In the middle of the night, two cloaked figures watched Castle Marcoir from atop a mountain. Though they could not actually see their intended target, the plethora of torches and campfires in the distance betrayed the location of their interest.
“So, it seems that His Highness Duke Villbrod has opted to siege my beloved castle. What do you say about this, Lorferd?” one of the men said.
“Well, Count Marcoir, I can’t say that I’m an expert, but isn’t it unreasonable to try and starve those… things out?” Lorferd replied.
Marcoir hummed to himself as he scratched his chin before saying, “Why is that? The scouts had already reported in advance that there were no farms around the place, and that they couldn’t see a granary of sorts. With my best estimations, the castle only has a few weeks of rations. One or two. I bet a quarter of a silver coin on three.”
“Nay, lord. We’ve already seen what the northmen really are. Could they even eat? Do they need to eat? What do they even eat? What sort of things had they prepared inside the castle already? These northmen are unlike anything we’ve ever fought before,” Lorferd pointed out. “By we, I mean, humans. Not even the kojans are these… different. We may even have the ‘privilege’ of being the first ones to fight these strange metal people.”
“Maybe they eat rocks?” Marcoir casually suggested.
“I suppose that’s a reasonable guess since the castle’s missing the front of their walls.”
“Bahahaha!” Marcoir laughed loudly. “I’d love to see those metal dolls eat an entire wall!”
The two men laughed cheerily in the night, making quirky jokes at each other.
“Anyway, lord, is it really wise not to tell the duke of everything you know about the northmen?” Lorferd asked.
Marcoir shrugged and nonchalantly answered, “He didn’t ask. Then again, like the unknowledgeable us, he’s probably thinking that these northmen are just some kind of tribal barbarians hired by the Vyssians, so the thought of asking me wouldn’t have occurred to him.”
“Then we should’ve told-”
“Lorferd, I've already written countless letters to him, though he probably ignored all of my letters. Then again, that old fox Villbrod will find it out by himself sooner or later anyway. He’s a wiley commander. Even after two days of fighting, he’s still holding back his reserves, which means that he’s up to something.”
Lorferd nodded as if he had just reached an epiphany. “I’ve still got a long way to go.”
“It’s fine, Lorferd! Just listen to your elders like me, and eventually you’ll grow old enough to be as pessimistic as me!”
“I’ll try not to disappoint.” Lorferd bowed.
“Now, let’s head back home before the northmen catches us,” Marcoir said.
“From this far, lord?”
“I hate those metal dolls as much as I hate my castle, but I don’t dare underestimate either of them. Now, ride!”
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Back at the main siege camp of the Rhanks besieging Castle Marcoir, Villbrod was discussing the usual battle plans with his commanders when a messenger abruptly entered his tent.
“Your Highness, we’ve finally captured one of northmen, but unfortunately, he died,” the soldier reported.
“He died on the way here?” Villbrod asked with a raised eyebrow.
The soldier coughed then clarified, “Erm… actually, we’re not sure if he’s dead. He just stopped moving after an… extra firm incapacitating method was used to knock him out.”
“You bashed his head in? You think you could even keep a man alive after caving his skull in?!”
“Sorry, Your Highness! I am just a messenger!” the soldier bowed. “What should we do?”
“Bah, bring him here. Maybe he has something important on him,” the duke ordered.
Moments later, the body of the unmoving northman was brought into the tent and laid onto the ground. The noblemen inspected the armor of the strange foreigners, some even carelessly touched the corpse.
“From head to toe, he’s covered in chains,” a nobleman murmured.
“This armor is common even amongst their rank and file soldiers. Could the northerners really be that rich?” another voiced out.
“Look at his dagger! Such fine craftsmanship!”
“Everyone, silence!” Villbrod commanded. “Soldier, where did you get this body from?”
The soldier stood upfront and replied, “From one of the tunnels, Your Highness.”
“Ah, the tunnels. It’s quite unexpected that they have counter-tunnels even when they’re so far away from the castle, but then again that’s one of the least surprising part about the northmen…” Villbrod commented as he looked over the corner of the tent where there was a pile of dead spider drones stacked on top of each other, some of them looked like they were in the process of being disassembled.
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The duke crouched over and examined the body of the dead drone. He turned the head around, grabbed at every opening, and even tried to poke the eyeholes. After a few minutes of turning and tossing the corpse around, Villbrod cursed, “How in the Purgatory do I get this damnable armor off?”
“Your Highness, we could bring some tools in,” a soldier suggested.
“Do so!”
A moment later, a blacksmith came over with his tools in order to break through the well-constructed and seemingly impenetrable armor. With a hammer and chisel, he chipped away at the joints and tore the armor off one by one. It took a few hours to get through the layers of metal, and the end result was something which neither the blacksmith nor the noblemen expected.
“W-What in the name of Humanos is this?” Villbrod gasped.
There wasn’t a body. Just a hollow opening full of… strange organs and the like. In fact, it didn’t even look like organs. If Villbrod had something to strike a similarity with, it would be like an alchemist’s toolset.
