High Commander Darius Vex

  Blood and steel. These were the foundations upon which the Crimson Empire was built. The iron will of our Emperor forged into unstoppable legions that had swept across the western lands like wildfire. From the Shattered Coast to the Ashen Plains, our banners now flew over territories that had known only weakness and division for generations.

  And yet, as I stood upon the hilltop overlooking the battlefield below, I felt something unfamiliar stir within my chest. Not fear, for fear was beaten out of Crimson commanders long before they earned their cloaks. No, this was something closer to... doubt.

  "The enemy holds the ridge line, High Commander," said Colonel Tavius at my side, his weathered face betraying none of the concern I knew he must feel. "Our forward centuries report unusual resistance."

  I nodded, studying the battlefield through my far-seer. Unlike the primitive spyglasses used by lesser kingdoms, this artifact had been enhanced by Imperial artificers, allowing me to witness the battle in unsettling clarity.

  What I saw defied all our intelligence reports.

  "Those are not mere monsters," I murmured, adjusting the focus. "Look at their formations, Tavius. Perfect cohesion. Unwavering discipline."

  Before us, stretched across the battlefield, nearly ten thousand Imperial soldiers. The vanguard of our western expansion, clashed with a force less than half their size. Yet the smaller force was not retreating. They were not breaking. Instead, they moved with a coordination that I had only ever seen from our own elite Crimson Guard.

  Hobgoblins. But unlike any I had encountered in my twenty years of military service.

  These creatures stood taller than ordinary goblins, their bodies hardened and evolved beyond their primitive cousins. They bore weapons of superior craftsmanship and wore armor that gleamed with strange sigils. But it was their movement that unnerved me most, they flowed across the battlefield like water around stone, anticipating our tactics before our officers could even signal the commands.

  "Three cohorts lost already," Tavius reported grimly. "Fourth and Sixth Legions requesting reinforcement on the southern flank."

  "No," I said, my eyes fixed on the battlefield. "No reinforcements yet. Let them press."

  "High Commander?" Tavius questioned, a rare breach of protocol that spoke to his concern.

  I lowered the far-seer, meeting his gaze directly. "The Emperor did not send us to claim easy victories, Colonel. He sent us to test the worth of this so-called Monster Lord and his forces. We must understand our enemy before we destroy them."

  In truth, there was more. Much more that Tavius could not know. But such matters were not for open discussion, even among trusted officers.

  Below us, the battle intensified. Our center pushed forward as planned, the disciplined ranks of Imperial spearmen driving into what should have been the weakest point of the hobgoblin line. Yet instead of breaking, the monsters seemed to anticipate the maneuver, their formation flexing inward to create a deadly pocket.

  "Blood and ashes," Tavius whispered as hundreds of our soldiers became trapped in the unexpected encirclement. "It's as if they knew our battle plan."

  "Perhaps they did," I mused, watching as hobgoblin archers emerged from concealed positions to rain death upon our ensnared troops. Their arrows flew with preternatural accuracy, finding gaps in armor with uncanny precision. "Something guides them. Something more than mere battle rage or instinct."

  I shifted my attention to the far side of the battlefield where a raised platform stood just beyond arrow range. There, surrounded by what appeared to be hobgoblin officers, stood a figure unlike the others. Even at this distance, I could see this was no ordinary goblinoid. Taller, more evolved, with a presence that seemed to radiate outward across the battlefield.

  "Lieutenant Nerk," I said, putting a name to the figure. Our spies had reported this creature, this first lieutenant of the Monster Lord. But they had described a clever goblin, not this... commander.

  As I watched, Nerk made a series of quick gestures. Immediately, the hobgoblin forces responded, their formations shifting with liquid precision to counter our latest advance. It was as if—

  "They move as one mind," I realized aloud. "One mind with thousands of bodies."

  "Impossible," Tavius insisted, though his voice lacked conviction. "Even the Empire's battle-mages cannot coordinate troops with such precision."

  "This is not magic as we understand it," I replied. "This is something else. Something new."

