Warrior and Soldier By Imperator-Zor Watch

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Here are two men of two different nations. They only ever met once on the battlefield and never knew each other’s name.



One was a Warrior of the state of Tarrack. He was quite proud of this fact and saw himself as being a superior class of Human being. He was told that the Warrior Class of Tarrack were the greatest fighters in the world, bred for war and to dominate. At the age of six his training began, being taken from his mother and sent to join a cadre of other young warriors. There he was taught to live off little, for young warriors were given little food save for those who did the best at the constant sparing matches. He would also go on long marches and was taught to hate weakness, respect tradition and how to act like a man. Latter in his training he and his comrades would be pitted against maddened dogs and criminals from Tarrack’s vassals to give them a taste of real battle. When he was finally let into the military, something that three out of four of his peers died trying to become, he was part of a warrior elite feared throughout the world, a deadly halberdier without fear or pity, and having taken three wives did what he could to make sure that the future would contain more of what he was.



The other was a much more humble figure, a journeyman shoemaker from Vyrona. His father’s only son, he did whatever he could to make sure that his young lad stayed save as a child. Fortunately for his dad, he was a quiet young man who took a very keen interest in the shop and his father’s trade. His father was quite impressed at his handiwork, which was quite inventive and inspired, even if it was unpolished and his skills needed honing in a few areas. He eventually began to court a butcher’s daughter. He never held a weapon until war broke out between Tarrack and Vyrona and he was conscripted to defend his city state. His father did what he could and the shoemakers’ guild gave him a helmet, an old cutlass, a newer weapon and a rusty breastplate as well as a few weeks of training by some of the old veterans. He was also given a lily by his love when he finally marched out, which he put on his helmet.



The two nations eventually brought their armies together. The Vyronan forces looked on the men of Tarrack with dread while the Men of Tarrack looked on the Vyronans as a poor mess of merchants, peasants and artisans that hardly deserved to die by the lances of Tarrack Heavy Cavalry and the swords and halberds of Tarrack Infantry and dismissed their ways of fighting as cowardly and womanish. As battle horns blared, the forces began the assault. But this was not a battle as they knew it, as it soon became filled with smoke, the stink of sulphur, the thunder of cannon and the crack and arquebus. The Vyronan cavalry kept away from the heavy horses of Tarrack while letting pistols and composite bows take down their number while the formations of charging halberdiers that tried to get to Vyronan lines found themselves subjected to a lethal hailstorm of lead. Some got to the lines and managed to inflict some forces in casualties, but the Vyronans had some seasoned veteran heavy infantry and pikemen which allowed them to fend off the attackers.



After the Battle, the Shoemaker wandered over the battlefield out of dread curiosity having fired off twelve shots in the battle but thankfully being spared from having to get into close combat. He was told by the general that this was truly a great day because they struck down a fifth of Tarrack’s warrior class that and with that, soon they would be able to free its vassals to bring an end to Tarrack’s empire. As he walked by, he saw a body lying up against a rock. Its weapons lying behind him. It moves slightly causing him to flinch, but this was only the part of that soldier’s last few threads of life snapping. The age of warriors had passed, the age of soldiers had begun

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