War

“Married now eh?” Arthur smirked as his little bird buzzed around, ready for their training session to start.
“It won’t change how I’m going to kick you butt today, little brother” Marcus cast his blade, calling his spirits name in his mind, and immediately split it in three, which he had found to suit him the best during duels.
Arthur laughed, leaping to the side, and his bird shot in the other direction. From one side, a large black needle flew towards Marcus, and from the other, a ripple in the air, one that would knock him on his ass if he got hit by it. He jumped, hurling his three blades in three different directions, one towards Arthur, one towards the bird, and one towards where he thought Arthur was going to be.
The two enemy projectiles passed underneath him, but another was already on its way, as soon as he landed, he swerved, dodging the black needle, and… 
“Hit” Arthur announced laughing, and clapping his hands. One of his black needles was sticking out of Marcus’ side, a harmless one of course, as they were training.
“What the hell?” Marcus exclaimed, confused. “You can shoot multiple at once?” he hadn’t been able to do that before, and Marcus hadn’t even known to look for the second one.
Arthur nodded enthusiastically, wearing a satisfied grin.
Marcus cursed himself for being too focused on his own new tricks to think that Arthur may have one as well now.
“You know that’s not going to get me twice right?” he said, mildly annoyed, but also feeling proud of his brother.
“Of course!” Arthur assured him, “But one is enough, because now I can tell people we are even again.”
“Not for long,” Marcus laughed, and they started again. They trained for hours, Izzy even came to watch them for a while, but neither was able to get a solid hit on the other again that day. They remained even, for now.

A field of snow, flat and vast, the white obscured by hordes of red-skinned monsters, this was a common sight for him now, and it no longer fazed him, or gave him pause. He always got this vision, or one like it. He looked to the sides, his forces were chanting the cry of death and war, ready to fight.

He was sitting in a large room, long and with pillars on the side, he sat on a white marble throne, a red carpet paving the way to him, and going down to the entrance of his castle. His wife sat next to him, on a throne just like his.
He had seen this place before, it had not yet been built, but would undoubtedly be constructed in the next couple of years.
There were three men kneeled in front of him, boys really, one that could be no older than ten, the second, old enough to grow a wispy mustache, and the eldest, a young man with the beginnings of a proper beard on his chin.
They were each proudly holding up two red skulls, with black blood still dripping from the neck and mouth.
These were their three sons, he could tell by their faces. The youngest two looked much like him, with his face, and hair color, and the oldest looked much like Izzy, with lighter hair, and a kinder face, although they all wore the marks of a life at war.
The sight made him feel sad, he wouldn’t want this for his children, but at least they were still alive, and he really couldn’t ask for much more than that.
Izzy was holding his arm. He was not sure if she did so for comfort, or to comfort him, either way, it felt nice.

A battlefield, the battle was over, it was quiet, besides to groans of the injured, and there were bodies all around him. He was injured himself, he wasn’t sure how, his vision was fuzzy.
There was a female figure standing over him, her features obscured by two bright lights seeming to come from behind her, from either side of her head.
He was soaking wet, some of it was blood, but he mostly, it was water, not cold as he would expect it to be this time of year, but warm, and comforting enough to make him drift into a deep sleep.

When he woke, he found himself in his own tent, in his own bed, uninjured. His wife still fast asleep besides him.
He could see the first light of the sun creeping between the slits in his tent flap. Izzy looked different when asleep, maybe because this was the only time he ever saw her without her favorite ear rings, which she took out before going to sleep, and now hung on a special stand on their desk.
The ear rings also looked different, dimmer, perhaps it was just the light.
They were marching quickly due north-east, and in about an hour, they would be on horseback heading towards the twin tribes. So, he let Izzy take her few more minutes of precious sleep, before he would have to wake her.
The twin tribes were named such because they were ruled by a set of twins, but that hadn’t always been the case, they had once been two independent tribes, the north wood, and the middle woods tribes, respectively.
Marcus could remember the day well, when the twins had risen to power in the north, and invaded to middle woods, so they may both have their own tribe to lead.
The middle woods had been an ally of the green valley, which had been an ally of cloud central, and therefore, Marcus had fought in their defense.
To no avail, as this part of the war had been one of the many that had been lost. Now, after all these years, Marcus would return to these woods, this place that meant so much to him, this place where he had hoped never to set foot again, especially not on the path of war.

