Chapter 237

Astraka watched the panic on the walls of Prart with grim satisfaction. They were scrambling like mad, and he couldn't blame them, after all, nobody… nobody expected him to go this far north. 'They thought I would go for Hoburns, or they thought I would turn around and deal with Gustav. They slept… and now I've woken them up… and there's nothing like an army at the gates to wake someone up quickly.' He raised his hand, and lowered it before him as if he were swinging an axe.

Most of his army was still not in position, but he intended to compound their fear and horror. The ballistae, scorpions, and small catapults were readied and fired from wherever they were. Astraka whistled as he watched the sharp straight flight of the giant arrows, the round stone launching ballista, and the long high arc of catapults.

'Speed is armor.' Astraka recalled the phrase of his mentor and shouted for the lines and ladders. 'Sloppy.' He admitted to himself as warriors scrambled to follow the sudden orders. Thankfully, the walls were thinly populated, the hour was late, most of the city's protectors would be drinking or eating. 'Catch them now… they're unready, if I wait to form lines they'll be twice as strong…'

His soldiers were following orders, the alarm bells were going off all over the city, the steady and unbroken clanging noise was drowned out by the screams of the population. The stampede of humanity ran all over the long roads, somewhere, some soldier was shouting at his commander that they were under attack, somewhere, a civilian of some sort was shivering in fear and disbelief.

The long lines of soldiers bearing high ladders rushed past on all sides, the impact of stones and long arrows on the defenders was notable, they 'froze' briefly with each impact. 'Garrison…' He thought, but each time they froze, it was only for an instant before they returned to their tasks when each rumbling strike ended or each shot went overhead to crash down into the city below.

Howls of pain were carried through the air, some from his own as the first ranks came near to the top of the ladder and were forced to fight against clusters of defenders. A man fell screaming from the top when the line he was on was cut and then went silent when he landed with a thud.

He was not alone, others fell from their line as they scaled the wall, only for more lines to replace them. A ladder began to fall back as men holding a long wooden pole pushed it away, the men high up cried out, they begged, they pleaded, their voices carried even to where Astraka sat on his horse, and he watched.

Mercy was not coming from those on the wall, the ladder fell, some clung to the wood, others jumped and tried to grab the air, praying to the silent four gods that a hand would come out and catch them.

Some fell screaming and clutching at broken legs, others did not scream at all, and a few rushed to the next ladder to attempt to climb again.

But the scarcity of defenders and the suddenness of the assault gave Astraka the edge he needed. For every ladder that fell and every line that was cut, four or five more remained in place and his soldiers roared out their courage as they fell on their outnumbered enemies.

More and more were taking ground, swords went up and men fell down, the scent of blood grew thick enough to reach his nose, and his household banner rose atop the wheelhouse.

Wails went up from the city, the noise redoubled, the gate began to grind open as his soldiers did their work. 'My conscripts and militias might not be worth much… but my household troops… they are a whole other matter.' Astraka's smile of pride spread wide on his face and vanished when he drew his sword and raised it overhead. "Cavalry!" He shouted, "Charge!" His squire blew the horn to sound the cavalry charge, and he stormed toward the entrance, it was more open to his entry than a whore starting her shift.

The cavalry came first, but behind him he could hear the noise of drums calling for the infantry advance, and out of the corner of his eye before he entered the city he could see those who had been climbing ladders, descend and follow the easy path into the city.

His sword slashed out at a half dressed soldier with a slightly drunken look on his face, the blade cut across the unhelmeted head, and then his body smashed into the charging horse, he fell thudding and bouncing away.

Astraka didn't see him again, there was only one destination. 'Take the royal governor, and the whole thing falls… what could possibly be easier?'

And their soldiers charged on against the flimsy, unprepared defenses.

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Vijar watched the battalion of Holy Kingdom soldiers on the march, 'Our Queen was right… they're on the road, and just the way she said. Horsemen at the front, archers in the middle, infantry at the rear.' The spriggan scouts kept a close watch from the forest, playing to their strengths, they kept well out of view and reported only through animal noises, avoiding the use of magic that most assumed got their brethren caught before.

