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Horus Mirpur
The Cataphract
Part II
-Five thousand crossbows-
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Gero had helped him out of his armour and boots, while Neku brought Yellowstone -his other warhorse- for him to ride later. Horus had brought three war mounts on campaign for his personal use, with a tent and other belongings packed in two separate wagons. While most minor lords had their own wagon as well, only Lord Putra and Lord Maluph owned a pair like Horus. The distinction being that Horus’ father had paid for the riders’ equipment whilst the Chariots were fully funded from Khan’s coffers.
The latter was what made the Chariot Leader post the loftier position for some but not for Lord Mirpur who considered the Chariots a ‘foreign’ weapon and concept. Burzin didn't, so Mirpur's sons served with the Cataphracts exclusively.
Unit costs aside, Horus’ other horses were a black stallion with nice white spots at the legs called Midnight, the gold-haired Yellowstone and the young white stallion named Togo which was of Imperial lineage but still not fully trained. The Cataphract warhorses needed to be changed frequently due to the heavy load they carried in battle (even before engagements if they had been on the road) which made them tire out quickly. Still a well-fed and cared for horse could make it through several scraps as it was a matter of resilience and ultimately its rider’s skill.
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> A Cataphract brought a lot of weapons to a fight with the bulk of them loaded on their mounts both ranged and for close combat. A bow (or a small steel & wood crossbow, with many carrying both), one quiver per weapon (bolts and arrows), a long lance with a steel straight blade secured next to at least two shorter Hoplite-type warspears on the horse's right side. A mace or flail and usually a long shafted axe with a small round shield on the left. A sword of course was carried by the knights themselves usually a heavy sabre. The horse was covered with scaled armour that protected its body and part of its legs up to above the knee joints. Some used chainmail as it was cheaper or even padded leather-reinforced blankets.
>
> It was vital for a horse to survive an engagement as it took years for the animals to be comfortable with the load but also for a more practical/critical reason.
>
> A Cataphract on foot while heavily armoured (with a scaled mesh over strips of plates cuirass that continued down their hips and same-material spoulders with leather or plate armbraces at times or just chainmail sleeves) faced the same problems the Knights of Jelin faced.
>
> Their cumbersome armour required for the fighter to be in peak condition to keep moving on the battlefield but still he was slower than his opponents and would tire easily. For that reason each Cataphract brought a number of assistants or slaves into the field, usually with one of his spare horses in tow (everyone had a spare whilst some had two) and more supplies or weapons. Their job was to quickly reach their master and assist him if he found himself in trouble. Of course when in battle this system quickly broke down, with the assistants easily getting killed in the brouhaha. In the end each Cataphract had to learn to fight on foot or die trying.
>
> It required dedication from an early age to reach all the skills required and only those recognized with the potential since youth were employed to the role. Lords had the burden of outfitting and paying for them as they didn't have another employment. Just like knights they were to be used with precision and in short bursts.
>
> This was true to an extent for the war chariots also (most started as Cataphracts) with the difference that they were deployed in teams of three per vehicle and could operate at longer distances afore getting pulled for repairs. The War Elephants couldn’t despite similarities. These exotic units had their own troubles as they needed able space lest they turned lethal for friendlies, broke down or as was common with the bulkier capricious beasts, stampeded out of control.
Horus left Marleen at the care of Mirah and the other slaves and rode with a small escort to Lord Putra’s large headquarters’ tent engineers had erected at the opening cut into the woods. The spare timber was promptly used to repair wagons (the guards left with the navy at Deadmen’s Watch were busy using the amble nearby recourses to do the same for the worn-out from over a year in the seas ships) and then construct a number of fortifications around the sprawling camps with several corrals for the many animals. Each unit stayed near its own mounts.
