462 - 469

Start the War!

"That king's petty schemes were only ever enough to keep the boredom away, not enough to be amusing." ~ Norton Lorist

"We've just received a message from Baron Camorra!" Jinolio yelped as he rushed into the room, handing Lorist the white silk cloth he brought with him.

Charade, discussing trade with Lorist, saw his expression change as he quickly scanned the message.

"What happened?" asked he.

"Someone's itching to do something. We should teach them a lesson," Lorist said, handing the cloth to Charade, "Take a look. Baron Camorra's supply stations in Jigzai, Freewood, Wesstwood, and Deramak were attacked. The local nobles didn't just refuse to cooperate with our investigation, they even blamed us for attracting bandits. They're demanding compensation."

"Hrmph! Darned thieves are calling blame first! How could our stations be attacked by bandits without the nobles' cooperation? I wouldn't be surprised if the 'bandits' were the nobles themselves. I didn't think the cowards would become this daring the moment the king left. To think they want to prey on us... Do they think we're that easy to bully?"

As the main force would be split two ways, Auguslo had mobilized his army to the southwest in 9th month. He even left Whitelion at the borders of Majik. That way, they could reach Lormo'd border as the rainy season ended.

However, with Auguslo and his army gone, the relatively peaceful empire quickly became rowdy. The nobles, previously pressured into good behavior by the king's massive army, could breathe freely enough to start exploiting everyone else. At least a dozen small wars were fought already in just two months. Some of the less scrupulous nobles even went straight to banditry.

Lorist had never imagined, however, that they would actually have the balls to target his men. Either the provinces had been suck bone dry by the king, or he'd truly killed off everyone with any brain cells at all.

He had set up a dozen supply camps along the route and stocked them to collapse with resources in preparation for the war and subsequent migration. He had not been expecting this level of debasement among the nobles, so he had not manned the route with a lot of men. Even the biggest depots only had a brigade of guards. They were the perfect targets for unscrupulous nobles.

Charade read the letter in detail.

"Camorra didn't mention casualties so it shouldn't be too serious. The same can't be said for our schedule. We're badly behind now. Freyar's forces are just too thinly spread."

Lorist nodded.

"The route is too long. We didn't think of the nobles being this stupid when we came up with our plans. We have to increase the guard. I want to teach the idiots a good lesson too though. It's only been a few years, but they've already forgotten how deadly we can be... Jinolio!"

"Your Grace."

"Take this with you. Send an emergency missive to the king. Tell him we're about to deal with the nobles along the supply line. We cannot send our men into combat if we cannot ensure our supply line's integrity."

"Understood, Your Grace. I'll get to it immediately," said Jinolio as he bowed and left the study.

"The war is just around the corner, we just have to ensure the line's integrity, why get ourselves involved with those insects?" asked Charade.

Lorist tapped his fingers on the desk.

"No. If this were a simple matter of keeping the line safe, it would be no trouble. But I'm worried the nobles will be angered by our retaliation and attack us foolishly even if it won't benefit them. They might be forced into a desperate corner. If things get really bad, we might even have to deal with spiteful sabotage.

"For the nobles it'll only be a venting of their anger, but for us it might cost us the war and hundreds of thousands of lives.

"We have to clean the route entirely of all the polyps growing on it. We have to uproot whoever attacks us, no matter who they are."

"Will the king allow it though?"

"He will. Anyone who interferes in his plans are his enemy. As long as we launch our surprise attack according to plan, he will even close an eye to us wiping out every noble along the road."

Lorist suddenly started.

"FUCK! We've been had."

"Huh? How so?"

Lorist paced about in the study.

"This might be exactly what the king wants. He plans to use us to clean up the aristocratic mess in his land."

Charade's expression soured as well.

"Any proof?"

"It's simple. He's given us the rights to set up these camps, everyone should know how serious he is about this. So why would they interfere and risk having their entire family exterminated? He must have not told them about this. Hahaha..."

Lorist's laughter turned cold.

"It's not just a gut feeling either. Think about it. This was is the most important one he'll fight in his entire life, do you really think he'll let himself make such a mistake when it concerns such an important element of his plan? Of course not! If he'd warned the nobles beforehand, no one would dare attack the depots. They would be challenging the king himself. There was no such announcement, however, so all they see is ripe fruit ready to he picked. At worst they expect this to just be a scuffle between minor nobility."

"So it's the same old trick he used last time?" Charade commented, "He first causes trouble, then gets us to clean his mess for him, and then even uses that as a leash to keep us under his thumb… He will ignore it now because he needs us in the war, but make no mistake, he'll bring it up the first opportunity he gets afterwards.

"So he gets a leash, cleans up a mess, and sours our relationship with the three dukes all in one shot? He must be really proud of his plan. If he can sour our relationship with the dukes, the alliance will be cut off from most possible friends in the empire and they'll be more likely to side with him against us — it would be a great power balancer."

"That is the kind of bastard he is. We are at least as strong as a full-fledged kingdom. Only my loathing to be called a traitor is keeping us under his wings. He will never trust us." Lorist continued, "But is there a point? All he achieves is being looked down on even more. As long as we don't lose the strength we have now, even as an emperor at the head of an empire he will be defenseless and fangless against us. Short of declaring open war on us there will be nothing he can do to try to tame us."

"I doubt he'll really go that far," Charade offered, "He my have an army of 500 thousand, but he knows they're not our match. Our biggest issue is how we're going to deal with this. Tigersoar and Firmrock are on their way to Majik. Should we divert them for them to the trouble areas?"

"No need. The two must rush to prepare for the attack. The 10th month is closing, we don't have much time for rest. Don't waste their time for a few bandits.

"Mobilize a division from Jaeger. Josk can lead them. They'll help Freiyar keep the line safe and patrol the area. Call Els and Reidy back as well. Send them over with a thousand men. They can deal with the nobles interfering in house business."

"What will Jaeger do without either of its commanders?"

"Don't worry. There's still Yuriy and Waxima. They are more than enough. It's time for Josk to see some proper action again and Els is only a fill-in for Yuriy, who can now take over again. It's time Els got a decent position anyway. I'll put him in command of a legion after the war."

On the 31st 10th, Year 1786, Lorist sent the general of Jaeger, Josk, with a division to the supply lines to combat the threat of the unidentified forces of the bandits and nobles. At the same time, he had Reidy and Els lead a thousand guards to investigate and obliviate the noble forces and bandits that played a part in the raiding of the supply stations.

All the way until the 30th of the 11th, House Norton cooked up a bloodstorm along that supply line. Near a hundred bandit bands were wiped out by the sudden attack of Els and Reidy's guard brigade as well as the ferocious pursuit of the Jaeger troops. More than 50 landed nobles were wiped out for involving themselves with the bandits. Their dominions were also raided clean.

Back then, Auguslo enfeoffed less than a hundred noble houses in the central provinces, yet House Norton wiped out half in such a short time. All of a sudden, House Norton's savage reputation spread like wildfire across the provinces. Apart from a few doomed fools, nobody dared to approach the supply line. Even if they had to cross it, they'd rather take the long way around. No one dared to get close to the depots.

On 20th of the 11th, Lorist led a thousand guards to Majik, accompanied by Rank 2 Blademaster Shuss. Sylvia, the four concubines, Lorist's two sons and a few officials were there to send him off.

After bidding them all farewell, Lorist told Belnick, general of the first local defense legion, "I leave The Northlands in your care."

Belnick made a knight's salute.

"Please rest assured, Your Grace. I won't let you down!"

Lorist nodded.

"Depart!"

Baron Abott

"'Winter is your worst enemy.' This is true enough under normal circumstances, but when the Nortons are involved it becomes gospel." ~ Duke Fisablen

The clouds filled the skies. Cold winds blew. Ice feathers fell from the sky, covering the plains and mountains in a white sheet. Winter descended on the world again.

I guess I'm getting old... thought Baron Abott.

No matter how brightly the flame burned in the fireplace, he still shivered in his chair under his thick blanket. His hands clasped it to him and he sipped fruit wine from his golden cup shakily as he stared at the pale world outside his window.

His thoughts went back to the day he would gather his mercenary friends at a local tavern and make merry. Ah, what good days! But, they were not to be anymore. The band no longer existed. Pale-eagle was no more. He still remembered how their leader used to announce he would make the band one of the best in the Union in his many drunken stupors. Everyone, none less drunk than him, would loudly swear their aid in realizing this ambition.

The one-eye owner of the tavern, Mot, would always smile at them kindly if somewhat helplessly. Everyone would cheer with them. No one mocked the young men's dreams. Everyone wished to turn their band into Morante's greatest back then, back when Morante still was the continent's home for mercenaries. It was the highest honor a band could get.