  A messenger approached at a dead run, his crimson sash marking him as part of my personal command staff. He fell to one knee before me, breathing heavily.

  "High Commander," he gasped. "Western flank collapsed. The hobgoblins... they anticipate every maneuver before our signalmen can even relay the orders. Colonel Marek requests permission to withdraw."

  I considered this, watching another Imperial formation crumble under the unexpected precision of our monstrous opponents. Our numerical advantage meant little against such coordination. The soldiers fought bravely, but confusion spread through our lines as standard tactics failed repeatedly against an enemy that seemed to know our playbook by heart.

  "Permission denied," I said firmly, though each word cost me. "Tell Colonel Marek to hold position at all costs."

  The messenger blanched. "Sire, the western line is—"

  "Is exactly where it needs to be," I finished for him, my voice steadier than my heart. "Return to Colonel Marek. Tell him I expect Imperial discipline to be maintained. The Emperor's strategy demands it."

  As the messenger departed, Tavius moved closer, lowering his voice. "High Commander, with respect, our casualties mount by the minute. Without reinforcement or withdrawal, the western flank will collapse completely."

  "I am well aware of our situation, Colonel," I replied, the weight of command heavy upon my shoulders. Each life lost was a price paid for our strategy, and the cost was becoming steeper by the hour. "But timing is everything in battle. Tell the commanders to hold. It won't be much longer."

  I prayed I spoke truth. Our plan relied on precise timing, and whatever was supposed to happen in the enemy's rear was taking far longer than anticipated. How many more Imperial soldiers would pay with their blood while we waited?

  Tavius studied my face for a long moment before nodding sharply. He was a soldier of the Empire—he would follow orders, even those he did not understand.

  I returned my attention to the battlefield, watching as our forces struggled against the hobgoblin onslaught. They were indeed magnificent opponents, these evolved creatures. Their coordination went beyond anything conventional military training could achieve. Each unit seemed to know instinctively how to support the others, creating an integrated defense that our superior numbers could not easily overwhelm.

  At the center of it all stood Lieutenant Nerk, his tactical genius evident in every movement of his forces. The goblin king was everything our intelligence reports had suggested and more, a commander whose natural abilities had been enhanced to levels that rivaled our most experienced generals.

  "Western flank has stabilized temporarily," Tavius reported, returning to my side. "Though Colonel Marek reports they cannot hold for long without support."

  "They need only hold a little longer," I assured him.

  "For what purpose, if I may ask?"

  I smiled thinly. "Patience, old friend. All will become clear soon enough."

  The afternoon wore on, the battle grinding into a costly stalemate. Our forces held their positions despite mounting casualties, Imperial discipline maintaining our lines even as the hobgoblins pressed their advantage. I could sense growing confusion among my command staff, their sidelong glances questioning my strategy without daring to voice their concerns.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Why didn't we commit our reserves? Why not adjust our tactics against an enemy that clearly outmaneuvered us? Why allow the battle to continue when victory seemed increasingly unlikely?

  Let them wonder. The Emperor's strategy required sacrifice, and Imperial soldiers understood duty above all else.

  As the sun began its descent toward the western horizon, I finally gave the order to commit our reserve forces. Not to the vulnerable western flank as many expected, but to an aggressive push against the enemy's eastern line. The unexpected maneuver momentarily caught the hobgoblins off guard, allowing our fresh troops to gain ground before their defenses adjusted.

  "Interesting choice, High Commander," Tavius observed carefully.

  "Sometimes the path to victory requires unconventional thinking," I replied, watching as Lieutenant Nerk redirected forces to counter our new assault. "Our enemy adapts quickly, but even he cannot be everywhere at once."

  "You believe we can overwhelm him through multiple simultaneous engagements?"

  I nodded, though this was only part of my true intent. "The bond network they utilize has limits. We need only find them."

  The battle intensified as dusk approached, our eastern assault drawing more of the hobgoblin forces away from their central position. Lieutenant Nerk remained on his command platform, though I could see signs of strain even at this distance—more frequent gestures, animated discussions with his subordinates, growing impatience in his movements.

