“Shadows Under Highwall!
“Reports from the front indicate that fighting has flared up once more across the Traxo-Carrador frontier as the temporary ceasefire ended without warning. While no fortifications have yet fallen at the time of reporting, the fierce fighting engulfing the region is said to be “no longer sustainable” according to our sources. Abenstadt has reformed its beleaguered home guard after a disastrous defeat last year. Though there have been no Traxian movements yet, analysts suspect it won’t be long before tensions boil over here as well. ”
- Arterian Affairs, Border Watch!, “Headline Article - 20th of Caeus”
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Monte De Trisse. Ancestral homeland of the Montroi family. A symbol of lost power, dangling right in front of her. With its high walls battered and two breaches torn open, it was time. Princess Pyra lifted her arm and opened up her hand to point directly ahead. The order was given, attack.
Trebuchets and catapults continued hurling hunks of rock and stone at the fortress city. With its defensive wards still functional, there was little her forces could do beyond a full scale assault. Having already pummelled the city for a month straight, her forces had scored minor successes in catching the garrison off guard, as well as cutting the area off from reinforcements or supplies.
For the defenders, she could imagine they thought fate was playing a cruel prank upon them. Throughout the siege, there were occasionally cracks that allowed slivers of the purple death to slip through, transforming and decimating those sections of defenders until the wards were repaired. But those moments were all she needed, the confusion and panic, the anxiety and paranoia. Combined with the ranger’s declaration of her true identity, Pyra’s flock gained even more desperate converts or simply those seeing who the winner of this clash would be.
Her army needed no battle horns or war cries. Only the silent unending dread that the hordes of undead and death knights brought. They would be here battering ram, her weapons of sheer power to overwhelm the defenders. When the initial slaughter was finished, only then would she commit the human militias and soldiers to the fray. These warriors would perform the more delicate tasks of clean up, and also be reminded about the boons of loyalty as they passed by the corpses of their enemies.
Another wave of projectiles sailed towards the bastion, some getting vaporised in the sky by mages. Most struck true, smashing into walls and troops, flattening them into a pulverised paste.Under the cover of artillery fire, the horde advanced; an amalgamation of undead, mutants, and creatures dug up from the forgotten recesses of humanity's fickle memories. They were mindless, ravenous, made of unbreakable will, subservient to their death knights. Those knights in turn were bastions of armoured death, their eclectic mix of ancient and modern weaponry hiding the decades or perhaps even centuries of slaughter, subservient only to her. As it should be.
Beyond them were two more segments of her force. One was the Legion, those soldiers with centuries of warfare under their belts. A few had been her devout followers since the beginning, these were the Unbroken Five. Five legionaries who kept her safe and had slain even dragons in her quest to restore her birthright, all were masked and silent, akin to monks who had been sworn to silence. The rest were former praetorian followers of her cowardly sister, soldiers torn from their fitful fantasies and returned to reality, to this. The rebirth of her people.
The last force were the militia and mercenaries she had at her disposal. Desperate and greedy peoples, united by her ideals, loot, or fear of her. Nothing mattered, only that they obeyed. In that respect, she had assigned them to the legionaries, suspecting that Centurian Lyran’s troops would be more suited to assisting the humans than her death knights.
As yet another wave of siege projectiles soared overhead to smack against the walls. Her troops entered the projectile range of the defenders and many malformed creatures wailed their last as they died under a hail of arrows. Hundreds fell in the first volley and hundreds more in the next one, yet all proceeded according to plan.
To the defenders, it seemed like the undead were converging solely on the two breaches, the tide crashing against the steel wall of shields and spears. But amidst this assault, six legged monstrosities formed from a mixture of bone, sinew, and decomposing bodies screeched in anticipation. Hidden by the bodies of their undead comrades, they mostly skittered out of harm's way until they neared the walls. With unmatched ferocity, the monsters leapt over their comrades and onto the walls, clambering up with such speed that only a few sentries had been able to alert the others before the fist of the monsters managed to climb over.
With the bloodbath beginning, Pyra raised her arm once more. As one, a hundred death knights thundered across the field on their skeletal mounts, the icy aura of death now firmly setting its sights on those who would resist. Behind them, support troops of more skittering monsters surged forward. But this time, they were but pack mules, rapidly transporting ladders up to the frontline.
Even from her post, she could hear the cries of fear and agony as the defenders fell one by one. There was a perverse sense of joy at the carnage she had been able to inflict, only to be tempered by the briefest pang of regret.
Enough, princess. She scolded her host, and we agreed. The populace will be kept safe and yours to rule. But this battle, this battle is mine. Pyra balled her hands into a fist. Those who resist, shall be slaughtered.