It took them two decades of walking on the edge between life and death, but, with great effort they made it into the twenties. They were just a few ranks from their goal, but that would be their end. Everything changed when the Union became a feudal society. The War of Glass came nearly immediately after. Pale-eagle's leader moved the band to Teribo. He wanted to carve out a small title for himself. To win a place he and his comrades could call home.

Everyone was in high spirits when they departed. They were no longer a small-time band. They were 21st on the rankings. All three leaders were gold-ranks and everyone in the band were silver-ranks, about a hundred of them stood behind the leaders. Things went great for them initially as well. They successfully raided three noble manors and got a lot of spoils. Everyone was convinced this was the right decision. Abott had even gotten to bed several of the noble ladies he could in the past only admire lustfully from a distance.

Their glory was fleeting, however. Ten days into their expedition, their leader caught wind of a massive bounty on a blademaster. He left their camp with forty men. Only three returned.

Pale-eagle was crushed in an instant. Rifts formed between the remaining members as everyone fought for control of what was left. Abott and the band's third-in-command fought each other tooth-and-nail. He suffered a severe wound to his arm whilst the other had an arm and a leg broken. Abott won in the end, but his opponent, unwilling to accept his loss, left with his followers.

Abott had skills, but lacked the charisma needed to hold everything everyone together. His men slowly slipped away one by one. With the band on its last legs, he called in a favor from one of Twin Dragon's deputy supervisors. He'd gotten acquainted with the man by a lucky twist of fate a while back. Through his connections with the guild, he used the band's funds to buy a small barony and its associated title.

The heavy wooden door to the room suddenly swung open and the cold wind burst in from outside. Abott snapped out of his reverie and clutched his blanket even tighter. He gazed at the door through squinted eyes and saw two familiar figures. A huge man stood in front — his chief knight, Adrian — he was an old friend and comrade from the Abott's mercenary days. Behind him stood a slender middle-aged fellow, Krigar — Pale-eagle's former logistics officer, and now his chief treasurer.

"We have returned from our patrol, Milord. The snow is piling up, it's almost to my knee. The livestocks are still fine, though, we've only had one death so far. The slave in charge of it will be punished accordingly," reported Adrian.

"You didn't have him beaten to death, did you?" asked Abott.

"I have not, Milord. Don't worry. I know how to punish. Those pathetics won't be obedient unless they're punished anyway. They're tough so they'll survive the winter regardless."

The baron nodded silently.

"You did well. Appropriate punishment is necessary. They'll slack off otherwise. Just… we spend money on them, so don't kill them. Every death is money down the river. The war is over now, so it won't be cheap to replace lost slaves anymore either. Slaves will become more expensive now again..."

"I understand, Milord."

The Union had caught hundreds of thousands of soldiers during the war. It could not afford to keep and feed them, so the big-seven sold them off as slaves. Well, they weren't technically slaves. The Union always made a big ruckus of individual freedom and condemned slavery. The slaves weren't sold as property, instead the captives' labor rights were what was sold. A civilian served a three year prison sentence and a soldier five. What was bought was the right to use them as labor for the time they were prisoners. They technically had to be released when their term was up. Few people expected this to happen though.

This was one of the Union's most profitable and successful policies to date. It got rid of the housing and feeding burden, sated the nobles' demands for labor, and made a lot of money in the process.

Anderwoff had 80 new nobles, one of which was Baron Abott. Unfortunately it had been cleaned by Andinaq's king just a few years earlier. It was barren of wealth and desolate of people.

When Abott came over seven years ago, there were less than a thousand people in his entire fief. And most of these were only there because they didn't have a skill they could sell elsewhere. He had managed to cobble together a few thousand people through recruitment efforts and wars with his neighbors. His barony had just over 10 thousand subjects now. His was the strongest territory in the region at the moment. The only problem was that the majority of his subjects were elderly and could not do much hard labor. To alleviate this problem he'd bought three hundred youths from the Union.

"Everything is good in the manor as well, Milord," reported Krigar.

"You two did well as well. Come, let's have a drink and warm ourselves up. There's a small cow leg over there, Adrian. Bring it over and we'll roast some."

Abott didn't put up any airs in front of his companions in private. He may be a noble by title now, but he was still just a common mercenary at heart. It made him beloved by his old friends and kept his old subordinates loyal, but left him isolated from noble circles. The other wannabe nobles from his region didn't like that he wasn't upholding their new, pretentious customs.

The three sat around the fire enjoying the warmth and food together.

"Now this is life," Abott groaned, "We should build a proper stone castle next year."

He wasn't troubled by the other nobles' mockery, but his lack of a stone castle irked him. This was his seventh year as a noble, but he had yet to put a single stone on top of another. Proper nobles had proper castles, but he lived in nothing more than a hut. It wouldn't even be considered a wooden castle — it needed a palisade to be a wooden castle, and it lacked even that.

"We need not defend the borders anymore so we'll have the manpower soon enough. But what will we do about the materials and costs?" asked Adrian.

Auguslo I attacked their neighboring duchies four years earlier. Word only reached them via an envoy from Duke Handra asking for help when they were all but overrun already. The nobles were utterly bewildered. Some immediately marched for the duchy to help defend it, whilst other packed up and prepared to run to Morante. Just as everyone was about to scatter their own way, Wessia's vice-president toured the region and calmed everyone down. They were all Union nobles, a superpower on the continent. Yes, most of their forces were caught up in the war to the south, but they were far from defenseless, at the very least they had a swordsaint. The king would not anger them even if he only had half a brain.

His words calmed everyone and time proved him right. After the dukes submitted, Andinaq ended the war and withdrew. They left Whitelion behind but they only took up defensive positions and stared at Anderwoff across the border.

Things weren't completely golden, however. The many minor nobles banded together and formed a 10 thousand strong standing army just in case. Several years had passed now, however, and Andinaq had showed no movement that indicated any intent to invade. People were beginning to ask whether the army should perhaps not be disbanded. The army cost the nobles most of their budgets, ones that were already strapped thin because of their lands' desolation.

They couldn't just leave the border undefended, however. What would they do if Andinaq did decide to invade? Their solution was to put everyone on a rotation of sorts. They would draw lots every three years and the losers had to man the border until the next round. To keep this from disproportionately affecting smaller, less populated fiefs, it was decided that each lord only had to contribute one twentieth of his population to this duty. This system only counted for the men, however. Everyone would contribute the resources needed to feed, clothe, and house the forces.

Abott, the lucky man, had drawn a losing lot. He could not refuse, so he sent out five hundred youths and Adrian. His term would be up this winter and his men would finally return. Their absence were why he had to buy the 300 slaves.

Abott smiled.

"You might not be aware, but Auguslo is rallying his forces. He's preparing to invade the Union. We're lucky, though. His forces are gathering in the southwest so we won't have to fight this time. He must be wanting to push straight for Morante, and there is much closer."

"No wonder Whitelion left the border. Their side of the border now only matches ours. I suspect they might even be greenhorns. That said, they haven't slacked, I saw no gaps in their defenses before I left. We couldn't sneak any scouts through." Adrain commented.

"At least we have nothing to worry about. We can watch other fight from the sidelines. We should focus on our own business when the war starts next year. Viscount Wamus must be the one who rigged the draw… He made me waste three years. We'll use the fountain as an excuse to start a war with him. He only knows how to talk, he can't fight. He only has 200 men and only three of them are silver-ranks. We can steamroll him easily. It's just too bad we aren't allowed to kill other nobles… We'll just strip his land and castle clean. The worst the Union can do is send someone over to keep an eye on us for a while. They might not even bother if the war gets serious enough.

"We'll take what we don't have from our neighbors. Haha... We didn't waste the three years we spent on the border. I should thank you, Adrian. You've trained our men into a strong force."

Krigar looked incredibly elated.

"It's about time we dealt with that prick. He openly mocked us last time we met… So what if we were mercenaries? They were just merchants!"

Abott laughed heartily but cut it short mid-laugh.

"I hear something outside."

Soft rustling broke through the winds lonely wails.

Adrian stood up.

"Let me check..."

A couple of people dressed in white capes and pelts rushed into the room through the door. Their eyes, swords, and spears glinted viciously in the flickering fire-light.

"Don't move!" one yelled, "Keep your arms where I can see them! Drop your weapons and kneel! Surrender and you'll be spared!"

Surprise Attack Ongoing

"Fate is fickle and wretched. It robs a man of is friends and swamps him with enemies. Some, it even turns from friend to foe. And the worst part of it all is that man makes his own fate." ~ Norton Lorist

The wooden houses in the distance burned brightly. Crimson streaks stained the white ground. Pained cries echoed out of agonized mouths and mixed with the wailing winter wind.

