Tyrant of the Ruined Sun

The Murathicus Tribes' clan grading system was very unique in the world of Meathria. Unlike the rest of the world, where a nation's power is judged on all fronts, like it's military strength, economic stability, geographic location, natural resources and much more, the Murathicus Tribes cared only for one thing; military might.

For a clan to even reach the bottom tear grade of a small clan it must at least have an army of ten thousand strong, in addition to one third rank martial artist, mage or healer, it mattered not. And to reach the middle grade, it must multiply it's armies five fold, while also having a fifth rank individual.

Large clans must double the number of warriors to one hundred thousand, and having one seventh rank warrior. And finally Great clans must double the number yet again, and have one ninth rank individual.

A rudimentary, yet highly focused system, made to build an extremely militant society, where strength is at the forefront of everyone's thoughts.

Which is why Komak, and some of the other lesser experienced officers thought that the current force led by Hamilcar of twenty one thousand, divided into fourteen thousand mortal soldiers, among which were six thousand archers, while the rest are infantrymen; an elite core of five thousand Demonborn and one thousand Chimera Knights, and finally but certainly least, the entire Artillery Corps manning the thirty six Epirus cannons and seventeen Hydra cannons was but a paltry few, before the almost eighty to ninety thousand men of the Olgan Clan.

This was especially true for Komak, who despite acting as the force's guide to the Olgan lands, remained unconvinced by the bold strategy the ancient demon has concocted, in spite of his trust in the myth by his side, who he has heard countless stories off in his life, as he continued rattling off random snippets of information he has acquired over the last few months to Hamilcar, in a fruitless effort to dissuade him from what he believed is a suicidal attack.

But Hamilcar simply ignored most of his pointless rants and only focused on the information that interested him, knowing full well that all of Komak's and his junior officers' worries will be resolved the instant Hamilcar entered the fray and showcased that if anything, his legend had watered down his deeds.

Of the information that caught his attention, were things such as the Olgan Clan's specialization in ranged warfare, especially in bow martial arts, as well as their closest ally's, the Dolgun Clan's expertise in short sword martial arts. Hamilcar was also greatly interested by the topography of the area Komak described surrounding Nathai, the capital of the Olgan Clan.

Resting in the center of a fertile valley, the city was nestled in the protective embrace of two steep mountains to it's west and east, while a vast marshland littered endlessly with deep quagmires that could swallow a horse whole, as well as with a multitude of poisonous species of snakes and insects protected it's south, leaving only the north as the sole avenue for an attacking army to easily enter the valley.

An avenue Hamilcar instantly rushed for, as he didn't care for the feeble resistance the Olgan clan would mount against his warriors.

If anything, he wished the Olgan people would put up a strong fight against them, as that would deliver the message he wished to convey that much more potently when he would personally crush anything they threw against them, while opening the path for his men's slaughter to commence uninterrupted, thus turning greenhorns, who despite being well trained, into true veterans who have purged the last semblances hesitation from their sword arms.

Besides, Hamilcar was not blind to the fact that a victory through sneak attack would leave much doubt unanswered, and could even taint the victory with the stench of dumb luck not skill.

So tonight, Hamilcar was determined to go wild and decimate the Olgan Clan, and with it showcase the undisputed might of the Eclipse Empire to all these ignorant men, who were much like fish in a pond, that did not realize the vastness of the oceans.

But despite all that, Hamilcar still could not bring himself to feel any true excitement for the coming battle, as he saw it more of a bothersome chore than a glorious feat, no different than sweeping the floor of one's own home after neglecting it for a long time.

And as he thought that, a squadron of Chimera Knights, Hamilcar sent to scout ahead of the army landed in front of him and reported urgently "My lord! two great hosts of thousands are facing each other beyond the hills before us, directly on the entrance of the Olgan Clan's valley!"

Surprise was Hamilcar's first emotion, which was quickly followed by confusion, as he asked "How many thousands specifically? And how many banners are they hoisting?"

"We're not sure my lord, but easily more than ten thousand strong on each side. As for they're flags, there is only two." The captain of the squadron replied.

'Did another clan decide to invade the Olgan lands today?' Hamilcar thought in bewilderment, not expecting such a situation.

"Who is the other clan?" He asked calmly, as his mind began to quickly devise new plans to cope with the current situation.

Lowering his head in shame the captain replied "Forgive my ignorance lord, though I clearly saw the colors they flew, I did not recognize them."

Whipping his head around, Hamilcar asked "Komak, would you be able to discern their identity if you saw their colors yourself?"

"I certainly can, my lord. I have memorized the sigils, names, locations and even the specialty of every clan in the surrounding area, no matter how insignificant." Komak replied proudly.

"Excellent! Captain, though it may slow you down, take him with you so that he could identify the unknown clan." Hamilcar ordered.

"Understood, my lord." The captain instantly accepted, and began making room for Komak to ride behind him.