Only with great reluctance did the regret fade, the presence retreating once more. I shall bring us victory, and you shall lead the reconstruction, as is agreed. She minded her host.
With the immediate threat subdued, Pyra’s attention returned to the battle. The defender's morale was breaking. The walls had turned into a feast for her army as some mutant soldiers now scaled the ladders to join with their skittering compatriots. At the breaches, her death knights plunged into the enemy with deadly efficiency. Tearing off armour and flesh alike in their viscous charge as they shattered the defensive lines through unparalleled strength. Glorious.
She revelled in the moment for a second before she turned around to look at Centurion Lyran, giving the man a firm nod. Receiving one in return, the centurion then said something to his men, the orders followed by a series of menacing horns being blown. With a rhythmic pace, the legionaries began their advance, followed somewhat awkwardly by the militia and mercenaries.
Out in the field, her death knights pulled back, allowing the recently carved open gaps to be filled by the deathless monstrosities. With claws, teeth, scythes, and bones, they tore apart the defenders in a gore filled orgy of violence that sparked a minor rout. Seeing that no section of the army simply fell, Pyra came to the conclusion that none of the knights had fallen in the melee. A result that brought her no small amount of pride.
She could feel it in her every pore, they were nearing the final hour. So quickly had the initial defences fallen that the fear radiating from the city was more than felt as it washed over the blood stained walls. With one last directive, she sent forward the few undead paladins she had to accompany her necromancers. These were not necessarily part of the plan, for they were meant to sustain the death wall that currently kept her forces safe from overzealous attacks beyond her control. But their month-long siege had allowed her to gather mana and energy, more than enough for a single spell.
A dull greyish purple smoke filled the field as far as the eye can see. Almost as quickly as it had arrived, it faded. Pyra could feel the mana in the area shift drastically as most of it was sucked away by the spell. Every fallen soldier had their essences drained as well, emptying the area of mana. The few fragments that were absorbed, however, now inhabited new hosts, and her army of the deathless was replenished to sufficient levels. It was the coup de grace against the city.
Through the death knights closer to the battle, she could feel the tidal wave of momentum building up before washing over the last vestiges of hope. It began with the defenders on the wall, those who had struggled so long to hold their posts only to see the undead and a few monsters to reanimate, negating their efforts and the sacrifice of their comrades. Even from where she was she could see the beginning of the retreat as panicked bugles and trumpets were blown hastily to signal the manuever.
The initial part of the siege was coming to a close. With the defenders on the retreat from the walls, those on the ground would soon follow, and the city itself after that. There was the issue of the palatial fortress that occupied the central district, the former heart of House Montroi. Resistance there would be fierce, and coupled with a hood inquisitor of considerable strength commanding the defences, even Pyra doubted they would fall so easily. Deferring to her host's desire to not level the palace and also the general situation of the siege at large, her forces would perform the simplest tactic in the world. Starvation.
While the chevaliers, priests, inquisitor, and soldiers could maintain and hold the palace’s defences and wards with relative ease. They lacked a proper supply route near the center of the city. Her forces would simply secure every other part of the fortress city and wait them out. At best, they surrendered or weakened themselves enough that she could storm the palace. At worst, she broke the wards and unleashed the purple death upon them. All in all, victory was all but assured.
----------------------------------------
----------------------------------------
Pyra was disappointed. Instead of clawing their way, tooth and nail to the final soul. The remaining castle defenders surrendered. Or rather, the inquisitor’s retinue, sensing that it was nigh impossible to attain any meaningful victories, had retreated before the city was fully enveloped. Disheartened, the castle guard surrendered and any remaining resistance fell apart as the news was spread amongst those who still fought.
In truth, Pyra wanted to watch as the black hat wearing inquisitor fought her death knights, to judge one of humanity’s defenders in the battlefield before snuffing his life out. To determine if they were ready for the darkness beyond. Alas, unlike the two overzealous ones early in her campaign, this one seemed more pragmatic if also overly cautious.
Most of the undead had already pulled back to the city outskirts, only a few wandering death knights assisting the mercenaries in wiping out any last vestiges of resistance. The legion secured the palace complex while her militia began the arduous process of trying to restore order to the half blasted town.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Two legionaries crossed their arms across their chests and half bowed.
“Princess, Centurion Lyran wants to report the castle is secure.” One of the legionaries announced.
“Brilliant work.” Pyra grinned,”The two of you can return to your posts or join with Optio Archosthenes in the pacification sweep. Dismissed.”
“Yes, your majesty.” The two saluted at the same time.
With a gentle nudge of her mount, she began a light trot down the central boulevard towards the palace, her bodyguards forming up around her. The unbroken rode ahead of her, their menacing silent forms radiating an aura of terror that subdued any who would gaze upon them. To her flanks and rear, the dark paladins marched in formation accompanied by a few death knights she had called to her side. It was to be one last show of force, of dominion of the victor over the defeated.