The last three days' heavy snow had stopped just in time to fail to cover this horrid scene. A few streaks criss-crossed the thick clouds, giving glances of the blue sky; Needles of sunlight mocked the world below.

Lorist's expression gloomed at the hut in front of him. 173 Tigersoar soldiers' bodies lay in neat rows on the ground in front of them. Many were missing limbs and several had severe wounds on their torso. Their crimson-stained bodies were tragic against the pure snow.

"What happened here? How could a ruddy manor cause so many casualties among my men?"

Pale words seeped out through the gaps between Lorist's teeth. Who knew what kind of fire burned in his heart?

"It's my fault, Your Grace," Dulles said as he stepped forward, "We didn't expect this old manor to be Baron Abott's dominion, the one Sir Tarkel warned in his list we should be extra careful about. He used to be the Union's 21st-ranked mercenary band's vice-captain. He was a gold-ranked know as 'Goldeagle'.

"One of the troops from a scout company discovered this run-down manor. None of us associated it with Baron Abott. They rushed in to force its occupants to surrender, but found the baron and his knight inside. The entire company was wiped out.

"Baron Abott prepared to attack us, but we caught up too quickly. We lost 421 people in total, 173 of them lie here, dead. The baron only lost 70. Everyone's been beheaded."

House Norton's military units were divided into squads of ten, their leader a sergeant. Ten squads made a company, their leader a lieutenant. Per the house's winter protocols, the scout company would watch a spotted target from afar undiscovered while it waited for the main force to attack.

Furybear finished their investigation of Anderwoff's nobility more than a year earlier. Their informants donned various disguises and roles and scoured every corner of the region. They recorded everything, from the number of the noble's men, to the daily routines of their servants. Tigersoar only needed to look through Tarkel's list and act accordingly and the region could be taken in a few weeks.

The only mistake they'd made so far was the one currently being confronted. The baron was marked as a target of concern requiring caution because of his retinue's size, but three days of incessant snowfall made it almost impossible to match map to land. So, despite his mansion being marked on the map, no one realized the unassuming hut was his residence.

Most people assumed all decent nobles lived in stone castles, so no one thought the little wooden motte-and-bailey castle would belong to Baron Abott. At best they thought it belonged to an inconsequential, broke minor noble. It might possibly even just be used as whilst the noble hid out the winter in the nearest large town. Given their disposition, the officer launched an attack without proper preparation or consideration.

When the soldiers rushed in, the baron and his knight fought back ferociously. The two-star gold-ranked baron, his three-star silver-ranked knight, and his one-star iron-ranked treasurer massacred their attackers. The group realized their mistake too late and were slaughter to a man. The three broke out of the hut, immediately rallied their men and attacked the rest of the company.

Fortunately, the reinforcements arrived at almost the same time. They arrived as the baron was killing the last of the scouts, he had yet to find out who was attacking. Seeing their comrades' corpses, they returned the favor with furious gusto.

The first squad to arrive couldn't match their opponents and lost quite a few men initially. The situation quickly stabilized as more reinforcements arrived and soon the tables turned. The three men were finally overpowered when about a hundred more had arrived.

Lieutenant Dulles's arrival was the final straw. A gold rank himself, Dulles ignored the baron's attempts to surrender and beheaded him on the spot. The knight attempted to escape but was skewered by the just-arrived ballistae. Out of all the men, only the treasurer was taken captive, barely alive.

"Goldeagle Abott..." Lorist stared at the corpse. He recognizes the face in spite of its state.

The old man could be considered an old acquaintance. Lorist's first paycheck was related to him, in fact. He, Charade, and a few friends had gathered some capital to have some modern rucksacks made and sold at the mercenary guild. Some rowdy mercenaries wanted to buy them at an extremely low price. Goldeagle Abott had stepped in and helped them. He paid a huge price to buy all their remaining rucksacks and also made an order for another batch.

Lorist was out of contact with the house at the time and had to work as a lowly bronze-ranked mercenary for his semester fees and living costs. The rucksacks were one of the means he'd used. If not for Abott's intervention, he might've been beaten alongside Charade.

Two decades later, because of a twist of fate, Lorist's benefactor, had become an enemy and was now dead, killed at the hands of his beneficiary's men. A long sigh escaped Lorist's mouth, but he remained silent. He made sure Dulles gave the man a proper burial before leaving.

On the 27th of the 12th, Year 1786, Lorist's Tigersoar used the strong snowfall to occupy the whole of Anderwoff without Wessia's knowledge. Frederika was in a festive mood in preparation for the new year's celebration.

Given the surprising number of casualties in the operation — mainly from the Abott incident — Lorist decided to slow down and take the necessary precautions going forward. He reached Frederika only on the 21st of the 1st.

"We've arrived, Your Grace," Potterfang and Malek shouted as they rushed over.

They were gathered in a large snow-made dome. It was indistinguishable from the terrain at a glance. Many of these 'mounds' dotted the hillside, connected by ditches and tunnels dug into the white blanket covering the land. Men could move without anyone on top knowing any better. They would only be discovered if someone quite literally stumbled over or into one of their constructions. A large tent filled the inside. Eight braziers filled its corners, fueled by smoldering coal.

"How are things coming along?"

Lorist removed his furs, handing them to Jinolio, before motioning for the rest to take their seats.

Potterfang brought out a map of the capital and lay it on the wooden table.

"This will be a tough battle," he commented, his expression solemn.

"How so?" asked Lorist.

"Wessia completely reworked the city's defenses. Most of the layouts we have are completely useless now.

"We've investigated as best we can. The city is split into five districts. The center is the inner-city district, where the palace is. It's now surrounded by a high wall. The eastern district houses the high-class' residences, the southern district holds most of the city's industry and commerce, the western district contains most of the military, and the low-classes live in the slum of the northern district.

"The city used to have 200 thousand inhabitants, but after the king's attack several years ago, that dropped to 100 thousand. Most now live in the slums and serve their Union overlords. Wessia clearly considers Frederika crucial. They use it to store most of their wealth, especially that taken from the region. They've split up the region up between 37 new nobles. We don't have to worry about their forces in the city as long as we take them by surprise, but that's the issue. The castle has several good lookout points that can keep an eye on most of the city and all the approaches to the castle.

"Wessia has taken Frederika's previous fall very serious and have made adjustments to make sure it can't happen again. We've noticed all their properties light torches every 10 days. It must be a way to check whether a place has fallen to an enemy. We've waited for your arrival rather than attack on our own when we can't finish everything in one go.

"The city itself has a 45 thousand strong garrison. The nearby fortifications can reinforce the city with a further 18 thousand within a few hours though. We've confirmed Sir Tarkel's report; they do indeed have four blademasters, though only one, maybe two, are in the city. One is stationed in the city specifically, the second protects the guild president, so his presence or absence depends on whether the president is in the city or not. Of the other two, one is guarding the guild's properties in Morante and the other is with the forces they've deployed to Jigda. The ones guarding the guild's properties are new recruits.

"We noticed most of the city's inhabitants are still active. Their clothes aren't as good as ours, but it's enough to let them move and work outside despite the cold. The city walls' defenses are also tighter than the castle's. The walls are patrolled every two hours, and each tower is manned. We don't have a good chance of slipping in undetected.

"We've set up camp so far from the city so we won't be discovered, if not for their tight defenses we would have done so much closer. We've sent out three divisions to set up positions all around the city. When we're joined by Tigersoar, we will be strong enough to attack.

"We don't have any elegant solutions to taking the city. Brute force is the only real option. I'm concerned even now Wessia might realize something's amiss and rally their 50 thousand miners. If they do, we won't be able to take the city without a protracted siege."

"Is the secret path His Majesty used still an option? Can attack through there?" Lorist enquired.

Potterfang shook his head.

"I've already taken a look. Lady Glacia gave us an accurate map, but Wessia found the tunnel and sealed it. It's not an option."

"Let's leave things at that for now. We'll discuss our plan of action after Tigersoar catches up. They should be here in two days."

Siege

"A wall is not as strong as the stone from which it is built, but the mettle of the men that man it." ~ Unknown

The city of Frederika used to be a glorious settlement in the southwest of the Krissen Empire. To its north was Cloudsnap Mountains and to its south Sunset Mountains. It sat in the great valley between these two mountain ranges. It was a rare location with rich farmland and plentiful resources. The city was in Bodolger, one of the most economically prosperous and important provinces in the empire. It was approximately 5 kilometers across; its walls nine meters tall in places, just half a meter shy of the imperial capital's. Towers dotted the wall at hundred meter intervals -- it was considered one of the empire's most well-fortified cities. That reputation was shattered two years earlier.

