The flaming projectiles cruise towards the Rykz, approaching the overturned hill left behind when the cliff they rose for cover crumbled. Suddenly a humongous dark silhouette rises above the fray with hundreds of tendrils extended out.
Ciervo blinks in disbelief as he witnesses the Queen and grits his teeth. He is surprised and upset but not because the Rykz didn't fall into the trap of using their fog to drain the trebuchet's projectiles of flow, which wouldn't have worked since there are no constructs. They're filled and covered in flammable oil.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
No, his problem is that a Queen got so close without them spotting it from afar. Not only is he unable to attack because of the fortifications he erected but, even if he had the numbers to go on the offense, the hill made of loose soil risen by the Rykz is practically impassable for a phalanx.
He doesn't even have enough Templars to breakthrough, not to mention they're in the west. Ciervo swears inside because he should have known something more was up with the Rykz erecting a cliff because the insects always have multiple purposes.
The Queen assembles five trios of spheres between her hundreds of tendrils and five thick bolts of lightning strike out. The projectiles are hit with such force they burst into shards, releasing oil in a downpour of fire. The Marshal catches a glimpse of the future. He feels grief, fear, and anger.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
“Snap it, now!” Ciervo erupts at an aide with a wooden card reserved for emergencies that will alert all his flow-smiths and authorize them to defend against an unexpected construct with all the energy at their disposal. “Remus, blow the horn twice!”
Clack. Brruuuaaaah! Brruuuaaaah! They act at the same time as the Queen releases streams of black flow that flash out to permeate the rain of fire, suspending the blazing oil in the air.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Events occur one after the other in close succession. The two flow-smiths accompanying Major Fred work together to make a disruption construct that they launch at the mass of fire already flying down towards four regiments of phalangites.
The two other flow-smiths, placed in the north-east to control the tide of scouts coming from the north and counter the Princesses, seize the energy in their sector to move to the eastern flank and smother the flames.
Meanwhile, at the trebuchet near the command tent, a flow-smith weaves a construct into five other projectiles as she yells at the engineers to aim a lot lower, taking an initiative of her own because she's too far to affect immediate events.
Enfarhd gives up patching his pulse-shield and directly links to the runic construct to manually handle the missing segments, he waits for the disruption construct to obliterate the Rykz' superior water construct and then powers his pulse-shield at the last moment.
He doesn't wait for the air to solidify, he acts as soon as enough gathers in the eastern quarter and activates the construct with a twist of intent that turns it into a wind construct, sending a violent gale at the burning oil.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
The air fans the flames but succeeds at intercepting them, saving all but the front-lines from being burned alive. Both humans and Rykz are affected but the phalangites have it much worse.
Not only do the harvesters keep fighting while their thick carapaces burn and blisters form in the flesh underneath but the workers in the back keep throwing javelins.
The Queen slowly lowers herself behind the hill. For a small moment, a wave of relief goes through the human side before they witness the loose soil explode outwards and cover the burning drones, smothering some of the flames.
“Call for a switch to close-quarter weapons across the battlefield and begin the retreat, our lines have broken.” Ciervo utters darkly, covering his face with his palm.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
An aide immediately departs in a sprint. He feels rage as the Rykz' breathing cry overwhelms the panicked cries of his Twelfth because the regiments are still maintaining their discipline even in these dark circumstances.
He forces himself to pull his hand back and witness the event. Almost all the phalangites on the front-line have died, whether by fire or harvester. As a consequence of the sympathetic construct, many of those in the back-lines have smoke coming out of their gear and gashes in their cuirass despite their defensive constructs.
A few likely died as a result of them not activating the safety quickly enough to stop the heat or refusing to so as to save their comrades in arms. He witnesses the regiment holding the main west to east avenue keep tearing down the barricades even as they pull the severely burned to the back.
The regiment of heavy cavalry has, at least, responded to the two horn signals in good order and timely fashion. They're ready to charge as soon as the way is cleared and the fire smothered.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
That's the moment when the Marshal spots small black dots being propelled from behind the hill. He frowns and flicks his hand at Remus who blows the horn thrice, telling the reserves of auxiliaries and phalangites to spread out on extermination duty.
The Rykz creations land in droves, some die on impact but the majority survives because these are at most as big as rats with sturdier frames. These things have very limited lifespans and are unable to reproduce but that doesn't diminish the danger they pose by much.