All around her were varying scenes of the desperate battles fought by the fallen defenders. Walls and streets were slick with blood where the fallen had been posthumously devoured by the creatures they tried to resist. Buildings with large sections fallen during the fighting blocked off alleyways as others just had a gaping maw where walls once stood. Broken shields and barricades lay shattered where they fell, the unthinking hordes uncaring of what was in their warpath.
More lucky districts were the ones where the defenders had the wherewithal to surrender in a meek attempt to preserve their life. It made Pyra smile a little, knowing the sheer fear they must have felt as the unflinching hollow gaze of a death knight stared back at them. Only for the shock and surprise as the knight would then leave, the undead following after and leaving the district and its people as untouched as possible. Pyra’s only regret was that she could not be present to see their bewilderment, but she did at least praise her host for the foresight to offer mercy as a path that they must take. In this perhaps, Pyra would admit that simply wiping everyone out would’ve been less satisfying.
Castle Montroi was situated on a hill in the central district, standing over the city like a gentle parent or looming fist depending on who you were. Protected by its own walls, most were left abandoned as the prisoners were herded to the castle halls to be watched by the legion, all awaiting their judgement for the stubborn resistance. The doors to the main keep had been torn from their hinges, the rest of it shattered into tiny splinters when the castle got stormed by her forces. Most bodies had already been moved to feed the beasts while those who fell within the keep itself were left where they died, a reminder to the prisoners of the fate that awaited those who defied her. Though Pyra loathed cowards like them, she could appreciate not having to waste more resources than necessary to subdue them.
It’s almost your turn to take the stage, Pyra informed her host, a light sneer growing at the edge of her mouth. We’ve won a siege, try not to appear like some kind hearted fool. It doesn’t suit the image.
Pyra felt the dissatisfied growl within her and smirked before she suddenly lurched forward. Her vision darkened at the same time as her body was enveloped by a feverish sensation. Reacting with impeccable movements, one of the knights stepped back to wordlessly halt her fall, bearing her weight as she nearly fell.
Annalise groaned from the sudden switch, her eyes and skin burning from the instantaneous transition. Breathing heavily, she nodded a small note of acknowledgement at the silent knight, the soldier wordlessly returning to his post the second that she recovered. She shuddered despite the heat at the sight, her imagination leading her down unpleasant places as she tried to picture how these unspeaking monsters were simply just humans in another form.
As she approached the castle gates, her heart swelled slightly, the crushing sensation of memories and responsibilities intertwining with the brutal reality of the battle that had just occurred. By now, Kimmie and the others are likely under escort to bring them here, and Anna bemoaned the fact that she had no one to turn to for support at this moment.
“My princess, the throne awaits you.” The armoured man known as Centurion Lyran kneeled before her.
From her knowledge, he was one of Pyra’s goons, though an ancient warrior just as deadly as her silent creations.
“I am the other one, soldier. There is no need for such formalities.” Anna whispered.
The man paused and briefly looked up to meet her gaze before hastily looking back towards the ground.
“Our lady has informed us of the situation and of your identity. Our protocol remains the same, princess.”
Anna sighed and nodded, “Arise then. Guide me, sir.”
“As your majesty commands.” He crossed his arms.
One of the silent knights helped her down from the horse, her body nearly crumpling as she tried to put her weight upon her phantom leg. Fucking shit.
Steadying, she grabbed her crutch and readied herself, mimicking Pyra’s hand gesture and signalling for the procession to proceed.
“I must warn you, princess. A few of the guard were subdued by sheer chance, there are still loyalists present though our princess ordered that they be used as an example.” Lyran said.
“My thanks for the heads up, but I would like to see the situation up close first before making a decision.” Anna replied.
“By your command, your majesty.”
Followed by her new knights and legionaries, the procession advanced towards the keep and Anna tensed up. The carnage by the brave few who held the ground was savage to say the least. Though much had been hastily cleaned up, the blood stains indicated a not insignificant resistance had been put up here. Inside the keep, rows of bound prisoners were watched over by legionaries, the threatening death knights standing in doorways and annexes, a poignant reminder of their situation.
With the metallic clanking of metal on stone as the first of the silent knights stepping into the great hall, the prisoners grew agitated. Even for Anna, she knew exactly how they felt. Like back in Eichafen, they were now helpless as they watched the endgame approach, their fates now in someone else’s hand.
“Damn you, wench! They’ll never let this stand, neither king nor republic!” An unruly man yelled.
“You’ll pay for this!” Someone else joined in.
