Duke Hamilton stood atop the ramparts of Blackwood Castle, his weathered hands gripping the cool obsidian as he gazed out at the carnage below. The scent of fresh death filled his nostrils, a grim reminder of the chaos that had befallen his once-impressive army.
“How has it come to this?” Whispered Hamilton.
Just this morning, five thousand men had marched proudly under his banner, ready to conquer the world if he demanded it. Fully believing they possessed that power with him as their lord. Now, the fields ran red with the blood of his men. What had once been a town, was now a rough excuse for rubble, flattened by the men with black eyes and their bloodless servants. The duke's steely eyes narrowed as he scanned the battlefield. Pockets of resistance still fought valiantly the overwhelming tide of black skinned hellhounds and corrupted soldiers, those insane men of Blackwood’s mercenary core. His gaze lingered on a group of his elite guard, their silver armor glinting in the dying sunlight as they formed a desperate circle around one of the few remaining battle mages. Even across the scorched town, Hamilton could see the fear in their eyes.
This wasn’t what Cousin Aldric promised. It wasn’t supposed to go this way! A single barony would burn, not the entire northlands! Thought Hamilton, balling his hand into a fist.
He couldn’t fathom the human cost, so he processed the cost he could. It took roughly ten farmers to support one soldier, but when you sent that soldier abroad the expenses tripled. If that soldier died, his family would have to be paid a year’s wages, and another soldier raised to replace him. Once more doubling the number of farmers it took to support the army. This defeat was catastrophic, a century of taxes wouldn’t be enough to break even. But that was only the economic concern, the sheer loss of life would ripple through his lands like a snowstorm in april. Families would be devastated, chaos would ensue, crops would go unharvested.
A bone-chilling howl echoed across the battlefield, sending a shiver down the duke's spine. He watched in horror as a massive, wolf-like creature with matted black fur and glowing red eyes leaped into the circle of guards. Its razor-sharp claws tore through plate armor as if it were parchment, carving through the elite guards to savage the exhausted battle mage. Had he not been distracted by a dozen other enemies, he might have held a candle of hope. Instead, the proud banner of House Hamilton fell across the battlemage’s headless corpse.
"My lord!" a voice called from behind him. Hamilton turned to see Sir William, one of his most trusted advisors, rushing towards him. The knight's once-pristine armor was dented and splattered with gore, and a deep gash ran across his left cheek. "The eastern division has returned! Five of their company remain.”
Hamilton hesitated, not believing his ears, as his lying eyes drifted back to the slaughter below. "Five companies remain? That’s less than half their number. But I should be glad any returned.”
Sir William grit his teeth, crows feet forming around his eyes. “No sir. Five men returned. Not five companies.”
“By Taloc’s fury! There were over a thousand men! Damnitall straight to hell! Curse Pandora’s name and all in her dominion! William, tell me true, how many of our men remain?"
The knight's face fell. "Of the ten thousand you brought to Blackwood, we have about two thousand souls within our walls. While we are down to less than a third of our initial magi. These new men with shaded eyes target the magi above all others. Ahem, they target the strongest magi first.” Said William, and Duke Hamilton understood his meaning.
Pandora’s plague was targeting nobles first. They were trying to cut off the armies head. His head.
“How many?” Whispered Hamilton, not wanting to alert the other advisors.
Barons and commanders stood around the Duke, administrators or subcommanders waiting to be deployed.
“Ah, yessir! Baron Icecoast fell with the eastern division, as have Baron Titchfield and his three sons. Barons Arklow, Bedfor, Curzon, Warton, and Wilton have all fallen as well. Ambushed by packs of the bloodless demons, the ones we cut but do not bleed. Though the Barons died with honor, slaying their own murderers."
Hamilton nodded, trying to clear the golfball in his throat. "Sound the retreat again. Get as many inside as we can."
As Sir William sprinted off to relay the orders, Hamilton took one last look at the battlefield. How had it all gone so wrong?
In a single word?
Demons.
The siege engineers had plenty of time to mount ballistae, they’d even been granted cannonry by King Aldric, and still the demons had slain his reinforcements. All five thousand men were ambushed from all sides. Their formation broken, commanders scattered or slain, and now their remnants fought on, mortal men against immortal demons and their lesser mortal servants. There was no warning of enemy movements, no gathering of forces, dust clouds, or any accumulation of campfires. No hint of the nightmarish force that surrounded and destroyed his army. The bastards had waited until they were within view of Blackwood Castle, a sadistic jab meant to demoralize Hamilton.
It had succeeded.
He felt as though the whole world was closing in around him. Hands constricted around his throat. Never in his entire life had he lost more than a hundred men in a day. Nor had he lost a thousand men during an entire campaign, let alone a single battle or singular day! The sheer amount of lives lost shook him. Destabilizing his mind.
“My lord! There are still a few men fighting out there! Permit me to take my battle mages into the fray. We’ll retrieve whomever we are able.” Said Marquis Bergh.
