Today Drazah would make history.
He drew a deep breath, the warm breeze smelling only of the elephant he sat upon. Behind him, the drumming of one thousand Sudran soldiers marching against the sands spurred him on as he directed them towards the Fields of Carcarus.
These fields were once host to a battle between Sudra and Dura. A skirmish lasting six days, with thousands slain and ramifications lasting decades. He could still taste the bloodshed.
Today they would debut another momentous event. Of that Drazah was certain.
For Drazah, Summer usually meant tournaments in the coliseum. He would sit with his Queen and sons, pride of place, as gladiators faced off against each other in spectacular displays of strength and agility. Rarely did he ever join in himself, but on occasion, an over-confident buffoon would challenge him for the crown and he would get to stretch his wings a little.
However, over the last few months tension between Sudra and the Empire had been rising. Drazah was beginning to fear invasion when they received a Duran messenger. It invited him to meet The Emperor on the battlefields of their ancestors to negotiate an alliance between Sudra and the newly formed Duran Empire.
Drazah didn't think it necessary, but Nymati was insistent on him taking as many men as he could manage, keeping up appearances as always. Each of his one thousand men were given a sword and shield, but they didn't have the supplies to clothe them all, most wore only parts of the full uniform. They looked ridiculous, but two children and twenty years was hardly the time to wait before questioning his Queen.
He reined in his elephant, taking in the view of the battlefield. Tents with red roofs had been propped up all over the fields. There were pens holding horses, carts filled with supplies and campfires surrounded by waiting soldiers. The army boasted a mix of Dura, Estra and Puwhar, tens of thousands of bronze-clad soldiers covering the landscape, the sheer volume of them making Drazah's single battalion seem rather feeble.
Drazah could only hope their reputation deterred any ideas The Emperor had of attacking them head-on. A fully powered Sudran could take most Dura ten to one.
After all, The Emperor didn't know their secret.
* * *
Drazah dismounted, meeting The Emperor with confidence.
"I didn't expect you to bring your entire army for a simple negotiation, Gabris," Drazah chided, feigning amazement. Having received word by crow, he was unsurprised at the display but would have expected as much regardless.
"Fear not, Drazah, I thought it only right I show you what I was offering," returned The Emperor as he gestured over the masses of soldiers around them.
Emperor Callius Gabris was a demi-god of a man. He stood over a foot taller than most of his Duran soldiers, a giant in every sense of the word, his muscles hulking out from under his armour. On his chest, he sported a polished bronze chest-plate, embellished with an extraordinary amount of muscles, his once peachy complexion bronzed by the sun.. Upon his head, he wore a brightly polished bronze galea which came down over his cheeks, framing his square face, highlighting piercing violet eyes.
"Oh? And what is it that you're offering?" asked Drazah, raising a single, sceptical eyebrow.
The Emperor smirked in response. He continued to walk them down along the front-lines, his thick crimson cape draping off his shoulders to drag on the ground behind him, the golden embroidery glittering in the bright sun.
"To be a part of something bigger than yourself. The chance to save your people from poverty." The Emperor spoke profoundly, but Drazah thought him no more convincing than a two-bit salesman; cocky, desperate and peddling false promises.
"And what would you have in return?"
"Bend the knee," stated The Emperor, extending his muscular arm, thick leather bracer's clinging to his wrists. "Become the fourth country of the great Duran Empire. With your men in my army, I would be unstoppable, and-"
"I cannot allow you to force my men to fight a war that is not theirs," interrupted Drazah. He tried to hide his eagerness, but could not allow The Emperor to continue.
"You say that as if you have a choice..." The Emperor sneered, his helm dropping with his brow. "Your people were once one of the greatest in the whole of Alamantra. I can make them great again. With or without you."
"You dare threaten me?" Drazah's voice raised a growl licking his lips as his tail flicked behind him.
"The choice is yours, Drazah," The Emperor shrugged. "You can swallow your pride and do what's best for your people. Or you can resist, and watch as my army marches across your lands. Slaughtering any and all who resist us."
Drazah's chest tightened as he stared down The Emperor. His people were in no position to face such an impressive army, there was no way they could win any kind of battle. He had always known this, however, he was not willing to give up his country just yet.
The whole journey down he thought about it. His mind was set and his body ready.
He knew what he had to do.
"You may think you have me at a disadvantage, Callius, but I will not go down without a fight," Drazah growled. "However, I have no intention of shedding the blood of my men over your foolish quest to polish your ego."
Drazah burned with fury. The Emperor was still immature. His arrogance made Drazah sick. He was cocky. He was brazen. His bravado would be his downfall.
"If you want my country you will have to take it yourself," belted Drazah. "Right here. Right now. For all our men to see."
"A King's wager, you and I. Here on the battlefield of our ancestors." Drazah pulled on his sword, a single edge blade forged from obsidian black which gleamed in the sun, and aimed it towards The Emperor.
"I challenge you to a DUEL."
Silence erupted through the camp as soldiers on both sides stood with gaping mouths, waiting for the Emperor's response. Although, none were not expecting what came.
The Emperor laughed, although due to his general size it was closer to a bellow. "You've got guts, old man, but I hold all the cards. I'll give you one chance to rescind your challenge."
The mockery only fuelled the inferno growing within Drazah, but only his nostrils flared as he stared down his opponent. The Emperor could spout all the drivel he wanted, Drazah had no intention of backing down now.
This was the only way it could go. Drazah knew from the moment he received the summons, before even.
The Emperor was merely an overzealous bully, relying on brute force to overpower his enemies. The tactic may have worked on weaker Kingdoms, but not Sudra. Not Drazah.
Sudra was at a disadvantage, that much was true, but one-on-one the Emperors size and confidence would be his undoing. One-on-one, Drazah would take the advantage, steal a quick victory and make his Queen proud.
Drazah tightened his grip around his sword, tilting its sharp blade just enough to reiterate his threat. His tail held still behind him.
The Emperor sucked his teeth. "Very well, state your terms."
"You win, my men march you back to the capital where my Queen will surrender, peacefully. I win, no more Empire and your men all go home. Today," roared Drazah, his sword still pointed to The Emperor, his arm held firm.
The Emperor threw off the cape hugging his shoulders, unsheathing his broad sword in a single, swift, one-handed movement. It was unlike any broad sword Drazah had ever seen. A thick blade of polished steel, a full foot and a half longer than a standard broad sword and easily a foot wide, the hilt glistening with bright gold. A lesser man would have strained under its weight, but The Emperor held the beastly sword proudly in a single hand.
"Clear space," boomed The Emperor, his voice echoing around the nervous onlookers.
As instructed everyone within twenty meters snapped to attention and cleared the field. Only the rustle of boots on dry sandy grass and the clink of armour broke the silence as foot soldiers hurried out of the way. Both armies merged into a huddled mass, creating a ring around their leaders.
The Emperor rolled his heavy shoulders as he readied himself. Feet firmly on the ground as he squared off his body, casually twisting the giant broad sword around to affirm his grip.
Drazah had yet to move a muscle. Inside, he felt as if he was shaking, a battle lust surging through his muscles as his body readied itself for the battle to come.
'This is the only way,' he told himself. 'Only I can save my people now.'
The quiet before a fight was the only sensation he could ever equate to the moment before his Queen would feed on him.
The familiar energy rose rapidly within. He thought of her then as he reminded himself of all he was fighting for. He reminded himself of his people and the vow he made to protect them and their secret. He thought of his men and the war they would be forced to fight should he fail in his task. And lastly, his thoughts turned to his sons, whom he wished he'd brought with him so they could watch as history was made before their very eyes .
One way or another.
* * *