Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage

Chapter 213: CH213 Divion Commander

CH213 Divion Commander

***

Once Alex named his Nightmare horse, the ceremony—if it could even be called that—was complete. One of the stablehands stepped forward, carrying a saddle that had clearly been prepared in advance by Jared.

It bore the same insignia as Jared’s Knight Brigade and was nearly identical in quality to Jared’s own saddle.

Time was pressing. Alex mounted, and the two of them rode their Nightmare horses out of the fort. At the crossroads, Jared split away to meet up with his company, which would be accompanying the Exercitus Alexii convoy, while Alex rode toward the heart of the temporary camp established by the taskforce troops.

Riding into the camp on a fiery red-black Nightmare was a sight that drew instant attention.

There was no announcement was needed. Anyone with eyes could tell Alex was far from ordinary.

The horse itself was proof enough—only a select few elites were ever granted Nightmare steeds. Add to that, Alex’s distinctive silvery-grey hair and crimson eyes, unmistakable markers of the Furor bloodline in the Dankrot region, and his identity was practically clear for all to see.

Almost every veteran soldier—practically everyone present—immediately realized that Alex was the Division General. They straightened and respectfully cleared a path for him.

One of the mounted guards approached, though not without difficulty. His horse balked, hooves scraping the ground as it resisted moving closer to Dread’s oppressive aura.

Alex had to give his steed a calming pat, urging Dread to rein in the dreadful pressure he was giving off. Only then did the guard’s horse dare edge closer.

”Sir, please follow me. I will lead you to the General’s tent,” the guard said.

”You know who I am?” Alex asked, a faint furrow creasing his brow.

”Yes, sir. I was at the gate when you first arrived with your platoon,” the guard explained quickly.

”Oh, I see.” Alex nodded, his frown easing.

For a moment, he had worried that the man had simply assumed—albeit correctly—that he was the Division General just by appearance. By that flawed logic, even Ulfman could have walked in on a Nightmare horse and claimed command. Fortunately, he had been overthinking it.

The guard led him through the rows of tents until they reached the largest one, clearly prepared for the General. Nearby stood four other sizable tents, belonging to the Division’s four Commanders.

Outside his own tent, Alex spotted four familiar figures waiting for him.

The first two were Laura Fury and Lieutenant Cross, the adjutants he had personally chosen—Laura as part of their agreement, and Cross for his invaluable wealth of experience.

Behind them stood Udara and Fen.

Alex had asked Udara to fetch Fen from the cultivation chamber. Judging by the wolf’s calm aura and the steady look in his dark eyes, the black-furred ”cub” had stabilized both his cultivation rank and his bloodline.

Fen, however, looked a little aggrieved as Alex rode in atop a steed that was clearly no ordinary mount. Alex ignored the sulking wolf, his gaze instead shifting to Udara.

Surprisingly, she had chosen to reveal herself—or at least, partially.

She wore a sleek, custom-crafted full-body armor that concealed her identity, though it was still evident from her build and movements that she was a woman beneath the steel.

Alex asked through their telepathic link.

Udara confirmed.

-

Alex nodded.

He didn’t dwell on it. He trusted her to act in his best interest, and that was what mattered at the end of the day. Whether she chose to walk in the shadows or step into the light, it was her decision.

Instead, his attention shifted to her armour. It was clearly extraordinary, perhaps even a masterpiece. Still, Alex didn’t ask. He didn’t need to know everything.

She tilted her head in confusion.

She couldn’t understand why Alex would ask such an obvious question.

Alex chuckled wryly.

Alex sighed inwardly, feeling a headache coming on. He dropped the matter there.

”It looks like you’ve met my personal guard for the duration of this campaign—Udara, correct?” Alex said aloud.

Lieutenant Cross and Laura nodded in confirmation.

”When can we set off?” Alex asked.

”The Division is ready to march at any time, General. However...” Lieutenant Cross hesitated, then advised, ”I strongly recommend you address the men before we depart. It will set the tone for the campaign.”

Whether intentional or not, his gaze shifted toward the tents of the four Commanders.

Alex immediately caught his meaning.

The four Commanders were seasoned veterans, men who had led entire regiments within the Fury Family Army for years. To the soldiers of the Division, these commanders—leaders of Infantry, Cavalry, Magi, and Archery regiments—were the true figures of authority they followed.