  "They tire," I observed with satisfaction. "Even their remarkable coordination requires effort to maintain."

  "Yet we still make little headway," Tavius pointed out. "And our own forces grow weary as well."

  "Imperial soldiers are trained to fight long past the point where lesser men would falter," I reminded him. "Hold the line, Colonel. The turning point approaches."

  As twilight deepened into early evening, I moved my command position closer to the front, riding along our lines with an escort of elite guards. The soldiers straightened as I passed, discipline overcoming exhaustion even after hours of brutal combat. I nodded to them, acknowledging their sacrifice while offering no explanation for the seemingly futile engagement we had maintained throughout the day.

  When I reached the southern flank, I dismounted, making my way to a forward observation post where I could study the enemy positions more directly.

  "High Commander," greeted the centurion in charge, surprise evident in his voice. "We did not expect you at the forward line."

  "A commander should witness firsthand what he asks of his men," I replied, accepting the spyglass he offered.

  Through it, I could see the hobgoblin lines in detail. Their formations remained disciplined despite hours of combat, though signs of fatigue showed in their movements. Most interestingly, I noted a subtle change in their deployment pattern—more forces concentrated toward the east where our assault continued, fewer toward their rear encampment.

  Perfect. Everything proceeded according to design.

  "Your men have fought admirably today, Centurion," I told the officer. "The Emperor will hear of their valor."

  "Thank you, High Commander. Though if I may speak freely—"

  "You wonder why we maintain an engagement with questionable prospects of victory," I finished for him.

  He nodded, careful to keep his expression neutral. "The men fight without question, sire. But they do not understand."

  "Understanding is not required for victory, Centurion. Only obedience and faith in the Empire's purpose." I returned his spyglass. "Hold your position. Relief will come sooner than you might expect."

  As night fell across the battlefield, I returned to my command post where Tavius awaited with the latest casualty reports. They were substantial, though not catastrophic—exactly as I had calculated.

  "The day wanes, High Commander," he said, carefully avoiding any suggestion of withdrawal. "Battle conditions will change significantly once darkness falls."

  "Indeed they will," I agreed. "To our advantage."

  He raised an eyebrow but said nothing, accustomed to my occasional cryptic responses.

  "Have the signalmen prepare night flares for all legions," I instructed. "And send word to all commanders, hold position regardless of circumstances until my direct command."

  "As you order," he acknowledged, though curiosity burned in his eyes.

  The hours after sunset brought reduced combat as both sides consolidated positions and tended to wounded. Campfires bloomed across both encampments, creating islands of light in the darkness. I stood at the edge of our command post, watching the enemy lines with studied patience, though inwardly my concern grew with every passing hour. How many good soldiers had we lost today waiting for a signal that should have come hours ago?

  "How much longer, High Commander?" Tavius finally asked, breaking the silence that had stretched between us. "The men have fought valiantly, but even Imperial discipline has its limits."

  I clenched my jaw, the weight of the day's casualties bearing down upon me more heavily than my armor. This was taking longer than expected. Far longer. "Not much longer now," I assured him, my eyes fixed on the hobgoblin encampment in the distance. "When it happens, you'll know."

  "When what happens, sir?"

  I simply shook my head, offering no explanation. Some plans were too delicate, too precise to risk even by speaking of them. But silently, I honored each Imperial life lost in today's holding action. Their sacrifice would not be in vain, if only the second phase of our strategy would commence before we lost too many more.

  Another hour passed. The night deepened, stars wheeling overhead in cold indifference to the bloodshed below. Our soldiers maintained their positions as ordered, despite growing exhaustion and confusion about our strategy. Across the battlefield, the hobgoblin forces seemed equally vigilant, their disciplined formations holding despite the long day's combat.

  Then, finally, it began.

  A distant commotion from the rear of the hobgoblin encampment, too far to see clearly, but the sound carried on the night air. Shouts, the clash of weapons, movement among the enemy's rear guard.

  Tavius straightened beside me. "What's happening?"

  "The tide turns," I said simply, satisfaction warming my voice.

