Rise of the Crimson Standard

Chapter 6

As the enemy fauns drew nearer, the tension in the air escalated. The distant sounds of their approach, the rumble of footsteps and the clinking of weapons, created an eerie symphony of impending conflict. The battlefield, once quiet in the pre-dawn hours, was now alive with an unsettling energy.

Clevis's gaze remained locked on Percival's, his eyes conveying a shared determination. "Are you ready, Percival?"

Percival's heart raced, but he pushed aside his lingering doubts. He held the two duelling pistols gifted to him by Clevis in his hands, thumb stroking the carvings. Percival looked at Clevis, a resolute nod of agreement. "Yes, sir. I'm ready."

Clevis's lips curved into a small, encouraging smile. "Good."

The command was given, and the soldiers moved into position with a swift efficiency that spoke of their training and discipline. The field guns were aimed at the advancing enemy, and the men stood ready behind the field guns, rifles at the ready, bayonets fixed.

The first rays of sunlight broke through the horizon, casting a golden glow across the battlefield. Time seemed to slow as a company's worth of fauns came into view, their formation steady and determined. Percival's heart pounded in his chest, his grip on his rifle tight.

"Fire!" Clevis's voice cut through the stillness, and the air erupted with a thunderous roar as the field guns unleashed their deadly payload. The cannons belched smoke and fire, and the ground shook beneath the impact.

The enemy's advance was met with chaos as the canister shot tore through their ranks, wreaking havoc and confusion. Percival's ears rang with the echoes of gunfire as the soldiers fired their rifles, their training taking over as they fought to repel the enemy's assault.

The battlefield descended into a cacophony of noise and smoke. The soldiers fought with a fierce determination, their movements precise and calculated. The air was thick with the acrid scent of gunpowder, the metallic tang of blood, and the cries of pain and defiance.

Percival fired his rifle again and again, his focus unwavering as he aimed at the advancing enemy. The smoke made it hard to see, but he relied on instinct and training. Beside him, Clevis fought with the same intensity, his eyes fixed on the battlefield and the men under his command.

As the battle raged on, Percival's earlier unease was replaced by a singular focus. The urgency of the situation left no room for doubt or second-guessing. They were in the midst of a fight for survival, and every action they took was a step towards victory or defeat.

Time seemed to blur as the battle wore on, the sun climbing higher in the sky. Percival's muscles ached, his throat raw from shouting commands and firing his rifle. The enemy's advance had slowed, their formation disrupted by the deadly accuracy of the field guns and the fierce resistance of Percival's men.

And then, as the smoke began to clear and the noise gradually subsided, Percival saw it—the enemy's retreat. The once-advancing infantry was now in disarray, retreating from the onslaught they had faced. Percival's heart swelled with a mixture of relief and triumph. They had repelled the enemy's assault once again. They'd killed at least two third of the enemy infantrymen.

As the battlefield quieted and the soldiers caught their breath, Percival stood among his comrades, their faces streaked with dirt and sweat. The toll of the battle was evident, but so was the sense of accomplishment.

Amidst the aftermath of the brutal clash, a sense of momentary respite settled over the battlefield. Percival exchanged glances with Clevis, a silent acknowledgment of their successful defence against the enemy infantry. The ground was littered with fallen soldiers from both sides, a grim reminder of the cost of their victory.