Backtracking to the final decision, eight hours ago, right after high noon. We took our lunch with rations and provisions provided by the combined efforts of the inner circles and the war cabinet.
"Sloppy and soggy." complaining about the food.
"Well, what can we do? We have this for free. At least, it is better to have a lick in lieu of nothing." explaining the upside behind the erstwhile rant.
Seven hours prior, after the conclusion of lunch recess. Someone quoted out the point: "Striking the gate head-on is still a no-go. And only fools would do that, unless they feel like they have something in their minds or something astonishing if they sense some creativity in their attacks. The cover from the east is devastated. Absolutely. Perhaps, we should suspect that these scoundrels did this." and as per my hindsight I stated in the past tactical meeting, with the exception of the excerpt of the 'foolish one' comment.
Six hours ago, the highest heat temperature index, in a sweltering and scorching gust of wind: "At your service, the head of the dragon clan. Odreth is willing to pay the debts and our overstayed dues." the dragons came to the rescue in a critical moment, as I thought in my mind: "Thanks to Lady Wellicia!" and half an hour later, the leader of 'Verlassene'. Which means the 'forlorn ones' and they are the elite special troopers directly commanded by the Queen Kehina herself. Ten percent of my current troops. Yes, about ten thousand. The unit is an all-female membership and the captain of this thousand strong muscles is 'Maison'. She presented me with a salutation instead of a common norm - handshake. I know she doesn't take a likings to me. I understand.
It was cloudy and dim, it seemed that the prayers of the uprights had been heard and luck would be on our side, concurrently. The time was five hours before this was happening. The Verlassenes, alongside with their leader - 'Maison', celebrated this occurrence. Almost all of the members of this 'forgotten ones' group, are adept in stuff or two aside from killing their adversaries. Five of the present special units are skilled in divination; hygromancy, atrology, haruspicy, or oracle kind of thingy. Four of the candidates approved of this phenomenon would be an auspicious aspect for us while one disagreed. Eighty percent (80%) of the chance would not be bad at all and at least it would raise the morale of the troops.
Dusk has arrived for all of us. Enemies. Allies. I don't know if the other side knows what exactly we are planning but we need to take the advances that we have accumulated. The Odreths. The Verlassenes. Well, at least, I assume we have all advantages against these astrayed buffoon ones. We need to just give them a visit or something like a ghost would scare off its prey. Something like: "Boo!".
Clyden checks out of his pocket watch, denoting: "It's five before the clock hand strikes to the 24 hour hand…" as he flips his watch close.
"Thanks for the heads up, Clyden. I really 'preciate it." I give him a nudge to his shoulder, a gentle tap.
"Allies from another cluster. As well as, our very own. Durgat. They-,... together with their volitions to carry out this laden for the safety of this kingdom, are willing to risk everything. I'm glad…" that's what I think through my mind.
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We have aerial superiority and the hard-hitting unit of Kehina. I am planning to use 'the Verlassenes' as a trump card to be exact since Maison hates my gut. As still, she doesn't have a penchant to me. Compromises are to be made. My own units will be vanguard. The dragon clan will take up the skies. Making them as a support and an eye above us. Durgat will be the second line of the assault. The orc champion will be emergent as both on the attacking and receiving ends. And as for the Verlassene troopers, in case of a fluke attack, they will be the ones who will be saving our asses. Maison, Durgat, and so as for the rest agree with the consensus of storming the place down head-on. No breaching and just a forward march towards the gate. Clyden, on the other hand, doesn’t concur with the plan since he confers me a reason for the layout of the battleplan. The science behind his logic is that this attack is rather audacious for his taste and secondly, he points out that a stronghold or a tower is equivalent to a thousand strong men. However, it varies, as Clyden stated; in an open plain field - numbers and tactics matter, but when in a siege stance - it is a different story. Thus, his judgment is obstinate. I play democratic rules and it seems that my notion plan is followed by many.
I hoist my hand with my palms open in the air, gesturing: "Heed my command! Press on towards the gate…" as I plead for them to not make such a discreet noise, where my army could probably get the signal of my message.
Clyden leads the charge in silent fashion. The entire legion comprises a plethora of experiences: volunteers, conscripted levies, adventurers (part-timers, rookies, and seasoned), and entourage (both 'greens' and professionals) - around five thousand strong. While the latter, whom I command my own rank with relatively similar numbers as Clyden's, and likely with the same swordsmanship or training. Who knows. So far, so good. The sentries haven’t noticed any movements from us as the commanding unit of Clyden is partially halfway through the moated ditch to the entrance. As the ½ of the vanguard and as a direct officer of this unit, I beckon the rest of my legion to march forward.
The plan is working! Phew… I assume this would go smoothly. I look at Durgat for him to stay in his ground since yet there's no discrepancy to this type of assault. I am glad that I didn't procrastinate with my orders! Now, the evening is on the rise and the visibility is close to zero. The fog is clearly impeding the vision of the defenders, however, we can see them through because of the lamps and the magic tools are being kindled to their sentry towers. This is odd because the fog appears as soon as the rain is pouring and first and foremost… how did the rebels obtain such an apparatus? This is so dubious. Both of these happenings are very dubious. It gives me a foreboding insight.
"Archers, ready!?!" as I position my hand for orders… Five of my handpicked guys (of course, they are females too), they are marksmen aiming towards the guard tower. There is only a single target to take down. They are prepared to loosen their arrow from their bows and just to make sure that figure will be eliminated. Of course, whoever would slay the target first will get a bonus from me and another stipulation was added before the game starts. One arrow, one chance. A promise is a promise. In a constant and peculiar strike of a thunder, all of the sharpshooters have loosen their arrows from their bows with a slight margin of delay. Five arrows have hitted the target. I failed to mention earlier that the point quality is therefore voided. One arrow plunged to the head. Bullseye! One to the heart. And one to the otherside of the lungs, if ever the aim is dextrocardia. One has pierced through the throat. Lastly, it hit the target by his wrist against the wall rendering it to stop the guard duty calling for an alert. They didn't even wait for my beckoning: "Loose!" … well, I suppose, they are itching for a shot. The initial goal has been killed and at most, we haven't alarmed the main army. So far, so good. Little by little.
We can't swim through this muddy trench. It may have water but it is reptile-infested. The Verlassenes will take it from me since they are the special troopers sent by the Majesty herself. These special units are crafty by their own rights. I don't know what they are about to do. Nonetheless. Make me impressed, Maison alongside your gang!