On a warm morning, in far northern Rhankia, an army stood in formation, facing the mighty Castle Marcoir. Drums beats were heard from across the army, and there was a large burning tree in front of the army. The Rhankish soldiers looked at the burning tree like it was a mesmerizing marble statue, and nobody dared to make a sound.
There was a man in full armor standing beside the burning tree, looking up to it. After a few seconds of silence, he nodded and saddled up on his horse. “Men! Looks like Humanos is watching us today, for his wisdom has brought us here!” the man in armor, Duke Villbrod, shouted. “Will you shame your ancestors or bring honor to them? Show me your answer by taking that castle, men!”
“Hear! Hear!” the army responded.
“Begin!” Villbrod’s proclamation was joined by the sounds of horns bellowing.
The Rhankish army split up into four. The largest of them all, the vanguard, was heading straight for the large hole in the front of Castle Marcoir, while the sides were assaulted by medium-sized groups with siege ladders. The fourth group moved into the forest, trying to navigate to the backside of the castle.
Villbrod wasn’t sure why the enemy hadn’t showed up yet, and he suspected that the large hole in the castle walls was deliberately left there, which was why he decided to attack the sides as well.
While the vanguards cautiously approached the front, the sides were rushing up to the walls as fast as they could before enemy archers could start firing upon them. However, as it turned out, they weren’t facing archers.
As a group of footmen ran across the grass field towards the western wall, a man stepped on a flat square rock. It was strange considering that his weight caused the rock to sink into the ground, but he didn’t have time to think about that. Just as he was about to continue moving, he heard a click.
An explosion wiped out the surrounding men, and a cloud of sickly-yellowish smoke started to exude from the ground. The men who were caught by the deadly smoke started grasping their throats and choked to death. More and more mines were triggered by the assault teams, and not long afterwards, a wall of smoke formed.
Villbrod and his retinue were shocked as they watched from a distance. “Where did those come from?!” a knight shouted.
“From the castle?!” another one suggested.
“No! They came from the ground! Northmen sorcery!”
Villbrod, who lost his patience, shouted, “Quiet, you fools! That vile air is dissipating fast! Send more men in!”
Though the poison clouds created an impassable barrier, it was only a temporary measure until the winds blew the clouds away. More men were sent, and more mines were triggered until the walls were at last reached.
Meanwhile at the front, the vanguards were nervously watching the flank assault from afar. As they marched closer and closer to the hole, they saw yellow clouds engulf the men attacking the sides of the castle. Many soldiers at the very front of the vanguard thought that a yellow cloud would also swallow them at any moment.
Suddenly, the towers in the castle came to life. The Rhanks couldn’t see anyone on the towers, but they could see large ballista-like machines moving. Not long afterwards, all hell broke loose as the ballistas fired steel bolts which pierced through lines of men. Their puny armor and shields weren’t even enough to stop the impacts, and rows of soldiers were destroyed within seconds. The ballistas did not stop firing until the vanguard broke formation and started fleeing.
“Lord! Baron Frocad is retreating with what remains of the vanguard!” a knight reported to the duke.
“They hadn’t even reached the opening!” Villbrod fumed. “Those war machines will run out of bolts soon enough! This isn’t the first time we’ve faced ballistas in our lifetimes! Send in the second wave!”
On the other side of the battleground, the fourth group advanced through the forest far from the castle, but they weren’t safe from the bloodshed either. Improved scout drones leapt from the trees, latching onto the unsuspecting Rhankish soldiers. As soon as the alert from Castle Marcoir went up, scout drones all over the region rushed towards the castle like a swarm of ants to a fallen apple. As they trickled in slowly to join the battlefield, they were starting to prove to be a formidable foe to the unprepared Rhanks.
Though only as small as a dog and poorly-equipped for combat, when grouped up, they could even take on a serjent in full armor. Not only that, the drones didn’t rely on conventional face-to-face combat. They buried themselves within the dirt, hid in bushes, or climbed up the trees to attack from places the Rhanks could never imagine.
“Help! They’ve-”
“From behind! The bushes! They’re- Aaaah!”
“Archers! Spread out! You’re vulnerable! By the Purgatory, more men to the front!”
