Chapter 40

The outer sector of Cincinnati was a cacophony of chaos, with people rushing in panic between their hovels, their faces painted with fear. The huge stone walls loomed over them like ancient sentinels, indifferent to the human frenzy below. Amidst this turmoil, Nicolas and dozens of other soldiers were heaving with all their might, straining every muscle as they hurried a gigantic cannon towards the electric lift.

Castellan Brown's roaring voice cut through the din like a knife. His commands were sharp, decisive, as he turned his attention from the struggling soldiers to another group. They were hurriedly removing ropes and tarps from another cannon stored in a shed, their movements frantic and desperate.

Nicolas's heart pounded in his chest, not just from the physical exertion, but from a deep-seated determination. His division had been severely crippled after the disastrous Battle of Oxford. As a field commander with no real expertise in sieges, he felt a burning need to prove his worth. He was young, his muscles were strong, and if brute strength was what was needed, then he would give it his all.

Beside him, Bryan groaned, sweat pouring down his face. "Seems short-sighted that these weren't arranged at the onset of the war!" he grunted, his voice edged with frustration and fatigue.

Nicolas, panting heavily, shot back, "We had no way to expect the campaign would collapse so suddenly. I don't think anyone could have envisioned Baltimore actually joining the fight, or Brightforge going down so badly. These stationary guns are useless without Order. There was no need to expose them to the elements when they weren't going to be in use."

Bryan heaved again, his entire body straining as they rolled the massive gun towards the motorized lift embedded in the stone outer walls of the Low Order section of town. "Just... seems... risky..." he managed to grunt between labored breaths.

Nicolas pushed harder, feeling the weight of the cannon dig into his shoulders. "Suddenly it might be so," he said through gritted teeth, "but if we move fast, there shouldn't be much risk. No forces have arrived yet. It'll take them a while to form up as well."

The group struggled to get the massive gun mounted onto the edge of the lift platform. Muscles strained, sweat poured, and breaths came in ragged gasps. Castellan Brown barked orders, his voice a whip driving them to action. "Push harder! Get it up there, now! Move!"

With a final surge, the wheels crested the lip of the platform, and the cannon was on. The soldiers, Bryan and Nicolas among them, stepped back, sweating and gasping for breath. Even the panicked passersby paused, their eyes widening as the motors hummed to life. The powers that be in the tower had extended Order Fields to this part of the city to facilitate establishing defenses. The peasants from this outer sector, rarely seeing Order here, were mesmerized by the sight of electric motors running. The lift hummed and shuddered as the cannon was raised, a symbol of hope and defiance against the impending threat.

Nicolas wiped his brow and turned to Bryan. "Come on, we'd best get up there. There's more pushing to be done with that one."

Bryan glanced around, his face flushed with exertion. "I'd join the Empire for a drink right now."

Nicolas chuckled somberly. "Later. For now, let's try and make sure there's a Cincinnati later for us to wallow in."

The two men started walking towards the turret nearby, the tower nestled into the form of the thick walls. As they moved, Bryan asked, "What're things going to be like for you if we're really sieged?"

Nicolas responded with a grim determination. "I'll fight."

Bryan shook his head. "Yeah, I might have guessed that. I mean, what will be asked of you?"

Nicolas smiled thinly. Bryan had been a grunt, rising swiftly to sergeant because of his composed demeanor during skirmishes and smaller battles before the war had broken out with the Empire. He was fearsome with a bladed weapon in his hand and a sharp, capable commander of men, but he was very new to the role. His experience and training in the organization of war were limited.

"The 3rd is hardly ready to fight," Nicolas explained. "And might not be for some time. I'm a field commander; the higher-ups value me for moving men in space. I don't think I'll have much more use during the siege than any other man with a spear or a rifle in his hand, but if that's what's needed, that's what I'll do."

Bryan frowned. "Will you command at all?"

"Oh, I'm sure I'll have nominal command of a unit," Nicolas replied, his tone thoughtful. "But the siege isn't the field. It will be simpler, worse and bloodier, but simpler. It will be you and me and whatever men we're given to organize, shooting and dying."

As they mounted the steps, Bryan shook his head again. "I can't believe it's come to this. Things went so well earlier. A fucking siege. Shit, think about it. When was the last time Cincy was put to siege? When was the last time anywhere was put to siege?"

Nicolas, climbing the stone steps, thought for a moment. "Out this way, out West? Must have been during the Bloodsword campaigns, but even then, sieges were rare. It's hard to siege a city with a tower. The Order differential is so high. You have trebuchet and ballista; the defenders have cannons. You have spears and ladders; the defenders have rifles. The cannons we're putting in are really part of the posture. The Empire can't plan to assault. Their intention has to be to lock us in here and see how long it takes us to starve."

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Bryan's face grew more serious. "And how long is that?"

"A long time," Nicolas said confidently. "With the Ohio River to our back, our water conduits are well protected. I know you're complaining that these cannons weren't laid out sooner, but Brightforge has been dreaming of war with the Empire for a long time now. For months he's been stockpiling supplies. Cincy is ready for a long, long wait."

Bryan sighed. "But what's the point? If it takes two weeks or two years, we're delaying the inevitable. Locked in here, with Baltimore lending its weight to the Empire, there's no good outcome."

Nicolas looked out at the horizon as they reached the top of the lift. "A lot can happen. Sieges take a lot of resources from the attackers. They say New York might rise any time. Detroit might make their own push for freedom. Whatever the Empire did to get Baltimore to involve themselves, that might break down as well. What we need is time, and a good bounce of the ball, and things might change. If nothing else, if we prove to the Empire that this might take a long time, be costly to them, maybe we can get better terms."

