CHAPTER 54: NO MERCY

The soldiers stood in formation beneath the blazing noon sun, their eyes fixed on me. The gleam of their armor reflected the light like shards of fire, yet on their faces lingered both exhaustion and curiosity. After all the bard’s tales, this would be the first time they heard me speak to them directly.

I cleared my throat and raised my voice so that even the furthest man on the line could hear me.

"I am not Ironheart Mike. So I hope none of you are expecting some stirring speech from me," I said, stepping forward.

"In a book I once read, there was a line that never left me: He who fights monsters must take care not to become one himself. For if you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. I grew up believing it to be a wise saying."

A silence fell. A shadow of doubt flickered across their faces. But I pressed on.

"Yes, it sounds wise, doesn’t it? But the truth is... in war, we have no such luxury. I learned this while battling that highborn vampire. Becoming a monster... perhaps it is not such a terrible thing after all. For sometimes the only way to slay a monster is to become a greater one. That night, when I looked into that creature’s eyes, I understood one thing: had I shown mercy, I would not be standing here now. And so I tell you, mercy has no place here!"

I drew my sword slowly from its sheath and lifted it high to the sun. The steel flared, blinding their eyes like a revelation too terrible to look upon.

"Soldiers!" I roared. "Let this truth be carved into your hearts today: No mercy!"

A murmur rippled through their ranks. "No mercy," some whispered. The whisper swelled, rising like thunder until it became a roar. Swords were raised, spear-points flashed like jagged sunlight tearing the sky. Their fury became a living beast, and that beast belonged to me.

"Steel your hearts!" I cried. "No mercy, only victory!"

And then, with the force of a storm, thousands of voices shattered the heavens:

"NO MERCY! NO MERCY!"

"I want towers of corpses from our enemies! For there will be no mercy!"

My words rolled across the plain like thunder. In their eyes now burned a fire made of fear and hunger, and I knew it was I who had kindled it. That fire would be quenched only with blood.

"Take prisoners in chains, but do not spare them. We’ll hang them from the city gates as examples. Let the people hear their screams, let them fear us, for fear is sharper than the sword. For there will be no mercy!"

The sunlight trembled on the tips of their spears, as though my words were etched into the sky itself.

"If you seize an enemy camp, leave not one stone upon another! We shall not grant mercy; we will pay for victory with their lives. For there will be no mercy!"

The soldiers roared back at me in ecstasy: "NO MERCY! NO MERCY!"

I spread my arms, lifted my blade to the heavens, and my voice rose until it tore my throat raw: "Strike such terror into them that mothers warn their children, Sleep, or they will come for you! We shall descend upon them with fire, with steel, with blood! Let no trace of the enemy remain! For only then shall we become the monster even monsters fear. For there will be no mercy!"

"NO MERCY! NO MERCY!"

"NO MERCY! NO MERCY!"

"NO MERCY! NO MERCY!"

Their voices broke like a tidal wave, the chant rolling in unison until the very dome of the sky shook. And there I stood among them. Not a god, though I seemed like one, but a man imprisoned by the very lie he had woven.

For a moment, I closed my eyes. In my skull still echoed the laughter of that highborn vampire, the sound of steel grating against bone. It had taught me one lesson: mercy is death. And now that lesson flowed through the veins of thousands.

I lowered my blade, pressing its hilt to my chest. In that instant, I knew I no longer commanded an army. I commanded a horde of chained beasts, unbound at last.

------

By noon, we marched. Scouts brought word that the enemy camp still lingered at the forest’s edge. They had not yet fortified themselves; their ranks were scattered, their supplies not fully arrived. They might have numbers, but their discipline was broken.

It was perfect. All that remained was to wait for nightfall.

A heavy silence blanketed the camp. Only the faint scrape of armor and the restless snort of horses broke the stillness. The sky bled crimson as the sun sank, setting the forest’s edge ablaze with its dying light. I gripped the reins tightly, my gaze fixed ahead.

To wait for darkness tests any commander’s patience. But impatience is death on the battlefield. My task was to lay the weight of patience on thousands of shoulders. I looked at them. In their eyes still burned the fire I had stoked at midday.

