The fall

In the largest building in the city, former Novaes residence, Drake looked at the city taken. The residents were put in the main courtyard, he will appease them, thus easing the post-war situation.

"Everyone, silence."

A knight next door said

"Citizens of Porto Lúgubre, I'm Drake Page, patriarch of the Page Family. Today I tell you, these lands belong to me, I won't treat my citizens badly, the war is over, at least here.."

With a continuous authoritarian air

"My warriors will not mistreat you, don't be afraid, go back to your residences and do your work tomorrow, but know that from now on, there is the Page Family here, as your governors."

"You can go."

With a sigh he said.

With the square emptying, Drystan arrived with his report.

"Prossiga Drystan."

"Sir, if I may, there were twenty-five casualties but only of the light soldiers, our elite there were only five wounded and no knights, the power of our family's lineage is very powerful."

"The runes played a leading role too, our enemies didn't understand when we increased our power out of nowhere."

"Hmm, not bad, and the prisoners?"

"There were two hundred dead and one hundred and thirty prisoners, four of knights remained of the enemy."

"Okay, prepare a hundred warriors along with two knights to supervise the city and the prisoners."

"Yes, sir."

Drystan went to talk to his officers to follow the plans.

The next day, the dawn barely dawned on the horizon, dyeing the sky an intense purple tone, while the Page family's troops marched towards the Draxeler capital.

The victory over the Novaes was still fresh in everyone's memory, but Drake knew that the real challenge was ahead.

The air was dense, and the few clouds in the sky seemed to accompany the march, hovering like shadows. The surrounding landscape was composed of low mountains and fields that, although desolate by winter, preserved a silent and austere beauty.

The horses' hooves and the heavy boots of the soldiers sounded like muffled thunder in the cold land, creating a rhythm of war that echoed along the deserted road

Drake rode in front, accompanied by his captains, all with dark and focused expressions. As they advanced, the morning cold seemed to disappear amid the fervor of the army.

The knights and soldiers kept the impeccable formation, with the runes still hidden under the dark armor, but their energy was palpable, almost visible in their determined expressions and determined steps.

Exhaustive training and the promise of renewed power by the runes created an aura of invincibility.

Right behind the leaders, the knights formed a solid line, followed by the infantry soldiers, who firmly held their spears and shields, ready to face any obstacle.

Their presence was overwhelming, like a wave of steel and determination advancing along the road that led directly to the Draxeler capital.

The road was long and winding, and in the distance, the dark towers of the capital began to appear on the horizon. The city stood imposingly on a natural elevation, protected by high and old walls.

But for Drake, those walls were just a detail. He felt that nothing could contain his family's advance.

Drake made a brief pause, turning to face his army.

Today, we marched to the heart of the power of the Draxelers, he said, his voice echoing in the silent morning. And let's show them what happens to those who dare to oppose the Page lineage!

The army responded with loud and determined screams, ready for the next battle. The journey to the Draxeler's capital continued, and with each step taken, Drake Page's soldiers knew they were marching not only to conquer a territory, but to nail the name of their lineage into history.

Meanwhile in the city.

When the Draxelers saw the Page's army approaching, a quick alert spread throughout the capital. Guards in the towers began to play trumpets, whose echoes crossed the walls and resonated to the deepest neighborhoods of Lorrato.

Within the dark walls, the frantic movement began: soldiers ran to their positions, weapons were distributed, and armors were adjusted precisely.

In the main halls of the citadel, the lord of the Draxelers, Taren Draxeler, remained calm and focused. He looked through one of the wide windows of his fortress, observing the approach of the enemies.

At his side, strategists and generals discussed defense plans quickly and fervently, while messengers ran to pass on instructions to field officers.

Taren gathered his elite of fighters, warriors who had trained in the cold mountains around Lorraine, known both for their resistance and their skill in hand-to-hand combat.

These soldiers were the most loyal and the most experienced, prepared to protect the city with their lives.

"We won't let them bend us,"

Taren said, with a firm voice, staring at each soldier gathered there.

"The Pages think that just because they gained a little power, they can compare themselves to us. Our city is under our protection, and we will defend it until the last breath."

