Blood in the Sand, chapter 2: Bloodshed

The armies stood against each other facing off; The stench of sulphur was in the wind, coming from the Skaven Hordes. The giant bell crackled and sparked with the vile energies of the Warp Stone.
The wind blew softly, and despite the ruckus from across the field, the High Elves were calm, and smiled gently towards each other. All praying to their gods; Kurnous, Ishha, Asuryan, and the rest... There resided no hatred in their hearts, only neccesity; only a clear purpose and realisation of what was about to happen. Even the horses were calm, asif they prayed as well. The army then tucked away the symbols and idols of the gods, and grapped their weapons. The clear ringing of their armours sounded more threatening than the roar of any Lion.
Prince Rethon knew that this would only be a small battle for the entirety of Ulthuan and it's history; but for them; this day, it would be a battle for personal value.
The horses started to prepare and get pumped up in anticipation of the battle. The riders and infantry all held their hands on the handles of their weapons, and the balista was loaded up.
The prince Rethon sounded his horn, and slowly the army started to move forward. The spearmen were moving forward and the horses slowly sticked between the line.
In the back, Sanagil raised up her hand, whispering into the winds of magic. She could feel the nigh invisible winds swirling between her fingers. She casted her incantation upon a wheellike contraption that roared with the ugly winds of Warpstone. The incantation was easy, and the carefully constructed spell slipped unnoticed of their wizard onto the machine.
She called for the Balista and the machine fired it's volley of bolts. The bolts crashed into the machine and the sound of breaking wood and screeching metal and the cracling of warpstone. It rattled and ran rounds.
A sigh of relief came from Sanagil, relief that her spell worked so soon in the battle. A rush of victory ran through the army. Archers started firing at a large group of slaves that came towards them.
The Skaven ran forward, their weapons were being swung around and waved at the elves.
The reservance of the elves then paid off; Rethon spurred his horse on, and he and his first cavalry launched forward. The thundering of the hooves was as terrifying as the roar of any dragon at that moment. There was no shouting from the elves, no screaming or any voice to be heard; just the sound of hooves and the ringing of armour, and the sharp glanced of the elves from under their helmets.
They lowered their lances and Rethon pulled forth his spear, shimmering with the enchantments placed upon it. And the distance was becoming small, and atop of his bell, the Skaven leader tried to stop them, but the magic was broken Sanagil from afar. Like a wall of steel and stone crashing into a garden, the Elves slammed into the horde of Skaven. Their Lances scewering any rats in front of them. Their tips pierced the armour of the rats as knives pierced paper, and blood splattered all over the place. Keranner's blade was sharp as any and cut through many rats that moment.
Rethon's horse Thendrion leapt forth over the stormvermin onto the wood and stone structure that held aloft a great bronze bell. The rat-mage leapt down from the bronze structure and tried to stab the Prince, but his blade was fast and sharp and his strike was precise. The mage barely ran off, one of his arms barely still attached to his body.
The Rats ran forward to the left of the prince, and impacted into the spearmen, and they were welcomed by the sharp tips of the spears of the elves. Lead by Telaron, the spearmen stood strong and took only a few of the blades, while stabbing dozens of them in the vital parts.
To the right of the prince the rats leapt forward.
The Silverhelms rode forward, to hit the Stormvermin to aid the First Cavalry and the prince, but from behind the group, a small number of rats came forward, bearing a wicked looking aparatus, that soon spouted flames of green. Terlacus and nigh all of the Silver helms were unprotected against this wicked machine and perished there. All except one, who wore a small pendant of his wife, and he had prayed to Asuryan, who protected his shield against this fire. He could feel the heat on his forehead and legs, as he was certain that his horse could too. This man was called Carphine.
He then turned about and joined the charge of Eleros and Murannas against the Clanrats. The horses rode at full speed into the rats and they crashed into them. Once again the lances and sword swathed in the blood of rats. Murannas' spear cut through jugular and tendon like a knife through butter, and Eleros' Lance pierced the skulls of two clanrats in a single strike.
And in this chaos, the Skaven clanrats started to see what was coming for them. In the back their leader shouted "Forward! Kill them!" But the rats in front cried "BACK!!" The terror in their voice was evident.
Prince Rethon's horse manouvered up the wood and stone contraption, and Rethon struck at the running mage as the little rat drunk a potion of healing.
He then jumped over Rethon, but was intercepted by a clean cut from the spear again, slashing open his entire shoulder, cutting off his arm in a single swipe.
The rat grabbed a dagger with his remaining hand and leapt to the Prince's back, but his horse reared up on his front legs, and struck back where the power of a horse lies. The hardened hooves hit the rat on the skull, and squashed it against one of the wooden pillars that was holding up the contraption.
A small mage in the back managed to slip a spell by Sanagil's controll and green lightning flung from the mage and he hit the bolt thrower, killing brave Tennander, Son of Aracus.
With the sight of their general's head smashed like a mellon against the supportbeam the rats instinct of fear overtook them, and they ran. The surviving mage ran, as well as the rest of the army.