A brown creature that looks vaguely like a tiny scout scampers away on six legs to gather information through the constructs they carry to then escape back to the Rykz with it.
Others with thick carapaces find holes to lodge themselves into and use a chameleon-like camouflage to blend in so as to ambush soldiers with their poisoned bites.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
The smallest bug has the size and appearance of a scarab. They are present in the highest numbers because they are meant to infiltrate the food and fresh water supplies so as to spoil as much of it as possible.
The last type is a relatively new one, they have glistening flesh and carry the Rykz' specialized fire construct scouts use at times. Those are very dangerous to come into contact with and must be killed with arrows or spears to be safe.
There are protocols and constructs to deal with these things but the sheer number of them makes it difficult to handle them, not to mention the resulting chaos they cause.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Ciervo takes a deep breath to calm himself as the rain of creatures ends and workers resume throwing javelins with their atlatls. He turns to find the thirty-year-old aide he sent to ask for a scan to check for underground tunnels returning.
“No tunnels?” He asks.
“None.” She replies confidently.
“Go relay my orders. The north-east and south-east regiments are to begin retreating while holding a winged formation, the eastern regiments are to empty the avenue as soon as possible and use the streets to retreat. Tell Major Fred that he's to hold the harvesters back until the heavy cavalry has engaged them.” Ciervo commands.
He then turns to the west. The Templars, aided by archer auxiliaries, have obliterated the Rykz' warrior shield-wall. They've prevented them from even reforming tight ranks.
The scouts pouring in from the north, and even some from the ruin's north-west outskirts, are struggling to even catch up to the two thousand Templars while companies of infantry auxiliaries harass them.
The light cavalry has been slicing through the scouts and warriors making out of the muddy bog in the south-east before they can even make proper lines, much less act as reinforcements.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
At least, Ciervo thinks, their path of retreat is open. He glances down at his empty bowl of pastries and finds that the thought brings him no reassurance because his gut feeling is telling him that the Rykz aren't done.
He turns his gaze to the southern flank. The infantry is engaged with thrice their numbers of warriors in close-quarters and struggling to hold them back because of their inferior equipment.
Their iron chain-mails, shields, and swords aren't a match for the low-quality Vuskyt gear the drones are using. They're managing but, if this losing battle lasts too long, the ratio of two and a half warrior dying to kill one soldier will reverse.
Ciervo witnesses a warrior whose had its saber, torso, and left arm sliced through by a Noble launch itself at the man with its three claws out, eviscerating the man who didn't expect such aggressive behavior from a dying creature.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Gruuh! Ciervo's gaze snaps to the main avenue where the horn sounded, finding the eastern entrance currently being flooded by harvesters. The Twelfth's phalangites have retreated and taken positions in the side-streets to use their short-spears to harass the harvesters passing by.
Gener... no, Duke Fallone considering he took the lead of Steso's heavy cavalry regiment made up exclusively of Nobles. The Duke is at the forefront with a vial held high while holding a charging lance in his dominant hand.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Marshal Ciervo inwardly praises the man even though he disobeyed orders and left the defense of the entire south-western flank to a subordinate. The Duke breaks the glass vial and one out of six Nobles imitate him, covering the entire column in 'friendly' pheromones.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Harvesters take much longer to grow and so are unlikely to have been 'updated' by the Rykz as the University fears may have already happened for some of the drones.
Gruuh! Gruuh! Fallone throws his horn at one of his officers and charges out ahead of the column. The Nobles raise their lengthy swords and ride out on their horses protected only by thick leather coats.
Brfhrhf. A conflagration resounds behind Ciervo. He ignores it despite suspecting that one of their grain storage caches has been blown up by the glistening bugs.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
The thousand riders are organized in lines of a half-dozen on the large fourteen-meter wide avenue. The column is approximately a quarter of a kilometer in length because the back-lines are awaiting in building ruins to join.
Fallone, his runic plate armor glowing golden, impacts the first harvester which hadn't prepared because of the pheromones and consequently reacted too late to protect itself.