Auguslo crossed Cloudsnap in the middle of winter and stormed the city. One of the empire's jewels fell in a single night. Everyone realized: walls are not as strong as the stones of which they are built, but the mettle of the men manning them.

There weren't any secret passages leading into the city, neither were there any insiders who had contact with the outside. The garrison was on constant alert and the walls incessantly patrolled regardless of weather. Each tower stood four floors above the walls, each fitted with three ballistae. In effect, each hundred meter segment of wall could be targeted by up to 24 ballistae at any given moment. The soldiers on the walls could be dealt with relatively easily, but the ballistae were another story.

A protracted siege. This was the only viable option Lorist, Potterfang, and Malek had. Even in this bone-white winter the walls were defended tightly. They could not assault the walls, only a fool would do that. But Lorist didn't want to spend the months, possible years here necessary to topple the city. Even just the few weeks it would take to pound the walls into collapse was too much. It was already the 25th of the 1st. The snow would have begun to melt by the time they had the siege engines in place. It was meaningly to pound the walls during this time. Even if they collapsed immediately, attacking over open, muddy fields was suicide. He had to take the city before the snow melts.

They would attack at dawn. That was the moment the guard all across the city changed and the rising sun blinded half of the city's wall. Even better would be a strong snowstorm or blizzard. It would almost entirely mitigate the biggest danger of this plan: the approach to the walls. Lorist was entirely confident that the battle would be won if he could get his men onto the walls before they were noticed.

Lorist had the almost entirely unique propensity to lead his men from the front, right where the fighting would be the thickest. This time would be no different. He brushed aside his entire council's counsel; he was determined to be the first Norton over the walls. He was the best man for the job of getting on the walls and slaughtering his way to the gate. If he let others do it, they might be discovered or killed. If this happened it would become a drawn-out battle they could not afford, neither in terms of time or casualties.

His council eventually gave up. Apart from Blademaster Shuss and Reidy, who could match Lorist for a few dozen exchanges, no one could even come close to being in his realm. It was a knight's shame to have their lord charge at the front of the formation, but they had no choice, they could not do this task for their liege.

Lorist, Shuss, Reidy, and Els would lead the charge. The first two would take the two towers next to the northern gate while Reidy and Els would hold the enemy off the gate itself while they waited for the rest of the force to charge through. Els would take charge once the main force arrived and push into the city while Josk held the walls. Reidy would take a detachment and charge along the walls to take the other three gates. Firmrock would then charge through them and join the fight in the city proper. Tigersoar's Loze would have the honor of being the first to set foot in the city -- he was beaming about it.

The first gate to be opened, opened into the military district, so Els and Tigersoar would be charging right into the district to wipe the defenders out. Once the fighting moved from the walls into the city proper, Malek would occupy the walls with one of Firmrock's divisions to make sure no one escaped.

Potterfang drew the short straw this time. He would stay outside the city and lead Firmrock's three other divisions from there. He could only enter the city once Malek occupied the walls. The inner district would only be assaulted once the rest of the city was secure. His hope was that its defenders would surrender before it had to be assaulted because, unlike the rest of the city, it would be on full alert long before the first Norton soldier even got close to the inner walls.

The snow was light and the skies dark on this, the 30th of the 1st. The cold winds howled over Frederika's walls and around the corners of the city's building and down its narrow streets and dark alleyways.

The army rested for the attack that would start at dawn. Jinolio woke Lorist at three. He had something to eat and donned his armor. Shuss, Reidy, and Els joined him soon afterwards, all clad in light-gray fur. Black veils covered their eyes and white masks their faces. White capes dangled behind their backs.

The skies were gray-black outside. The snow danced in a rowdy wind that howled down the mountainside into the valley and out onto the plains beyond. Every breath froze the lungs and men tough as tigers shivered like rattlesnakes in the cold.

Lorist stomped on the ground and took in a few deep breaths. Looking at the figures moving about in the camp, he asked, "You ready?"

His three companions nodded.

"Then let's go."

The four spectres slid through the white wasteland, heading for a pale-gray horizon broken up every so often by pale-gray protrusions that reached into the sky. They covered in half an hour what mortal men could only in a day and a half.

The only upside to a winter siege here was that the moat was frozen solid and covered by snow. Two months from now it would be an insurmountable obstacle to any besieger, but now it did not exist at all. It vanished beneath the snow and beneath the four spectres' skis and was behind them in a moment.

The horizon had vanished now, replaced by a solid mass of gray stone that stretched into the heavens. Lorist listened for any movement, but could hear only his own breathing and heartbeat, and the lonely howl of the wind. The four removed their skis. Each took two short black daggers from their backpacks and prepared to scale the wall.

A thin layer of ice covered the walls. However, the daggers infused with Dark Stage force dug into the walls like they were leather. A slight push was all it took to dig the blade into the stone.

When they were about to reach the top, footsteps sunk into snow above. The patrol. Luckily no one was willing to expose his face to the cold in order to check the walls below, so the four remained undetected. They didn't even talk.

They had just passed where the four were climbing when Lorist vaulted over the top and landed right behind them. He matched their march and followed onwards. The rearmost guard noticed the extra set of footsteps and turned to look, only to feel a coldness puncture his chest halfway through. His body turned limped, and he collapsed soundless.

Lorist followed the patrol all the way to the tower, unnoticed. As the leader of the thirty strong patrol reached the door, Lorist dashed forward, felling a man with each step he took, to come up behind the man and his torch-bearer as he opened the door.

The floor was split in two. The one in which Lorist was now, was a passage that continued on to the other side while the other spiraled into a staircase. It should have been guarded by two men, but the gold had bested them and there were off somewhere warm, napping. The pair thought nothing of the sentries' absence. They charged at the nearest brazier to warm themselves.

"You guys should warm up, too. We'll continue short--"

The last word stuck in the man's throat. He saw none of his men behind him, only a tall, black shadow like death itself in the doorway.

"You..."

Swords flashed brightly as the captain and his compatriot rushed at the shadow. It stepped forward and hoisted the two bodies into the air before gently lowering them into a corner, careful not to disturbed the others nearby.

Reidy and Els showed up at the doorway as it did that.

"Where's Shuss?" asked Lorist.

Reidy pointed to the tower on the opposite end of the gate.

Lorist nodded.

"Let's continue with the plan."

Both nodded. Reidy picked up the torch and followed Els out of the tower, twirling it twice. The gray abyss beyond the wall squirmed like a pit of worms. One shadow after another stepped out of the void and hug the wall. Els dropped a rope down the wall and the shadows began to ascend the wall one by one. The first shadow to reach the top of the wall was Josk, followed by two guards carrying two more ropes. Soon, three ropes hung down the walls and the number of shadows escaping the abyss grew.

Lorist descended the stairs and exited the tower onto the walls, blood running down the stairs behind him. The twelve soldiers on the three upper floors had been snoring like dogs, the arrow slits boarded up. It would not be surprising if even lightning could not wake them. No lookouts mounted the roof either. The walls themselves were completely deserted, their supposed occupants clustered around the islands of warmth that dotted the edge of the world. The fifty Lorist had come across thus far, all went to Singwa's welcome embrace quietly and peacefully.

Reidy prepared to move onto the next tower and start his trek along the walls, Els was descending the tower to clear the gate.

"Hold on. Let me take the gate. Els, go with Reidy. Pretend to be a patrol so you can get in without issue."

Reidy's eyes flashed, and he quickly gathered 40 guards and lined them into two rows. Torch in hand, he marched with Els to the next tower. Around thirty men remained with Lorist, whom he had take up positions in the tower. More continued to pour out of the darkness. None made a sound as they climbed into the wall. SIlently, the continued into the tower.

A shadow emerged from the tower at the other end of the barbican, twirling a torch twice. Lorist let out a relieved sigh.

"Thirty of you, cross the barbican and take up position in the other tower. Also, ask Blademaster Shuss whether he'll attack the next tower. If he will, we'll send someone over to back him up," instructed Lorist.

The 30 guards dashed across soundlessly.

The guards were getting onto the walls too slowly.

"Joe, stand guard here. I'll take the gate now. Send the men down on my signal."

Though his personal guards were far more capable than Tigersoar or Firmrock's men, Lorist worried that bringing them down the walls would alert the enemy. He planned to take the gate himself.

He descended the spiral staircase within the tower. It emerged right behind the gate. He poked his head out carefully, but realized there were no guards, only a large bonfire. It was already dead, only a thin trail of smoke disappeared into the gray sky from the ashes.

"Hey, you, what are you doing, looking around as you get down from the walls?" rebuked a voice from the gatehouse.