Horus could see the misty stone walls of Castalor’s west gates. The road continuing past the walls of the city through the potato fields skirting around its taller northern walls and the smaller northern gates. It rung around and met the east road coming from the East Gates, the path forming a fork with the coastal road leading to Scaldingport eventually. The other axis heading north for the bridge. Everything in their path hugged by rich forest and undergrowth, the weather giving them the occasional sudden downpour. They hadn’t seen a fully clear day for months now, all roads plagued by various degrees of mire despite being well-maintained and paved with flat stones or thick gravel.
The animals have food aplenty at least, Horus thought staring at the scrapped clean of grass sides of the road leading to the tree lines. For how long is the question.
Xener, the leader of the Jang-Lu, a burly man with veiny uncovered arms and rugged face, greeted him with a respectful nod when he entered the tent. Perku, the Lancers leader was in the field, as was Dumar the scouts general. Larmir was present, along with the constipated Lord Putra and the big-bodied Lord Maluph, late Erul-Sol’s son. The heavily painted Maluph wore a black, yellow-striped robe over his armor, to showcase his mourning. Horus, while understanding of his plight, found the blatant display unsavory and spurred by ulterior motivation.
He hadn’t forgotten Maluph’s idiotic and revenge-driven previous actions. You want your family avenged, quit the army and go home. Look to find the culprits amidst the Cofols of the peninsula. A difficult task, since all of them were rumored dead according to Prince Atpa’s controversial letter to the Khan. It had almost derailed the whole operation and all but paralyzed Burzin who was up there in years already. Horus wished he was present for the Khan’s arrival on Jelin. Would the old Horselord manage to do it atop his warhorse?
He had to for morale.
“No more local caravans or traffic,” Lord Putra crumpled after greeting him, his narrow face showing signs of bad sleep and the starts of a cold. Or had a bad bunch of weed served in his pipe. “They know we’re here.”
“They can see us from the walls,” Horus noted and placed his helm on the table, the tent’s ceiling damp and heavy over their heads.
“No reaction though,” Maluph said, painted mauve lips split to show his teeth. “They’ll hide behind their walls.”
“What does Tibia-Han think?” Horus asked looking at Lord Putra.
“He found the walls pretty solid at first glance,” Lord Putra replied and grimaced. “Was really enthusiastic at the sturdiness in fact. The rest of us weren’t as warm and fuzzy on the nasty surprise.”
“Where is the problem? We knew they had walls.”
“Yeah, we do as well. But out of bricks or sandstone. We have precut limestone also but even that might not make it through. Those are solid granite blocks these primitives used here especially at the base. They have knowledge of bricks obviously but they keep it as decoration. We’ll know more once he sets some of the machines up this afternoon.”
Had no one even consider this?
Then again most of the Khanate had very little connections with Jelin due to their cultural differences.
“If we need stone. We’ll find stone,” Maluph stated.
Might need to leave more people alive to dig for that, Horus thought sourly. You aren’t going to swing a pickaxe yourself anytime soon!
“This is taking too long,” Horus grunted.
“I agree Lord Mirpur,” Putra replied. “The Cavalry can continue towards the fork and build a new camp near there. The Khan will send riders from Colle to restore communications soon. Lord Phanti has assured me everything is on schedule.”
“That’s concerning,” Horus rustled and stood back. “Considering we are well aware that we are not.”
“We are at the city, a day from the fork,” Maluph snapped.
“The scouts are not the army,” Horus argued. “Nor are your chariots or my Cataphracts. Larmir could make it there perhaps in a day but then he’ll have to rest for two or risk losing horses. What about supplies?”
“Grass is sprouting out of stones here!” Maluph argued with a glare. “Animals are getting fat.”
“Will your men eat grass Maluph?” Horus replied returning his stare. “The wagons are still en route and I’m hearing they are moving faster lately because they are emptying quickly!”
“My lords, we all share the same saddle here,” Horus glared at Lord Putra, who rarely used his horse if he could help it. “Larmir with Dumar will rush for the fork, cut Castalor off completely. We’ll try Tibia-Han’s plan for a while.”
“Where will he find proper ammunition?” Horus snapped, not believing how such a important detail had been overlooked. “Are all Kaltha cities defended by such walls?”