The Duke's charging lance shreds through the thick interlocked carapace and rips the creature in half where its torso meets its lower abdomen. He rides past before the upper half hits the avenue's pavement, slipping in the spaces between harvester that allow them to swing their four scythes without hitting each other.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Fallone controls his horse to keep its head low as it charges, following the commands Ciervo gave the regiment to ensure their mounts wouldn't be struck down too quickly by the huge insects who have a much easier time hitting armored riders with their lower arms than the unarmored mounts.
The Duke wildly stabs out with his weapon while leaving it to his plate armor to protect him from the scythes the harvesters swing at him at the last moment. The following riders impact the confused Rykz' ranks.
Some miss, others merely injure their foes, but they succeed in permeating the harvester's lines to the point where the creatures are forced in uncomfortable close-combat which was the entire point of doing this.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Yet, the Rykz 'wake up' and the clash truly begins between the two elite forces. Heads and limbs covered in either carapace or steel fly, brown and red blood mixed. A slaughter occurs in the small avenue but, in the end, the humans carve themselves a triangular space to pour into at the cost of many losses.
Ciervo keeps his eyes on the battle, on Fallone whose plate armor is glowing even more fiercely. The Queen rises once more but, this time, takes a singular step forward as she shapes a ball of spikes between her tendrils.
The Marshal almost closes his eyes at what the creature may decide to do in order to quickly eliminate the thousand heavily armored cavalries. Ciervo hopes Enfarhd finished repairing the pulse-shield but knows it is too early.
Grrnn. The trebuchet's long arm squeaks as it releases projectiles. Frrhrr! Five burning projectiles are launched straight at the Queen whose tendrils suddenly stiffen.
“Rrhhhyyyy!” The humongous creature screams.
The Queen applies black energy on her thick tendrils and swipes them at the projectiles, batting them away or over her ovaloid head to crash in the distance within the Rykz' ranks to scorch hundreds of drones and turn most into charcoal.
Ciervo stares, stunned. These projectiles likely held constructs to counter the Rykz' counters, and were too quick to be intercepted with their fog-like construct but, still, he's never, ever, heard of a Queen taking such a risk when retreat remained possible.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
The harvesters lose the last of their hesitation and pile down on the wedge of cavalry that lodged itself within their ranks. Black energy arises from the Rykz' back-lines and form streams that plunge in the backs of all the harvesters on the front-line.
Golden energy arises from multiple reservoirs and is guided by flow-smiths to reinforce the Twelfth's lines. The ten-meter tall Queen takes a single step forward, causing Rykz workers to scamper out of her way. Her root-like toes land on a low wall barricade and crush it.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
“Remus, snap it!” Ciervo panically calls out, feeling a cold chill in his back at this Queen he can only qualify as mad according to Rykz standards of behavior.
Crack. The card of wood breaks, destroying the beacon construct which triggers a vibration in the pair that was given to General Fallone but should have been handed over to the subordinate he put in command.
Flags are almost immediately waves in the south and western flanks, causing the officers to order the infantry auxiliaries to move out almost immediately so as to open a path of retreat due west.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Duke Fallone raises his charging lance to point it at the Queen who is slowly advancing parallel to his heavy cavalry to enter the core part of the ruins while launching lightning bolts to scatter phalangites and using spiked constructs to destroy obstacles.
The trebuchet's projectiles served to disrupt the Rykz' timing, causing her to choose to press forward instead of reshaping a large construct to split the ground under the Nobles in plate and her harvesters.
The Duke's weapon turns golden and it launches at the Queen who bends her reversed knees to lower her profile and uses one of her spiked constructs to blow a chunk of hard soil mixed in with blocks of pavement up to intercept the lance.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
The charging lance makes it through the obstacle but it loses much of its speed doing so. The steel tip pierces the Queen's thigh, making it twenty centimeters into the construct hardened thick brown skin.
The Rykz wraps a single tendril around the weapon, pulls it out, and crushes the weapon into splinters before swiping the same appendage towards the Duke who draws a longsword to block whatever will come his way.
A lightning bolt thick as a human thigh impacts Fallone's weapon. The defensive construct fails within moments under the sustained stream and the blade turns bright red.
Fallone drops the weapon, leaving it to his runic plate armor to protect him. A lot of energy is burnt in short while until the Queen's construct and the Duke's runic construct run out of energy.
The man, with a smoking plate armor, drops from his horse and onto a harvester's corpse, presumably dead. The mount itself staggers and then drops dead with burns across its neck.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Ironically, the Duke's possible survival causes Ciervo's cold chill to intensify because the Queen could have easily obliterated the man. The fact she didn't means she is preserving her flow for a specific purpose.
