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A man whom can conquer his fear can strive to conquer the world.

Augustus was proud of how strong his leader was, he'd give his General that much credit. However, as soon as Caesar drew that cursed axe, the Great Knight noticed a fearful change within his leader's behavior. Had he no regards for his own safety? Charging so recklessly would only get him in the line of enemy fire! "I have to do something... anything to stop that terrible power from destroying him..." he thought, gritting his teeth with the tension all around.

So, the Great Knight begun his own charge, burying his spear into an unsuspecting archer that was taking too much time aiming at enemies far away and not paying attention to those closing in. Defeating small fry like this was the sure fire way to keep a cheap shot from robbing the Legion of its leader, and thus, any chances at victory. "We'll end this quickly, so that you won't have to use that power anymore, General Caesar!"a He thought with conviction. It was all a guard was paid to do, sworn to do, and born to do.

General Caesar was losing and more of his senses that were normally key to staying alive on the battlefield. Sure, his axe had formidable power and mowed down anyone fool enough to get in its path, but with that power, Caesar wasn't paying all that much attention to his surroundings. He didn't see Vaida, nor the dark energy that her powerful spear unleashed. The giant armored man only stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the familiar black wings of a certain flier.

"...Lancelot?" Muttered the Legion's leader, as he looked upon his most trusted of fliers with widened eyes. The Wyvern Captain's prized helmet, his means of protection, in order to save his life. What was wrong with him, where he was so unaware of a strike so deadly? He needed to focus! The General couldn't be oblivious when victory was so close at hand. Fighting to keep his awareness, he muttered a rare thanks to his flier, before taking another swing with Decimus that made a few generic soldiers sorry they ever opposed him. "I'll never conquer them if I keep fighting those who aren't leaders! Somebody worthwhile has to step up... and then that will make using my ultimate weapon worth my time!" He grinned as he thought those words. What would prevail within him, the focus or fury? Either way would be deadly for his enemies.

Isadora listened carefully to what Leon said. She admitted that the Watch were fine warriors in Eyris. However, the Watch WERE the hostages of their unknown enemy. And there was no telling how many armies did their enemy had. What made Leon think that they had the upper hand when they didn't know their enemy well?

Suddenly, she heard Leon's plan. Leon advised her that they had to take offense? What was the Watch Lieutenant thinking? This made the paladin worried. Isadora shouted.

"Leon, wait-"

Too late. The Watch Lieutenant charged toward the enemies. What was Leon thinking? There must be hundred of enemies he was charging again. Not to mention, a crazed leader too. Seriously, that lieutenant was recklessly charging into his own death. If he got that from Steely Dan, the paladin thought that maybe Leon should spend less time with him.

"Of all the nerve...." Isadora muttered as she gripped her reins tighter. Never had she met someone more reckless than Renault and Harken, especially in the battlefield.

"Cryic! Take care of the front line!" The paladin shouted to the Silver Knight. "I'm going after my friend before he made an error."

The Dame Knight kicked her stirs to make Tuomas neighed and charged after the Great Knight. What made Leon so pumped up in this battle? She wasn't sure. However, he would need a good explanation about his recklessness. It was bad enough that the negotiation was ruined, thanked to the soldier's foolishness. She would not have this battle lost all due to Leon's recklessness.

((If you think Isadora need some assistance to battle the enemy and get Leon, feel free to join with Izzy. :3 ))

With the mixed feeling of ice and fire crashing into each other, a slight explosion occured in between them. During the smoke infested time, the boy had taken the chance to come at her. The flames in his sword indicated she wasn't going to get out unharmed. Blocked or avoiding..which was the best choice. Should she block, then her arms would get charred in the process...if she doddged...back was not a good choice..and neither were her sides..this boy wasn't making things easy? Must things be so hard.

Did she still have her sheath? Indeed she did. Milan was just going to have to pull this style of hers sooner than she had expected. The swordmistress hadn't planned on revealing this style to anyone, however, it seems this battle called for it. The ice blade in her hands returned to her sheath. She raised her weapon, blocking the blade with her weapon while earning herself a few burns off the lower ends of her sleeves. How clever.

Milan raised her right leg, kicking him in the side just a little below the rib cage. He fumbled back from that and the swordmistress charged once more. This then, Milan took her entire sword in sheeth and grasping from the hilt area she sliced across from her, knocking him back a bit before charging once more. This time, her fist connected to his face and with another strike upwards, Roy was up in the air. Milan swiftly jumped up to his level, bringing a foot down to knock him back down to the ground. Just as he was landing, the swordmistress (landing a little before him) pushed herself and with enough force into her kick, sent the boy flying back.