Bryan looked skeptical. "For surrender? You really think Brightforge would surrender?"

Nicolas thought back to the bloodied, ruined form he'd seen Arcstone carrying to the tower. As they arrived at the top of the lift, other men gathered to begin pushing the cannon down the battlements. "That might be hard to imagine," Nicolas said quietly, "but it's no given that Brightforge will be leading us into this siege, or ever again."

Bryan sobered, his eyes dark with understanding. Once again, they lent their weight to the cannon and began to heave. The world beyond the walls was a mystery, dark and ominous, as they prepared for the grim days ahead.

Chapter 41

Slinger and Earp cut a striking figure against the backdrop of the untamed wilderness. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the rugged terrain. They approached a river, its waters flowing swift and clear, slicing through the heart of the wild land. The sound of rushing water filled the air, a constant murmur that spoke of nature's relentless power.

Earp stepped into the river first, the warhorse's powerful muscles rippling beneath its sleek coat. Water surged around its legs, cool and refreshing. Slinger sat tall in the saddle, his duster trailing behind him like the wings of some dark bird. The wide brim of his hat cast a shadow over his face, his eyes narrowed with determination as he guided Earp across the river.

On either side of the river, groves of wild trees stood like ancient sentinels, their branches intertwining to form a dense canopy overhead. The leaves rustled softly in the breeze, a whispering chorus that seemed to welcome and warn in equal measure. Some trees bore the scars of long-forgotten battles with the elements, their trunks twisted and gnarled, a testament to their resilience.

The river deepened in the middle, reaching up to Earp’s chest. Slinger leaned forward slightly, his hands steady on the reins, feeling the strength of his mount beneath him. The cold water soaked the lower part of his duster, but he paid it no mind. His focus was on the journey ahead, on the mission that drove him onward.

As they emerged from the river, water streaming off Earp's sides, they entered a narrow passage flanked by tall grasses and wildflowers. Meadows stretched out in patches, vibrant and full of life, their colors a stark contrast to the deep greens and browns of the forest. The path was winding, a natural maze carved by time and the whims of the wilderness.

Earp moved with a sure-footed grace, navigating the narrow passages with ease. Slinger's gaze swept the surroundings, ever watchful, ever ready. The meadows opened up intermittently, revealing glimpses of a world that had reclaimed itself from the ruins of the past. Deer grazed in the distance, their heads lifting momentarily to regard the passing duo before resuming their foraging.

The dramatic interplay of light and shadow created an almost surreal atmosphere. The golden hues of the setting sun bathed the landscape in a warm glow, while the darker recesses of the forest hinted at mysteries and dangers yet to be uncovered. The air was thick with the scent of pine and earth, a heady mixture that filled Slinger's lungs with each breath.

In this wilderness, far from the remnants of civilization, Slinger and Earp moved as one. Man and horse, both hardened by countless trials, both driven by an unyielding sense of duty. They were a testament to the enduring spirit of those who dared to wander the wilds, seeking justice, peace, or perhaps just a place where the world still made sense.

Slinger spoke to his horse rather than to himself. "What's that fucker up to? Do you reckon there's a plan in the twisted little brain of his, or is he just running scared?" Earp continued to climb the thin strip of meadow, the steady rhythm of his hooves a comforting sound in the silence of the wilderness.

Seeing something, Slinger said, "Whoa now." He dismounted, walking a few yards to inspect a broken bush. There, in the soft earth, was a distinctive clawed paw print. He said, "Well, Earp, we ain't lost him yet. Still heading straight north." He remounted, and they trotted on.

"It's a good thing and a bad thing," Slinger mused. "Ain't nothin' but trees and will for miles and miles this way. So at least the demon won't be troubling folks. We got plenty of time to catch up to him. No need to hurry or go making mistakes."

The horse mounted the rise, revealing trees spread out below them, fading into a grassy plain. As they began to descend, Slinger continued, "But the bad side of it is that eventually he's gonna feel better. Might be feeling better already. Those were smart fiends. I saw their eyes. They're the sort that can make plans and decisions. You know what's gonna happen eventually, don't ya?"

Slinger waited as though he expected a response from the horse. They continued down the slope, the expanse of the open plain beyond calling to them. He continued, "Eventually he's gonna realize he ain't losin' us. Eventually he's gonna figure his best bet is to turn this little hunt around and make us the prey. We're gonna have a lot of sleepless nights as long as this goes on."

Out on the plain below, movement caught Earp's eye. It was miles away, but he could see it—the lumbering form of the bear-wolf, working its way across the plain, mostly headed north. Slinger watched it for a moment, the hunter's blood in him eager to meet his quarry. But in the fading light of the day, he could see the thing more clearly, a truly gargantuan monster. He thought about the bullets it had absorbed, the arrows that had pincushioned it.

Slinger said, "That's not gonna be an easy beast to bring down, and I sure as hell don't like the idea of it creepin' up on me while I'm sleeping." He spurred the horse slightly, and their pace picked up as they entered the plain.

The sounds of the wilderness surrounded them. Birds native to Kentucky flitted from tree to tree, their calls a chorus of chirps and whistles. A cardinal's bright red plumage flashed against the green backdrop, while a mourning dove cooed softly from a nearby branch. Insects buzzed in the tall grass, a symphony of life filling the twilight air. Fireflies began to emerge, their bioluminescent bodies blinking like tiny lanterns in the gathering dusk.

Slinger patted the horse's neck, a gesture of camaraderie. "But hey, I got your back, ol' buddy, and I know you got mine."