He continued to watch while the humans made camp, daylight creatures, they slept in the darkness that many of his demihumans thrived in.

The camp was orderly, tents went up and formed a circle, horses all confined to one place near where their riders slept, soldiers took evenly spaced watch positions that all covered each other and set fire stakes at a distance that would illuminate movement.

'My Queen's point is well taken… order… discipline, these are weapons too…' Vijar reluctantly admitted, thinking back to his people's customs Everything was haphazard, chaotic and resolved with blows that slowed progress down. It was hard not to think of her other innovations… 'A trio of elders chosen at random to judge, and none know which is which but by writing…' The various elements of her judgeship held the bloodshed down, and fewer deaths meant more workers, more warriors, and more magic casters spent more time in training… the rising castle and the city around it… 'Why tower above a mere warrior or two when we can tower above nations?!' Her speech won many over, and there were some who wanted to tear it all down.

He let out a low growl, raised his axe, and waited. The human numbers declined as they slipped down into slumber, the spiderfolk were doing their part, and the nagani were ready to do theirs, stone spitters lay crouched and ready for the first volley, angled to create a funnel…

And then he felt the hand, carapace-like and smooth, touch his back. He let out a monumental roar, and the stone spitters sprang up, their rocks were not very large, but shot at high speed, and humans howled like wounded wolves as they went down.

From there the spriggan casters shot up, rather than fireballs that would provide light to the humans, they used water spells and doused the flames to plunge the humans into the darkness.

Vijar charged into the camp, bellowing war cries that ripped through the courage of lesser men, the disciplined ones in the human ranks quickly tried to form up lines in the dark, their forms, gray and white to his night eyes, were more successful than he would have thought.

"Where are they?!"

"How many?!"

The orcs and the zern fell in on the left of the camp, hacking and dissolving whatever they could, the noise and shrieking of warriors kept the humans off balance, and Vijar's blood sang with joy as he got to do what he did best.

His axe sliced through a human neck and sent it spinning away into the darkness, the body falling as a lump to the dirt before he moved forward to the next group.

Light began to fill the camp as paladins used spells to give them the means to see… a fireball soared out into the darkness and a hissing scream of an unfortunate snakeman was joined by the smell of roasted meat and another lump of dead flesh joined with the earth beneath their feet.

More hits along vast parts of their line of camp, the disarray grew only worse, soldiers fumbled with shields in the dark, struggled to find comrades, the order was broken, and discipline with it.

Even still, Vijar's advance seemed like it took forever, humans began to break ranks, and flee. The noise of armor retreating replaced the noise of armor advancing, while the sound of screams of fear replaced the noise of humans barking orders and humans shouting challenges to their enemies.

'Without their discipline… this is easy…' Vijar thought as he watched the ranks begin to break and run through flames, men abandoned their comrades in their desperation, leaving bonds of friendship and blood behind in an effort to save themselves.

The battle... with the sprays of human blood flying through the air and limbs sailing into the night like tumbling bugs flicked away, had become a massacre.

"Secure the survivors!" He bellowed as the noise of fighting slowly began to die down, the groans of the wounded, human and nonhuman alike, were plentiful. 'Even at night, at a disadvantage… they made us pay a price for victory.' He reflected on that while cleaning human blood off his ax, wiping the red stains away with the banner of the Holy Roble Kingdom.

"Plunder their camp, and make one of our own… short rest only, then we get moving, we have a Queen to join! And a capital city to take!" Vijar roared his cry of victory and savored the smell of fear off the human captives as crude bonds were formed from tent ropes and stakes, and the demihumans began to divide up the winnings from their victory. The humans lay slumped forward, many bleeding, heads bowed, while stakes were hammered down into the dirt. It wouldn't offer 'good' security, but under watch, the humans would be slowed.

A few screams reached the 'new' camp, coming from deep in the woods, as humans were reminded why they shouldn't venture there without weapons.