"Ah, nothing much," Lorist said as he headed for the gate, "The captain told me to get him something to eat."

"Oh, go check if there's anything by the bonfire. Maybe some sweet potatoes haven't been eaten yet," said the voice, "Oh, and bring me some as well!"

Lorist made his way to the bonfire next to the gatehouse and peeked inside. Inside were 20 slumbering sentries. The one closest the door must be the one who'd just seen him. He leaned against the wall lazily, clutching a blanket to him shiveringly. A pretty decent idea. The garrison could sleep in the gatehouse warmed by the fire outside it while still technically manning their posts. It was killing two birds with one stone.

He slowly unsheathed his sword. The moment the tip left the scabbard, a horn sounded from the walls. The horn only blew for a moment before it was abruptly silenced.

The soldier leaning against the wall started.

"The alarm! Get up you idiots!" roared he.

From Attack to Defense

"A great commander is not defined by his plans. He is not defined by how well he can come up with strategies. What defines a great commander, are the moments when his plan doesn't work. When things do not go the way he wants. When he has his back against the wall, sometimes literally. And he has to think on his feet. A great commander -- as well as his legacy -- is forged in moments such as these." ~ Unknown

Lorist drew his sword and dashed forward. A flash of his bladeglow saw the garrison soldier silenced. The corpse slowly collapsed in two halfs. Lorist's cut straight through him. The others, still only half awake, saw the flash and their compatriot's collapse and froze. They couldn't cry no matter how hard they tried. The abyss soon greeted them as it did their comrade.

Lorist stepped out of the barbican covered in blood. He lifted his gaze to the top of the wall to call his men, but a cry behind him interrupted.

"Enemy attack! Alarum! Alarum! Ugh!"

Lorist finished his jerk only to see the last moments of the figure whence the cry had arose's collapse. An arrow stood proudly, rooted in his neck, its tip replacing his tongue.

Moments later the buildings across the street's windows lit up, shadows dashed back and forth across them, and confused cries burst from inside. One door after another opened and soldiers poured out like hornets from a disturbed nest. Josk first continuously, but could not keep up. His shots were soon ineffective as shielded combatants charged out in front. They spotted the bloody Lorist and dashed at him as fast as they could.

His guards descended as fast as they could to join their lord, but would not arrive in time. Josk continued to fire. Lorist yelled at the gate. Once he saw the archer nod and direct the men emerging from the barbican to the gate, he turned to meet his attackers.

The city woke lazily to the alarms that spread across it. Dawn broke in bell chorus. Murder, death, and struggles for life chased away the darkness.

"Die!"

Lorist charged into the enemy's ranks like a dying tiger, slashing out ferociously like his death was certain and the only thing left to determine was how many would go with him. He didn't use his slaughter domain. He wasn't taxed even though he was using only his reflexes.

Heads divorced their bodies wherever his sword passed. They fell wordlessly, only the clinking and rustle of their armor audible as they flattened on the ground. Though could not keep track of their reaper's movements. It could only be glimpsed in the last moment of life when death was already drawing the soul from the body. One continuous strike, felled the men like they were nothing, like stalks before the scythe. Those not yet on the other side froze like their departed brethren. A moment later, Lorist drew his sword from flesh and looked around. Everyone was gone before he'd even gotten to enjoy himself. How unfair...

The new arrivals stood at a distance, staring at him. Behind him the reaped field stood empty. A hundred stalks had been felled. The furrow was littered with head divorced of bodies. Red oozed out of the point of divorce, and a crimson odor hung sickly between the buildings. Twenty unfelled stalks stood ahead, shivering in the wind. None had dreamt their harvest would come so soon. The wind, as if privy to the scene, quieted, and only the chattering of teeth remained, an eerie silence otherwise.

Clang! A giant metal leaf fell to the ground. The shock rippled through the unfelled stalks. A moment later a second, then a third, soon twigs joined the leaves. The repeated din of the falling parts uprooted the stalks and they dashed away with the wind.

"Demon! Demon!" they serenaded as they drifted away.

The masses withdrew like autumn leaves blew by the wind. Their reaper was left speechless, standing alone in the empty field, rubbing his nose embarrassedly.

Was I that terrifying? They actually called me a demon!

Lorist couldn't bring himself to chase his victims. His priority was to open the gate and let the troops waiting outside in. Just as he returned to the walls, however, one of his men reported bad news.

"The gate is frozen shut, Your Grace. We can't open it. Also, the gate is entire wrapped in iron, so we can't set fire to it either."

Lorist stared wide-eyed at the two three-meter tall doors that made the gate[1]. Usual gates were made out of wood and covered in iron or copper on the outside.

Is Wessia boasting their riches? They actually used black iron to make the gates, not to mention the latches that were 30 centimeters long and 8 centimeters thick… Must be from the cold. Everything is frozen into a single solid mass! Putting aside pushing, even ramming wouldn't open them.

"Is Wessia insane? Did they intend to lock themselves in every winter?"

He suddenly realized the northern gates didn't have to be opened in winter. If there were any emergencies, they could leave through any of the other gates. He was just unlucky to have chosen the northern gate for his assault.

The gates could technically be opened, but they didn't have the time needed. They'd have to fire the gate up first, then pour oil into the latches before working to open it. They couldn't afford to spend time on this. The men on the other side had to rush in immediately.

"Can't you cut the latches?"

"No, Your Grace."

The man pointed at the middle latch.

The scratches on it showed they'd already tried. The deepest cut only struck through a few millimeters. Cutting would be no faster than the other option.

"Can't we just bash a hole in it?" Lorist persisted. Since he couldn't deal with the latches, he would just bust through the gate itself.

"We can't, we've tried already. The iron on the gates is just as hard as the latches, and the wood beneath very hard," replied the guard as he pointed at a few scratches on the gates.

Just like with the latches, the deepest barely made a dent. Lorist stared through the crack between the two doors. They were at least twenty centimeter thick, if not more. Beyond he could see Loze charging the final few meters to the other side.

He turned his attention to the latches again. He could probably cut through it, but it would still take him at least an hour. He would need at least five all-exhaustive strikes, and at least ten minutes of rest between each to recover his strength. Everyone inside the walls would be dead long before he finished. And if the city's one or possibly two blademasters showed up, he would have no strength to fight them.

The horns of alarm bellowed every further away into the city. The enemy was deploying. Lorist's expression grimmed.

"Your Grace, the gates to the military district are open!! At least a regiment's worth of men are coming this way! We only have a few minutes!"

Lorist laughed bitterly. Everything was fucked up the moment that single soldier managed to call out. Nobody expected Wessia to change the two gates. He checked his surroundings. He had less than 200 men with him when the mission began. Of that, only six had not left with Els and Shuss. And, though more were constantly pouring over the walls, they could not match the rate at which the enemy could march men through open gates.

He slapped himself and sprang into action. He had Josk send word to Malek, Dulles, and Loze to find a way to scale the walls. He had the men on the walls prioritize turning the ballistae on the city. He also recalled Els and Shuss's detachments to the nearest towers along the wall. The plan was fubar, and he now had to do what he hated most -- improvise. There would be no quick conquest of the city now, but at least they had established a foothold on the wall without any casualties so the greatest hurdle had already been overcome. Victory was still far from uncertain, it would just take longer and be harder earned than was ideal.

"Worridge, take a few men and clean up the buildings nearby. Collect everything burnable you can find and pile it up by the gates. We'll melt the bastards if we have to!" ordered he.

Worridge was Viscount Eidis' eldest son. He was currently a peak three-star-silver-rank. Lorist predicted he would break through to the gold rank in two or three years. He'd joined Lorist's personal guards with his brother Sykos and performed really well. He climbed the ranks from a corporal to a lieutenant-major. His brother Sykos was transferred to Jaeger and now a full major.

"Understood, Your Grace." Worridge took a hundred men and started scouring the nearby buildings.

Lorist had the remaining men build makeshift barricades with whatever they could find. They acted quickly and several barricades quickly blocked the streets. Some had even taken the initiative to pour water on the roads in front of the barricades. The water immediately froze and made it all but impossible to stay upright.

The roles were reversed, the attacker was now the defender. An hour had passed since the attack started, and the first rays of sunlight were hitting the tallest towers of the castle that watched over the city from the hill in its middle. The enemy's reaction was far faster than he had anticipated. He could only admire their discipline. The battle ahead was going to be even more bloody than he had first feared.

The soldiers weren't the only ones woken by the commotion. The peasants were also roused from their fitful slumber. The slum-dwellers gathered at the ends of the blocks. Their weapons glinted, reflecting the lightening sky. Figures pushed them aside and reformed in front. The front row hid behind shields, but pikes stabbed through the gaps between them and an additional row jabbed over the first's shoulders.