Rethon and Sanagil, and the rest of their armies returned to the villages, where they were welcomed with open ams; their actions had proven strategic and neccesary that day; for it appeared that the armies of the militia were unable to form. The commanders were all gone with the ships.
The mayor came forth from the town-hall, his elegant white robes dragged behind him in the brown leaves of Cothique. "Ahh, you have done well, young one. We could not have lived without your aid." He said, restraining himself from embracing the armoured riders as they entered the marble-paved courtyard. The armours of the men were still covered in blood, and their weapons dripped the red onto the white stone.
Rethon swung his leg over his horse and stepped down. "Our losses were few, and for that, we are thankfull, but this situation shouldn't have come about." Rethon said with a stern voice. "One of the townsfolk told me that the commanders of the millitiate had all gone to sea; why is that?"
The mayor looked at the man. "There were sighting." He quickly said, eager to change the topic.
"Yes, and when there are sightings, one should always keep a number of able commanders at home to prevent the situation we have just avoided because we were close by." Rethon's voice was harsh.
"please, good sirs. You can stable your horses in our accomodations." The mayor evaded again, as he notioned to a stable-complex near the inn. Rethon walked with him to the stables and inspected them. The mayor raised an eyebrow, eager for appeasement from the young prince.
"It will do." Rethon said, and he walked back out again without a word of praise to spare for the mayor.
After a short while, every knight and his horse were in the stables, removing tack, and cleaning the blood and gore of their horses, while also cleaning and caring for any wounds the horses might have gotten on them.
The stablehands were uncertain of the knights performing such menial tasks themselves. "Milord, can we be of service?" The stablehand asked.
Rethon smiled, "offcourse." he said. "you can start by cleaning out Thendrion's hooves." He motioned to one of the saddlebags that was open, with equipment and tack in it.
Sanagil too worked clean her horse, who's black sheen was one far greater because of the water.
As stablehands now started to mingle amongst the knights the chatter exploded in the stables. "Milord, if I may say so, I hope that one day, I could ride by your side." The stablehand exclaimed suddenly, and Rethon smiled.
"I would be honoured to have you ride beside me." He said with a genuine look on his face. "there are too few people who are as honest as you are, lad; never loose that."

That evening, a banquet was aranged for the knights, the table was set, and the wine was flowing as wild boar roasted on the spit. Sanagil and Rethon sat at the head of the table, dressed in beautiful sea-green and blue robes. Their blonde hair waving gently in the breeze. Rethon stood up. "Men." He said. "Let us give thanks to the gods, for our losses were mere few; but let us also remember those who died by our sides. For the noble dead!" Rethon said as he raised his cup. Sanagil stood up beside him "for the noble dead."
The rest soon followed. After a moment of silence for those who had died the feast began. Dancers and muses dressed on all manner of elegant robes strode forth from the curtain, and there was much festivity.
From the corner in the back, the mayor looked upon the young prince. The mayors wife walked up to the mayor. "What is it, Eledain?" his wife said, "you seem troubled."
"I envy him." the mayor said. "He has all that I want; respect, honour, men that would follow him to the home of Moraii-heg herself, and the admiration of the populace." The mayors face turned grim with unsettling suddeness. "And that all because he stopped a small army of rats.."
"you thought that if he had not shown up, you could have lead the militia and showed them your worth?" The mayors wife replied. "my dear, your worth is not the sword, but in your quill. With you at the head, this town has gained much more finances than we had done in centuries before. He may have saved the town, but without you, there would have been nothing to save."
"your wife speaks wise words, heed them." Rethon suddenly said, when he laid a hand on the man's shoulder. "you need not be a great fighter to be a good leader. Rule here in peacetime and you will find that you are far more usefull. My men are needed in times of war, but when there is no war, no enemy to be fought, we are useless, while you are still of use, and still gain honour."

After his parting, the mayor remained in his town, protected by it's militia, as the young prince returned to his home. His own town was small, no more than a number of streets big, with only a couple of mansions gracing them. Though despite this; the lands were beautifull, and full of the splendour that was associated with the great warrior-culture of Cothique. As royal blue and navy banners waved atop the towers, and guards wearing armours of solid ithilmar, the prince returned to his home like the winds going across the world.
He was hailed by the clear ringing of silver trumpets and horns. His knights and riders dispersed and each left for their home. The courtyard was paved with gracefull white marble and in the centre of it was a pond. Rethon smiled as I rode past it, seeing his fish still alive and well. Only too rarely had he returned home to his mansion to visit it. He could see that it was kept in pristine shape. He climbed off his horse and stabled it. His wife followed his example.
The stables were spacious places for the horses, large wooden structures, decorated with elegant sea motifs and gracefull stars and moons. When the horses were cleaned up and the saddles put back into the saddleroom, Rethon and Sanagil walked into their mansion, and rested.
Days passed, and weeks passed, and when the sun came up on the third day of the seventh week did Rethon hear for Lothern. A Messenger, Riding in on a beautifull grey Ellyrian steed. His cloak as grey as his horse, but his eyes were are sharp as any elfs. On his shoulder sat a peregrin falcon. He rode in on the plaza and Rethon walked out to meet him in dark blue and aqua gowns. "You seek me out?" Rethon asked with a glance at the Ellyrian.
"Yes." the man said with a serious face.
He handed the prince his letter and stepped back. Rethon broke the seal on the letter and started reading it.
Sanagil walked up from inside the palace, and the Ellyrian immediately pulled his blade. "At ease, brave knight, I mean no harm." She says.
"you are a druchii!" The Ellyrian says, almost asif in a panic.
"I am not. At least, not anymore. My Mother was Druchii, but she was captured and kept in Cothique. During that time, I was born. When I was born, she died." Sanagil explained as she walked forward confidently and dismissed the rider with a mere gesture. "Fear me not; for I am no harm to any Asur, the people who saved me from becoming enslaved by the Dhar."