"M-My l-lord, I..." Komak's earlier proud look crumbled faster than autumn leaves underfoot, as he looked fearfully at the Chimera before him.

"Can you draw it from memory?" Hamilcar inquired.

"Of course, my lord." The captain replied confidently, as he dismounted.

Drawing a dagger from his belt, the captain began to carefully cleave into the earth beneath him. Very quickly the rough sketch of two hounds devouring each other's tails, with a sword passing harmlessly between them took shape.

Seeing this, Komak quickly exclaimed "The Dulgon Clan?!"

Mirroring his shock the captain asked "Aren't they allies?!"

"They are! Are you certain you saw them fighting each other? Perhaps your eyes deceived you?" Komak questioned the captain, completely befuddled by the current situation.

"The captain speaks the truth, we can all confirm it!" The other members of the squadron came to their leader's aid.

Raising his hand, in a motion to silence his men, the captain answered "My eyes do not lie, sir. And I never said they were fighting, I merely said they were facing each other at the valley's entrance."

It was then, that Hamilcar's enigmatic voice silenced their back and forth, saying "Komak, have their been growing signs of war between the two allies. that you might have overlooked?"

"A-Absolutely not, my lord!" Komak self righteously bellowed out, like a man falsely accused in court, before continuing "Tensions might have been slowly rising between the two over the past few years, but no where near enough for war to be even discussed yet!

In fact, the lands of the Tribes' have been remarkably peaceful in the last couple of years, on account of the growing worry that the Great and Large Clans in the south might be hurdling uncontrollably into a disastrous war!"

Listening to his almost breathless, yet logical rant, Hamilcar simply gazed calmly at the low hills, that stood as the last obstruction between them and the anomaly non of them could explain.

Hamilcar remained motionless for another two minutes, almost exactly, before he raised his hand in a gesture to call his generals, who have remained silent till now, to him.

"Gentlemen, prepare for battle. But instruct your officers not to use their drums or bugles, but on their heralds to transmit orders. At least, until we crest the hills before us. Especially you Avestan." Hamilcar ordered.

"Understood, my lord." Avestan, the commander of the regular infantry, replied.

Avestan was a true man of war, a veteran of innumerable battles over the course of his nearly four centuries of life. And his grizzly appearance was the greatest testament to this claim, since even if you disregard his fearsome physique, which was molded ruthlessly into an indomitable weapon, that could deliver a swift demise to all his foes, his face was marred by no less than five horrific scars.

The first mark ran from the edge of his right lip to the bottom of his left ear. The second ran horizontally across his large forehead. The third, which was the smallest, dashed across the middle of his proud nose. The fourth raced diagonally from the right temple to his lower left of his strong jaw.

And the final scrapped the bottom edge of his left eye vertically down to his collarbone, showing how close he came to losing his eye.

Evidently, Avestan used to be a very handsome man many centuries ago, especially when you couple his handsome face with his luscious black hair and ruby red eyes.

Yet despite having the power and influence to heal his gruesome scars by a high ranking priest, and return to his prior visage, the ever pragmatic and bullheaded Avestan refused to do so, arguing that handsomeness and superficial beauty provided him no use on the battlefield, not to mention that his master, and the man he respected most in the world never bothered hiding his scars from the public, and so he came to see them as signs of his bravery, and proudly wore them as medals of honor.

Yet most important of all, Avestan held a far more dreaded and coveted title, that would drive many to pursue the impossible if it meant they could have a chance of claiming it! The brilliant, yet bloody position of being Hamilcar Seth's right hand.

"Orhan, would your new cannons be able to effectively batter the enemy from the top of this hill?" Hamilcar asked his Cannon Master, that vehemently demanded for months to be allowed to join the army to listen to his newest 'darlings' sing.

Cackling creepily, Orhan replied with unshakable confidence "Your gonna make my darlings sad sayin that marshal. You'll see, my little beauties will serenade the 'ole enemy army to sleep, before they know what hit'em."

Already accustomed to ignoring most of Orhan's non sensical words, Hamilcar simply picked out what he desired and nodded in acknowledgement to him before continuing "Arkon, you and you're men will remain in reserve."

Arkon, the leader of the Demonborn, wearing the same iconic black armor and red demon mask as the rest of his men, said nothing as he turned around and calmly went to his men.

Seeing this Orhan also bid his farewell, before rushing madly to the back of the marching column, grinning wildly all the while, leaving only Avestan and the still motionless Hamilcar behind.

"You have to say?" Questioned Hamilcar, without looking back.

"Will you be going on ahead, my lord?" Avestan asked with a knowing tone.

"Indeed. Do you take issue with that?" Hamilcar said coldly.

Sighing, Avestan replied "Very well, my lord. But please don't over indulge, we still need to baptize the greenhorns in real combat."

Simply nodding in response, a thin layer of burning red aura incased Hamilcar's form, before he vanished from everyone's sight, with the only evidence of his speed being the great headwind that raced past them, trying to catch up to their commander, that nearly toppled the unprepared soldiers.

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