The field of dead was staggering. Three of the mightiest armies in all of the East lay in tatters. Godric the Dukeslayer awoke amongst the corpses and carrion-crows; that is, he felt a spark in his energies he had never before. The familiar metallic taste of blood grounded him as he surveyed the ruin. He recalls the cavalry charge. As the distance was closed under arrow fire he did not feel powerful vita from his foes besides the Prime Knight of the Vix. That energy dissipated quickly giving way to fear and pain.
Fear and pain. That is what characterized the foe. Fearful of the southern power, of foreigners whom they've never met, from lands they've never seen. And the pain of ancient powers humbled by the upstart Imperium. That they should merit such attention. That a mass knighting would be so successful.
As he let loose his axe into the enemy lines and drew his spear for the charge Warbornsson looked back for a moment at the Legiones Imperi. The Phoenix of Xavax was scared yes, but they brimmed with excitement. A bubbling vita flowed alongside the fear and a zeal permeated the charge.
This day the Toren did not withdraw when the battle seemed lost as Toren are apt to do. His cavalrymen fought to the last. Tor pushed them forward, victory seemed so certain despite the odds. But perhaps this was the victory Tor intended.
The Old Toren growls as he forgoes technique and simply manhandles his sparring partner to the ground. Godric has been lucky to watch father practicing today but his abandonment of technique is curious. A clear mistake led to a disarmament and instead of drawing back Warborn reached forward and grabbed the extended swordarm of his opponent. He then stepped in close and heaved the man over his shoulder, sprawling to the ground. Godric does need to ask: father scolds his opponent with the answer.
"You forget that the only true existence is between life and death. You are afraid of the emptiness because it heralds death but that is when Tor speaks with us directly. Not every victory is true. You left yourself open to a far stronger man closing the gap."
Warborn Tórrarin holds out his shieldarm.
"And not every loss is true. I cannot twist my arm but it meant you could not twist and break my grip on you. Capitalize on your situation. This arm broke Valkyrja."
He does not say it but Godric Warbornsson is certain his father intends him to remember this.
