PART I: The Chill of War
The chill wind of deep winter roared like a beast, relentlessly tearing across the continent. In the second month of Continental Year 1444, this cold was particularly sharp and bone-piercing.
The Divine Frostbreath Empire and The Snow Wolf Kingdom—two names eternally bound by the threads of fate, yet forever cursed as sworn adversaries—were once again compelled into ceaseless warfare in this frozen season. This marked the uncounted hundredth military confrontation since their nations' founding.
The consequence of this endless conflict was exhaustion—a profound, weary fatigue. No one desired continuation, yet all were forced to fight.
To an observer looking back from a thousand years hence, the constant warring between these two nations might be glibly dismissed as mere "belligerence," earning a casual, contemptuous scoff. However, for every soul involved, from the monarchs and ministers perched high in power to the mercenary whose life was worth less than straw, this war carried an unavoidable weight of sorrow and futility.
The spark that reignited the current conflagration was absurdly, tediously, and tragically trivial: the winding Border River, which marked the frontier between the two nations, had frozen solid into a sheet of silver glass due to the intense cold. The ice-bound surface erased the natural boundary, and the once-separated inhabitants clashed violently over the sparse fishing grounds newly available on the ice.
An insignificant dispute rapidly escalated into a storm of opposition. When the first drop of blood was spilled, the first life harvested, the script devolved into an irreversible tragedy.
The stated cause was a dark joke to the soldiers of both nations, forced to march into the biting cold. Confusion and discontent might have filled their hearts, but military mandate was absolute. Personal emotion was utterly insignificant before the cold machinery of war.
The Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial Army was Dipper Aureus, the twenty-six-year-old third prince, highly favored by Emperor Dipper Huang. He was already titled the Han Aureus Duke, wielding the Empire's military authority. Though young, Dipper Aureus was a decorated veteran, forged in battle and heavy with conspicuous merit.
For this, the Snow Wolf Kingdom was to be 'thanked': years of continuous warfare had allowed the young prince to amass a store of experience and wartime achievements worthy of boast.
Dipper Aureus was not only brilliant in campaign but possessed a compelling charisma. His eyes were like twin torches, sharp with insight. His brow was noble, his presence striking. He stood tall, his demeanor graceful and composed. All who witnessed his bearing were wholeheartedly convinced of his competence.
In this era that valued personal heroism, Dipper Aureus's handsome features were undeniably an asset for commanding troops and consolidating loyalty. A striking appearance always serves as the best insignia.
Yet, at this moment, the Imperial Army was at a disadvantage.
They were arrayed at the bottom of a steep, low-lying gorge, cornered like beasts in a trap; the military situation was highly unfavorable. This predicament caused even the most seasoned strategists among the Duke's staff to worry, emitting frequent, ominous sighs.
Dipper Aureus maintained an unusual degree of composure and restraint. He stood steadily at the fore of his formation, his profound, emerald-green eyes fixed on the surrounding, towering mountain ranges, as if silently calculating the scheme that would shatter the enemy and orchestrate a stunning reversal of fortune.
"What manner of offensive... will the Royal Army unleash?"
The staff clustered behind the Han Aureus Duke discussed amongst themselves, all expressing their profound anxiety. This was, after all, a "death ground" in military doctrine, a place where all outcomes were volatile.
"Are you unsettled?" the Han Aureus Duke asked the staff behind him.
A slight smile lifted the corner of the Han Aureus Duke's mouth. That smile was neither contemptuous mockery nor forced composure; it was an innate, deep-seated confidence imbued with the power to soothe. Like warm winter sunlight, it chased away the gloom clouding the staff's hearts, alleviating their palpable anxiety.
"We have followed Your Grace across countless battlefields, crushing all before us! What terror can the Royal rabble hold? There is no possibility of defeat in this engagement!"
The staff straightened their chests, their voices ringing with unyielding conviction and determination. Their declaration was heavy with near-blind devotion to the Han Aureus Duke, reflecting the high morale of the Imperial Army.
No sooner had the words been spoken than a clear, sharp bugle blast sliced through the stillness of the gorge. The sound was high-pitched and exhilarating, vibrating the eardrums like a thunderclap, instantly igniting the battle atmosphere.
The gentle smile on Dipper Aureus's face instantly vanished, replaced by a killing intent as sharp as winter ice. A fierce light flared in his eyes, and a torrent of razor-edged fighting spirit surged out, filling every inch of space around him.
