Fort Felsvar stood like a defiant mountain, its white stone walls practically laughing at our puny force gathered below. The siege camp, stretched out in rows of tents, felt almost laughably small against the sheer size of this fortress. From what I saw, we had maybe a couple thousand men at best. Not nearly enough to tackle something this... imposing.
The camp was orderly, sure. Command tents in the center, with some smaller ones spread out in rings around them. Fires crackled here and there, sending up thin trails of smoke, and soldiers were busy with all the usual pre-siege routines. Sharpening weapons, patching up gear, and probably just killing time until orders came down. They even had small workshops set up, with smiths hammering away at repairs.
But standing there, looking at Felsvar, it all seemed so... insufficient. This wasn’t some backwoods mudhut camp you could topple with a few ladders and a decent push. This thing was a beast. No moat, but an elevatorhouse with a massive wooden platform for a bloody entrance. How the hell were we supposed to get in?
The lack of siege engines was particularly unnerving. No trebuchets, no rams, no towers. Just a couple of carpenters working on simple ladders and other odd contraptions like we were storming some rickety outpost, not a fortress. I couldn’t help but think these guys had been seriously underestimating the task ahead of them.
Hern had to have a plan, right? He couldn’t seriously expect us to take this place with just what we had. We had two- maybe three thousand people here.
This monster needs several ten-thousand to tame it!
As I stood there, watching the elevatorhouse loom over us like some ominous warning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were heading into this way too lightly.
The atmosphere in the camp reflected that, too. It was quieter than I expected. There was no excited chatter or bravado, just this uneasy calm. Like everyone knew we were up against something big, and nobody wanted to say it out loud.
But the moment Hern came into view, things began to change. It was like someone flicked a switch.
Heads turned, whispers started, and a bit of tension crackled in the air. The soldiers who’d been lounging or fiddling with their gear straightened up, their eyes following Hern with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Even the ones by the fires seemed to lean in a bit closer, as if they were trying to eavesdrop on whatever conversation was about to unfold.
Hern didn’t seem to mind the attention. He kept that same unreadable expression, which probably made him look all the more mysterious to his men. If I were him, I’d be enjoying the spotlight. Me? I was just trying to avoid the awkward stares and catch any hints about what was coming next.
Rheka, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the change in atmosphere. She jumped up in the cart, bouncing around with her usual energy, while I sat up straight, doing my best to look like I belonged in this chaotic mess. To them it must have looked like were supposed to be the secret weapon to bring about the turn of the tide. Yeah, right. The soldiers couldn’t seem to decide whether to find us adorable or strange, but I guess that’s what happens when you show up at a siege with dragon and a kid in tow.
We finally rolled up to the command center, a large tent that stood out from the rest by virtue of its size and the extra decorations. Several of the same banner had been set up around it. Depicting two dragons facing each other. One silver, one gold. Both of them held onto a spear in the middle. I had seen this banner several times before. Practically all around Gipuzk, so I figured it was probably the King's own or something. The command tent was like the VIP lounge of the camp, with its own little entourage of aides and scribes. Hern dismounted and headed straight inside, with a couple of his silver men flanking him.
I took a moment to look around and saw the camp’s atmosphere shifting yet again. There was a flurry of activity now, with people scurrying around like ants in a disturbed nest. It was clear that Hern’s arrival had kicked everything into high gear. Orders were shouted, supplies were organized, and the whole camp seemed to hum with a new energy.
I glanced at Rheka, who was happily trying to strike up a conversation with every soldier she passed. She was completely unfazed by the whirlwind of activity around us. As always, I envied her calm.
With everything buzzing around, I figured it was probably time to finally figure out what exactly Hern had planned here. We followed him into the command tent, trying to shake off the feeling that we were about to dive headfirst into a situation way more complicated than any of us were prepared for.
"What's the situation?" Hern asked just as Rheka and I entered the tent. He didn't even bother to get himself settled in.
The inside of the command tent was exactly what I expected. Cramped, tense, and filled with that low aura of stress that comes with impending battle. Several men, all clad in that familiar, gleaming silver full-plate armor, stood huddled around a large wooden table that dominated the center of the space. Their helmets rested on the ground next to them, revealing faces hardened by experience -weathered, scarred, and grim. No one looked like they were here for a casual chat.
The table itself was covered in maps and documents, the most prominent of which was an oversized map of the fortress. Fort Felsvar was sketched out in precise detail, every tower and wall marked, with that damn elevatorhouse taking center stage. Another map of the surrounding area was pinned down on the edge of the table, showing the various hills, forests, and approach routes to the fortress. I could see where our forces were positioned, tiny symbols marking where our troops were stationed around the perimeter.
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There were a couple of men hunched over the map, muttering in low voices as they traced possible paths of attack with their fingers. They looked up when Hern entered, straightening up like schoolboys caught gossiping, but I noticed the slight tension that went through them. I couldn’t tell if they were nervous or just relieved that Hern had arrived. Probably both.
The whole tent had this... thick atmosphere. The kind that makes it hard to breathe properly. Like the air was heavier in here. I caught Rheka's eye, and she just shrugged, probably thinking I was overreacting, as usual. But it wasn't just my nerves. Something about this whole setup felt... off. The camp outside seemed too small, the lack of siege engines was glaring, and the mood in here was weirdly tense, like everyone was waiting for something to go wrong.