“Goodbye, little brother,” Marcus hugged Arthur closely, he was going to miss him. They had gotten back to the south wood, and Arthur, leading their tribe, would now head to the mountain pass.
It felt strange to say goodbye to him, they had spent so much time together these last two or three years, but someone needed to lead their tribe, and Marcus trusted none other as much as he trusted Arthur to do the job right.
“I will see you soon, my king!” Arthur saluted, “the next time we meet, the forest will be ours.”
Marcus nodded, it would indeed.
“My liege,” It was Eredans man, Bob, who would aid Marcus in leading the battles. “I will fill the role of you lieutenant best I can, as long as I’m needed.” The man made a still bow.
“Thank you, good sir” Marcus nodded at the man, acknowledging him, “Bo, was it?”
“I am Bo’Bathil, your grace,” he said, “But Bob is fine indeed”
Now up close, Marcus realized that this must be one of the few men he had ever met, that was even taller than Marcus, and much wider, not to say that he was fat, it was to say that he was built like a solid beefcake unlike any Marcus had ever seen before, his giant great sword eve on his back.
He had fair skin, wrinkled by age, and short grey hair, and a thick grey mustache that drooped until far below his chin. He also had a short narrow grey beard. Marcus could tell that he was a foreigner by his distinctly uncloudian facial features, and his slightly reddish skin.
“How did  you end up in Eredans service?” he asked.
“Started out as a hired muscle, but I decided to enter his full service after a while, because we got along quite well, and I’m getting too old to keep moving around.” The man said, fingering his thick leather belt, that held his pants up.
“How long ago was that?” besides thick woolen, well worn war pants, the man was also wearing a dense gambeson, with chainmail on top, held together by a leather vest.
“I entered his service about thirty years ago, and decided to stay a few years after that, become an officer after a few years more.”
“You were too old to keep traveling thirty years ago?” Marcus asked, confused, the man looked to be no more than fifty or sixty, thirty years ago, he would have been in his prime.
“I am older than I look.” He simply said.
Marcus shrugged, he didn’t really care how old the man was, all the best officers were aged and experiences after all.
“What kind of spirit do you have?” He asked instead.
“Mine is an owl, a fusion, very useful for reconnaissance and stuff, but she only offers a few battle spells, but thats what I have the sword for, so whatever.” He said, tapping the handle of the blade on his back. “I can transform as often and as long as I want, which is really quite something, flying, but as I said, it isn’t exactly the most combat effective, most of my combat related abilities are more stealth related, which is useful, but not in the midst of battle.” He chuckled.
“Well, Bob, I’m sure that will come in handy.”

Now, when they were closing in on the border of the southern of the twin tribes, Marcus, who had been riding in the front of the army, moved towards the center with his wife, and Naea, who had been getting along quite well, and even better than Marcus could have expected.
Apparently, Naea enjoyed having another woman around, and Izzy enjoyed asking her about what kinds of magical skin care routines Naea used, and such things. Apparently there was a magical skincare routine, which Naea had explained in great detail. Marcus had always just assumed her skin was magical or some witch thing.
“So, you have to smash those leaves, filter out the grub, and then you can use that as a base for all your creams.” Naea said.
“Wow,” Izzy replied, in awe, “I never knew, where can I find all those plants?”
“Unfortunately they only grow in Malishai, I tried planting some here, but its too cold and too dry, they die before there is anything to harvest.”
“Ahhh, that is a pity.” Izzy looked to Naea, admiration and wonder in her eyes, “what is Malishai like?”
Now it was Naea’s turn to stare into the beyond, with a longing look carefully hidden, but not quite from Marcus.
“It is a warm place, greener than any green that can be found in the world, ever exposed to the rain, with more plants and animals than you can count.”
“Wow, thats a lot.” Izzy sighed, “So how does that work? Do you just have a like a lot of types of bears and deer, or wolves of something?”
“Nooo,” Naea smiles, “We don’t have any of those, we have other animals.”
“Do they taste more like deer or chicken?” Izzy wanted to know.
“They have their own flavor, and they are delicious.”
“Do you miss it?” 
For this question, Naea took her time to think.
“Yes, sometimes, especially the food, the sounds, there is truly nothing like them anywhere in the world.”
“Why did you leave?” Izzy asked, after a moment of thought of her own, “Did you think the food here was going to taste better?”
“I had to leave, I needed to…” Naea started, but she didn’t finish her sentence.
“What did you need to do? Did the council of witches give you a special mission or something?” Izzy insisted, but Naea did not answer.
“Were you sent to guide to rulers of the world?” Izzy continued.
“No,” Naea whispered, “Not exactly.”
And with that, the conversation ended. Pity, Marcus thought, he had also quite liked an answer to that question.

At last, they entered enemy territory, And Bob’s bird proved most useful for spotting potential enemy positions, and they were now reading themselves for battle.
He had taken council with the old lieutenant, and they had formed a army formation.
Most of their warriors were elemental mages, and conductors at that, or casters, as they were often called, these were largely ranged combatants, and would therefore support the more vulnerable melee troops. He kept the water elementals apart, for their healing abilities, they would focus on getting their injured ready to go again.
Their melee troops, namely any beast fusion mages, and manifestors, would make up the front line, this was a much smaller group tho, so the sides were also made up of ranged mages.
There were also the manifestors with ranged weapons, who were placed among the casters.
Their cavalry were also largely types of casters, and they would guard the flank, the rest of the warriors, all the irregulars, mages with unusual spirits, such as one mage, who had an elemental fusion spirit, and could turn into what looked like a human bonfire, and others, were kept in the center, although Marcus had taken the time to inspect all of their abilities personally. They would be used as trump cards in order to surprise the enemy, some of them also had special and interesting abilities that would prove rather useful, so he wanted to keep them close, in the center, so they could be deployed anywhere.
Marcus himself would also be in the center, taking his turns at the front line, in order to give his troops room to rotate, and to make space for his more aggressive fighters. He had one boar fusion mage, who would need room to breathe, lest he accidentally gore one of his comrades.
Bob would keep track of the course of the battle, and relay orders, which would leave Marcus free to engage at will, or at need. If his attention was required, he had agreed that Bob would fly his owl close to him, to get his attention, and Marcus would go to him.
As he ran the plan and their formation through his head, he got wind of a ruckus in front, and a few moments later he heard horns sounding, and word was passed to them.
“Ambush!” A man shouted, as he raced his horse down the army lines.
It was time then he thought, and their first battle began with a hurried retreat.