Silent and resolute, he decisively wheeled his warhorse and charged past the lines of his disciplined soldiers, a flash of lightning and a blur of wind.
"Han Aureus Duke! Han Aureus Duke! Han Aureus Duke!"
The soldiers' deafening cheers, a mountain-shattering tsunami of sound, echoed through Cold Well Gorge. The fervent worship contained within their cries was more passionate, more heated, than the triple acclamation given to the Emperor himself. The bitter cold, the perilous terrain, the environment thick with danger—none of it diminished the soldiers' will to fight; instead, it ignited a deep-seated courage and determination.
In this land of ice and snow, the threat of an avalanche was omnipresent for both sides, whether moving forward or retreating. Fortunately, Cold Well Gorge was positioned at a narrow pass, where the roaring wind swept away much of the snowfall, leaving the pass itself relatively clear. The narrow mouth between the two converging peaks was the home of the wind, where the wind shear was far fiercer than elsewhere—a wind that could, literally, sever a throat.
The Imperial Army's tumultuous wave of cheers, carrying the frigid gales of the polar north, rose like a wild, untamed horse along the rugged slopes of the canyon, piercing the winter stillness and clearly reaching the ears of the Royal Army entrenched on the strategic high ground.
PART II: The General and the Scar
The Royal Army had established a continuous line of camps along the mountain ridges. Inside the main command tent, in an inconspicuous, plainly furnished tent illuminated by the faint glow of an oil lamp, the tough silhouette of Ba Haoran, the Royal Army's seasoned general, was visible.
General Ba Haoran was old enough to be a grandfather. A lifetime of military service had etched frost-like lines across his face and covered his body with countless scars, his 'medals of honor'. His once-firm jawline had begun to sag, and his beard lacked its former luster. Yet, the fire in his eyes still burned, sharp and relentless, like a young, hungry wolf.
As the Imperial Army's passionate war cries surged upward, the old General Ba offered a knowing, familiar smile, shaking his head slightly.
"Why does the old General smile?"
Standing beside General Ba Haoran was Eisenhao, the rising star of the Royal Army—a young general.
Eisenhao wore a silver suit of armor, streamlined and exquisitely crafted, which gleamed with a cold metallic luster in the dim light, complementing his valiant and imposing demeanor. His eyes were intensely sharp, like a leopard's, the pupils flickering with a cold, bronze hardness—acute and aggressive. Yet, at this moment, the impetuous and ambitious young general frowned, his expression solemn and confused, tilting his head slightly, his gaze full of incomprehension.
"The Imperial Army is on death ground, yet their morale remains undiminished. Should we not be more cautious? Perhaps the Han Aureus Duke has hidden a contingent of elite troops?"
The tragic grandeur of the Imperial Army's 'fight to the death' spirit seemed to be entirely outside his frame of reference. He could not comprehend by what belief the Imperial soldiers could unleash such earth-shattering cheers in such a desperate plight.
The young Eisenhao possessed exceptional courage, superb martial skill, and a fervent passion to serve his Kingdom, but he lacked the strategic vision tempered by time, and the deep insight into morale and the human heart—factors crucial to victory—that the old General possessed.
This was General Ba Haoran's assessment of Eisenhao.
"Hmph, these foolish Imperials are laughably naive! Do they truly believe that a mere few shouts of the Han Aureus Duke's name can magically reverse this obvious terrain disadvantage and mend their fatal strategic blunder? It is mere delusion, a fool's dream!"
"War is not fought this way. No matter how high the morale, it cannot overturn a situation predetermined for defeat. The external environment dictates that the Imperial Army will suffer a massive loss here. I care not for the Han Aureus Duke's ingenious stratagems; I only know that the force of a downhill charge is always superior."
"Even if there is a hidden force, so what? We will simply crush it."
The Royal Army was commanded by seven generals known as the Seven Leopard Generals. The Kingdom's most vital positions—Commander of the Expeditionary Force, Commander of Capital Defense, Commander of the Royal Guard, or the Army's Generalissimo—were all held by these seven. The current Royal Expeditionary Force was jointly commanded by this duo: the old general and the young one.
Eisenhao was twenty-four. His most striking feature was a long, thin scar stretching across his porcelain-white right cheek, winding from his temple down to his jaw. Whenever his emotions ran high, the scar would rise and flush red like a brand. Now, though he nodded and echoed the old general's laughter, Eisenhao's expression remained subtly puzzled. He gazed thoughtfully at the distant Imperial formation.
