March, 907 E.C.

Ostreach had seen better days. The conquering Elsiran armies had ravaged the city with magic, breaking many of its walls and burning many buildings inside. To say nothing of the fate of the population. Rickard had heard rumors of course of the fate of civilians at the hands of the elven empire and those stories didn’t do justice to what he had beheld upon taking Ostreach back. Humans were sequestered into artificial pens and evidently processed by the mages there. Those that were… processed were shipped off away into deeper Elsira.

The Second Prince of Albar looked out over the fields beyond the city from his spot upon the ruined and wrecked walls of Ostreach. Around him were a few armored soldiers bearing large two handed swords. The Zweihander elite infantry that Albar was feared for among its neighbors. He was dressed in fine black painted plate armor and his helmet had a distinctive red plume upon it that fluttered in the breeze. 

“They say Nalista can see the future, pretty sure she didn’t see this future coming, eh your grace?” Remarked one of his captains. 

Armored fingers reached up and pulled off the full helmet, revealing a rather pretty dark haired young man. One would have honestly mistaken him for a woman at many angles, enough to earn a particularly unfortunate title. He pulled at his hair tie, allowing his long dark hair to cascade down his shoulders and across the red cloak along his back. He essayed a slight smirk at the captain. 

“Most likely not, however we must not allow ourselves to get complacent. One victory does not mean a war is won. It was a victory not without cost as well.” Indeed, he had to hope Captain Vismar had the good sense to remember his orders to retreat soon after making contact. If not… the prince shuddered to imagine really. 

Heavy metallic boots clanked along the walls of Ostreach as he paced along them, his war council and bodyguards walking along with him. There hadn’t been much of a battle when they arrived honestly. The Elsiran garrison had been much too small as expected and with the defenses in this state it didn’t take long for them to crush them. Rickard’s eyes played below, dark eyes briefly passing over the prisoners they had taken. Well over a hundred all told. All of them looked up at him as he passed by, nervous no doubt. 

“Should be simple enough to fortify the city in short order, your grace. The elves aren’t exactly good masons.” Another captain remarked. 

“We won’t be staying in Ostreach. The forces we have here aren’t enough for us to hold out over a protracted siege. As well, the supplies here aren’t going to be enough to feed our army for an extended period.” Rickard said as he looked over his shoulder and started walking down from the ramparts. 

“B-but your grace, we can’t simply give Ostreach back to the Elves! What would have been the point of our efforts? We have to hold what is rightfully Albaran!” There was a chorus of agreement there. 

Rickard let out a sigh. “If we try to hold Ostreach it will simply result in our loss here. So instead we are going to raze it to the ground. Every home, every fortification, every field that could be of use to the enemy. With that done, the enemy will have two options. Retreating further into their own lands to try and re-establish their supply chain or to hope to advance after us and crush us. I’m banking that Nalista isn’t impatient enough for the latter.” 

Ostreach was a place Rickard had spent his childhood days at. He had grown up in the castle. He knew the Count as well as he did his own father. A wise old man that had met an end in the cup of Nalista. It was not something he intended to do lightly of course but there was no choice here. To defeat or stall the Elsiran advances there were sacrifices that would need to be made. Sacrifices everyone, noble or commoner would have to make. 

He ignored the sputtering protests of his captains and instead made his way toward the one guarding their collection of prisoners. He looked over them. Evidently they had done quite a few cruel things to the survivors of Ostreach. Enough witness testimony to damn anyone and many had called for heads to roll. Rickard looked over them with an impassive gaze and then to the head of the guards. 

“Anyone capable of using magic, remove their tongues, fingers and eyes. The rest remove their dominant hands. Then set them loose.” He ordered. 

There were shouts of despair from within the crowd of captured elves. “We were only following orders!” “Mercy, Prince, mercy!” “I didn’t hurt any humans, I’m just a healer!” 

Rickard blinked at that last one and turned his eyes upon the mousey little elven woman that said it. She was staring at him with eyes filled with despair and desperation. The dark haired young man felt a stab at his heart from the plea. Looking at her face it was like any humans might look at the prospect of such a horrid fate. Blue eyes wide and animal-like. He locked eyes with her and the next moment he watched those eyes being put out as his soldiers carried out his orders. 

He listened for a moment, forced himself to listen. The Prince burned it into his memory. Once he did he turned and continued on his walk of the city. He hated war. Hated that battle had come to Albar. Hated that there was such destruction being wrought upon the land and he especially hated ordering such things. His jaw clenched and his veins filled with fire as he continued on his way. 

“You did well your grace.” Came the voice of one of the Zweihanders following after him.

Rickard’s gaze half turned to the taller man. Franz, his longtime bodyguard and confidant. The sandy haired man had a grim expression on his face as he regarded Rickard. Perhaps, by the standards of Albar and the judgement of his people he had done well. Perhaps to the people of Ostreach remaining, he had punished evil. Perhaps to the elves the deed would be taken as a measure of a human unafraid to return the same cruelty afforded them in captivity. Perhaps all of that was true. It wouldn’t quell the screams of that healer girl in his dreams. It wouldn’t make him feel better when he would hear them tonight. 

“We’ll set the city to the torch tonight. Have the civilians remaining gather whatever they have left here. Once we set the city aflame we’ll make our way back to Albar through Gerbach.” Rickard addressed one of the captain’s behind him. 

“At once your grace.” The captain said. 

Funny how their protests all seemed to evaporate at that little display. “We can’t dismiss the chance Nalista smells blood and tries to pursue. If she does we will quickly find ourselves needing to move. Let every man and woman know that those that fall behind will be left behind. We can’t afford to pause until we are safely back in Albar.” 

Everyone nodded in affirmation and scattered to carry out their duties as would be needed tonight. The Prince allowed a long breath to escape him as he looked up at the sky. There would be more unpleasantness to come, he was very sure of that.