i used to rule the world

seas would rise when i gave the word

There was little doubt that Alexander was made for the art of War. From his own campaigns across Asian and within Egypt to the Crusades to the Balkan Wars, Alexander often made a point to serve on the winning side of each of those conflicts, and always for Macedonia should she ever partake. This, the conflict, the adrenaline, the death, this was what he excelled at. His thoughts were so constantly turning over and over in his mind, finding some new opening, contemplating some new tactic to help turn the tide in his favor, batting around those ideas while his sword was plunged into barely beating hearts and his gaze darted to combat the ongoing battles that so often threatened to press in on him. He hardly considered the way he so processed that battlefield before him might be overwhelming for the equine beneath him. Rather, the King was content to do what he had always done -to treat Forst more akin to those war horses then the half man he was. It was habitual, really, and yet so commanding with those non-verbal cues had, at least, gotten them this far. Still, there was still a ways to go before he could view this battle as yet another success in his nearly untarnished record.

His losses were devastating, even he could see that as metal clashed against skin. It was no surprise, really, the way many of the vampires seemed content to ravish the flesh from his fallen soldiers. He'd known, when he led them into battle, that the odds were stacked against them and yet, in truth, they'd had no choice by this point then to simply fight. Still, he hardly wished to loose more then necessary, that simple thought of mercy alone so prompted the man to search for the leader of that coven, his blue-green gaze falling upon that very woman whom had thrown him against the way, surrounded by that throng of corpses. It was her. It had to be her. It was fitting really, considering the simple fact that Alexander had quite the grudge against her. His heels dug into Frost's side, urging the horse onwards with the clear intention of delivering a devastating blow to the ranks of the undead. He could hear Frost's hooves thundering against the cement beneath them and yet the entirety of his attention remained steadfast upon the woman in front of him, that blade only swinging at any attempt to assist any of those whom came within his periphery.

The woman's intentions entered his mind, thanks only to that contact between himself and the steed beneath him, the man's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, considering this newfound information before a singular thought crossed his mind, an image of Bucephalus and himself on a battlefield long ago and far away from the snow covered hills of Siberia. Still, it seemed to convey his intentions well enough, that steed beneath him offering a single snort of acknowledgement on what was expected of him and, in that moment, he had the utmost faith that Frost would not fail him. His own muscles tensed as they neared their destination, preparing for that moment as Frost so slid beneath him and away from him, providing him that opportune moment to so leap from the creature's back, that sword singing through the air only to collide into steel - exactly as he had anticipated it would. Those quickened reactions of the vampire woman hardly failed her, even in the clash of metal on metal that occurred thereafter. He was hardly astonished, truly, when that woman so took to merely disappearing, his senses nearly heightening in those few moments before she struck again, his body pivoting in place to so ricochet each of those forceful blows off that blade he was so innately connected to. It was surely in that singular moment that the Dark Hunter shined, so embodying that King he had been before his transformation into what he was now.

Although the Hunter was certainly sweating beneath those layers of clothing, he still never failed to retaliate against those cheap shots, his blue-green eyes constantly searching the air surrounding him, looking for any opening she might provide him and, in turn, considering failing to block that very attack if only for the chance to offer his own. It was a long shot but one he was considering all the same. The vampire woman gave him no headway as the battle continued on and yet, he knew well he would run out of stamina far before the undead did. His body tensed, preparing for that blow he knew was coming and yet, this time, Alexander hardly rose that blade to block her own. Instead, he thrust forward quite at the last moment, her sword slamming down into his shoulder whilst his twisted forward and into her stomach. He heard that gasp, himself staggering ever so slightly against the weight of her blade he shifted, however, throwing his weight upon the hilt in an attempt to make that hole within her larger as he dragged that blade upwards. She disappeared within moments, no longer allowing him to beset her with any further damage then he already had. A soft huff left his lips as he rotated his shoulder, that pain already flooding his system and yet, he knew well she would heal within moments. Still, every drop of lost blood would make her all the more desperate - and in that, she would make mistakes.

He hardly anticipated for Frost's assistance, those illusions nearly appearing out of nowhere and yet, they effectively served to confuse the woman as she reappeared in space, the Dark Hunter all too keen to take advantage of that moment. His blade plunged into the woman's heart, the vampire nearly crumpling at his feet as that magic that animated her dead corpse slowly vanished, leaving nothing but a shell of a creature. A soft sigh left his lips as he turned to face the rest of the army and yet, the cavern was altogether silent in the wake of it. Alexander eyed the survivors, that small frown upon his lips at the shaking that had begun to wrack one of the men's frames. Blood loss and the exertion he'd demanded of them clearly had left the poor soul exhausted. Slowly he approached the pair and yet, he hardly swung himself upon the spine of the horse as Frost so clearly anticipated of him. Rather, he gestured at that shaking soul, helping the man step upon that hoof and nearly pushing him onto the creature's back. "Otdykhay. Ty zasluzhivayesh' eto." (Rest now. You deserve it.) He uttered softly towards the man, making some effort to help the man make it through the journey back to civilization, regardless of how doubtful it was. "Keep him warm, Frost." He commanded softly, turning back towards that dead woman only to cut that necklace from her neck - one that held the insignia of the coven they'd decimated. It was hardly the heads of all the fallen but, it would have to do for now. "Let us go home." He muttered, gesturing for the horse to lead the way as he picked up the trail behind the two souls still left upon their feet.