NO LUTE, NO LOOT, A TALE TO TELL IN ALL OUT WAR…

I am Bezedash and welcome once more into my GoT WiC world.

It was mid-April.

Spring had finally wrapped its arms around the kingdom numbered 276, though the night was still cold, and the dew clung to every blade of grass, letting the chill seep deep into the bones.

Above, the sky was a canvas of bluish black and ash, where the stars pulsed to a melody of their own.

Once i had settled in the realm of King Vangark, I, Bezedash, knight-minstrel of the numbered worlds of GoT WiC, pledged myself to the mighty alliance known as tSB, TheSlavsBlood, alongside my companion, THE WICH.

From the moment my boots touched the soil of k276, i fought in the KvK and the Battle of the Narrow Sea. I measured my blade in the Arena of Honor… with varying degrees of triumph.

But i sought more. Not glory. Not titles.

I sought mastery.

And so, to hone my skill and sharpen my song, i followed tSB into the long combat called All Out War.

My first true battle was about to begin.

Around 3:30 AM, when most men dream of peace or women or both, i stood at the gates of battle… without my lute.

The reason? There was no room for false notes in the operation ahead. Scarlet, the faction i had joined not long ago, had allied itself with the mighty northern Tempest to attack Frost, a ruthless southern force holding the Large Industrial City 7. There, Brass, Silver, and Obsidian could be mined… essential resources for building both war and healing carts in this brutal campaign.

We weren't here for glory. This city would not be ours. But we would help Tempest crack it open… as brothers-in-arms.

I, Bezedash, am a knight and a minstrel… though this morning, i was more blade than bard.

Tempest’s vanguard was led by seasoned warriors, including CCCP, a proud and strategic Lord with whom i had unfortunately crossed swords earlier in the week. At that time, i hadn't realized we were meant to be allies. Scarlet and Tempest were, after all, still learning how to move as one.

Frost, with its powerful warriors, was determined to defend Large Industrial City 7 tooth and nail.

A few hours before the battle, CCCPC had approached me, arms crossed.

“You strike fast, Bezedash,” he muttered, “but sometimes you swing at friends.”

His tone was firm, not cruel. He was referring to our earlier fight, a misstep on my part when i mistook him for a foe.

“I didn’t know about the alliance,” i admitted, my voice barely above the wind.

“Now you do,” he replied. “Fight smart tonight.”

We shook hands. I left my shame behind.

I had only mustered two armies for the assault. My third was still out of reach… a medical cart i had yet to earn. Still, i had heart. And in war, sometimes heart is heavier than armor.

At exactly 3:30 AM, the sky bled emerald-green and ice-blue.

Tempest, the emerald-green faction, struck first from the North-West Gate, their formations sharp and relentless. The walls of Large Industrial City 7 trembled under their assault.

At the signal, we, Scarlet, the blood-red faction, struck the South Gate… a hidden entrance, perfect for our small number. It shattered beneath our siege, wood and iron bursting into the air like confetti announcing our arrival.

Chaos. Steel against steel. Arrows like swarms of mosquitoes. Fire licking the towers of the battlements. Our goal was the Municipal Center because it needed to be destroyed first in order to trigger the occupation bar. Once full, victory would belong to Tempest.

We charged. I threw myself into the fray, blades spinning, boots slipping on cobblestones slick with blood and spring mud. The scent of lilacs from a nearby grove mixed with smoke and sweat... war, painted in perfume.

But my troops faltered. I had to pull back to Industrial City 11 for healing. No time to rest.

I returned minutes later, reinvigorated, refocused, and charged a monstrous ice-blue Frost infantry cart. A walking fortress. We clashed, and after a brutal exchange, i brought it down. But then…

They came.

Forty enemy armies surged toward me... an avalanche of screams and fury.

I fought. I danced. I bled.

But there are storms even a minstrel cannot weather.

I was wiped out in seconds. No healers. No miracle.

But the story did not end there.

In the hours that followed, i continued the war… not at the heart of the storm, but in its shadow. I marched alongside my Scarlet brothers-in-arms through the countryside, capturing the villages surrounding Large Industrial City 7. Little by little, we gained ground, allowing our mighty ally Tempest to gain the upper hand over Frost.

And when the last village fell, i sent my troops to gather the resources needed for the war effort, and finally returned to my castle.

My boots were caked in mud, my armor dented, my hands trembling… not from fear, but from adrenaline and the memory of battle.

I picked up my lute at last.

And i played. Not for applause. But for the story. For Tempest, for Scarlet. For all who fought that night... and for the spring that dared to bloom beneath our boots.

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We slipped within the hidden gate,

Where Frost lay thick to shape our fate.

No town to seize, just aid to lend...

But blood and mud met us instead.

"You're quite outnumbered, dear," Death said,

With shadowed grin and tilted head.

"No lute, no loot, no tales to tell…"

"I know," i sighed, and fought like hell.

One cart i crushed, then thunder came,

As forty more surged in my name.

They struck like waves against the shore,

And still i braced to face them more.

And once again, from knight i turned,

To minstrel’s fire where music burned.

No crown, no coin, no victor's suit...

Just heart and soul…

No lute, no loot.

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As i set my lute down that night, my fingers still trembling... from the strings this time... i understood my place.

Victory belonged to Tempest… rightfully so. Their strength, their coordination, their sheer will had broken Frost’s grip on the city. Scarlet had struck hard… but we were never meant to claim glory.

But then again, no one can fight alone in such a war. After all, even the greatest may need the smallest.

And i? I am no lord of war. I cannot match the might of those who reshaped the battlefield. No Sararer in my ranks, no Cossomo, no Cassana either... none of those great commanders.

But when the blade dulls, the song begins.

Because someone must play to remember...

I will see you soon for some more thrilling adventures.

Thank you for reading.

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