As Villbrod tried to reach for the drone’s internals, a few noblemen warned him that he might get cursed by Humanos. Shrugging off their curses, he poked at the ‘organs’. Some parts felt like metal, some parts felt like soft leather, others felt like glass. Villbrod felt as if every time he touched the organs, his breathe would escape out of fear of being damned along with the old duke.
Though wary at first, the noblemen relented to their curiosity and started poking at the dead northman as well.
“What is this thing?” Villbrod said.
“Could it be a kojan?” a nobleman suggested.
“Nay, you fool. Kojans are made of wood. These things are made of metal!”
As the nobles contemplated and argued, an idea struck Villbrod. He grabbed at one of the spider drones and told the blacksmith to open it as well. Just like the dead northman, the spider was filled with strange organs.
The duke was speechless. Exasperated, he stumbled back onto a chair and sat down. Out of habit, he started twirling his moustache.
“What should we do, Your Highness?” a nobleman asked.
“I… I need to write to Archpriest Agrianos. He must surely know something related to non-humans,” Villbrod muttered.
“But, Your Highness, Archpriest Agrianos left for the searing. By now, he should be far east.”
“Damn!” Villbrod cursed. “I’ll send a letter to the City of Saint Sallus either way. Whoever is left in charge there must surely know what these things are!”
“Do we continue the siege, lord?”
“We can’t do anything else, so yes! They’re enemies of Rhankia, and there’s also the possibility that these are enemies of humanity as well! This dead body proves that they can be killed so we must keep at it with greater ferocity and fanaticism!” Villbrod declared.
The noblemen stood at attention and shouted in unison, “For Humanos, for humanity, for Rhankia!”
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“These humans are annoyingly persistent,” Smith commented as he watched the battle map. Although the humans had stopped their large-scale attacks, there was still the occasional skirmishes and the on-going tunnel war.
“Report. The humans have captured a few more Freeholder drones,” a thane reported.
‘This is alarming,’ Custodian interjected through hivespeak. ‘Why are the organics taking my drones? Don’t they know I need to recycle them for greater efficiency in resource management? Do they really think matter just appear out of nowhere?’
‘Should we send some drones to recover them?’ Smith asked.
‘Negative. The cost might be too great, especially since the last time a recovery operation was held, the infiltrator drones were caught. It seemed that these organics are very keen on capturing my works,’ Custodian concluded.
‘How long until reinforcements arrive?’
‘Hold the humans back for one more day.’
‘Affirmative. It shouldn’t be too hard. The humans aren’t attacking anymore.’
‘Do you know why they stopped?’ Custodian asked.
Smith tapped the table in front of him and guessed, ‘The first few attacks were probing attacks, not actually meant to take the castle. Now they must be planning something bigger.”
“Maybe they found a weakness in the castle?”
“A weakness in my designs? Highly improbable,’ Smith stubbornly rejected.
‘If you so say. Just sit tight and idle around if they’re not going to attack. They’ll be gone in a day anyway,’ Custodian said. ‘Meanwhile, I have to check up on Weaver’s report regarding the human princess.’
At the Rhankish princess’ manor in Sea’ax, Weaver was handing some papers to Princess Imma. She took them nervously and went through the pile one by one. The papers were actually images of the Rhankish army days before the battle at Castle Marcoir started.
“Do you recognize the symbols?” Weaver asked as he pointed at a few flags.
“Sigils. They’re house sigils. And yes, I recognize some of them. This belongs to Count Garith. This one is-”
“So you’ve confirmed the presence of your fellow kin and their specific group. My leader wishes to know why you are attacking the castle despite our agreement,” Weaver said.
Imma rubbed her forehead and silently placed the papers down. After regaining her composure, the princess sat up straight and declared, “These men are rogue.”
“Oh. Rogue? Is this really true?”
“Indeed!” Imma replied while standing up. “By Humanos, I swear that they are! I shall prove it to you immediately!”
“What? How?” Weaver asked.
“I will personally go to Castle Marcoir and slaughter my way into the invader’s siege camp!” Imma proclaimed which shocked her personal guards, especially her sworn sword-oath, Alleigh.
“Princess! You can’t just do that! You don’t have enough men to take on the Rhankish army!” Alleigh reasoned loudly.
“Foolish! The Royal Rhankish honor must be restored! I, Princess Imma of House Rikkenhotten, demands that all of you follow my lead or meet swift end by my blade!” Imma shouted.
The Rhankish soldiers bowed down simultaneously with awe and fear. “Your will be done!”
“Alleigh! Bring me my war gear!”
“Yes, princess!”
Weaver, who did not expect this outcome, simply sat on his chair while pretending to drink tea. He watched as the princess leave the room only for her to come back minutes later in full armor. Despite the full scale armor and embroidered metal mask, Weaver could still recognize Imma.
“Um… I suppose I shall be taking my leave, then,” Weaver said.
“Do not worry, Weaver of Varangia. I shall head straight to the Varangian embassy once I have settled this matter,” Imma declared before leaving with her entourage.
‘Shouldn’t I warn her about the massive army approaching Castle Marcoir?’ Weaver asked in hivespeak.
Custodian, who was also watching the entire thing, replied with a confused tone, ‘I don’t know. Don’t ask me.’