I leaned over the map of the fortress, taking in the details. We had all the information, apparently. But even then, Fort Felsvar still looked just as impenetrable up close as it did from a distance.
The men in the tent didn’t speak much, just exchanged glances and stiff nods. I could feel them sizing us up, probably wondering what two random critters like us were doing here. Fair question, really. I had accepted his offer with some confidence, thinking we'd be able to wing it somehow. How hard could a siege inside the kingdom be? Well. Once again I was proven wrong. Even I wasn’t entirely sure how the two of us were supposed to fit into all this, but Hern seemed to know. Or at least, he acted like he did. And for now, that would have to be enough.
"The rats have not yet jumped their sinking ship, mylord." Said one of the guys around the table. I looked over and had to do a double take. The guy was on the thicker side, broad and a bit too snug in his silver armor. It strained at the seams like it had seen better days. Or maybe it was just not meant to fit someone with his kind of... build.
He had this round face, and his patchy beard wasn’t doing much to cover the fact that he was going bald. Thin strands of blonde hair clung to the sides of his head, making a last stand against the inevitable. But it wasn’t just his looks that caught me off guard. It was his voice. High-pitched. Almost squeaky. Not what I expected from someone built like a brick wall.
For a second, I thought he might have been some tavern keeper who’d accidentally wandered into the wrong tent. But the way he spoke, there was a no-nonsense edge to his tone. Whoever this guy was, he wasn’t just playing dress-up. "Our plans to infiltrate have failed, every attempt on the ladders was in vain." He continued. All those men unalived outside the walls must have been the result of that.
"Just starve them out already." Another one said. He had this thick, unplaceable accent. The kind that made every word feel as if it had to push its way out of his throat. Like a russian speaking latin. His hair was pulled back into a manbun, the dark strands slick with sweat, and a long beard hung from his chin, braided at the end. He looked like he should be somewhere chopping down trees or wrestling bears, not standing around in a tent trying to figure out how to starve out a bunch of people in a fortress.
Starving them out. It was definitely a way to go about it. By the looks of it, they didn't have the numbers to just sally out and beat us to a pulp. They probably would have done so already if they could. But this was bad for us, no? Thanks to Visla's deception, we had about a week to do this. Any longer and we had a big problem at our hands. And that problem's name was Ursus. Starving people out could take months. If not years! Though it did seem like something Hern would do. Play the long game.
"We cannot." Hern said, his voice cutting through the noise of the tent. He stood firm, eyes narrowed as if he was already five steps ahead of everyone. "I've had several reports of supposed reinforcements heading our way. About a two days' march from here."
Well, that was just fantastic. Reinforcements meant we were suddenly on the clock.
"Reinforcements?" the almost-bald one repeated. "How can a mob of rebels receive reinforcements? From where? Whom?" His squeaky voice carried just a little too much disbelief, like someone had told him pigs were flying in from the east.
There... were no flying pigs, right?
It was a fair question, though. This wasn't exactly a grand army we were facing. Apparently just a handful of rebels holed up in a castle that looked more like an immovable chunk of stone than anything a bunch of farmers and sellswords could defend. Though, I was beginning to realize something. As if the parts of the puzzle had come together. I remembered pieces of the conversation Hern and the other advisors had with the King. The one in the conference hall, a couple days back. Were these... Rathan rebels? I still didn't know much about them, apart from the fact that they were a persecuted people. And everyone's scapegoats. But it checked out. With all the talk about rebel sentiment growing in the realm. And they had taken a castle? Apparently, they were quite the force to be reckoned with after all.
Hern spoke with that familiar cold edge in his voice. "The north has always had a sizeable Rathan population. A situation like this was inevitable. Give your thanks to the Golthians for being so lenient with them."
Ahh. Right once again! I'm like... seven billion steps ahead of you here, Hern.
What's a... Golthian, though?
"So, mylord? How do we proceed?" Squeaky Baldie asked.
"So. Furul my dear friend. We simply negotiate."
Hern’s suggestion hit the tent like a bucket of cold water. Everyone’s faces were a mix of confusion and irritation. The balding Furul looked like he’d just swallowed a live eel.
“Negotiate? With rebels?” He was practically vibrating with disbelief.
The man with the thick accent and manbun grumbled something under his breath. “You can’t negotiate with these folks. They’re not exactly keen on diplomacy.”
Even though there was a lot of murmuring and scowling, nobody actually stepped up to challenge Hern. It was like everyone was too chicken to speak up. The tent was buzzing with discontent, but Hern’s sheer authority seemingly kept everyone in line. I was beginning to see how one could respect this man.
He just stood there, cool as ever, letting the room stew for a moment before he spoke again. “We’re on a tight schedule. If there are more coming, we need to act fast. Negotiating might buy us some time or even sway things in our favor.”
The room quieted down, everyone clearly not thrilled but too intimidated to argue further. You could feel that Hern’s word was basically law, and no one was about to cross him.
Though I had to ask...
How were we supposed to fit into all of this?