“The walls at Issir’s Eagle were destroyed is the rumor. The north part of it,” Lord Putra replied stiffly.
“Do they have better weapons than we have?”
“A granite boulder will bring a wall down. We just need to find enough of them.”
“Where?”
Lord Putra stared at him in silence. “Tibia left men to bring down buildings and houses behind us. Material is being brought to the front. Nicely cut hard rocks. Poetic really. The locals won’t be needing them.”
No, Horus thought. Disturbing is more what this matter really is than anything else.
“How soon?”
“Two weeks.” Lord Putra replied with a nervous flickering of the eyes.
“It’ll be Spring by then. What about the Khan?”
“Did you see any Issir responding? They are behind their walls!” Maluph growled. “Let them. We’ll go ahead with the plan.”
“We can’t leave Castalor on our supply lines,” Horus argued and Maluph showed him his teeth in a snarl. The Cataphract dropped a hand to the sculpted ivory handle of his dagger. Thought about using it, but only cowards strike without a loud public challenge.
So he thought of doing that next.
“Castalor will be under siege. We’ll work on a plan,” Lord Putra explained. “We were to move ahead anyway Mirpur.”
“Not like this. We haven’t even touched their force. We don’t even know what they can bring in the field!” Horus countered adding with a grimace of frustration. “Or even where their darn armies are!”
“We’ve seen all their tricks on Eplas,” Maluph had dismissed his words very annoyed. “Thrashed them there and we’ll do it again here.”
> But while Maluph was partially right on the latter –the thrashing part, he was very wrong on the former. Granite stone walls notwithstanding.
An irked Horus got out of the headquarters and climbed on top of Yellowstone, the Rin plains stallion turning its head to sniff at his leather gambeson curious, which made the horse twirl on its legs as the Cataphract settled on the colored gems-adorned saddle.
“Whoa there buddy,” Horus said calmly.
The rest of the ride back to the Cataphracts staging area and camp a bit down the road was done in silence.
Upon arriving at the tents surrounding the corral Api-Nofre decided to satisfy his curiosity and learn what had Horus’ mood fouled so.
“What did they decide?”
Horus climbed down from his horse and allowed Gero to take the reins. The assistant led it inside the corral with the others. The opening of his large tent closed but pulled aside a tad to allow the bronze haired Cofol female Mirah to step outside.
“Tibia-Han shall test the walls this afternoon,” Horus replied and smiled at Mirah’s miffed stare. Ah, the women are unhappy.
“What does he hope to accomplish in such a short time?”
“I don’t know but Dumar was sent to the fork on the road. So stuff moved about.”
Api-Nofre nodded. He gave the reins to Neku and walked near the thoughtful Horus. “Mirah. Put something on its cold still,” Horus greeted the comely slave that lithely bowed to both of them in her waistcloth and sheer silk bust.
Mirah’s clear tanned skin was turning red touched by the breeze coming from the Scalding Sea. Started warm but cooled rapidly when on land.
“Shall we stand outside and discuss it some more if she doesn’t mind?” Api jested and Horus responded with a gruff snort before following the slave girl inside the tent.
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“Dumar can’t possibly defend an open area,” Api-Nofre noted whilst Horus handed the bowl Mirah had brought to clean his face to a silent Kera-Raad. The inside of the tent hastily setup and the cleared ground its floor. The women had swept the worst of the dirt away.
“Another unit might move to reinforce him,” Horus elucidated and found a chair to sit on, several containers still packed next to a wall.
“Which are the original orders.”
“Orders given months back, over lands painted upon a map,” Horus replied and removed his gloves to caress Mirah’s head with a hand. The slave had knelt before Horus’ legs to deal with his muddy boots. “Where is the ‘bountiful’ game? You’ve seen the ‘old’ walls.”
“Animals get spooked by big parties.” Api noted. “And all walls crack.”
“Yeah, they are not as sure about that now.”
