The Silver Eagle Legion
Fifteen years ago, the Seiros Kingdom and the Sog Kingdom were at war over who could claim the Moral Mountain Range as their own territory. In truth, the conflict centered on which nation would be the first to pioneer its unexplored reaches. Yet neither kingdom could afford to commit the necessary resources at the time, so they waged war to seize the land early and secure their future interests.
Territory was power, after all, a foundation upon which a nation could expand its influence. There was no downside to claiming it now. Naturally, the two kingdoms clashed in countless skirmishes both large and small across the region. Victory swung back and forth like a pendulum, and the front lines saw no meaningful progress.
Then came the mounted messenger from De Seiran. The order was clear: De Pruna was to abandon its defensive posture at the border and begin a full-scale advance.
“Elder brother,” Gruon said, “are you certain this operation won’t simply send our soldiers to their deaths?”
Though his words sounded cautious, confidence burned in his chest. His troops had held the line effectively, using the terrain to their advantage, but he had spent every spare moment sharpening their will for the inevitable counterattack.
Under a night sky glittering with stars, the full strength of De Pruna’s army had gathered at Ikaria, the central fortress among the three citadels protecting the region. Gruon, too, had completed his preparations to march from the stronghold.
Though soldiers huddled near the torches to steal what warmth they could, white plumes of breath still rose from their mouths. Iron armor did little against the biting cold of the season shifting from autumn to winter. Dawn itself felt heavy with frost.
Deciding he could not keep the men standing in the chill any longer, Gruon stepped out of his command tent and climbed atop a wooden platform crowned with a crimson banner. The flag bore the dragon’s head—the symbol of the Seiros Kingdom—encircled by a bright yellow ring.
Most would have seen no deeper meaning in it, but Gruon’s thoughts drifted elsewhere. It represents an embrace that leaves no one behind.
The yellow circle stood for every race that existed in the world. He had been taught that the primordial dragons were the mightiest beings, shaped directly by the Creator. If such supreme creatures existed, would they not watch over all races with equal care? It was the very reason the Dragonians, descendants of those dragons, existed at all.
In this world there should be only respect and reverence born from strength and authority, never contempt or discrimination. That ideal was the very heart of the Seiros Kingdom.
Yet the human nation of Sog Kingdom, which shared their border, openly scorned that belief. They were infamous for their slave trade.
Infamous? The word itself is ridiculous.
Gruon found the very concept of slavery foolish. Whether the same race or another, the moment someone deemed another inferior or different, they revealed a rotten heart. The thought alone was enough to make his blood boil even in the freezing dawn.
With that fire in his chest, Gruon raised his voice to the assembled soldiers.
“Waaaaah!!!”
“For Seiros!”
“Dignity! Dignity! Dignity!”
“…For the cause!!”
The entire Silver Eagle Legion roared in answer to Gruon’s rousing speech. In the deep, freezing hours before dawn, such fierce heat had no right to exist, yet it burned brightly among them.
Gruon walked slowly among the ranks, studying every face. He committed each soldier’s expression to memory. Even if he lost them, he would remember. He knew, vaguely at first and then with cold certainty, that this battle would not be easy. Still, crippling the Sog Kingdom required it.
With that resolve, he seized the banner that had stood firm in its stand and shouted.
“All forces! Advance!!”
The fortress gates groaned open with a heavy thud. In perfect order, the soldiers marched out behind Gruon and the legion commander. Their destination lay to the northeast—the Urwurt Barony, whose lands pressed against De Pruna’s border and had seen constant fighting throughout the war.
The Silver Eagle Legion was marching on Urwurt Castle, ruled by the noble faction’s Baron Melden Urwurt. The enemy was currently in retreat. Having launched a reckless all-out assault on De Pruna only to smash against its ironclad defenses, they had no choice but to fall back. Their commander, Melden himself, had never even appeared; only a general led the soldiers. The lack of clear leadership suggested their troops were little more than a disorganized mob. Their staff officers had also failed to fully understand De Pruna’s terrain.
In the end, they had been stunned by the impenetrable defense and exhausted themselves completely. After fifteen days of fruitless attacks, they had finally received orders to withdraw.
Their return march will be slow. We will inevitably catch them.
That was exactly what Gruon intended. The messenger from De Seiran had demanded an immediate advance, but they could not simply abandon a siege without proper timing. He had waited for the perfect moment.
No one knew how many troops remained at Urwurt Castle, but if they could slaughter the retreating force and then seize the castle itself, it would deliver a massive blow to the Seiros Kingdom’s advantage.
Gruon’s grand plan unfolded exactly as he had envisioned.
“They aren’t worth keeping alive. Kill them all.”
The road back was long, and the enemy soldiers were already exhausted. It was only natural they would stop to camp. The Silver Eagles had advanced faster than expected and caught them exactly as predicted.
Sure enough, the fools who had dared attack De Pruna had pitched crude tents and lit campfires. The sight made Gruon’s eyes burn with contempt. Without mercy, the Silver Eagles fell upon them.