'Now for the next part of Her Majesty's plan…' Vijar let out a low, vicious laugh as he trod on thunderous footsteps with his tail lashing behind him when he passed the defeated soldiers.

While Neia did not enjoy fire like she once did, its warm orange tongues licking the air, its vibrant little sparks briefly defying cold and the air before their lives were snuffed out, she did find that she still liked hot food. She sat around the center of her camp and tore at a haunch of roasted venison with her multitude of sharp teeth. 'This body makes meat eating even easier, and it tastes better too.' She licked the juices from her lips and listened to the zern prince tell his story. Xee, as she'd come to call him, was something of an amorphous blob, but he had a sly, understated sense of humor that never failed to bring a smile to those who took the time to listen.

"...So then she said, you think you're slimy? Hold my beer!" He said and the mixed array of forces fell to laughing... Neia's wings beat a little harder when she chuckled and she slapped her knee repeatedly before holding her other hand out when a stone spitter approached to hold out a mug of pillaged beer.

"Your Majesty?" He said, and she gave a grateful smile to the stone spitter that probably looked more fearsome than she meant it.

"Thank you." She said, tempering his sudden freezing in place as if he'd done wrong. After he heard her words, he bobbed a little in the way his lumpy, stone-like race often did when they were happy, and withdrew.

Neia turned back to face the other chiefs and princes who made up her current retinue, the chatter was amiable, and went on and on as the dying of the last embers returned night's dominance.

...It happened so suddenly that Neia didn't even notice it. She went quiet during the next round of laughter from the array of demihuman races, for just a second, their faces, bodies, all seemed to have melted away in her eyes. It was just like… 'It's like what I saw with the others, the paladins, the squires, even village trainees. They were like that with comrades… wait… do I have…'

'Do I have comrades?!' She cried out inside her head, her body snapped straight and she stared around the flames which, one by one faces lost their variations of laughter and fell quiet, staring at their now silent Queen with eyes that went into various modes of concern, from wide, to narrow according to their race.

"Your Majesty?" Xee asked, "Is something amiss?"

Neia snapped out of her daze and vigorously shook her head, she drained her mug, tilting her head back to take every bit of amber dark liquid into her throat then dropped it and bit another haunch of meat away, anything to hide the expression on her face.

Chewing audibly she mumbled out, "No! Everything is gweght!" She exclaimed, using the stuffed face and to disguise the emotional tone and hoping the fire hid her happy tears.

"In fact…" She said when she had control of herself and swallowed a large chunk, "I would say this is perhaps one of the best days of my life!"

Before anyone could ask just why on earth their Queen would call a common meal around a fire in the midst of a military campaign of revenge… 'one of the best days of her life', they were interrupted.

"Neia." Olasird'arc said, his broad, long head rose from where he lay curled up nearby, his long neck allowing him to loom above her with ease, he didn't address her by title, nor did she ask.

She looked up at the dragon and gave him a fang filled toothy grin, "Yeah, Oli?"

He winced. "No. I refuse that nickname. If you must shorten it, shorten it to 'sir' I understand that is a respectful term at least. 'Oli' makes me sound like one of those performing clowns that humans use to entertain their offspring."

Neia chuckled, "No problem, Olasird'arc, what is it?" She asked, and he winced again as she refused his chosen nickname. From anyone else, it might have been a horrendous breech worthy of turning them into a meal. But her hands had cleaned his body, her fingers sewn his wings, her bleeding body scavenged for things to nurse him back to health… and now his blood was in her veins. So he confined it to a mildly annoyed flinch.

Finally reaching the matter at hand.

"There are people coming. Stealthy, and they do not smell like any race I know." Olasird'arc rumbled the words out, and the whole campfire froze.

"Are they close?" Neia asked.

"In the camp, though even human gods only know how… and their gaze is fixed on you." He muttered.

"They could be the servants of the Queen's new ally… but if they're not hostile, or if they are… wait, let them come to me." Neia whispered, and when she relaxed, so too did the others.