“The city is all but surrounded.”
“The city has two ports allegedly. Facing south,” Horus countered. “So I don’t know how all this is going to work in our favor.”
“We should have brought the navy you think my lord?” Kera-Raad asked still holding the wet towel in his hands. Jarena the half-breed slave girl –of Cofol and Lorian origins- came and took the towel from the Cataphract.
“The navy is scared to enter the Scalding Sea,” Horus replied. “No one remembers where the Imperial waters start and you’ve seen how spooked they were crossing the Lazuli Peninsula.”
“The volcano clouds unnerved them.”
“Their superstitions did that and the stories Atpa spreads,” Horus hissed and placed both his feet inside a larger vessel with warm water.
“Sartak wouldn’t have lied and it’s doubtful he would have backed Atpa over Nout,” Api reminded him and Horus pushed back on the chair whilst Mirah worked to massage and clean his feet.
“Lord Putra is sleeping with an eye open,” Horus replied. “Sartak made a mess there or lost his marbles and gotten the Prince Heir killed. How it happened we don’t know but Sartak should have been there to help out. It’s a mess. Now Atpa claims he solved it and adds some extra lore with touches of mystery to make the feat appear bigger that it is or to hide his blatant tardiness and failure to provide meaningful assistance.”
“There was an Imperial seal on the scroll my lord. Several people have seen it,” Kera-Raad croaked and Horus exhaled. Gossip run rampant with so many people sardined inside the transports. Burzin’s usually hermetically sealed palace walls filled with cracks and leaking.
“The Sopat have probably a whole case of them old seals stashed in their warehouses, under piles of gold coins, amidst ancient weapons, dragon bones and Troll’s dried nuts.”
Mirah giggled at that, the latter rumored to be a fabled aphrodisiac upon consumption or turned into an invigorating potion allegedly.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Prince Nout would never have lost against freed slaves and their masters,” Api-Nofre insisted and Horus had enough of it.
He stood up, a new pair of boots on his feet.
The Gold Leopard’s stratagems sometimes were too ambitious. His wins coming with a certain amount of personal risk. Which was commendable but also frequently fatal.
“I won’t debate tales from a continent away whilst on campaign,” he told his friends and subordinates. “This is not the time for gossip. Get your affairs sorted out. This plan shall get people killed.”
He walked towards the sleeping quarters without another word. Jarena made to follow after him but Mirah stopped her with a gesture.
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Marleen was wrapped in Mirah’s woolen cloak more out of modesty than cold since she also had the slave girl’s long winter robes on underneath. Still no shoes. One of her small feet was bandaged. The Issir woman was staring at the wall of the tent sitting at the edge of his bed. The floor had a carpet on at least but most of his stuff were still inside the containers.
“It’s thick double canvas with a layer of worked leather between the two fabrics. Keeps the rain out,” he explained and found a stool to sit on. It was wobbly on the uneven surface, its small legs pushing the carpet into the soft ground underneath. “Better accommodations shall be constructed soon,” Horus added a little embarrassed.
“My home is in Castalor,” Marleen said, watching for a moment as he was trying to balance his large frame on the small stool. He did, for Horus could ride all saddles however uncomfortable. “I could walk there. Could I ask for a pair of shoes?”
Mirah had left her without on purpose.
Or spite.
Perhaps for the better.
So that’s a firm nope.
“Hmm. Is all your family behind the walls?” Horus asked evenly.
“Aye, they are Lord Mirpur.”
Mirah had started orientation early.
“Lord Horus will suffice. People might presume you speak of my father,” he corrected her. Horus pursed his mouth then added. “Not all your family surely,” he probed mostly because he’d rather not be responsible for placing everyone in danger and less to learn about enemy positions from the noble woman.
“Walter…” Marleen started but then stopped those large eyes opening in alarm in fear she’d slipped up.
That’s her brother?
Boyfriend?
Is that a practice amidst nobility?
“Walter is away,” Horus continued her thought. “Don’t worry about it. You didn’t give anything away. Where is he by the way?”