When night descended, I dismounted. My officers gathered around me. No fire, no whispers, only cold commands.

"The light cavalry will strike the supply wagons first. When the screams rise, panic will spread. That is when the center," I pointed forward, "will crash upon them like a wave of steel."

"No one is to be spared. Even those who surrender, bind them. By dawn, they hang. Remember: no mercy."

Heads bowed one by one. One man hesitated, but when my gaze locked on him, he bit his lip and lowered his head.

----

Night turned the forest into shadows. The moon hid behind clouds, as if the world itself held its breath. Only the scattered glow of torches flickered from the enemy camp.

The first spark came from the flanks. Oil-soaked rags were hurled onto wagons, and then flaming arrows tore through the dark. Silence, and then a wave of screams.

"Now!" I bellowed, raising my sword.

The ground shook beneath the thunder of thousands of feet. My soldiers surged forward, a wall of iron cleaving through the night.

The enemy stumbled from their tents unarmored, some barefoot, clutching knives meant for bread, not war. They fled in panic, and my men cut them down without pause.

A spear struck a man’s chest; another was crushed beneath shields. Tents collapsed, spilling half-dressed soldiers crawling for escape, but there was no escape. We had them surrounded.

Screams multiplied, then broke into silence. The wet, sickening sound of steel through flesh filled the air. It was the vampire all over again, but now not one monster, but hundreds torn apart in the dark.

Cavalry swept in from the sides, their lances glowing red in firelight. Flames leapt from canvas to canvas, smoke mingling with the stench of blood.

I watched from horseback. A commander’s task is not to swing his blade, but to direct the flow of blood. And that night, it flowed like a river.

The enemy commander emerged at last, half-armored, sword in hand, with a few men at his side. He tried to form a final line.

I signaled. A volley of arrows cut him down. He staggered with three shafts in his gut, and with his fall, the camp’s heart went still.

The baron was not here. Of course, coward, hiding behind walls like a woman... like a woman? Since when did I grow crude? Perhaps Leonardo’s memories are reshaping me. No matter. I must focus. The camp must be taken, and those towers of corpses... I had not spoken idly.

When we entered, screams had dwindled to groans. Fire rose high, smoke heavier than night itself. My men butchered all they found.

I rode through heaps of bodies, my horse’s hooves crunching bone. Hours before, they had been eating supper. Now their flesh smoldered, releasing that foul sweetness only burning human meat carries.

One officer rushed to me. "Commander, the camp is ours. No resistance remains."

I nodded. "Our work has only begun."

I dismounted. My men gathered round, drunk with victory. To keep the fire alive, I spoke again.

"Do you remember our promise? To sow terror? The time has come."

My eyes scanned the field of corpses. "These dead will not rot quietly in the dirt. You will build towers from them. One at each corner of the camp. High enough for all to see. By dawn, the enemy will know who we are."

A murmur spread, then savage eagerness. Soldiers seized bodies, arms, legs, torsos piled upon one another. Blood pooled thick as mud.

I watched in silence. Even hardened men averted their eyes from such a sight, but to me it was a tool, nothing more. Fear conquers more surely than steel. These towers would be monuments of submission.

A young soldier hesitated. Before him lay the body of a boy, small, unburned, eyes still open as if asleep. The youth’s hands trembled.

I approached. "Why do you shake, soldier?"

"Commander... this one is just a child..."

I lifted my sword slowly by the hilt, speaking with grave weight. "This is an enemy. Even if he is but a child, he would grow to take your life tomorrow. No mercy."

The soldier closed his eyes, clenched his teeth, and cast the body onto the pile.

The towers rose, their silhouettes casting an omen over the camp. Outstretched arms dangled like branches, swaying in the night wind.

"Good," I said. "Now let silence, not screams, carry our terror. By morning, all who pass here will know one truth: from us, there is no mercy."

I mounted my horse once more. Under the moonlight, the towers’ shadows stretched long across the ground. The baron might cower behind his walls, but word of these monuments would reach him. And when it did, no stone wall would guard him from the fear we had birthed.

"This is how victory is forged," I whispered to myself. "With blood, with fire, with a terror that will be remembered."