Erondir observed the scene from afar, sitting on his horse with a rigid and calculating posture. The armor he wore reflected the faint glow of the morning light as his eyes scanned the battlefield. He knew that soon the gate would be breached, and at that moment, he would be ready to lead the charge. Despite their numerical advantage, the forces of the duchy were facing unexpected difficulties, and Erondir couldn't afford to underestimate his opponent.
As he watched, he noticed that groups of soldiers were starting to organize for a new tactic. Several ladders were brought to the front line, raised with effort as men ran under the relentless rain of arrows and bolts fired by the enemy crossbows. The sharp sound of the bolts cutting through the air and the cries of pain from those hit echoed, creating a sinister symphony of war.
At the top of the wall, Miguel also observed the enemy's movement, his face marked by determination and exhaustion. He saw the ladders being positioned along the fortress walls, and a sense of urgency began to pulse in his chest. "Damn," he murmured to himself, realizing how critical the situation was becoming.
Miguel quickly turned to his soldiers on the wall, his eyes shining with the intensity of the moment. "Prepare for battle! We can't let them take the ladders!" he shouted, his voice filled with authority. The soldiers around him nodded, with resolute expressions, knowing that every inch of that wall could be decisive.
The crossbows continued firing with an impressive cadence, their massive bolts piercing the flesh and armor of the soldiers who dared to approach. But despite the casualties, the enemies were many, and some began to reach the edges of the wall, their hands firmly gripping the rungs of the ladders as they tried to climb up. Arrows flew from all sides, and the sound of swords being unsheathed echoed across the wall.
Miguel tightened his grip on his sword, the familiar weight of the blade in his hand, but the context was anything but ordinary. He had never imagined being in such a position, defending a newly formed kingdom against his own brothers. Amelia, at his side, also prepared her sword. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, they exchanged a look of mutual understanding. No words were spoken, but the understanding was clear: they would fight side by side, regardless of past differences.
The first enemy soldiers began to climb the ladders, their expressions a mixture of determination and fear. Some of Miguel's archers managed to take them down with precise shots, but others kept climbing, persistent. "No enemy must reach the inner ladders!" Miguel shouted, feeling the morning's chill tighten even more around his chest. Amelia, with her agile and deadly stance, positioned herself next to her brother, ready to intercept anyone who managed to get past the archers.
The sounds of battle intensified as the enemy soldiers came closer. The clash of weapons, the sound of bodies falling from the ladders, and the war cries of the combatants created a tense atmosphere. Miguel watched everything around him, his heart pounding, as he prepared for the inevitable hand-to-hand combat. He knew he couldn't falter, for the morale of his men depended on his courage.
Amelia, with her sword in hand, looked at Miguel one last time before rushing forward. "They don't know who they're dealing with," she murmured to herself, a slight smile of defiance on her lips. Miguel, with his sword raised, positioned himself beside her, ready to face whatever came. The battle was about to begin, and both knew that every move would be crucial.
As more enemy soldiers approached, the first ones finally reached the top of the wall, their faces filled with fury and determination. Miguel advanced, sword in hand, feeling the weight of his role as leader and defender of the kingdom he was trying to build. He knew that the moment of truth had arrived.
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Miguel fixed his eyes on the enemy soldier who had just reached the top of the wall. The man was tall and muscular, wearing heavy armor and wielding a broad sword, whose blade seemed almost twice the size of Miguel's. The soldier advanced with firm steps, his face marked by an expression of fierce determination, as if he knew he was facing an opponent he couldn't underestimate.
Miguel gripped his sword tightly, feeling the tension in the air increase. He knew that in this confrontation, his opponent's brute strength was superior, but he trusted in his agility and intelligence. When the soldier delivered the first blow, Miguel managed to dodge quickly, the metallic sound of the enemy's blade cutting the air right next to his head.
The soldier stepped back a pace, then advanced again, delivering a series of quick and powerful strikes. Miguel blocked the first one with his sword, feeling the impact reverberate through his arms, almost causing him to lose balance. He ducked under the second blow, dodging to the side, but was caught off guard by the soldier's kick, which struck him hard in the abdomen. Miguel staggered back, feeling the air escape from his lungs. But he couldn't afford to falter now.