Marleen made her best imitation of a Horselord lass, eyes squinting tightly. “I… don’t know Lord Horus.”
Horus sighed deeply at the clumsy lie.
“Scaldingport, hmm? No. Colle? Ah, aye that’s it,” he decided gauging her facial expressions. Marleen started breathing ruggedly in panic. “It’s alright. Better that he is away.”
Troubling though. He would have to report this.
“So Walter is a…”
“My brother.”
This was weirdly satisfying.
“Of course. You’re unwed.”
Horus smiled and had to stop himself. Marleen blinked her face and neck turning a rich dark-mauve. She was actually blushing fiercely which darkened her skin even more. Oh that’s fascinating, an engrossed Horus thought stooping forward on the stool unwittingly.
“I’m actually betrothed since my twelfth sir,” Marleen reacted lively.
She is way older than twelve.
That much was obvious.
Horus guessed around twenty… something? It was difficult to tell. At times she looked as old as himself –Horus was twenty five, the youngest of Mirpur’s sons- others not.
It was therefore confusing.
Also quite alarming.
“You weren’t traveling to your wedding perchance?” He asked guardedly thinking of the completely ruined Deadmen’s Watch. Could these idiots have slain a nobleman amidst the general carnage? Probably. Most likely they had killed several of them.
Very few men were spared was the bottom line.
Marleen shook her head negatively, those white moist curls coming loose and falling on her slender shoulders. Horus felt lightheaded briefly.
“It was… postponed,” she explained, the matter deeply embarrassing for her understandably. Horus wanted to stop her, but couldn’t. “The Duke… my fiancé is Sir Rik De Weer of Scaldingport, the Grand Duke’s son?”
I don’t care.
“Do go ahead,” Horus grunted not really wanting to hear about a coarse former pirate playing at nobility.
“He wanted him to partake in a tourney but alas Sir Rik was injured.”
“The man perished?” Horus asked half-hopefully before he could stop himself.
“Uher saved him. But the wedding was pushed back,” Marleen explained puffing out, too warm under the blanket-like cloak.
Wow, she’s lying again.
Why?
“When was this?”
She didn’t want to answer, but eventually Marleen spilled the beans.
“Six years,” the Issir maiden blurted out breathlessly.
A De Weer, six years ago. Back in 188. Horus blinked and stared at the crumbled carpet between them.
And a bit at the painted white nails of her small chocolate toes until she covered them up.
Mirah has more work to do apparently.
“Is he feeling better now?” He casually asked.
“I assume he is,” she replied.
Horus pressed his mouth tightly and got up. “Gods have spared you from this fool,” he grunted much to her livid objection.
The latter would have earned her a good thrashing in Rin An-Pur.
“It was beyond his control Lord Horus!” Marleen argued with a brazen glare. “Sir Rik has given me his word!”
That’s a lot of time lass, Horus thought. He could understand she might not want to accept it but it was obvious to him her fiancé or his father were looking for better options. It probably had nothing to do with her.
Lords of all realms were like that.
The Lords daughters weren’t spared the indignity.
Horus had married Muda Zeket’s teenage daughter. Barely talked to her once.
If a better option came, then he would marry again.
Having to pick a single wife made things more difficult for the Lords of Jelin.
Or Scaldingport was capricious like that.
“The camp might move depending on how the siege goes,” he told her and rubbed his trimmed goatee numbly. “Mirah will have command of that so you shouldn’t worry. See to rest and heal up those wounds.”
He walked towards the divider but her voice stopped him.
“Is your wife jealous of her?” Marleen probed evenly. “She’s very pretty. Your slave.”
Horus paused at the unexpected question. Anaat Zeket would be fourteen years old now. Would she care? He’d no idea. She was still a child in his eyes.
He looked at the Issir woman thoughtfully for a moment and smiled. Now, this is a woman befitting a Horselord, he thought.
What you buy or what yer given, Lord Mirpur had told them. Is never truly yours.