Swords flashed. Blood sprayed in wide arcs. The Silver Eagle Legion’s skill was terrifying. They butchered the enemy as if it were no more difficult than eating cold porridge, never even blinking. Blood splattered everywhere. The once-white tents drank it in until they shone crimson. Campfires that had burned bright were smothered beneath corpses and snuffed out. Some enemies, abandoning all hope of survival, chose to take their own lives.
Blades rang. Throats opened. Instead of fighting with their weapons, some simply drew their swords across their own necks. The sight should have been shocking, yet the legionaries only laughed, relieved at having fewer foes to deal with. When the occasional soldier did resist, they toyed with him for sport.
“You crazy bastard! You scratched my armor!”
One foe screamed about a mark on his breastplate, but his spirit had long since broken. His wild swing had barely grazed the metal. Facing such broken men was easier than lying down to eat rice cakes. A soldier, irritated that he would now need to repair his armor, promptly severed the offending arm.
“P-please, spare me! I have a family waiting back home!”
The man wept, clutching the bleeding stump, begging desperately.
“I have a family too,” the soldier replied.
It was not mere mockery. The words carried a deeper meaning: I have people I love as well, yet you attacked us without a second thought. It was a perfectly reasonable justification.
Every enemy in the camp was slaughtered. The stench of burning corpses rose from the fires, yet no one paid it any mind. The night’s work was not yet finished.
Gruon gave a meaningful look to the legion commander, who immediately understood.
“Form ranks!! Dawn has not yet broken. If we arrive before their main force, we’ll be giving them time to prepare. We march at once!”
No matter how close the border, the distance was still considerable. The road was rough, and the soldiers were already weary from battle. Yet the Silver Eagle Legion showed no sign of complaint as they pressed forward with remarkable speed. Their perfect formation moved as a single organism, their pace almost miraculous.
This was only natural. While the Urwurt lands lay on open plains, De Pruna was nestled among mountains. The mountain-trained Silver Eagles covered the distance to the flatlands with astonishing swiftness. By the time the walls of Urwurt territory appeared on the horizon, the sun stood high overhead.
According to their calculations, the retreating Urwurt forces would not arrive until evening. The legion therefore rested, waiting for nightfall. They erected no tents, ready to move at a moment’s notice. Gruon instead used magic to conceal their presence within the surrounding nature, guarding against any stray arrows from enemy scouts.
“Lord Gruon, if we continue like this, they will be caught completely unprepared.”
“Exactly as I hoped. Capturing Urwurt Castle alone will be a tremendous help to my elder brother.”
They could not precisely calculate what strategic impact the fall of Urwurt territory would have on the Sog Kingdom, but the breach of their defensive line would certainly create new problems for the enemy to worry about. The Sog Kingdom could no longer focus solely on De Seiran; they would be forced to divert attention to the De Pruna border as well.
The border near De Pruna had been largely neglected while troops concentrated around De Seiran. Seizing Urwurt would provide the key to relieving that pressure.
“Legion Commander Mercez, within Urwurt Castle, kill only those soldiers who resist. Take the rest as prisoners. Any civilians who show no will to fight are to be left alone.”
“I shall obey. And what of Baron Melden Urwurt himself?”
“He requires no deliberation. Killing the commander will shatter their morale and force a surrender. The only one we may kill regardless of resistance is Baron Melden.”
The strategy meeting continued among the trees as the sun slowly sank. Before it disappeared completely, Legion Commander Mercez explained the plan to the troops. The Silver Eagle soldiers grew rowdy with anticipation.
“Easy for him to say we shouldn’t kill those without the will to fight.”
One soldier grumbled, only for another who knew Gruon’s temperament to cut in.
“Shut your mouth. Do you want Lord Gruon to hear you?”
“Still, if they pretend to surrender and then attack us, we can’t exactly hold back.”
Another soldier added with clear regret in his voice, prompting yet another to laugh.
“Aren’t you just complaining because you want to kill them all without asking questions? Kahaha.”
The soldiers traded jokes to ease their tension. Then the moment to release that tension finally arrived.
“All troops, rise! Prepare for immediate march!”
Legion Commander Mercez’s voice rang out. The men retrieved their armor and weapons with practiced efficiency. As seasoned veterans, they needed little time. The Silver Eagle Legion formed up once more and advanced directly toward Urwurt Castle.
The sun had not yet fully set. The blood-red sky seemed to stain their silver armor even deeper, as though the metal itself had been splashed with gore. At that moment, the name “Silver Eagle” felt strangely unfitting.
When the sun finally vanished and true darkness fell, the castle should have been receiving its returning soldiers and preparing for the night. Instead, Urwurt Castle had descended into chaos.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
“Enemies!!!”
The territory apparently possessed both watchtowers and alarm bells. Though the hour was dark, a sentry spotted the Silver Eagle Legion surging forward like a silver tide and screamed the warning.
“W-what is happening? Where is General Dabor?! The Seiros army is here!”
Dabor had been the general who led the reckless assault on De Pruna. He was the most reliable and powerful commander they had, yet he had not returned. The soldiers standing on the walls felt their minds crumbling.
“We’ve been defeated!”
Thud!
“Shut up! That’s impossible!”
Some already knew the truth but still refused to accept it. And all the while, the Silver Eagle Legion drew closer with every measured step.