"Pikemen!"

Doubt flashed across Lorist's eyes. Looks like Wessia sent their elites.

Worridge returned with his men at that moment. They piled their plunder against the gate. The oil was poured out of their containers and lamps were smashed onto the pile. Several torches immediately followed and everything went up in smoke-choked flames.

"Worridge! Form everyone up behind the barricades! Keep the enemy away from the gate at all costs! Don't follow or send anyone after me! Understand?"

"I understand, Milord!"

Lorist vaulted over the barricades. He slid across the ice on the road and dashed on. His steps halted fifty or so meters beyond. His scabbard emptied, and he faced the oncoming black mass.

The mass became regular slowly as it approached, its footsteps regular and uniform, unrushed. It eventually stopped 40 meters away from Lorist. Silence pervaded.

A cry, and the battle was raging.

[1] That's one damn small gate for a city supposed to be as big as Frederika is… Plus, it's damn poor gate design. It's standard for gates to have at least two layers of ubstruction in a barbican with a killing pit between… Each double layer usually has an iron gate dropped down from the barbican above, and either a single or double door several dozen centimeter thick behind it. The doors are not always there, but the drop down steel gate is ubiquitous.

Danger

"Who are you? Why are you attacking the city? Do you want a war with the Union?" yelled a high-pitched voice.

Lorist laughed heartily.

"Who says this is the Union's territory? I only know this as Frederika, the capital of the Krissen Empire's Bodolger province! House Norton has come to reclaim this land for the empire! The entire city is surrounded, there is no escape, you foul dogs! If you want to save your dog lives, you will drop your weapons and surrender now!"

Everyone immediately felt something was off. What gave a single man the courage to yell such obscenities when facing an entire regiment of heavily armored men alone, in the middle of their lands at their headquarters, no less? A small commotion broke out in the enemy formation, but it quickly subsided when what must be their commander shouted furiously.

"Who, then, are you?" the same high-pitched voice enquired.

"I am the duke of The Northlands, the head of House Norton, Norton Lorist."

Another commotion.

"He must be insane! Is he going against the entire city on his own?" one voice murmured.

"Even blademasters have to run against such odds!" another chimed in.

"Does he think his title is enough to scare us?" a third asked.

"Howling Bastards! Attack! First Company to the wall! Second Company, sweep the neighbourhood! Third and Fourth Company, reinforce First and Second! Fifth Company, forward!" the commander's orders came.

Bastard, did you think I wouldn't notice those men on the wall? You've shown your hand. They aren't enough to be from a full-scale assault. This must be a lead party to open the gates for the main assault. The fact that you're standing here, alone, means your men must still be trying to open the gate and you're here to buy them time… I'll take back the walls first then slaughter you from above! thought he.

The men acted immediately. The formation split into three neat groups. One headed for the wall, the other vanished between the buildings. The third formed a thick wall of spear and shield and advanced on Lorist slowly, each step shaking the ground.

"Let nothing stop your advance! Wipe them from our city!" the same, shrill voice yelled.

As they closed the last couple of meters between them and Lorist, the clash on the wall began. Luckily for Lorist's men, they met the enemy as they came to the wall up the stairs, so they didn't have to face their set formation. Instead they fought them in a loose conglomerate of a line. Even so, this was not a fight his men could win easily. The enemy had the better armor, and the greater numbers. The armor, however, was both a blessing and a curse in this instance. Fighting on the steps was not easy when one's helmet and breastplate kept one from seeing the steps at one's feet. A single misstep sent the hunks of metal hurtling to the ground several meters below, or opened them to a fatal strike from their more nimble enemies.

It was Wessia's mistake to send only close-quarters units to retake the walls. Archers could have massacred the Nortons as they fought on the steps. Lorist would have had no way to counter them. His men had neither shield nor bow. Josk was the only one who could strike back. Since he was not occupied with enemy archers, his strikes also reigned down on the turtles ascending the stairs.

The enemy was already wavering, and, at this moment, their own ballistae in the towers, fired on them. Their morale could not take it. They shivered like children in cold wind. Their steps slowed and their footing failed them, but they did not retreat. The steps were wide enough for two men to walk side-by-side. Two of the bulky spearmen could not fit side-by-side, but one could hold the front and a second strike around him. They abandoned this tactic when the ballista started firing, opting to hug the wall single file instead.

The towers were never meant to fire on the city itself. They were positioned to fire outwards, away from the city, and to cover the tops of the walls. They could only barely catch the outer edges of the stairs. They also had to avoid hitting their own troops, so they were only a threat to the men walking recklessly close to the edge of the stairs.

The ballista at the very top of the towers, however, could fire into the city. The buildings made it difficult to see the enemy, though, and they could only catch them in a few spots. The enemy responded by pulling the doors off the buildings and using them to block up the spots so the enemy could not see them easily. Even if the ballista simply shot through the gaps, most of the bolts' energy was sapped and it didn't pose much of a threat to the men on the other side.

"Attack!" shouted the commander as he thrust his pike at Lorist, a lazy smile on his face. Like a peacock flaunting its plumage, near a hundred pikes struck at Lorist. There was only one way to move, backwards.

He took two steps back at the last moment, leaving the spears to eat the air milllimeters from him.

Damnit… if only mine was a little longer, thought all men.

Their miss did not discourage them though. The withdrew their pikes, stepped forward, and repeated. So what if their opponents withdrew? They could just keep going until they were cornered. Neither this insane duke nor his pitiful barricades could stop them.

Their eyes swelled in terror and their pupils shrunk. Lorist moved forward with the pikes as they retracted. He held onto a spear-tip and let it pull him forward like he were a feather stuck to it. They reacted too late. Lorist was slaughtering his way through their ranks the moment after they noticed him. They cried like a chorus, wailing in despair at their fate.

Their pikes, so powerful at range, were useless once he was in their ranks. They could do nothing but watch him fell them like ripe wheat. Those not yet dead when they noticed what was happening dropped everything and ran. Some peaked over their shoulders to find the devil walking towards them on a road of corpses.

The men at the rear glared at their fleeing comrades, then charged forward, through their compatriots. They had only one thought on their minds.

"Kill him!"

The front infantry snapped out of it. They died of shame and their furious corpses charged back into the fray.

"To hell with you!" shouted the first to reach Lorist and was promptly beheaded.

Countless others charged forward to replace him. Lorist withdrew another two steps to avoid the mass of spears, only to find another mass ready to meet him. This disorganized mass was actually more challenging than an organized, orderly formation. He could deal with it using his slaughter domain, but he wished to reserve it for the blademaster.

Battle burst out behind him. Worridge and his men had finally met the enemy that had moved through the houses. Lorist flung corpses at his pursuers as he retreated and slaughtered his way through the enemy behind him.

Josk joined again with three arrows, clearing a portion of the steps. The steps were littered with arrowed corpses, as were the streets. He'd fired hundreds of arrows since the fight began. His shoulders were beginning to ache and his shots waver. He had maybe another hundred decent shots in him, after that he would be of no use.

Had the enemy been wearing any lighter armour, he could just hand things down to his men, but that was not the case. The enemy's armor may even be comparable to House Norton's. Even his infused arrows could only do real damage if he hit thin or exposed areas. Two of his silver-ranked men were already worn out. Only his arrows posed a threat to the enemies now.

His greatest worry was that their new tactics on the steps left the Norton men dying quite frequently. They could not hold on for long at this rate.

Wessia's heavy forces were mainly mercenaries. They were quite adept at single combat. Lorist's men were a match for their opponents man to man, but they were severely outnumbered. Even if they killed two for every one of their own they lost, their enemy would still have men to spare. Josk was the primary inflictor of losses, so the enemy wanted to get to him and kill him as quickly as possible.

The streets were paved in corpses, friend and foe alike. Lorist's bloody figure could be seen on the walls as he fought his way up the stairs. The men on the ground had been pushed back to the last few barricades in front of the wall, their numbers dwindling.

Things weren't deteriorating quite as quickly as they appeared, however. Every moment the Nortons held out, one or two men joined them on the wall from outside. About six-hundred Tigersoar reinforcements had joined them by now. This angered Josk, rather than pleasing him, however. Tigersoar's cavarly troops had no business in such a static fight, Firmrock's men were what they needed. Rather than forces that could turn the tide, or at least stem it until the gates opened, they were just more bodies for the roads. Josk cursed incessantly as he shouted down the wall for Tigersoar to let Firmrock go first.

