Erondir looked intently at the distant wall, his mind working rapidly as he observed the projectiles continuing to be launched against the troops in the open field. He barely had time to register the chaos around him before another series of explosions tore through the air, the deafening sound filling his ears. The projectiles launched by Miguel's catapults fell among the duke's soldiers like hammers of fate, shattering the ground and the men with equal brutality.
"Catapults..." Erondir murmured to himself, his low voice almost lost in the tumult around him. He watched in horror as another sphere flew through the air, hitting the ground with a bone-shaking impact. Soldiers closest to the point of impact fell instantly, torn apart by lethal shrapnel. Even those several meters away fell, screaming in pain as fragments of iron, ceramic, and stone pierced their armor and bodies. The battlefield had become a scene of despair and death, the lines of soldiers now broken and panicked.
"Shrapnel," Erondir said, the understanding finally taking shape in his mind. "These projectiles are scattering shrapnel everywhere..." The magnitude of the situation was becoming increasingly clear. He knew that Miguel's catapults were more dangerous than anything he had ever faced.
"What are these things?" shouted Augusto, his voice laden with frustration and barely concealed fear. Miguel's brother was clearly out of his mind, watching the carnage before him in disbelief.
One of the mages nearby shook his head, also in a state of shock. "This... this is definitely not magic," he replied, his voice trembling. "I... I've never seen anything like this before..."
"Shut up, both of you!" Erondir snarled, his patience exhausted. "It doesn't matter what they are, if we stay here, we'll be easy targets. We're losing men too fast. At this rate, we'll never penetrate those walls." He could see that the troops were crumbling, fear and panic overtaking the ranks. The explosions, the screams, the rain of arrows—all contributed to the growing disorder.
As he spoke, a massive bolt, launched from one of the hidden ballistae, sliced through the air with a sharp whistle, striking one of the mages directly. The bolt pierced the man's body as if it were made of butter, his armor offering little to no resistance. The mage fell, dead before he hit the ground.
"Shit!" Erondir cursed, his voice filled with frustration. He quickly grabbed Augusto, pulling him back and away from the bloody scene. His priority at that moment was to protect Miguel's brother, even though he knew the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control.
Augusto, however, was seething with rage. His eyes burned with intense hatred as he watched the slaughter of his troops. "That bastard..." he muttered, his teeth clenched in fury. "Where did he get these things?"
Erondir shook his head, trying to stay calm in the face of the growing despair. "That doesn't matter now," he replied firmly. "We need to regroup and think of a new approach."
"Damn it!" shouted Augusto, his voice filled with despair and anger. "I'm ordering a full assault. Bring another battering ram!" His command was given with a ferocity that allowed no contest, even if his plan was suicidal. He looked at Erondir with fiery eyes. "If he thinks he can stop us, we'll use our numbers to our advantage and break through that damned gate."
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Erondir remained silent, knowing that arguing with Augusto would be useless in this state. He knew that Miguel's brother was blinded by rage and that his judgment was compromised because of it. As Augusto barked orders, Erondir watched the men bringing the battering ram, preparing for one last desperate assault.
But deep down, Erondir knew they were dealing with something they didn't fully understand. He quickly calculated the losses: nearly 2,000 soldiers were out of action, either dead or wounded. The mere thought of sending more men against those walls, with those devastating weapons waiting, was suicide. But Augusto was determined, and Erondir knew there was no turning back.
As the battering ram was prepared, Erondir wondered how much longer they could continue this battle before the entire army was destroyed.
Erondir watched with a mix of frustration and caution as the duke's knights waited, reins taut, horses restless. He had ordered them not to advance with the infantry, knowing they would be easy targets for Miguel's devastating weapons. It was a prudent move, but at the same time, he felt the impotence of not being able to unleash the full strength of his army against the wall. In the distance, he saw the disordered advance of his soldiers, a sea of bodies moving towards Drakmoor fortress, like waves trying to break against an impenetrable rock.
On the wall, Miguel watched the scene with a grim expression, his eyes alert to every enemy movement. He knew that each step the duke's soldiers took brought them closer to the city, but at the same time brought them closer to death. The arrows continued to fall upon them, an unrelenting rain that shattered shields and armor. And then, there were the bombs. Miguel watched the panic spread among the soldiers as the explosions began to tear apart their ranks, spreading death and disorder.
"How many projectiles are left?" Miguel asked, his voice tense as he turned to Ricardo, who had just returned to his side.
"Only 45," Ricardo replied, his tone grave, reflecting the seriousness of the situation. Miguel felt the growing frustration within him. He knew it wasn't enough to stop that tide of men.
Amelia, who was by his side, looked at the battlefield with a somber expression. "Your wall is strong, Miguel, but the gates... they won't withstand the pressure these soldiers will apply." She had participated in battles before and knew what happened when a force like that concentrated on a weak point.
Miguel closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before looking at Ricardo. "Go to Ruidahr and John. Get ready for battle. Once they break in, it will be a street-by-street fight in this city. They won't take it easily." His voice was firm, but he couldn't help but feel the weight of his words. He added sternly, "And don't let them get close to the civilians who are evacuating."
Ricardo hesitated, the concern evident in his eyes. He had known Miguel long enough to know that he was putting on a brave face, but the reality of the situation was dire. "I'll be back soon to stand by your side," Ricardo said, almost like a promise.
Miguel forced a smile and replied, trying to reassure him. "I'll be fine, Ricardo. Don't worry."
As Ricardo walked away, Amelia watched her brother with a curious expression. "Ricardo seems like a father," she commented, her tone slightly teasing.
Miguel smiled back, but there was sincerity in his words. "To me, Ricardo is a father." The bond between them was stronger than any blood tie, something that had been forged over years of survival and mutual support.
Amelia adjusted the sword at her waist and looked to the horizon, where the enemy ranks continued to approach. "Are you ready?" she asked, her voice laden with an unusual seriousness.
Miguel looked at her, his eyes revealing a raw honesty. "No, but I'm responsible for these people. I have to give them hope."
As the first lights of dawn began to tinge the sky, the great wave of soldiers drew closer and closer to the wall. They came in masses, protecting themselves as best they could from the arrows that fell upon them, but the explosions that tore the ground among their ranks were relentless. Every projectile launched by Miguel's catapults caused unimaginable devastation, breaking the formation and spreading chaos among the men struggling to advance.
But despite the terrible losses, the human tide did not stop. The soldiers who managed to get close to the wall faced a new barrage of arrows, fired incessantly by the archers of the kingdom of Drakmoor. They protected themselves as best they could, but many fell before they even reached the gate. The sound of screams, explosions, and the clash of metal against metal echoed across the field, creating a cacophony of war that mingled with the growing cold of the morning.
Amelia and Miguel watched in silence, knowing that, as strong as the wall was, the real battle was about to begin. And it would be a brutal fight, hand-to-hand, where the courage and skill of every man and woman would be tested to the limit.