“No.” Said Hamilton, covering his face with his hands.
“But why my lord? Let us strike now while the enemy is disordered! We must seize the moment and employ our greater morale!”
The blithering idiot, morale has no place in a battle between gods. Not even a Lightning Lord could break through that many demons.
“Look out there, can you not see how none of those demons remain within range of our walls? They’re baiting us, killing our friends slowly. Offering us a chance to play the hero and rescue them. Bah! Tis a trap! Open your eyes man! Those bands out there are mortals! Not a magi amongst them. It’s obvious. Too obvious. Their commander is a novice. We only fell into this trap because we expected nothing more than animals!” Hamilton growled.
“Indeed your grace. Monster sightings were decreasing the past few weeks, but for a force that large to appear? King Aldric must be warned.” Said Marquis Hastings.
“Make it so. Apply my seal to your letter as well, for such a defeat requires many witnesses.” Said Hamilton, turning and descending the gatehouse tower.
He could hear the lesser nobles swallow, wondering if he had meant to say ‘patsies’ instead of witnesses.
The memory of the day's events replayed in his mind, it had been a standard afternoon, the army had pushed hard to reach Blackwood Castle but fallen short, forced to camp alongside the road and combat the creeping beasts. A trivial task for such a grand host. Sentries had been posted, fires lit, and felled trees piled to form a stockade. A proper camp for a professional army. He’d seen the campfires from the highest tower of Blackwood Castle, it had been enough for the night, yet when they broke camp, less than ten miles from where they’d slept in peace, the ambush began. So close that he began to wonder if the demons gathered throughout the night and waited until morning to strike.
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Hamilton had been discussing strategy with his generals when the first horns called for aid. Then every horn sounded, screams erupting from the perimeter. Within minutes, chaos reigned.
Corrupted men, their eyes glowing with an alien darkness, poured from the surrounding blackwoods, some leaping from the enormous tree’s highest limbs. Alongside them came creatures Hamilton hoped to never see again, demons, misshapen beasts with too many limbs, shades or echoes of mortal hellhounds, shadows that moved of their own accord, but no matter their physical shape, all demons had one thing in common. They did not bleed when cut. Nor could the weapons of mankind wound them. Only magic, or enchanted weapons seemed to have any effect.
The army, caught completely unawares, broke under the demonic assault, scattered by the impossible ferocity. Creatures that should have been slain by the dozens, tore apart what few battle mages were present. A handful of the men formed ranks, attempting to protect the crucial demon slayers and lords, only for them to fall one by one.
There were scores of holdouts left, circles of mortal warriors who were surrounded by demons and their living counterparts. As if each pack of hellhounds required one demon to lead them. Hamilton couldn’t bear the sight of slaughter any longer.
He strode through Blackwood Castle as he thought, surveying the wounded as a dozen knights trailed him, forever guarding the Duke.
Healers, mundane and magical, plied their trades, stitching wounds and cauterizing bleeding stumps. Whilst paladins moved from one man to the next, wielding their powers of purification to remove infections. Sir William had said two thousand souls remained, but of those, at least half were wounded. Maybe more.
Duke Hamilton’s glorious crusade had become an ignominious siege.
"My lord!" a voice called out.
Hamilton turned to see Lady Elizabeth, Sir William's sister and the castle's head physician, hurrying towards him. Her once-fine dress of imported blue silks was now stained with blood, and her auburn hair waved in waspy tendrils. As if locked in the throes of a wrestling match with her carefully arranged hair ribbons.
“My lord, are there any healers to spare? We’ve more wounded than thread for stitches,” She leaned in close enough to whisper, “I’ll take anyone, every healing spell you can spare today will save a life. I’m sorry my lord, but I've failed you, a hundred men will die because we lack the power to heal.” Said Elizabeth, averting her eyes in shame.
Hamilton nodded grimly. "This carnage isn’t your fault. Our reinforcements were bringing the spare medical supplies. Triage what you can. Avoid healing those who are already crippled.” He caught her waist, pulling her ear to his lips, “Would you accept cat healers?” He whispered.
Lady Elizabeth’s eyes widened, she chewed on her lip for a second before giving an answer. “If they have mana, we must, else human lives will be lost.”
His head bobbed up and down in a nod. Then he strode away, heading for the once grand hall that now housed refugee felinids, former slaves who were now ‘free’ or rather, the property of Lightning Lord Nyota Green. They were now his only hope of reinforcements, and his partners in this siege. If they didn’t gnaw his hands off first…
His thoughts carried him forward until a door seemed to appear. It marked the entrance to the grand hall. Potent ammonia and a rude rancor slapped Hamilton’s nostrils, a painful reminder that not all felinids were housebroken.
“Taloc, I beg your mercy. Aldric was wrong to vivisect them, but we knew no other way. Please, we’ve bled enough, grant us a way to live alongside each other.” Prayed Duke Hamilton.
