44- Shadows Over Velthorn

The fortress of Velthorn stood as an unyielding monolith, its towering walls bathed in the pale glow of the crescent moon. Torches flickered along the ramparts, their light stretching long shadows across the stone. Guards patrolled in disciplined rotations, their eyes scanning the landscape for any sign of movement.

What they did not see—what they could not see—was the silent force creeping toward their gates under the cover of unnatural fog.

Aldric knelt beside his officers, his gaze sharp as he surveyed the mist-drenched field. His plan had worked. The fortress' magical detection systems, designed to trigger at the use of high-tier magic, had remained silent. Instead of casting a spell, he had bent the natural world to his will, manipulating water vapor and temperature gradients to form the dense fog masking their advance.

But the true test was yet to come.

"Move carefully," Aldric whispered. "Once you're inside, there will be no second chances."

Red, Mara, Royce, Gerrod, and Tobias each nodded before leading their teams forward. Their mission was simple but dangerous—get inside, disable key defenses, and open the gates. But between them and success stood the fortress' guards, thick stone walls, and the ever-present risk of discovery.

The infiltration had begun.

⸻

Red adjusted his worn cloak, pulling the hood further over his face as he led Mara and Tobias toward the gate. Their disguises were simple but effective—travelers seeking shelter for the night, burdened with heavy packs that suggested trade goods. The three of them walked with weary, uneven steps, perfectly mimicking the gait of exhausted merchants after a long journey.

As they approached, the gate guards stepped forward, hands resting on their weapons.

"Halt," one of them barked, peering through the thick mist. "Curfew is in effect. No one enters after nightfall."

Red raised both hands in a placating gesture, keeping his voice light. "Easy, friend. We mean no trouble, only shelter. We were delayed on the road when the fog rolled in." He jingled a small pouch of silver at his belt. "We're willing to pay for the inconvenience."

The guards exchanged wary glances. The unnatural fog had unsettled them, making them hesitant to trust anything out of the ordinary.

Mara, sensing their hesitation, leaned forward and added in a softer tone, "We have medicine. Herbs from the northern forests. Surely your wounded would appreciate a little extra care?"

One of the younger guards shifted, glancing toward his companion. "It wouldn't hurt to let them in. The captain's been complaining about the lack of supplies…"

The senior guard hesitated for another moment before grunting. "Fine. But if you cause trouble, you won't leave in one piece."

He signaled to the others, and with the groaning of heavy wood and iron, the fortress gates creaked open just enough for them to slip inside.

Mara exhaled slowly. First obstacle cleared.

But their mission was far from over.

⸻

While Red's team infiltrated through deception, Royce and Gerrod took the riskier route—scaling the walls.

A dozen figures moved silently through the fog, using the natural cover to approach the fortress undetected. The outer walls were nearly forty feet high, a sheer climb under normal circumstances. But Royce had studied the patrol patterns, and he had chosen the section where the guards' vision overlapped the least.

"This is it," Royce whispered. "We climb now or not at all."

Gerrod nodded, slinging his grappling hook over his shoulder. He took a deep breath, then threw it. The hook caught the edge of the stone wall with a faint clink, its sound swallowed by the mist. One by one, the infiltrators began their ascent.

Hand over hand, they climbed swiftly but carefully, their breaths controlled, their movements precise. Royce was the first to reach the top, pressing himself against the stone as he peered over the ledge. A single sentry stood nearby, his back turned as he leaned lazily against his spear.

A mistake.

With a quick, fluid motion, Royce vaulted over the wall and landed behind the guard. His dagger flashed, and before the sentry could make a sound, a hand clamped over his mouth. A single, clean cut, and the man slumped lifelessly to the ground.

Royce gestured for the others to follow. One by one, they slipped over the wall, silent shadows in the night.

Now, they needed to reach the barracks and ensure no reinforcements would come when the fighting began.

⸻

Mara and Tobias had split off from Red after entering, heading toward the gatehouse. Their goal: release the locking mechanisms and prepare to open the gates for Aldric's cavalry.

The gatehouse was heavily guarded. Four sentries stood at the entrance, while another two monitored the control levers inside. Fighting here would be loud—too loud. They needed another way in.

Mara scanned the structure quickly. "There," she whispered, pointing toward a small ventilation shaft near the roof. "I can fit through."

Tobias grimaced. "That's a tight squeeze."

"I've done worse."

Wasting no time, she climbed up, pressing herself against the stone as she maneuvered through the narrow opening. Inside, she found herself in a dimly lit corridor above the main control room. The two guards below were chatting idly, oblivious to the presence above them.

Mara drew two small needles from her belt—tipped with a potent sleeping agent provided by Caelum.

She took aim.

Two sharp thunks sounded as the needles struck their necks. The guards stiffened, then collapsed into unconscious heaps.

Slipping down, she reached for the levers. The mechanisms were old but sturdy, built to withstand sieges. She disengaged the first lock, then the second. The heavy gears groaned in protest, but the gates would be ready to open with a final pull.

She retrieved a small crimson flare from her pouch and whispered, "Time to light the signal."

With a whoosh, the flare ignited, soaring into the night sky.

A moment of silence.

Then, from the mist-covered fields, a sound like thunder.

The pounding of hooves.

Aldric was coming.

⸻

The fog roiled, twisting unnaturally as if stirred by an unseen force. Then, like a storm bursting forth from the heavens, Aldric and his cavalry emerged.

They did not charge blindly. They exploded into motion.

Aldric led the vanguard, his cloak billowing, his sword reflecting the crimson glow of the flare above.

He used the very moisture he had summoned.

The lingering fog, dense with water vapor, surged forward under his command. With a sharp gesture, he shifted the temperature—turning the air into a biting chill. The sudden, unnatural cold froze the mist into a layer of icy frost beneath the hooves of the enemy guards.

The defenders standing at the gate stumbled, their footing betrayed by the treacherous ground.

It was all the opening Aldric's forces needed.

"CHARGE!" Aldric roared.

Like a tidal wave, the cavalry crashed into the fortress, steel meeting flesh in an unstoppable surge.

The battle had begun.