If the Han Aureus Duke were so easily defeated, he would not have inflicted so many defeats on the Royal Army over the past few years.
Both sides had deployed. The Imperial Army was clearly on unfavorable ground. The ending of this battle seemed obvious to all. High noon; the time for heavenly justice had arrived. It was time to end the myth of the Han Aureus Duke.
PART III: The Charge and the Crater
The Royal Army, commanding the high ground, naturally initiated the assault. They began the engagement with the most conventional opening: archers positioned high up unleashed tens of thousands of arrows, a cloud that darkened the sky. The Imperial Army had no choice but to raise their shields. Fortunately, the shields used by the Imperials were large square scuta designed for full body cover. Forming a tortoise formation, they could effectively withstand the arrow barrage.
However, merely blocking the arrows offered no path to victory. The main Royal infantry and archers advanced step by step. Conversely, the Imperial infantry's tortoise formation began to steadily retreat in the opposite direction.
The oddity, however, was that the troops who should have been heavily armored were only wearing light armor or even just padded cotton clothes for warmth. Apart from the large shields, they carried no other heavy gear.
When the Royal Army had pressed close, reaching the distance suitable for a cavalry charge, Ba Haoran gave the decisive order.
"Attack! Cavalry charge! Slice open these useless tortoise formations! Drag the turtle heads out and sever them!"
The heavy cavalry, the Royal Army's elite force designed to break formations, was even more potent in this confined, two-flanked environment. Once they pierced the Imperial Army's first line, waves of the charge would sweep over the foe, and the sheer weight of the Imperial soldiers would cause a collapse. Once the first line broke, the rest would follow in an avalanche.
The Snow Wolf Kingdom's heavy cavalry, a force of three thousand, were the elite of the elite. Only sons of the nobility were accepted, educated as warriors from a young age, equipped with the finest gear, and possessing the highest martial skills—they were the Kingdom's pride.
Committing this force at the very start of the battle was General Ba Haoran's shrewd move. He saw that the Imperial Army had no alternatives: insufficient space for deployment, the suppression of uphill archers forcing their infantry into a clustered tortoise formation. While they had defended against arrows, they were utterly defenseless against the shock of heavy cavalry.
"Charge! Accelerate! Thrust your lances into those turtle shells!"
With the cavalry's superb horsemanship, the heavy lances were still guided into the gaps of the tortoise formation even at high speed. The sheer momentum of the charge allowed the lances to pierce through wooden shields, impaling two men at once.
The tortoise formation, seemingly devastated by the heavy cavalry, did indeed suffer heavy casualties. As predicted, the Imperial Army's first line broke and scattered.
The Imperial Army's first line abandoned all their shields. They appeared to be unarmed, fleeing backward like a panicked crowd of peasants.
"Infantry line, follow and push forward! Protect the cavalry!"
Ba Haoran issued a full-advance order to the following infantry. This main thrust was personally commanded by Eisenhao. If successful, this move would force the Imperial Army into a complete withdrawal from the battlefield.
However, as the Royal heavy cavalry broke through the Imperial Army's second line, causing it to scatter just like the first, they charged toward the third line only to encounter an unforeseen trap.
Deep pits, two men high, had been covered with branches and straw. A night's snowfall had turned the area into a perfect minefield. Heavy cavalry plunged into the craters; horses broke legs, and warriors broke necks. The pride of the Kingdom now turned into cries of agony.
The Imperial soldiers who had scattered from the two preceding lines, having retreated only a short distance, now flipped over weapons and fresh shields that had been pre-hidden in the snow. There was no time to don heavy armor, but they were quickly re-armed and re-formed, simultaneously blocking the advancing Royal infantry and joining the third line in slaughtering the remaining heavy cavalry.
The loss of this precious heavy cavalry was the Royal Army's most severe blow. Infantry clashing against infantry was a mere mutual waste of life. Eisenhao concluded that the chance for victory was lost; retreat was necessary. There was no point in descending into a meat grinder; the Empire had the manpower to sustain losses, while the Kingdom did not have the reserves to expend.
Yet, descending a mountain was easier than ascending, especially under enemy pursuit.
General Eisenhao personally led his personal guard to cover the retreat and block the Imperial Army's pursuit. However, the Imperial Army was not about to let this opportunity slip. Lightly-armed Imperial soldiers could climb the mountain much faster than the fully-armored Royal troops. When the Han Aureus Duke brought down General Eisenhao with a single arrow, the counter-wave, surging from the valley floor up the mountain, became unstoppable.
— Chapter 1: End —