He reached for the door. Claws scraped against wood, the only warning he received before the door flew outwards, clipping his pot belly.
“Ah ha!” Cried a voice, “I knew I smelled Hamham!” Shouted a felinid girl no taller than Hamilton’s smarting bellybutton.
Her ears quivered, tail flicking eagerly as she looked him up and down, as if she were the queen of this castle, and not facing down the second most powerful man within a thousand leagues. Her bravery made Hamilton smile, and he ruffled her ears. A sign of affection that seemed to make catmen crawl out of the walls behind the girl, lurking in her shadow as if to protect her, yet being unable to touch their lady.
“Hello Ami! I’ve come to talk shop, is your mother available?” Asked Hamilton, hoping the felinids had been eating the food offered to them and not resorting to cannibalism to survive the siege. Though he knew they were capable of it, all it would take is a week of empty bellies and dead humans would start disappearing.
“Mom doesn’t want to talk to you! She says you’re a big meanie!” So I’m in charge.” Said Ami, placing both hands on her hips and puffing out her chest.
It would’ve been cute, had Duke Hamilton knocked on her door for any other reason than the hundreds of men dying behind him. But he hadn’t. His reinforcements were dead, his magi culled to impotence, and his army soundly defeated. He needed help. So he took one knee, bringing his face even with the child’s.
“Well then Lady Ami! If you’re the Queen cat I’ll consider it my duty to keep you up to date on all developments.” Said Hamilton, earning several sidelong glances from Ami’s lingering guardcats.
Ami grinned from ear to ear, revealing a few too many jagged teeth. Before flicking her hair with one hand. “Indeed Duke Ham! Tell me these, devo-devolutions!” She said, stuttering over ‘developments’.
Ah, she can’t be older than three… why did you curse them like this Taloc? It’s unnatural! How can humanity ever reason with such a short lived race. Ah, I guess this is how the elves feel about us. Their reclusive nature makes sense now. But there are too many felinids. They can’t just go hide in the woods. Thought Hamilton, fully knowing that Therun had altered the felinids to win a perpetual war.
“Well, let us start at the top, demons just ambushed the eastern division, so we have no soldiers to clear the way to Avignon or escort you to your grandmother. They’ve been totally annihilated.” Began Hamilton, wondering if the girl was capable of grasping what that meant. He prayed that even a fragment of their dire circumstances made it through her ear tufts and into her brain. “Our summer reinforcements were scheduled to reach Blackwood Castle today, five thousand men all supported by battle mages. Enough strength of arms to clear Greenwood of all monsters… Or so I thought. They were ambushed and are being destroyed even as we speak. Those who could make it to our walls have been allowed in, but they’re wounded and I lack the healers to save them. Furthermore, as of today, Blackwood castle is under siege.” Said Hamilton.
Throughout his words Ami had nodded, her ears fully aimed at his face. Any second now, he expected her to turn tail and run, fleeing to the wretch she called a mother.
“I see. So you’ve failed to obey Lightning Lord Liam’s edicts. And have come to make excuses.” Said Ami, folding her arms.
Hamilton’s eyebrows trembled upwards, with only his noble heritage wrestling them down. “I am only a mortal man. I’ve complied to the best of my abilities, and paid for the failure with six thousand lives. Were it possible, I would have already delivered you to Lady Green, but I cannot. I humbly request you save the lives of my men with your healers.” Said Hamilton.
“Nope.” Said Ami.
“No? Ami, my people are dying! To fulfill Saint Liam’s orders. I’m only asking for you to give us a chance! A prayer for survival. I do not expect miracles–”
“That’s what you told mom before you took her away. She never came back Ham. Not after you tortured her.” Interrupted Ami.
Her cuteness was gone, as was her juvenile way of speaking. Each word was pronounced with the clarity of an adult, one who meant every word.
“You know I did not allow torture within my lands.”
“It still happened. Had Saint Liam’s decree arrived a day later, I would’ve been torn apart at mother’s side. Or fed to the dogs.” Said Ami, matching Duke Hamilton’s severe tone.
She was right, and they both knew it.
Sorrow burned across Hamilton’s face. He wanted to kneel, to prostrate himself and beg for this girl to save his men, but knew it was too late. He’d supported Aldric’s reign, financially and militarily. Lending the kingdom his soldiers to perform whatever action Aldric demanded. Unfortunately that meant his men were the ones obtaining confessions from felinids, via any means that would secure their vivisections.
“I’m sorry.” Was all Hamilton could manage to say, rising to his feet and trudging away.
If there were a single sage remaining in the castle, he would have them transfer his mana to a worthy healer. But Marquess Schattenberg, his primary sage, had been with the eastern brigade, trying to clear the way to Avignon. Still, maybe another sage was present. That was his only hope for saving his men.
Ami turned up her nose at the apology. For no matter how sincere it was, words alone were insufficient to repair the sins of centuries.