By comparison, Alex was a distant superior, a higher-up they would rarely, if ever, interact with.

Lieutenant Cross was subtly warning him; he needed to bridge that gap, or at least reduce it, before the march began.

”Very well, Lieutenant. I will address the troops before we set out,” Alex decided firmly.

Cross gave a sharp nod and left briskly to make the arrangements.

Less than half an hour later, the five-thousand-strong Exercitus Alexii Division was assembled before a makeshift podium.

Alex—dressed in his Brotherhood-style attire, with the Plate of Happenstance worn over it—stepped onto the platform.

The young noble, now Taskforce Division General, gazed down at his unit. A faint but undeniable aura radiated from him, regal and commanding, the presence of a man born to rule.

Instantly, the murmurs of thousands died away. The entire Division fell into pin-drop silence.

”My name is Alex Fury.”

He paused, scanning the crowd, letting the weight of his words settle.

”By now, many of you may have heard countless things about me, be they rumors, stories and/or exaggerations. But from this moment forward, I want you to forget them all—save for one thing.

”I am Alex Fury. And I am the Commander of this Exercitus Alexii Taskforce.”

Another pause. His ruby-red gaze swept across the assembled soldiers.

”About a week ago, the Wildkin infiltrated and seized the City of Werth in the Kellerman Region—our empire’s gateway through the Ironmourn Desert, leading north to the Empires of Elarion and IronHammer.

”As the Guardian Family of the North, the Fury Family cannot, and will not, allow this to stand. That is why we march. We march to Werth, and through every city the Wildkin scum may have infested along the way.

”And we will return them all to the light of the Empire.”

-

”Make no mistake. We are not marching to wipe the Kellermans’ arses for them. We march for something closer to home.”

His voice carried over the silent ranks, steady yet burning with conviction.

”From Fury, Victory. Honour in Blood. Fury through Strength...” Alex looked toward the Army’s banner fluttering high.

”These words are carved upon our crest,” he declared, pointing to the banner, ”...carved upon our banner!” He thumped his chest with a fist. ”And carved within our hearts!”

”Fury through Strength!” His voice rose like a war-drum. ”A man becomes who he is through the power and strength he possesses. Each of you stand here today because you have proven that strength. Each of you is worthy of being called a Fury soldier. Each of you is among the elite our Family has to offer. You can boldly claim this truth—”

He spread his arms wide.

”—You are strong!”

”Honour in Blood!” he continued, voice sharp. ”The Wildkin claim to only target the strong. To fight the strong in beautiful battle to the death. For centuries, they fought our Fury Army because even they could not deny—we are the strongest of the North!”

”But this year...” His tone darkened, pressing down on the Division like a storm. ”This year, they dared to turn their fangs upon the Kellermans. Was it disregard? Was it fear? Whatever it was—they slighted our honour!”

His crimson eyes gleamed. ”And I ask you, my brothers and sisters-in-arms—how do we reclaim the honour they have stolen from us?”

”Honour in Blood!” the Division thundered back.

”And how will we answer them?!”

”Honour in Blood!”

”How will we prove once more that we are the strongest of the North?!”

”Honour in Blood!”

Alex nodded firmly, lips curling into a thin smile.

”Yes. Once again, I tell you—we march not for the Kellermans, but for ourselves. To reclaim our right. To reclaim our honour in blood! For each of us is a Fury, and we know only Victory, only Honour, only Glory!”

”For Victory!”

”...For Honour! For Glory!”

”For Victory! For Honour! For Glory!”

The chant rolled like thunder, shaking the very ground beneath their feet. Alex let it continue, let it swell, before raising his hands high. Instantly, silence returned.

”Now that you know our Division’s goal, you must also know this Division’s law. As long as I remain your General... as long as you stand as soldiers under my command—you will live by these three rules.”

He raised three fingers, his tone cutting like steel.

”One! Obey my orders—without question.

”Two! Protect your life—and the lives of the brothers and sisters beside you.

”Three! If anything bares its fangs, claws, or blades at you or your comrades—you kill it!”

His gaze swept across the entire Division, weighing them, binding them.

”Understand and live these rules, and you and I will never have problems.”

A pause. His final words came low but thunderous, like the strike of a war-gong.

”Now... gather your arms and provisions—because war beckons!”

***