It took some time and experienced leadership to get the fourth group to form a tight pack to push back the spider drones. Despite their success in repelling the drones, they suffered quite a number of casualties so they had to stop and send messengers back to the main camp to request for reinforcements.
“Your Highness, the fourth group was ambushed by northmen creatures! We request more men!” a messenger informed.
“By Humanos! Are we really facing a small group of northmen?! Send Count Garinth and two companies of serjents to the fourth group immediately!” Villbrod commanded.
The second round of the assault began with more bloodshed. The walls, though unmanned at first sight, were actually filled with northmen warriors who were lying on the floor, waiting.
As soon as the first Rhank got up on the ramparts, he was immediately hacked into pieces. The warrior drones revealed themselves and started hacking against the siege ladders. Though the ladders were specially crafted with a hook to hold onto the walls so that defenders couldn’t simply push them out, the drones used their ridiculous strength to smash the hook apart or kick the embrasures down.
However, their efforts still didn’t change the fact that they were still heavily outnumbered. Large sections of the walls were simply taken through brute force, and the drones were slowly forced out of the third ring of walls. The drones moved towards the second ring of walls through long bridges which were taken apart as soon as the Rhanks got close. The remaining warrior drones which became stranded on the third ring fought with suicidal ferocity, some even pushing themselves off the walls along with some serjents.
At the center, the intensity of the ballistas' attacks was slowing down due to their shortage of ammunition just as the duke had predicted, but they weren’t the only things Smith had prepared. Just as a group of footmen stepped close to the hole, the ground beneath them collapsed. The helpless soldiers didn’t even know what happened to them as they all plunged into deadly spiked pits.
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“Hidden spike traps!” Villbrod cursed. Luckily, the duke had already prepared for a situation like this and had his army fill bags of dirt before the assault. “Get those dirtbags to the front and fill those holes! Immediately!”
“Yes, Your Highness!” the soldiers answered.
Smith, who commanded the drone army from within the castle, watched the assault with curiosity. When he noticed that the enemy had already prepared for his spiked trap, he nodded his head. “These humans are clever. But not clever enough. Launch the air assaults.”
Just as the Rhanks had thought that the northmen birds had long disappeared, they suddenly blotted the sky once more. Instead of dropping their bolts upon the attacking Rhanks, they went straight for the large human army waiting far from the castle.
The men who were held up in reserve saw the aerial drones but did not panic. The horsemen quickly got off their horses and joined the soldiers as they all raised and stacked their shields upwards. After days of experiencing the aerial attacks, the Rhanks had already formed some tactics to counter them. Though this method didn’t work all the time, it was better than nothing.
When the steel bolts rained upon the human army, it only caused minor casualties. A Thane drone standing close to Smith commented, “As expected, the aerial attacks are no longer as effective as before. Do we begin?”
“Affirmative. While they’re still crowded together, launch artilleries.”
Steel bolts continued to rain upon the Rhankish reserves. While some bolts still pierced through the layers of shields, most were stopped at the top. The relieved soldiers started to laugh in joy. “Ha! Those northmen will have to find a new kind of beast to stop us-”
Large rocks, which seemed to be bricks cobbled together, smashed onto the tightly packed Rhankish soldiers. What was worse was that the aerials drones were still attacking them, so a new wave of panic took over.
“Keep tight, you cowards!”
“Run! Everyone scatter!”
“Move with me! Move with me!”
Conflicting orders, howls of pain, and the crashes of the boulders drowned the ears of the men, and the soldiers were slowly breaking.
“Are the damned pits filled yet?!” Villbrod shouted with rage as he watched from a safe distance.
“Yes, Your Highness! We somehow did it!”
“Launch the attack before we lose all of our reserves!”
“At once, Your Highness!”
When the order was heard, the Rhankish footmen didn’t even need to be told twice. They all broke and charged towards the opening. Even some groups who were ordered to stay also charged in hopes they would escape the nightmare that was the back line.
Back to the walls, the outermost ring of walls was finally taken by the Rhanks and they started heading up the towers in hopes of stopping the ballistas and their crews. When they reached the top, they found no one but the ballistas and some crates.
“What? Did they escape?!” a serjent said.
“They must’ve escaped like the other northmen!” a footman suggested.