The heavy-armored soldiers on the left stone step roared loudly as tens of them gathered into a frantic, united charge. The guards were overwhelmed and their casualties soared once more. A good number of them were sent tumbling down by suicidal enemy soldiers that hugged them tight as they pushed. Fortunately, the guards on the walls rushed in to reinforce them. The two sides clashed on the fourth level of the steps that was nearest to the walls.

Josk could no longer spare any attention to the steps on the right side. The green longbow thrummed ten times in succession, sending the seven charging heavy pike infantrymen off the stone steps, successfully stabilizing the situation. Just as he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a sword flashed brightly like lightning at the fourth level of the stone steps all of a sudden. The seven guards fighting desperately at the stone steps fell from it.

Terror struck Josk.

A blademaster!

Wessia didn't mobilize their blademaster against Lorist and instead had him take the walls back. It was no wonder those tens of heavy-armored soldiers charged. It was so that they could protect the blademaster while he made his way up.

The blademaster that made his way up the walls was a sinister-looking middle-aged man clad in the same black armor as the heavy pike infantrymen. He wore no helmet and his face was still covered with a streak of blood of the guards he killed, making him look all the more savage. The moment he got on the walls, a flash from his sword saw tens of guards falling. Josk's way was blocked by the guards and by the time they fell, the blademaster was within five meters of Josk.

It's over... Josk's limbs were stone cold.

The blademaster was too close, his arrows were no threat now. They were also on the walls and Josk couldn't escape on horseback as he would on land.

Resolution

The spear's arm broke off with a woody snap. The cavalryman climbing the wall returned to the frozen ground the short way.

"47 seven," counted Dulles, shaking his head. They had planned the whole thing properly. Well, the whole thing accept the gate. They had failed to take the effect of the cold on the iron into account. Instead of overwhelming the enemy before they could respond, their lord and his elite guard became fish in a barrel.

No one was prepared to climb the walls. The plan was to go through the gate, so no one had brought anything with which to assail the stones now blocking their way. Even now the entire army only had three ropes by which to get into the city and save their lord. Of the two thousand guards that went with the king, only half had ascended, and the rest were unwilling to make way for the other units. The duke was their responsibility and they would be damned if they let anyone else take their charge.

It took nearly two hours for more ropes to be readied. The men outside returned to their camp and brough any loose rope they could find, mainly from the sledges, and fashioned half-decent climbing ropes. Loze was chosen to lead Tigersoar's men onto the wall to relieve their lord.

They flung spears with the ropes attached into the merlons. The spears were not made to hold fully armored soldiers, however, and 47 had snapped so far. Of the six hundred who had made the climb so far, 40 return to the ground outside.

Most frustrating was that even as Tigersoar continued to ascend valiantly, they were ordered to stand down and let Firmrock take the lead.

Furious, lose and his men disobayed and continued to climb.

"How many of our ballistae were brought up?" asked Dulles.

"Thirty-seven have been moved to the wall. More are on their way," reported a scribe, his eyes still glued to the parchment on which he scribbled notes.

"Then why haven't they started firing? I don't care that our standard comportment isn't set up yet, help out our lord!"

"We've only sent the ballistae up, Sir. Their bolts are still down here. The ballistae have nothing to shoot."

Fuck!

This was not looking good. They could send up 20 soldier at a time now, but it was still far from being enough, they were still slowly losing ground.

"Get the bolts up to the ballistae as quickly as possible! I don't want a single ballistae unable to fire! Keep them shooting until they fall apart! Send the 12th brigade out to get us wood to build ladders! We need to get more men--"

His orders were interrupted by the 48th spear snapping.

"Fuck me!... Hold on… Set up a few of the ballistae down here. Shot the bolts into the wall so the men can climb up using them!" Dulles yelled at a passing soldier.

Malek jogged up to Dulles.

"Most of the ropes in the camp aren't useable. They're either too thin or completely frozen in place. Heating up enough and making more ropes will take at least two more hours."

"Sir, why don't we pile up the snow and make a ramp? We have so many men just standing around we might as well put them to work," suggested the scribe.

"You might actually be on to something!" Malek yelped, "We can be on the wall in less than an hour!"

A sharp cry broke the conversation. Everyone's eyes darted to the walls just in time to see a Norton soldier flung off the wall trough a crenel, a red rope trailing behind him.

"They're on the walls already? I have to go up and help!" yelled Malek as he dashed to the wall, "Dulles! Start building the ramp!"

...

"It's over..." Josk murmured. He barely held out by blocking with his bow. A strike or two more would end him, however. He could not match a blademaster's battleforce.

The blademaster rapidly closed the remaining distance. If this archer fell, he pretty much already had the walls.

A golden sheened spear suddenly flew at him. He had to choose, kill the archer, and be injured, or protect himself, and let the archer get away. He chose the latter. He withdrew his sword and cut the incoming spear in half. Josk retreated ten meters and drew his bow again. Just as he was about to unleash his shot, Loze stepped in his way and clashed with the blademaster. Loze could not win the fight either, but he could hold the old man back for a few moments. The addition of an archer that could strike at any moment, those few moments could be extended a little further.

No one disputed Loze's place at the top of the house's 16 gold-ranked knights. Even Potterfang, who was the best of them all at defense, could only fight Loze to a draw. Lorist was also convinced he would be the first of them to become a blademaster, probably sometime in the next three years. He had the experience and the technique, he just lacked the inspiration necessary to make the final breakthrough.

The enemy blademaster must be one of the two that had only recently broken though. While his technique was fierce, it lacked proper control. Loze suffered two light cuts in the first couple of exchanges, but quickly caught on to his opponent's style and now fought on equal footing. With Josk drawing some of the blademaster's attention, the man was actually fighting an uphill battle.

The stairs were lost. The enemy mercenaries bubbled onto the wall non-stop and were pushing the Nortons back further and further with every passing minute. Tigersoar's men were constantly pouring onto the walls, though, and helped to keep the enemy back relatively well. The corpses lay so thick on the wall that with each new death an older corpse was pushed off the wall. The corpses were beginning to form a small ramp to the wall's city-side.

The elite trio's fight took place near the gate. The blademaster was frustrated by his current predicament. He'd come to kill the pesky archer, not to fight two-on-one. This was supposed to be a quick clearing of the walls. Now, however, though he was confident of his eventual victory, he didn't know how long it would take to tire his opponents out and finally kill them.

Several dozen soldiers rushed over to help, only to be cut down by Josk. This volley pushed him to his limit, however; he was temporarily out of the fight while he caught his breath. Lorist was in a similar state down by the gate. Though he was uninjured at present, he leaned against the wall and heaved as his men fought around him. Of the two hundred who had started this mission with him, only fifty were left. Worridge himself, while still alive, was badly hurt.

Of Wessia's four 10 thousand strong divisions and its five thousand strong logistics division, one had been sent to clear the enemy out of the city. The other three were probably each at another gate. Reidy and Shuss had once again started pushing long the walls to relieve some of the pressure on Lorist and his unit, so the guild couldn't mobilize their other divisions yet.

Damn this metal gate! Lorist cursed silently.

How could he let such a brilliant plan collapse so miserably? He'd killed thousands already, but thousands were still standing in line for their turn at trying to kill him… His saving grace was that the slum streets didn't let the enemy make use of their numbers. Otherwise, he'd have been a frozen corpse for an hour by now.

Another horn blasted through the sounds of fighting echoing back and forth between the city walls. Another three-hundred-man formation was attacking. His side was down to just fifty by comparison, and they were only a quarter of the way to opening the gate. Of the four hinges, only one was loose. They could not survive this next fight without serious reinforcement, and there was no sign of them getting it anytime soon. Lorist could still fight his way to the top of the wall and make it out safely, sure, but he would be leaving his dearest, most able men to die. As much as Lorist could let himself die, or worse, be captured, he couldn't bring himself to abandon his men either. The last attack's defeat had confirmed his blademaster abilities to the enemy, and they were now using appropriate tactics. His exhaustion aside, this fight was going to far harder than any he had fought so far...

Malek made it to the top of the wall. After surveying the situation briefly, he charged to his men. His addition boosted their morale and their slow retreat stopped. He fought there for a few minutes to stabilize the situation before heading for Loze and Josk. The blademaster panicked when he saw yet another gold-rank coming to join the fray. If he didn't leave immediately, he would be done for. He could still win against two gold-ranks by simply outlasting them, but his cultivation had yet to stabilize enough to fight three.

He swung his blade at Loze with all his strength. Loze was flung off balance and exposed his chest. Three golden-tipped arrows charged in at that moment, however, and forced the blademaster to retreat. Despite that, however, the blademaster sighed relievedly. All three arrows the archer had in his hands had been fired so he had a moment in which he need only worry about two opponents. He could now escape without--

Puchi!