  The disturbance grew, spreading rapidly through the enemy camp. Torches moved in chaotic patterns, hobgoblin warriors rushing toward the source of the disruption. Even from this distance, I could see Lieutenant Nerk's command platform suddenly alive with activity, officers rushing to deliver reports as the goblin commander issued rapid orders.

  "Sir," Tavius said slowly, watching the distant commotion, "what's happening in their camp? Is this what we've been waiting for?"

  I nodded, watching with intense satisfaction as chaos spread through the enemy's rear lines. "The waiting is over, Colonel. Now we must ensure they remain fully engaged here."

  Tavius studied my face for a long moment. "All day we've held position despite heavy losses. We've maintained engagement when tactical wisdom would have called for withdrawal." His eyes widened slightly. "We were never meant to win this battle outright, were we? We were keeping their attention fixed here."

  I said nothing, but my silence was confirmation enough.

  "We're the anvil," he said quietly, "holding them in place for whatever hammer is falling behind their lines."

  The commotion in the enemy camp grew steadily, yet Lieutenant Nerk maintained strict discipline on the front lines. His forces held formation with unwavering focus, with only a small contingent dispatched to address whatever was happening in their rear.

  "They're not being drawn away as expected," Tavius observed, watching the enemy lines. "Their discipline holds."

  I nodded, my expression carefully neutral despite the inner satisfaction. "That was never the true expectation, Colonel. Whether they maintain their lines or rush to defend their rear matters little. What matters is that they remain engaged here."

  Tavius glanced at me, confusion briefly crossing his features before being replaced by the discipline of a seasoned officer. "Then our objective..."

  "Is proceeding exactly as planned," I finished for him. "Now we press forward, not to break their lines, but to ensure they cannot disengage. We must hold their complete attention for as long as necessary."

  "All legions?" he asked, beginning to understand our true purpose.

  "All legions. Full commitment. Whatever is happening behind their lines must be allowed to proceed to completion."

  Tavius nodded sharply, barking orders to the waiting signalmen. Night flares erupted above our lines, their crimson light bathing the battlefield in an otherworldly glow. Horns sounded throughout our encampment, the signal to advance rippling across our forces.

  The Imperial legions surged forward, fresh energy infusing tired limbs despite the long day of battle. The hobgoblin lines remained frustratingly disciplined, even as the commotion in their rear camp intensified, but that no longer concerned me. We had accomplished our primary mission, keeping their forces fixed in place, unable to respond fully to what was unfolding behind them.

  "Their coordination barely falters," Tavius observed with grudging respect as we watched our forces make only modest gains. "Whatever's happening behind them isn't drawing them away as we'd hoped."

  "It doesn't need to," I replied, my eyes fixed on the distant commotion in the enemy camp. "The battle here was always about holding their attention, nothing more."

  Tavius nodded grimly, the full weight of our day's purpose becoming clearer to him. "So we've succeeded then, despite the cost." It wasn't a question, but a soldier coming to terms with necessary sacrifice.

  "We've done our part," I confirmed, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "If only the other phase had been executed hours earlier. How many good soldiers might still draw breath?"

  Tavius looked at the battlefield, strewn with Imperial dead and wounded. "The men will want to know their sacrifice had meaning. What can I tell them about what we truly accomplished today?"

  "To ensure their forces remained focused here, while elsewhere, something far more significant unfolds." I watched the distant chaos with grim satisfaction. "That's all you need to know for now."

  As our forces continued their assault, making limited headway against the still-disciplined hobgoblin lines, the commotion in their rear camp grew more intense. Whatever was happening there wasn't about tactical advantage or battlefield positioning. It was something far more important.

  I only hoped the price we had paid in Imperial blood today would be justified by the outcome. If the true mission succeeded, no one would question the cost. If it failed...

  I did not need to see it clearly to know our plan was unfolding precisely as intended. The Monster Lord and his forces would soon understand that no matter how perfect their coordination, no matter how evolved their capabilities, the Empire would always find their weakness.

  This battle was merely the beginning. But already, the tide had turned.