The Eagle and The Crow

[Vege 4804]

 

 

THE BATTLE OF ELBA

 

 

 

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“Breach them once more! And fear no evil, God will protect his own!”

• Callixtus I speaking to the Courlandic soldiers on the eve of the battle.

 

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Protected only by a narrow strip of pines, the camp lay awake as dusk approached. The host was wrought by exhaustion from their preceding assaults, and their swords bluntened from the cutting of shield and man alike. The King had summoned his commanders, all under the acknowledgement that the gravity of their forthcoming skirmish was truly great, and that the outcome today would shape the war that would follow. Tobias I, had risen to the transgression of the Haensetic King, he’d resigned himself to fighting a war that he had not wished for.

 

The Wars of the Coalition had taken impact on him; he felt an old man in a younger body, where the strain of dismantling the Empire had ushered him into a desire only for a peaceful realm of man. As weathered as he was, King Tobias nor his brother Sven could have foreseen their peace ending so soon, their experience was great but they still drew sadness from the warmongering of their enemies, those who they had chosen to show mercy. Peace was the aim of the King, and although his dreams had not been realized, he would risk his own to endure them.

 

“Once more men! Once more.” Sven Staunton roared, striding through the camp in his bloodied mail. His beard was grubby and ripe with the spill of Hansetian levymen, a scar ran from his left eye down to the middle of his cheek. “Muster and sally forth, men of the King!.”The De Savin’s emerged from their tents. The Duke knew that his duty was now, on the brink of battle besides his trusted allies and long serving comrades. Together they would ride out and meet the incursions, standing steadfast in protection of their King and Country.

 

From within their encampment, the Courlandian retinue gathered. There they prepared for what was to come, sharpening their steel and plating themselves. The gentry commanded over their own levies, slowly moving them from the safety of the wooden battlements into the forest outside. One by one the men, wounds fresh from the days prior, joined the large force in front of the wooden fort. The next assault would be the last, both sides knew such, and prepared all of their men as such.

 

“De Savins, on the left flank! Frederik, you shall ride with the King down the centre! Count Stafford, cover our right flank!” Sven shouted, riding down the line of shields and pikes, his sword drawn and raised as he maintained the formation of the host. The King’s cousin Frederick moved his own guard to the centre, amongst his regiment a single white horse remained riderless, and followed to the horse of the count. Commotion erupted as the army settled in its formation, cries from the rear of the force grew louder as the King emerged from his tent.  “The King emerges!” whimpered a peasant from the back of the army, as a path slowly evolved around the King.

 

His mail had fit him well, the silver eagle of Courland was embroidered on his tabard, and it had stayed clean of the blood stains elsewhere. The men around him roared as he removed the greasy fringe hanging down his face from his vision and travelled through a sea of his own towards his command. There he marched, accompanied by his guard, to the helm of his force. Beside him stood his brother, his closest friend and council, of which he had shared both the hardships and spoils of his rise to King. Throughout it all, there was none who King Tobias would have rather stood beside on the fringe of battle. His cousin Frederick sat mounted on his other flank, holding the King’s ivory destrier.

 

He was mounted, and at once the Courlandian army fell silent. Tobias reared his horse causing it to trot backward in a stumble. He turned to face his men as it regained balance, and began to speak. “Fear not the blade of the Hansetian man. For blood spilled is not in vain. Our god watches our struggle, and he will see our triumph.” Tobias raised his sword, commanding the force to advance through the trees as he continued his speech. “This be not the first time I have asked of your sword in the name of our country, nor will it be the last. But know brothers, that every drop of your blood will bleed through me, in the name of our Kingdom and God.” The line slowly emerged from the forest into a plain, where the tree line began again two hundred metres in front of them. There they stopped, where the King fell silent for a short while.

