Alexander The Great Mage

As he crossed Zantroll borders and into Rin-Turah, his vast and fearsome army was met in the field by War-Princess Aleyria and her battalion. Campaign Commander Shriak had ordered Biruz's and Zagoto's regiments to execute their order earlier and they had peeled off to the North and South respectively, out of sight of Aleyria and her mages.

Grunting in pleasure, Campaign Commander Shriak congratulated himself silently for giving the order earlier. If he had been spotted, Rin-Turah would probably dispatch troops and Zagoto would have had to fight his way back to the upcoming battle.

As he got closer to the enemy, Campaign Commander Shriak could not believe his eyes. He burst out laughing in a gleeful howl. And it seemed like the entire army was laughing as well, so ridiculous the sight before them.

500 hooded and unarmored mages sitting on coloured steeds in 5 neat rows. Black robes upon black steeds in the last 2 rows. Blue upon blue in the next three rows. Three red robes sat a little distance ahead of them on three beautiful red horses. The leftmost red robe deserved a special mention, as that person was exceedingly large. Almost as large as the incoming Zantrolls.

The beautiful white-robed War-Princess Aleyria sat alone upon her white steed in front of her mages.

Her white robes should have served as ample warning to Campaign Commander Shriak. None in the history of the Twelve Kingdoms had ever risen above Red robes to don the Yellow robes, much less the White. Apparently, Campaign Commander Shriak had no idea what awaited him. War-Princess Aleyria sat comfortably on her horse, her long, white hair and white robes billowing in the windless summer morning in unnatural elegance and grace.

"Stop, in the name of King Aloxandros." She said very mildly. Her voice, however, thundered across the miles between her and Campaign Commander Shriak.

Campaign Commander Shriak reigned on his Borg in shock. He signalled for his army to stop. With surprising alacrity, his army obeyed. He squinted ahead, trying to catch a glimpse of the army that must be hiding somewhere behind.

"What in the Trollhell is that?" He growled to his Regiment Commanders.The most uptodat𝓮 n𝒐vels are published on n0velbjn((.))com

Before they could stutter out an answer, a blinding light exploded out from War-Princess Aleyria. Campaign Commander Shriak and his entire army howled and covered their eyes in surprise. Shaking his head violently to clear his vision, Campaign Commander Shriak glared ahead to see what was happening. He gasped in surprise and dreadful wonder.

A single mind-bogglingly large fireball was streaking toward him and his borgs in an eerily beautiful arc. At first Campaign Commander Shriak thought it would hit them, but after a second, he realized its trajectory would lead the fireball to miss him and his army by a considerable margin.

The fireball hit the the space in front of them with the impact of a meteorite. It slammed into the ground with a violent and heart-stopping crash. The fireball ignited a giant inferno, and a wave of blistering hot air hit smashed into them, sending many trolls gasping for air.

Campaign Commander Shriak sat upon his giant borg, listening to the roars of anger and cries of fear from his 60,000 strong army. In any battle against any other Kingdom, it was probably still a larger and stronger force than the enemy. In this battle however, watching the ground in front of him burn like the fires of hell, Campaign Commander Shriak knew he was hopelessly outmatched.

He stared straight ahead at the wall of fire which was quickly disappearing due to the lack of fuel. Very soon, the Princess who commanded such incredible power came to sight once more.

In a cloud of black haze, he finally realized his place in the continent. Lea was not the most powerful Kingdom, and Zan wasn't the second. There wasn't even a scale to begin with. It was Rin-Turah atop the power list, and then there was everybody else.

Even combined, Campaign Commander Shriak knew the other 11 kingdoms would not be able to conquer Rin-Turah.

A single White Robe was able to casually unleash a firestorm which had the power to roast his entire army alive. What could an entire army of mages do, then? He stared at the 500 mages behind Princess Aleyria and despaired at the power they represented.

He had finally understood.

He finally understood that King Zarius headed the Conclave of the Twelve Kings at the pleasure of King Aloxandros. And the Twelve Kingdoms existed simply because it was King Aloxandros's will that there be twelve separate Kingdoms and not one Kingdom under him.

This was a world of magic, and those without the ability to wield it was destined to be trampled underfoot by those who did. It was a ghastly and crushing revelation. His whole life was a sham.

Campaign Commander Shriak gripped his sword tightly in anger.

Princess Aleyria began to move slowly forward toward Campaign Commander Shriak's army. Like a pale spectre of death, she distanced herself from her little group. As she made her way forward, golden streaks of pure energy began to emanate from her back, streaming out to her right and left in a giant wing-like shape. Though its purpose was a complete mystery to Campaign Commander Shriak, the power it signified was unmistakable.

Calmly, almost non-chalantly, she continued onward. At 200 paces, Princess Aleyria stopped. She was finally close enough for her facial features to be visible. Her beauty matched her deadly power; transcendent.

"I am sorry, but Rin-Turah is closed." Princess Aleyria boomed gently. "Please make your way back and remain on your side of the border."

Behind him, Campaign Commander Shriak's army roared even louder. He understood their anger. The same fire coursed through his veins right now, threatening to overwhelm logic and sanity. Wisdom called for retreat. But wisdom and all things sane were slowly overwhelmed by the tidal wave of bloodlust. His soldiers would charge very soon. It was inevitable.

"Crescent Formation!" Campaign Commander Shriak Campaign Commander Shriak roared. His aide blew a long blast on his trumpet followed by three short ones. Immediately his army began to move. His regimental commanders roared out orders and Zantrolls leaped swiftly into action.

His three remaining regiments started to reform and extend sideways and forwards to form a crescent with Campaign Commander Shriak in the center. Against a numerically inferior army, the Crescent Formation had never failed to produce complete victory. Like a fist closing in on an egg, the Zantrolls rely on their brute strength and beastly ferocity to crush the enemy and spill all of their guts onto the ground.

Aleyria's eyes turned cold as they glinted terrifyingly in the sunlight. "Very well. As you wish." Her gentle whisper resounded eerily across the plains.. It was high noon, but every Zantroll could not help but shiver at the sound of Aleyria's voice.