Breathing heavily, Miguel countered with a quick thrust, but the soldier blocked the attack with his sword, pushing him back with a grunt of effort. Miguel realized he needed to change his strategy. He decided to use his enemy's strength against him. When the soldier attacked again, Miguel dodged to the side, quickly spinning around his opponent and striking with his blade on the side of the armor where the protection was weaker.
The soldier roared in pain, but his rage only grew. He turned with a violent horizontal slash, which Miguel narrowly avoided, feeling the blade pass dangerously close to his chest. Taking advantage of the soldier's awkward movement, Miguel advanced, delivering a direct strike to the enemy's leg, at the joint of the armor. The soldier cried out in pain and fell to his knees.
With the advantage on his side, Miguel raised his sword and delivered the final blow, driving the blade into the enemy's chest between the metal plates of the armor. The soldier fell backward, his eyes wide open, fixed on Miguel, until life completely drained from his body.
Panting, Miguel pulled the sword from the soldier's body and, without wasting time, pushed the ladder from which the enemy had come. With a strong push, the ladder wobbled and then fell backward, toppling the enemy soldiers who were still climbing and preventing more men from coming up.
He looked around, seeing his soldiers fighting fiercely. The wall was filled with hand-to-hand combat, swords clashing, and cries of pain and effort echoing across the battlefield. The sight of his men, fighting with all they had, renewed Miguel's determination. He knew that this battle was far from over, but every moment they managed to hold back the enemy was a victory. And he would fight to the end to protect what he had built.
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Amelia faced her opponent with a skill that made her experience and prowess in combat clear. The man before her was an imposing figure, standing at least 6'3" tall, with broad shoulders and arms that seemed made of steel. His sword was heavy and wide, suitable for someone with his brute strength. He advanced on Amelia with firm steps, delivering a powerful overhead strike.
With agility, Amelia dodged to the side, causing the enemy's blade to hit the stone floor of the wall with a crash. Taking advantage of the opening, she spun around and delivered an arcing strike with her sword, aiming at the man's unprotected flank. But he was quick for his size; he raised his sword and blocked the strike with ease, quickly retreating to deliver another attack.
Amelia felt the impact's vibration spread through her arms, but she didn't give in. She countered with a quick sequence of thrusts and slashes, forcing the giant to retreat a few steps. Her movements were precise, each strike planned to exploit a gap in the opponent's defense. She moved with grace, her sword cutting through the air like an extension of her body. With each parried or blocked blow, Amelia felt the blood boil in her veins. She was in control, or so she thought.
The man, however, was not willing to be dominated so easily. He roared with a force that seemed to come from the very ground, advancing with renewed fury. His strikes became more intense, each one carrying the weight of a hammer. Amelia maintained her composure, dodging and blocking as best as she could, but the force of the impacts began to take its toll. Her sword seemed heavier, and her arms started to ache. Still, she fought, determined not to give her opponent the victory.
With a calculated move, Amelia executed a feint, pretending a frontal attack. The man, confident in his strength, fell into the trap and tried to block the blow that never came. Instead, Amelia slid to the side and delivered a precise cut to the man's Achilles tendon. He roared in pain, staggering, but before she could deliver the final blow, he recovered with surprising speed.
With a sudden movement, the man spun around and struck Amelia with the hilt of his sword, catching her completely by surprise. The force of the impact caused her to lose balance, and her sword slipped from her hands, falling to the ground with a metallic sound. Before she could react, he pushed her violently, making her fall on her back onto the cold stones of the wall.
The giant was upon her in an instant, his sword raised above his head, ready to strike with deadly force. Amelia, still dazed, realized she was out of options. She looked at the shining blade poised to end her life, and for a moment, felt a strange calm. Her heart beat slower as her thoughts turned to Miguel.
"I'm sorry, Miguel," she murmured, closing her eyes and accepting the fate that seemed inevitable.
The blade began to descend towards her chest, the air around them charged with tension and silence, as if time itself had slowed down in anticipation of the final blow.