Chapter 3 Fight for the city

Prince Jozin/Bane's perspective

As daylight rose on the City of Westerfell, Jozin burned brightly, covered in the blood of his enemies. He was 6' 3" feet tall with strapping muscles that slimmed down to his waist. His body embraced the balance between burly and athletic. Jozin's eyes were ice blue and pierced through the fog of this war.

He was surrounded by his foes. But that had never bothered him. He had heard of people having anxiety before battle. But he had never felt anything but hungry anticipation.

He had fought this far through the battlefield. A hatred for the enemy burned through his chest. He was coming for this kingdom. The king and princess within this castle would fall before his father's army. As many others had done trembling at the might of Jozin alone. But he always accredited it to the army behind him. But Prince Bayne Senyorydimoni, most called him Jozin, was leading them.

He smiled at the enemy. It was a wicked smile that made him look half mad. But it was joy - the joy of battle - that brought it to his face. Fighting is what he had been raised to do, maybe even born for. And while he may be covered in blood, it was not his own.

With an eager gait he parried a swinging sword, swinging all the way through his step as he allowed his own sword to move upward through the armor of the man attacking him.

His sword danced merrily along the steel armor and up to the man's chin cutting through his lower jaw. The man's eyes widened before he dropped.

Before Jozin had pulled his sword back, another man was charging him with a woodcutters ax. He smiled and used the motion of stepping backward to pull his sword out. The charging man staggered, as he attempted to adjust his charge. Jozin did not waste the opportunity to send the head flying.

Jozin's fighting was fluid. The style itself had been passed down from father to father for generations. He had learned young, but even at that young age, he had a certain knack for it.

Jozin thought of fighting like dancing but instead of entertaining, it crushed enemies and overcame obstacles. But he thought that could be pretty entertaining. His father had been very strict about his training. It was never ok to allow your opponent to get the upper hand. In a real battle that could cost your life. In training, there was severe punishment. He had adapted quickly.

He moved through the crowd of enemies, swiftly bringing them down. It was good for kings to have a large force of men. But when you bolstered your forces like that, oftentimes, you accepted inexperienced fighters into the battle- the peons. Any leader would expect them to fall. They approached him with fear in his eyes and fell moments later.

For each enemy Jozin cut down, a different memory assaulted his mind. There were moments where he had done better in training than his father expected. Those were good days of special treats and rewards.

But when he disappointed him, he had been flogged. Or made to do his next day's exercises on broken glass. Nothing like trying to do push ups with broken glass beneath your bare hands and feet.

He would make his father proud this day, he told himself. Peons fell at his feet. Several shallow scratches adorned his arms for his troubles. But they did not slow him. The slight pain set his pulse racing a little faster, heightening the heat of the battle.

The surge of enemies waned and he threw his arms into the air, yelling. It seemed to renew his strength and bolster the men that had followed him into his corner of the battlefield.

He turned in a circle, looking for the greatest challenge. He would bring it down next! Not far to his right stood a man.

Despite Jozin's 6', the other man was still taller. Muscles, that matched the other man's height, flexed behind blood coated armor, straining the armor. The huge battle ax he held was covered in blood.

Jozin charged him, screaming. The mountain of a man turned to Jozin, his bloody weapon twinkling in the sunlight. Despite the ax being an obvious two handed weapon, Jozin was not surprised to see the man lifting his weapon in one hand.

The man had started to swing at Jozin's chest, before he had even stopped running. Jozin slid under the blade of the ax and sliced up between the layers of armor, where they were bursting at the seams to keep the large man inside.

While the blood soaked his clothes, the man howled angrily. He was quick to evade Jozin's next strike. Jozin continued forward with the motion, not allowing the miss to take him off balance. But the moment gave the man the chance to come down hard with the handle of his ax against Jozin's leg.

He heard a large pop and groaned. But he would not allow this man to take him down! He forced himself to his feet, the pain caused his eyes to blur as if he was crying but no tears would escape him this day.

He ignored it, screaming with all the rage of battle he could muster. It filled him again, as it had so many times before, with an unnatural resolve and strength.

He faced the giant and began exchanging blows. Each of them taking turns blocking. But Jozin was able to get a couple of jabs through the man's defense, continuously missing the spots that Jozin knew would end the battle.

He saw the sweat on the giant man's head and knew his own matched. He laughed and told him, "If you were at my father's court, I would let you live so we could battle again."

The giant grunted in response without speaking, deflecting another attack. Jozin tried to goad him hoping his words would cause a moment's hesitation or confusion. "Big ugly guy like you would make a great pin cushion to play with." The words were accompanied by a flash of painful memories. A time that he had learned quickly it was not worth having affiliations attached to your emotions.

Anger shone in the man's eyes, as he hastily attempted to bash Jozin. It was all Jozin had hoped for. As the man stepped forward, Jozin cut through the seams on the inside of the man's leg, slicing deeply through fabric and skin from knee to thigh.

He staggered but he did not go down. Jozin's eyes widened in surprise, as the retaliation of blows clanged hard against his defensive sword.

"What you got here, Jack?" A man ran up to them, addressing the giant. Jack ignored him, his eyes glowing with rage and hatred. His facial expression wore his pain.

Jack had 3 men with him. They had obviously seen their colleague in trouble. Jozin turned slightly, not allowing these men to see his back. He wanted to see what was coming at him.

The giant swung at him and the men around all jabbed at him. It seemed they did not want to get in the way of that battle ax. Not every jab found its way through Jozin's armor but the ones that did hurt and he began to lose a lot of blood.

The fatigue began to weigh down his muscles. He groaned, swirling around the man. Jack had grown overconfident, as his allies assisted him.

As he moved he realized that he could see beneath the helmet from the back. Before anyone had the chance to react to his movement, his sword was jabbing hard beneath the underside of his helmet.

It cut through the back of Jack's neck. The angle he had used caused the blade to move up between the bone's of Jack's jaw, up through the roof of the mouth, finally exiting through the eye. His helmet fell off, as his allies cried out. The man dropped like a bag of rocks.

Once Jack was down, Jozin turned towards the others. He smiled wickedly at them and they all paused to stare. He saw the desire to flee in their eyes. One man stepped out, breathing heavily. There was no fear in this man's eyes. "You killed Jack." He seethed.

Jozin laughed, enjoying the banter. "Did you expect me to hug him instead? That would be a new war strategy."

The man gave him a confused look. He swung at Jozin with his sword as he screamed, "you can hug him in hell". Jozin stepped to the side, deflecting the sword. His leg screamed at him. He needed a break from this battle.

As Jozin countered, he noted that the other soldiers that had Jack's back were in fights of their own now. He smiled at the adversary. He would win this fight and then retreat to where he could take a moment to assess his wounds. A sudden dizziness made his head swim and he squinted his eyes. He would just have to finish this first.