They prompted a flurry of jeers at the new arrivals and the legionaries guarding them started smacking the prisoners with sticks to quiet them down. Anna recognised their outfits, the heavy plate armoured soldiers painted in ceremonial blues and yellows, the chevaliers. Each Gratian castle was supposed to field at least two regiments of elite mounted warriors to be levied by the kingdom in an emergency. It would seem that these were perhaps some of the last in Monte de Trisse. As the prisoners got morer agitated, Anna held up her hand and the legionaries stopped their beatings whilst the silent knights all drew their blade.
The loud schling of the blades brought the hall to a temporary silence, the beginning of the final act for the castle’s inhabitants. On her right, were prisoners belonging to the city’s garrison, including the castle guard that for the most part surrendered voluntarily. On the left, the brave citizens who tried to resist and were pacified non lethally, brought to face judgement from their betters. All in all, a hundred souls out of the thousands that had already fallen, thousands too many.
Ignoring the stares and glares directed at her, she kept a hood on as she limped towards the throne, each awkward step echoing as no one else dared make a noise. Only when she began climbing the four steps upwards did the protests begin.
“Unworthy!”
“Kill us but don’t defile us!”
“Worthless cur!”
Came some of the cries followed by more beatings.
“Don’t you dare!” A more weakened but pensive voice screeched.
Anna paused, her mind flipping through a litany of thoughts as she tried to formulate a response.
“Why not?” She growled menacingly.
“Th-th-tha….” The voice froze, likely not expecting such a response beyond the beatings.
The hall fell silent, none expected her to speak given her silent demeanour thus far, some likely just wanting to see what would happen.
“Why, not?” Anna demanded once more.
“Th-th-that belongs t-t-to the-the family of the king.” The voice stammered out.
“For House Montroi!”
“For the king!”
“For Gratia!”
"To the hells with you!"
A few dozen troops roared defiantly.
Perhaps bellied by the support, the voice continued, “T-that seat belongs to House Montroi! K-kill us if you want! But we will never acknowledge a usurper!” She bravely declared.
Soldiers and civilians alike banged their knees against the stone floors in agreement, hooting and hollering in defiance as they sensed their lives growing shorter.
Anna laughed, turning around and stomping over towards the lady that had spoken up.
“Leave ‘er alone!”
“Fight someone who can fight!”
A few yelled out in defence.
“Belongs to House Montroi eh? What about when the lot of you supported the rebels? So you never truly supported their cause anyways? Where was this love of the house then? Replacements? Only when convenient do you support the king, but no longer.” She snarled.
“F-f-for House-” The frightened women tried to speak.
“No longer!” Anna roared, “For you all serve House Montroi now, do you not?!”
No one knew how to respond, they seemed almost confused by her words. Perfect.
“Do you?!” She shouted into the poor lady’s face.
“Y-y-yes! And we will die for them!” She stammered to a roar of approval from the other prisoners. Together it would seem, they had decided to die defiant to the end.
“Well, well, well.” Anna clasped her hands together, “Then you shall serve your house faithfully.” She lifted an arm and her legionaries and knights lifted their blades. Seeing the terror in the lady’s eyes made her feel bad, but she dropped her arm anyway.
Down came the swings of their blades, and off came the ropes that bound the prisoners, many of whom had closed their eyes in anticipation of death. The sudden release had stunned them temporarily, and in their moment of confusion, Anna made a prearranged gesture with her hands. On cue, the silent knights strode forward and kneeled alongside their blades in a display of fealty. Centurion Lyran and his praetorians raised their blades.
“Announcing the heir of a kingdom, an heir to an empire. Long live the princess.” Lyran proclaimed, taking advantage of the silence. With a slick nod, he motioned for her to continue, to bring this sordid affair to close. Reluctantly, she accepted the challenge.
“If you serve House Montroi, then believe in me! For do you not recognise me? Dearest Collisse? Your very own ward before you sold me out to the rebels?!” Anna threw back her hood, exposing her visage for all to see. “But I am not a backstabber, or a traitor, but I will judge you for your words, all of you. I will give you the chance you never gave me, a chance to make up for your wrongs. For I proclaim to all of you, that I did not die. That I survived. That I, Anne Elizabeth Montroi, child of House Montroi, the wild runt of Monte de Trisse, daughter of the former king and queen, have returned to claim my birthright.”
Anna let the moment sink in, taking a glance at Lady Collisse’s wide eyes and those of the other confused prisoners in the room. Seeing their expressions of fear and shock, she felt her throat tighten. She was here, back home. Yet she arrived on the backs of an army not even truly hers, her mind also not fully whole anymore. There had been so much death, so many losses, and she still couldn’t grapple her mind around the one question that refused to leave her mind. Was all this worth it?