As the Marshal watches Nobles fend off harvesters and pick up the Duke to drag him away, he feels thankful he followed his instincts and called for a retreat so early but worries it wasn't soon enough.
The Queen takes another step and Ciervo turns to the battles in the streets. Harvesters are starting to charge into the small contingents and the impacts are shaking the retreating human ranks.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
The Marshal doesn't worry about this because he trusts the Twelfth to hold under the pressure. Even now he spots supporting phalangites using long-spears to attack while primaries use their oak shields reinforced by steel to block while attempting to pierce through the harvesters' interlocked carapaces.
Ciervo's main issue, apart from the scythes felling his soldiers, is finding a way to deal with the hundreds of scouts roaming and climbing rubble to try to flank companies.
“You.” He turns to a muscular Templar. “Go tell the Exemplar she's forbidden from entering the city for the next half-hour, no matter what happens, unless the Twelfth holds and the Queen remains.” The woman pales but she nods and heads off. “You.” He turns to his last aide. “Go find whoever commands the auxiliaries and tell them to give up the cleaning operation on the Rykz creations to start clearing the scouts permeating our lines.”
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
The aide jumps at how close the Rykz' breathing cry came from but he salutes professionally and runs off. The Marshal, aware that the chaos means retreat is in the hands of the Majors on the field, drops down from the chunk of wall he is observing from.
His guards do the same and he leads them to Enfarhd. As he journeys, he hears many explosions and cries coming from the direction the Queen is in. He also witnesses flaming flint bolts shoot across the sky at the Rykz from the ballistas in the central section as well as another trebuchet shot.
Each of these vain attempts do force the Queen to defend herself, slowing her down without giving her much of an opportunity to retaliate. As Ciervo makes his way, his group ends up so close to the front-lines that his guards are forced to split off in small groups to reinforce areas or intercept scout squads seemingly trying to ambush Ciervo.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
The Marshal doesn't worry because, by the time the spying critters spot and report him to the Queen, he'll have moved far enough the Rykz won't waste flow to try to get him. Not to mention he's a low-value target during a retreat because, even if he dies, the Twelfth's oaths will be transferred down the chain of command.
Ciervo finds Enfarhd in the middle of a pool of water filled with flow inside a roof-less building that houses the wide-range scanning construct. He has rightly given up on fixing his pulse-shield because the Queen's presence makes it obsolete as the construct will be shot down before the air can solidify.
The Marshal decides not to disturb his old companion who acted on orders he hasn't yet given and turns to the silhouette of the Queen visible above the ruins. A black fog is covering her upper body. Bolts of lightning are occasionally piercing the cloud from behind to strike constructs and projectiles sent by the Phalanx's flow-smiths.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
Ciervo finds no relief in the fact Princesses are wasting energy in their defense of the Queen because the creature is barely injured and clearly about to succeed in her plan.
A golden ring suddenly arises from the pool and expands outward. Seconds later, the pudgy Enfarhd drops in the water while holding his head. The flow-smith turns a panicked gaze to the Marshal.
“The ruins, they're the trap!” Enfarhd exclaims.
Ciervo's mind blanks out. He thinks back to the map he took so much care in having drawn and realizes, by comparing his memory of it to what he saw of the ruins, that the map's abstract lines prevented him from realizing what's been needling at him.
“It was staring me in the face this entire time...” He murmurs.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.
There is little moss or vegetation growing in the ruins. It is proof that Rykz occupied this area until shortly before the Phalanxes arrived. That in itself isn't much of a surprise, but it could possibly also serve as proof that rubble has been moved, rearranged into a specific pattern.
As if to mock the Marshal who only now has realized the extent of the trap they fell into, a ludicrous amount of black energy starts spreading throughout the ruins. The flow moves quickly with the purpose to permeate small and large pieces of rubble to form black runes.
“Remus! Call for a full retreat, abandon ever...”
Crack. The pavement splits under Ciervo's feet and the stone walls cave in on their entire group. Xssxt. This sound alone is enough for the Marshal to know that the Queen tracked down the origin of the scan and has already acted. The last thing Ciervo sees is a jagged white bolt.
Rh-hyyyyy, kszz.