“Take over the war machines!”
As soon as they got close, the ballistas revealed their long spider legs and swatted the men off the towers. The ballistas rammed, crushed, and tossed the men around as they rampaged around like an angry bull. Not only that, spider drones hidden inside the barrels and crates revealed themselves, ambushing the Rhanks.
“Monsters! The northmen are employing monsters!”
“Stab them! Stab them! Arrrghhhh!”
“Monstrous spiders! Demons from Koja!”
The Rhanks tried to take down the rampaging ballistas, but in the end, they couldn’t. They decided to seal off the towers instead. The soldiers on the ramparts watched below as they saw the entire area explode with yellow cloud. Within the thick layer of gas, warrior drones stabbed and chopped the retreating vanguards. Rhankish archers tried to fire from above, but they were useless against the armored drones.
“Your Highness! The northmen birds have stopped! They’re- No! They’re turning to our men on the walls!” a knight shouted.
“They’ll all die if they get caught! Tell the men to get off immediately!” Villbrod ordered.
“Are we retreating, lord?!”
“The assault for today is over! Tell the men to withdraw back to camp except for the fourth group! They’ll continue moving to the backside of Castle Marcoir!” Villbrod elaborated then rode off to camp.
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Far from the carnage of Castle Marcoir, at the capital of Rhankia, Rikkenhotten, a nobleman wearing bright bluish green clothing rode into the royal castle unobstructed. As he made his way into the main hallway, royal guards made way and bowed to him.
When he reached the crowded throne room, he bowed slightly towards the king, Leosif the Third. “Father, you summoned me?”
“Ah, my son! Everyone, leave!” King Leosif dismissed the room. Everyone including the royal guards left the room, leaving the room to the king and his son. “Look at this letter I have, Orwulf.”
“A letter?
“From the north, and not one from your sister. It’s from one of my men that’s with Duke Villbrod,” Leosif explained.
“Is something going on there? I heard that Little Imma has secured a deal with the…. What do they call them?”
“Northmen.”
“Right, with the northmen.”
Leosif shrugged and handed the letter over to the prince. “Despite her deal, that old sack of bones Villbrod decided to move against Castle Marcoir anyway.”
“Isn’t this a violation of a royal decree?” Orwulf asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Perhaps. But Duke Villbrod’s smart enough to find a loophole. I’m sure he would slam my doors open and proclaimed that I did not specifically ordered him not to attack the Vyssians or their hounds… or perhaps not.”
“What do you mean by that, father?” Orwulf asked to which Leosif answered by pointed at the letter with his eyes. “Reports state that... movement of the army… around Castle Marcoir…”
“Well? Did you see what’s interesting here?”
“It says that a list of names of various counts and barons… but not the duke. What’s the meaning of this?”
Leosif laughed then clapped a few times. “That old fox. Although I can’t just arrest a mighty duke with many supporters lest I risk an insurrection, I can still punish him in some ways that might hurt him more than confiscating his estates.”
“Like what? Removing him from the seat of a royal commander?”
"Perhaps. The duke's prepared a way out even if everything goes down into Purgatory, so the chances of that happening would be slim."
"But Duke Villbrod is clearly the one in charge!"
“Politics isn’t that simple, son. If Villbrod ever outlives me, Orwulf, you should watch out for him. In fact, watch out for every single one of your future vassals.”
“Even my sister?”
“Especially your sister.” Leosif smiled at his son like a trickster that just told a riddle while Orwulf had a stone-like face which seemed to be pondering on something deeply.
“Do you think Villbrod would be able to take the castle?” Orwulf asked.
Leosif shrugged. “It’s seventeen thousand against less than a thousand. I’d be surprised if he loses.”
“So you think he will succeed?”
“Well, even if, by some great misfortune, he loses, it still benefits me in some ways.” Leosif ran his hand through his beard and closed his eyes, thinking deeply just like his son a moment ago. “These northerners...I had thought they would just be a small footnote, but as it turned out, they might actually be worth looking into. Your sister has gotten ahead of you in that aspect.”
Orwulf bowed his head low and replied, “I’ll keep that in mind, father.”
“Now, enough of the foreigners. Let’s talk about how your campaigns went…”