Milan waited a moment and quickly dashed toward her opponent. Sheath in her left hand, the right grasping the hilt of her ice blade. She waited for the right moment and once she had it, the blade came out, slicing the fire wielder across the chest. It left a large ice plate just where the breast plate was. The blade spun a little in her hands and quickly, she shoved it back into the sheath. At the same time, the ice shattered on the boy's chest.

How he would take that damage, Milan wondered. Would this be the end? Or the beginning? She was curious to know..for once.

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Damn, she reacted. And just as soon as she took some burns to her sleeves. Granted, though...the flames should have been able to go much further, but it must have been because of the ice sword's cold nature that nulled out the rest of the flames.

Her leg came up, catching him a little under the rib cage. He staggered a little to the side, allowing her to get close. She swung, but Roy pulled his blade in front of him to block the strike with her sword-in-hilt. The force of the swing knocked him back a little, and when he recovered her fist met his face. That stunned him for a moment, and the next thing he knew, he was in the air. The swordmistress was up with him, swinging her leg down on him. He pressed his arm against the back of his blade as he used the weapon to take the blow. Though, it was still enough to send him crashing back down to earth. He flipped in the air and turned so that he would be facing her when he would hit the ground. But Milan was already going for another hit. The kick connected, and he was sent tumbling back.

Roy quickly recovered and was back on his feet, but Milan was already charging in. Her attack connected, and his breastplate was covered in ice as he found himself on the floor. It was...pretty cold, actually. You would think being quarter ice dragon would at least give you some resistance to ice. The ice shattered on his armor, but the equipment still held. It was just...really cold. There were quite a number of dents in it from the ice, and one long cut in the armor from her last strike. But it held, and that was what mattered. And once again, he thanked his lucky stars that this type of armor he had was durable. It survived axes. It survived lance thrusts. Hell, it even endured the Dark Dragon's fire once.

...What? No. This wasn't the exact same armor from that long ago. He had extras.

He quickly got back on his feet and dusted away any remaining ice fragments on his armor.

"That would have been a lot more painful if it wasn't for the armor..." said Roy, looking at her as he prepared himself. Time for a big move of his own. "My turn!"

The redhead started to run towards Milan, the flame sword's tip hovering just inches above the ground. Flames sprouted around the weapon as he started to pick up speed. When he got close, he slashed once. Whether or not she got hit, he had already passed her, the tip of the blade hovering once more inches off the ground. He slid to a halt (sliding a foot or two) before the flames on his sword died so he could sheath the sword. The moment it went in, mighty flames erupted from the ground from where he had just run, burning all who was nearby.

((This was Milan's move from the point the weapon gets sheathed. If I need to put up a link for my move, I'll do so.))

Honestly. When FD had decided to make the journey to Estarcia with that red-haired Estarcian woman after hearing about some of the difficulties Learania was experiencing in a war with an entire army not from this world (and you thought individual people coming to this continent from all over the place was a phenomenon – that’s got nothing on an entire army), he wasn’t quite sure what to expect. But having to defend the capitol city as soon as he arrived had definitely not been on his agenda. No matter. FD didn’t know the circumstances that had led to them having to defend Archesis this very instant, but that didn’t really matter. As infantry from the two sides were colliding with one another at the opening to the city was among the city streets near the gate trying to figure out how he could best assist their side. As it was, the entrance to the city was swarmed by a concentration of troops from both sides, and that makes firing a Flametongue without hitting enemies as well as allies terribly troublesome to accomplish.

But that wasn’t the only place this battle was being waged: certain sections of the towering walls that enclosed the city were being torn down by the Archaneans, by their mage-folk most likely. And these opening were allowing for enemy foot soldiers to enter into the city. With all the attention the main gate was getting, these soldiers would be able to go much further without much notice – which is bad. FD ran towards where he saw one of the larger openings, soldiers making their way towards what looked like a random, red-haired civilian. FD transformed. He wouldn’t even need Flametongue to deal with this (wouldn’t need it, thought it prudent not to set the city on fire with it – both true). Those who had made their way into the city by where the Fire Dragon was were presumably scared shitless, and turned back to escape via the very opening they had entered through, colliding with those still trying to make their way into the city. Those that didn’t were swiped at with FD’s fore claws. But that wasn’t enough. This was a battle, after all.