He then ordered archers to take position on the towers and walls, preparing incendiary arrows that would illuminate the sky at the first sign of the attack.

At the main gates, soldiers with heavy spears and massive shields prepared to block the passage of any knight who tried to cross the defenses.

Each soldier knew that it was not just any battle, it was a fight for the survival of everything that the Draxeler house represented.

Meanwhile, civilians were escorted to safe areas within the interior walls, observing in silence and with apprehension. Lorrato became a living fortress, each heart beating in sync for the only desire to resist.

With each second, the Page's army got closer, but the silence that hovered inside Lorrato was impenetrable, like the calm before a deadly storm.

Drake watched everything from afar, mounted on his horse and surrounded by the riders of his lineage. His gaze was ruthless, his presence inspired confidence in his soldiers.

With a brief nod, he signaled the beginning of the attack.

"Today, Lorrato will fall, and with her, the Draxelers," he declared, his voice firm and icy.

"Move forward!"

The sound of Page's war drums erupted through the air. On the front line, the elite soldiers marched with firm steps, followed by the knights, who rode on robust horses, the runes hidden under their armor, ready to release their power.

The Page's forces hit the city gates brutally, and the impact echoed through the city.

Under the leadership of Drake's generals, the troops attacked the defenses with determination. The elite soldiers threw themselves against the first barricades, breaking them and dominating the Draxeler guards, while the knights, brandishing swords and shields, advanced through the streets, facing the relentless resistance of the Lorrato warriors.

As the invaders took to the streets, Drake watched the advance. He waited for the right moment to join the battle, his gaze fixed on the figure of Lord Taren Draxeler, who led the defenses in the heart of the city.

Taren knew he was facing a powerful enemy, but still kept the position bravely, encouraging his men to resist.

"Lorrato will never fall for the Page!"

He shouted, his voice echoing through the alleys and strengthening the morale of his soldiers.

But the resistance was starting to fail. Drake's warriors advanced relentlessly, their steps echoing through the stone floor and their swords meeting their targets with deadly precision.

Finally, Drake himself entered the battle, marching towards the city center, where Taren was waiting for him, surrounded by his most loyal men.

When Taren and Drake's eyes met, the battlefield seemed to be silent for a moment, and the two leaders knew that would be the decisive confrontation.

Drake, raising his sword, took a step forward. "Lord Taren," he said with a cold smile.

"Do you think your city and your name would survive this day? Today, the Draxelers are nothing but dust."

Taren, with a hardened countenance, raised his sword in response.

"I will defend Lorrato until my last breath, Drake. Your excessive ambition will be your fall."

They advanced against each other, their blades cutting the air with precision and strength. Taren attacked with fast and fierce blows, but Drake deflected and counterattacked with almost superhuman movements, the runes in his armor granting him extraordinary speed and power. Taren felt the weight of each blow, his confidence fading as he realized Drake's brutal advantage.

Drake alone was huge, with a power over human and presence, among the Intermediate knights he was already fine.

Taren was unhappy with the news that his opponent was also intermediate knights, cursing his spies inside for not telling this.

The battle between the two leaders was relentless. Every time Taren tried to attack, Drake deviated, making it seem that his movements were slow and predictable.

"Is that all you have, Taren?" Mocked Drake, dodging another attack and counterattacking with a blow that made Taren retreat.

His strength began to fail, and fear began to grow in Taren's eyes when he realized that he was facing something he could not overcome.

"What kind of power is this?"

He whispered, panting, while trying, in vain, to protect himself from Drake.

Drake took a step forward, his cold and authoritative voice.

"The power of those who know how to win. This is your end, Taren."

And with a brutal blow, he raised his sword and made the final attack, which passed through Taren's guard and hit him directly in the head.

The body of the Draxeler leader fell to the ground, and with his death, the last bastion of resistance in Lorrato was broken.

The knights of the Draxeler, when they saw their master fallen, lost their morale and began to retreat or surrender.

Drake watched, with impassive eyes, the final fall of the city. He raised his sword up and shouted:

"Lorrato is ours! Today, the Draxeler are history, and the Page are the future!"

His army cheered, their voices resounding for Lorrato, who now belonged completely to the Page family, marking the beginning of a new era dominated by his absolute power.