 

The plain was tranquil, one would not think that the grassy opening would be the tapestry for a thousand dead men by the time the sun drew from the easter horizon. The King cleared his throat to continue, but halted as the first line of Hansetian infantry emerged from the trees in front of them. “You know what you must do men of Courland.” He’d shout, before he convened with his commanders. Various tactics were hurled to the respective leaders of the units; both forces now stood parallel facing one another, each beginning their walking advances through the opening. As they closened both sped to a run, eventually two unstoppable waves charged to a meeting in the dead centre of the plain.

 

The flanks of the Duke de Savin and Count Stafford enveloped the Hansetians who maintained a strong and central attack. The Arch-Chancellor Sven and his cavalry rampaged down the middle of the assault, cleaning through the lines of the Hansetian Royal Army and finding the unit situated behind the large majority of the Haensetic army. The Hansetians offered little retort to their surrounding, failing to achieve the upperhand in the fighting. The Courlandians had surrounded them, and continued to barrage their lines with waves of infantry.

 

The King himself rode amongst the men, his guard slaying the brigands that attempted on his life. The Hansetian armies were being broken down, and their formations scattered throughout a separated and surrounded force. Many fled for the trees behind them. “Forward!” Sven declared, as his cavalry began to chase down those the routed enemy. The remaining De Savin and Stafford men moved their force inward, where Kovac and Ruthern bannermen made a final front on the forces of Staunton. Their final stand stood little resistance against a greater remaining Courland force, and soon it broke for the trees, where the remaining Haensetic army made for retreat.

 

Onwards the De Savin-Stafford soldiery charged, in pursuit of those who ran. Cries of victory were heard around the remaining Courlandians. Although they would rejoice in this victory, they had not been without their own losses. The spill of Courlandic blood was a strain on the King. How would he bask in the glory of this win, when his own lay cut by the hands of his enemies? He wouldn’t. He would continue with the weight of his triumph and loss, and he’d seek to cut the neck of the Hansetic lords that caused this war. The initiative of this skirmish would prove to be an integral moment in shaping the war, but the war was yet to be won. Onwards with the victory of Courland, with God on their side, peace would be realized soon enough.

 

[LoLzboi 661]

An Old Believer would cross himself, tears of joy streaming down his face. "God has abandoned the heretics, this is truly a sign!"

[Babadooks 566]

"war is sometimes not very nice." says the intelligent Hughes d'Amaury

[shortchangehero 4217]

 

Jacque de Felsen, Marshal of Courland smirks as the sun shines ever so brightly on his face. The Marshal continues his stampede down the road leaning over every so often to cleave a head off a Hansetian's shoulder.

 

"Heads did roll."

[Chaw 964]

Montoya pets his steed, which had run over a many Haensetic footsoldiers. "Ave Courland" He then exclaims, riding back with his men.

[KeatonUnbeaten 1103]

"GLORY TO GOD!"

[wolfdwg 2677]

Dabu munches on a dead orc who fled into the stone 'duck'.

[MunaZaldrizoti 8037]

Queen Lisette Staunton would hug her four children tightly, tears in her eyes. "Your father is a hero, my darlings. GOD is with us, and with our kingdom!"

[Archbishop 1784]

"Yea er Suticans, Orcs, Dwarves and Snow elves won this, not Courland. But hey I guess that means Westerlands and Lorraine are involved no?" says Felix Fitch, having escaped.

[func_Soap 410]

"Where's the battle?" he asks, his shield unscratched, his armour untouched, his axe barely bloodied.

[TankM1A2 840]

Glendon dabs at the sweat on his brow with a handkerchief.

[Beamon4 1690]

"Courland shall ride on this glorious war for we are not weak we will stand up to those what support Tyranny" Hefron de Savin would say drinking merrily in the Curonburg Palace

[sergisala 3451]

"Ave Courland!" - Alexander would say as he cuts Gallahad's throat in the Battle of Elba.

[Eggles the Beagles 252]

Sophie scratches her head in confusion noting that there was no tide of green but a blob of other races.

[Kevinblabla7 641]

Duke de savin raises his sword above of his head. He turns around looking at his men, family members and friends. "AVE SAVINIA, AVE COURLAND." He shouts proudly. "A clear victory." He says to Daedelus.