FD made his way towards said opening and lowered his head to level with this opening as much as possible before firing off a burst of Flametongue, eliminating those in its path, traveling beyond the city walls to those near enough on the other side, and making steam and puddles of the snow it licked. After his attack, the Fire Dragon backed up from the opening far enough to swipe at anything that got through to this side. Could the enemy tell what exactly was on this side of the wall? Probably not, the opening wasn't that large. But they'd know it was a threat not to be taken lightly.

Oh? So he lived through that? Surprise surprise. This surprised the swordmistress indeed. She hadn't expected he be capable of standing up after that attack. Was his armor made from some sort of special material? Late to figure something out at the moment. As it seems, the boy was returning the attack with one of his own mix of swords and fire.

His movement were unpredictable, Milan would give him that. For the most of his fiery blaze, Milan had manged to cover out a majority of his flames, save for the flames that charred part of her outfit. Once he was done, the swordmistress looked at her attire. One sleeve was burned up to the elbow while the other was split right down the middle from the shoulder seam. As for the lower part....her dress charred up to her knees. Save for the few burn marks on her shoulder and legs, she was....decently fine.

The sword was stabbed into the ground for a moment as she tore off both sleeves. They were useless now and what would be the point of them. Next she ripped part of her dress, mainly the burnt part. Once she was done, the dress can now be considered a short skirt since now its length was around the mid-thigh area.

She picked up her sword once more, popping her neck a bit. At the last, Milan was surprised her hair even survived all of that mess. What, did the boy expect to actually burn her alive? Please, the swordmistress isn't that useless. The sword returned to its sheath, eyeing Roy ever step she made to her side. The next move...who would make it she wondered.


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Joshua had chraged out of the city with the rest of his unit... but as luck would have it they, including his commanding officer had all ended up with arrows in their throats. Joshua though had been quick and was out of the raining arrows in a heartbeat, he diidn't even realize he was on his own until it was to late to go back.

"Of course," he thought as he kept running, "Let's avoid the archers now, hmmm that guy in blue armour..." Joshua's mind flash backed to a village in the rain, this was the enemy commander.

Well howabout we go that way then?

A man whom can conquer his fear can strive to conquer the world.

And there it was again. There was the sign, the words, yet another person telling Caesar that he'd changed, that he was completely and utterly mad! He wanted to deny it. He wanted to think just for one moment that none of the things he did were out of madness! Of course not! "You think... I'm mad?! I'm the only sane man in an insane world! You Estarcians... oppressed and abused your commoners and made them cover up for you every inch of the way, am frankly tired of hearing how you've misguided them! I have seen people, people like... you." The General's speech paused, as the two weapons came to a deadlock.

"I've seen lands where the downtrodden are stepped on, where those without noble titles suffer needless wrongs! Ridding the world of the filth in charge that has eaten the very seeds of corruption and let it grow and fester within them has always been my mission... No, not just mine, but OUR mission, the goal of the Legion, to purge the world of those whom treat the common man as less than a man!!!" With his rage behind him, Caesar hit against Cyric's weapon twice, each clash now getting more brutal each time they hit. "You claimed to want to solve things peacefully, and yet you set up a trap! Not only are you rich and privileged with a greedy heart... but you're also a nation of cowards in charge!"

One large clash of the dark metal against Cyric's steel echoed loud enough for everyone to hear. For just one moment, Caesar shut his eyes when he did remember them. The loss of innocents, and the losses of his own troops... they made him feel one of the last emotions he held onto even when his weapon was in control: guilt. Thinking of the faces of those he was supposed to be liberating from Estarcian rule... of their terror when they heard loved ones weren't returning made the General freeze entirely.

That was the only reason why Cyric's blow actually hit where it was intended. It was as if the knock on the head was another attempt to get him back to his senses, his true senses, that somewhere deep down would return the man who didn't desire blood. Caesar gritted his teeth, covering the side of his head that was hit by Cyric by instinct, while just hanging onto the axe by a thread with his other hand.

"... You... you are right about many things. Yes, I have started this. Yes, many casualties were made in this war of mine... and that is why I must finish it for the sake of those whom wish to see it finished." Caesar replied to his opponent quite lucidly, as he recovered from the strike rather quickly, and gripped his dark weapon just tight enough to drop it. "A sorceress told me of the wrongs of your nobility, Commander Cyric. If not me, then someone else would have risen to the occasion. That I am most certain of."

All the time he talked, Caesar wasn't setting up traps, but nor was he letting his guard down. He expected Cyric to lunge at him and continue to rage, not believing anything he said as usual. It was a pity, really, that none whom had the potential to be virtuous would actually open their eyes to do so. It would be interesting to see how this so-called "hero" reacted. Maybe now, he'd finally see things the way they were meant to be seen.