had ruled over a stately continent. In those ages, the ages when I had been an enchanted sword, war was waged every moment of every day. A song came to my lips, a song of a monster hunter that had not left his name to posterity.

“I piled up green carcasses, raising myself a mountain!

Red streams flowed from it, as bloody nails.”

This was the song of a poor man who had despised Orcs. It was not a song dealing with myths or heroics. No, it was a song about a son who had lost his father, a son who had then become a force of vengeance as he hunted the beasts down. It was [Poetry of Revenge].

This sorrowful song flowed through the air, not a single verse missing a beat.

[Aaaah! Aaaah!]

Twilight wailed within my mind as it took in the sorrow of the words. My sword knew that death was soon approaching, and as a mastercraft sword, it would be the harbinger of these deaths. I rolled as an ax swung at me, and then slashed into its exposed underbelly. Twilight wailed as it added another life to its kill tally.

* * *

The following record of the battle was recounted by a recruit of the royal infantry:

My mouth was dry and my insides ached. My vocal cords were being stretched to their very limit. I heard a voice complaining that he had no decent weapon to fight with. It was the voice of Joseph, and I could hear the anxiety in his tone as he saw the battle escalate, as he smelled the stench of spilled guts and flowing blood. He had been exiled here by the royal court, and resented them for it.

“Charge!”

The order was given and my company rushed into the fray. I was caught by surprise, almost stumbling down the slope as I held my sword and shield before me. I shouted the battle cry along with my comrades, yet their presence brought little relief to me. I knew that, in my case at least, such courage was a momentary phenomenon.

The greater physical strength of the Orcs soon became apparent as the infantry finally closed with their number. The things had heinous, leering face, and on average they stretched two heads taller than our tallest men. At that moment a great terror came over me as these muscular, dark green bodies launched themselves at us. My legs wavered, and I wanted to turn tail and run away.

Flight was not an option, however, for I stood at the front of our ranks. I looked to the soldier at my side as he gave a strained scream.

It was Hans Dek. He nodded at me when our eyes met. “We are the royal sword!” he proclaimed, seeking to bolster the men’s courage.

Soon his chant was taken up by more soldiers.

“We are the royal shield!” their voices came loudly and proudly. Joseph still seemed afraid, however, convinced that the damned prince had led everyone to a grisly death.

“We are the Leonberger royal infantry!” the next verse of the chant was shouted, managing to blot out the near-deafening roar of the Orcs.

“We shall claim glory for the line of Leonberger! Protect the Prince!”

There was little sign of the scared soldiers who had at first rushed the foe, nor were they now courageous. No, they hacked away at the monsters with a reckless abandon. A few did however try to desert the battle, but they were soon battered back into line by those behind them.

“Surge forward! There are no cowardly curs in the royal infantry! Fight like men!”

The Orcs renewed their assault and suddenly the royal infantry brought their shields up, forming a wall of iron. At that instant I came face to face with the blazing red eyes of an Orc, and so great was my terror that I felt a warm dampness spread across my legs as I emptied my bladder. Suddenly, I was pulled back by a pair of big hands.

“Fuck, get back from the line, recruit!” a soldier shouted as he took up my former position. A sense of relief washed over me as my heart still beat furiously within my ribcage, yet this relief soon abated when I realized that I was in the chaotic push and pull of armored infantry, with no avenue of escape existing. One misstep and I would be trampled to death. Our line inched forward at a glacial pace.

“First line, shields! Second line, javelins!”

These orders were followed to the letter as the front line crouched down to protect the soldiers behind them. An Orc cam crashing into that line, his ax cleaving through the shield of the soldier in front of me, coming to rest in his jugular as he gurgle sickeningly and fell forward.

“Throw!” cam the order, and as one the second line of infantry thrust their javelins into the Orcs, the missiles gliding past fallen and hale soldiers to thud into their targets. I thrust my own javelin, which neatly entered the skull of a ravening Orcs. Once more I was on the front line, and the soldiers with me each hacked away with their swords once more. My arms felt strange as I struck at the foe, as if I was trying to cut a slab of frozen meat with a blunt knife.

I stabbed my blade into the armpit of Orc, who glared balefully at me as he gripped the blade with his other hand. I wished to release the blade then and there to fall back into the second line, but hands did not obey my brain as both me and my foe clutched the blade. It was then that the Orc’s eyes grew wide with terror as blue light slammed into his chest, ending his life.

The soldiers took heart at this display of sorcery and the commander charged in front of his men, vaulting over a few Orcs and cutting away the tendons of their legs as he landed behind them. All the soldiers, even those wounded upon the ground, took heart at this display and renewed their assault. Some of them jumped onto the heaps of Orc corpses, hacking down ate the beasts from this advantageous, though grisly, elevation. The soldiers were there for each other, and if one of them was unable to fell a particularity nasty Orc, they came at it in numbers of two to then at a time, the great beasts not able to mount a defense under such a tempest of blades. Vincent had been the one to leap over the Orcs and slice behind their knees, he had been the one to carry the battle.

I was excited by his display, my heart not once abating its rapid beating within my breast, yet now it was courage and not fear that made it pound so. I joined the voices of the other shoulders as they shouted their battle-lust. The celebration was premature, however. Many Orcs had been slain, yet for every one that had been felled, three human lives were lost. Only five of the things remained against thirty of our soldiers. Yet, the flame of courage that burned within my breast was soon smothered as I felt a terrible cold descend over the field of slaughter. Twice as many Orcs as we had just slain now appeared on the rise, charging down at us with their barbaric battle lust plain to see, their teeth bared in vicious animal snarls.

I closed my eyes tightly, knowing that I was but a cowardly cub that played at war. I was awaiting death, yet I did not hear the thumping footfalls that was to herald our end. Instead, many screams made in utmost pain slammed into my ears. It sounded much like so many pigs being slaughtered within an abattoir. I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was Orcs flying through the sky like ugly, green bloated birds. Their bodies had been torn apart and their limbs and viscera rained down onto the ground in a grisly rain. Their blood and meaty bits covered our armor much like the grisly souvenirs sported by more barbaric peoples.

Through the red mist, Prince Adrian could be seen, his eyes still glowing with the fearful blue energy he had unleashed to decimate the Orcs.