He suddenly felt something cold thrust into his chest. He looked down and saw the shaft of an arrow dancing back and forth in the air, the tip vanishing through his clothing into his torso.

"How... How? There... were four..."

"Damn it, Joe! You stole my kill!" cried Loze.

Josk collapsed onto the cold stone of the wall, slumping against the crenellations. His arms had no strength left in them. Even his jaw and tongue refused to obey his will.

Malek's sword fell, and, with it, fell the blademaster's head.

"Quick, bring the steel ballistae!" he yelled down the length of the wall.

Triumph

So I have no choice but to use my slaughter domain, thought Lorist as watched the three 100-man-formations approach. The two towers on the walls could support him no longer. Not only were their ballistae firing slower and slower, the bolts were flying all over the place. They could risk hitting their own men, so they were forced to stop.

The last volley was when the formations were about 60 meters from him, but only a single bolt hit someone. One of the other bolts hit a building next to the street, the other flew over at least eight-tenths of the entire formation. Someone cried soon after, though whether this was from shock or pain, no one knew. The third, and final, bolt, punctured the ground in front of his feet, blasting away a bodiless head. The shots were becoming too unreliable and unpredictable; they were as much a threat to Lorist now as they were to the enemy -- a good time to stop.

"Worridge! Withdraw with the injured when I make my move!"

The battle was souring quickly. Of the two possible escape routes, only one was still reasonably open. The tower to the right of the wall was swarming with enemies, still fighting his men somewhere inside. The tower to the left was relatively quiet, the enemy had taken it, but at severe cost, they would be easy to kill off with the fifty men currently by the gate. What was going on atop the walls was unknown to Lorist, nor did he particularly care right now. His first priority was getting his men down below up top. Whatever waited for them there could not be worse than being cut off from any possible escape down below. He would use his slaughter domain to keep the enemy at bay and buy time for Worridge and the others to make it to the wall.

"We can't just leave Your Grace behind. It is our sworn duty to protect you, not the other way around." Worridge protested.

"Now is not the time. Go!"

The enemy closed with every breath they wasted. The marching coffins approached at a constant, rhythmic pace, each step ringing like a funeral drum. Lorist could not hope for them to make the same mistake the first group had. They would not let him get into their formation again. He clasped his sword, the veins on his hands and arms bulging. He had to get in close to his enemies. As powerful as his domain was, it only stretched five meters away from him, his enemy. His enemy could strike at him from three meters away, no more. At least a few men in their first two lines had to enter his domain.

"Fire!" he yelled.

Three shaft flew overhead and slammed into the enemy formation at random. While they could not strike the enemy accurately anymore, the ballista could at least still hit someone somewhere in a formation of this size at this distance. The formation broke up momentarily. Lorist closed his eyes. He could hear Worrdige's cheers behind. Three more shafts whizzed by, the drums struck three times, and the choir began their lamentations.

Ballistae deserved their reputation as the deadliest weapons on the continent. Each, in peak condition, could fire ten times a minute, strike accurately, and hit further than anything else. They weren't omnipotent on the battlefield, but in tight, urban corners like this, and facing an unprepared enemy, they were the bringers of death. Sometimes just knowing the enemy had ballistae would make men and commanders alike think twice.

The enemy's counterattack was doomed the moment the ballistae on the walls were set up. The fight might truly have been lost had Malek not forced his way onto the wall with his ballistae. Few, if any, of Lorist's personal guard would have made it out alive, much less in a state still able to fight. Fiercetiger Loze was the best offensive gold-ranked knight in the household, Potterfang an unmovable mountain, he'd even been named after his legion, Firmrock Potterfang. Malek could not hold a candle to them in a fight, but give him a legion and an objective, and none could compare. Where the first two were born fighters, Malek was a born leader. None could notice or make use of opportunities like him.

He had a background in the military and many called him Old Ironface. It took a lot to solicit an expression from him. If he frowned, the legion was likely about to be wiped out. He'd even ordered the slaughter of several thousand civilians during the Edelise revolts in Sidgler without batting an eye. That particular incident changed his nickname to Ironface Bloodhands. Lorist had done his best to silence the name, though it was still whispered in unsavory tavern corners and dark alleyways.

Malek's first actions once he assailed the walls were to push the enemy back and stabilize his position on the wall. He then helped Loze and Josk finish off the blademaster before finally finishing the ballistae setup. These ballistae were from House Norton, the ones usually mounted on chariots. This meant that they were light enough to be hauled up the wall, but also meant they couldn't readily be set up. Since they were designed to use the chariots as stabilizing platforms, they weren't stable when standing on their own on the stone walkway. The men fist had to fashion makeshift platforms to which to attach them. This however, would take too long. Malek'd solution was to have men lay beneath the ballistae, hugging them, to act as makeshift platforms. While the ballistae weren't as stable, and thus as accurate, as one might want, it was good enough. The human platforms suffered moderate bruising, a few cracked a rib or two, but nothing too bad.

These new weapons quickly cleared up the walls and then turned their attention to the streets below. Loze lead a group to retake the left tower and the steps within, while Josk joined the defense of the right tower. Everyone else was put to work getting more ballistae on the walls and hauling up more ammunition. Dozens of ballistae soon lined the walls and rained death down on the streets below.

Lorist opened his eyes to find himself standing on the edge of a forest. Bloody roots strangled the paved ground and thin, metal stems grew from them to about shoulder height, where they bloomed into metal leaves. The wind howled mournfully around the building and through the forest, carrying with it the dying echoes of moans and whines.

Those on the other side of the forest quickly surrendered when the blademaster's head was hung on the gate to cook over the fire. They were disarmed and quickly put to work cleaning the area of the dead and dying. Soon the forest turned into a mountain range.

"I apologize for being late, Your Grace," Malek whispered as he and Loze saluted.

Lorist waved his hand dismissively.

"Worry about apologies later, the city is yet ours. First is this gate," he said, glaring at the stubborn mass of iron. "Oh, also, how's Reidy, Els, and Shuss doing? Reinforce them as soon as you can."

The final snow bricks were laid in place the same moment the last hinge gave way.

"You're kidding me!" Dulles screamed as he collapsed into the ramp, his mouth almost foaming.

The outer wall, and with it the northern district, fell. Elsewhere in the city, however, the horns continued to blare. Barricades were quickly taking shape on the outer wall near the edge of the sectors and in front of the gates between the sectors. The citizens were also chased out of key buildings, which were then turned into makeshift forts. The first responders got word out of the situation and some particulars of their enemies before their defeat so the entire city knew what and who it was up against. The next wave set out prepared.

Dulles and Loze pushed further into the district twice before the second wave arrived, after some fighting their position stabilized about two streets in. They couldn't press any further because the entire district was set alight as the enemy withdrew.

"We'll hold for now. Evacuate the civilians first, move them outside the city and build them some temporary housing. Wessia burns them without a thought because they don't consider them Union citizens. We cannot show them the same disdain, they are imperial subjects even if only former." Lorist ordered.

Reidy, Els, and Shuss returned soon after. Lorist's two disciples had taken the entire outer wall up to the northern district's edge. They couldn't push any further since the enemy was prepared and halted them were the inner walls that separate the district meet the outer wall. The alert Lorist had heard earlier was thanks to a soldier stepping out onto the wall to take a leak on the other side of the tower. He returned to find his comrades dead and sounded the alarm before he could be killed.

Shuss did not manage to push all the way to the dividing wall to the east. He didn't make progress as quickly as the two disciples, and was exposed by the alarm. After that, he clashed with the garrison soldiers of Wessia single-handedly to defend the tower. He made it to within the last two towers, but was halted by two gold-ranked knights. When he tried to push through the other side of the tower once the two were dead, he realized it had been sealed from the other side. The enemy tried several tactics to force him out, but he held until he received the order to withdraw.

Reidy and Els had quite a few stories to tell. Reidy killed a rank 1 blademaster. The poor fool underestimated the youth thanks to his blade glow and was bisected after a few bouts. When he stepped out of the tower on the other end, however, he was showered with arrows. He avoided most, but his shoulder and right buttock each caught one.

On the 31st day of the 1st month, Year 1787, House Norton launched a surprise attack on Frederika and conquered the northern quarter of the city's walls. The local nobility, from the Union's Wessia merchant guild suffered heavy casualties, among them two rank 1 blademasters and a number of gold-ranked knights. The heavy troops they sent in to clear out the enemy were all but decimated. In a desperate, last-ditch effort to hold the invaders back until they could properly prepare, they set fire to the entire district. It burned for three days and smoldered for at least a dozen more. No one knows exactly how many died, but, whatever the exact figure, it was enough to make the guild and anyone associated with it, devils in the eyes of the survivors.