But if you earn it, you shall own it forever.
Ah.
“If I had to bestow such lofty soubriquet on someone that would be you Marleen,” Horus replied honestly. “Or shamefully pretend I’m blind. Since I can’t do that I’d have ditched the princess and rushed back here.”
Marleen blinked those large eyes a little confused at first and when his words finally registered a small gasp of shock escaped her plump crimson lips.
-
> Lord High Regent Anker Est Ravn learned of the Khan’s landings near Colle three days later and ordered Sir Luke AredRavn (a cadet branch of the family from Farvor) to retreat from the war-ravaged city. Sir Luke was commanding half of the 3rd Foot and obeyed moving towards the Three Roads, the massive junction on the flats between Boar Mountain and North Greenforest. Sir Luke was to wait there for the hard marching Sir Mark Est Ravn’s 2nd Foot to reach him. The Duke of Midlanor’s firstborn had just crossed Reinut’s Bridge over Ugrid River near Issir’s Eagle and was traveling west following Granlake’s shores.
>
> He then messaged his second son Sir Thor Est Ravn and the hard-pressed dealing with reports of enemy warships in the Shallow Sea along with the Navy crews revolt Duke Rinus Van De Aesst about the ‘troubling’ developments. Sir Thor was recuperating in Caspo O’ Bor with his friend (Duke Rinus son) Sir Ton Van De Aesst. Both knights had returned from their failed attempt to retake Altarin on Eplas. The whole campaign ending with all their gains returned to the Khan and a considerable loss of men.
>
> Lord Anker ordered his son to travel to Sessi Fort, the religious town on the vast Kaltha Plains at the edges of Hardwood Forest, where the rest of the rebuilding 3rd Foot was gathering. The two knights traveled together to take control of the unit with orders to march it towards Issir’s Eagle. Duke Rinus protested wanting the men kept near Caspo O’ Bor but Lord Anker’s 2nd missive left him no room for further discussion.
>
> ‘Get your blasted affairs in order Rinus,’ Lord Anker counseled. ‘Uher is watching.’
>
> High Magister Kelholt who had been preparing for a ‘purging’ of the Van Calcar’s lands since reports of ‘unsavory’ activities had reached him through his priests was next informed of the developments and asked to assist the army. The Golden Spears turned around and started marching as well from the distant Badum which relieved Duke Charles from having to deal with them.
>
> The Riverdor noble stalled when he was asked in turn to assist. It is said Lord Anker dispatched at least twenty birds throughout the Kingdom that first day alone. Charles cited eloquently in a letter that the ‘First Foot is in no condition to march at this time your grace’ which promptly lost him all the good-will he’d painstakingly garnered with Lord Anker in a day.
>
> One of the missives reportedly reached distant Pastelor and Lady Siske ‘The Daring’ was the first to read it atop gloomy weather-beaten ‘Gryphon Nest' tower. Sir Evert Pek’s wife (the knight was with the presumed lost Lord Robert Van Durren on Eplas with the remnants of the First Foot and she hadn’t heard from him in years) alarmed at the report of Burzin’s Hordes landing on Jelin, she rushed to her father’s locked armoire.
>
> Timeworn Sir Reinir Tellman who had just returned from talking with Zofia of Krakenhall’s emissaries at Roadfort witnessed the fierce noblewoman wearing various pieces of armour, from different parts stitched together and his polished array of old weapons spilled on the floor in shock.
>
> Hearing about it reluctantly (Sir Reinir was unwilling to help Anker against Reinut’s blood) and the High Regent’s call to arms against the alien foe, the legendary retired knight (Sir Reinir was over seventy at the time) unwrapped his covered longsword and went to look for a weapon harness to put it on. The weapon had been given to him by the Duchess’ people. King Lucius had left it with orders for it to be returned after the knight’s son had been killed during the Hundred Days campaign and years later it had. When he returned wearing only his Griffin’s helm (the armour needed fixing to fit him after so many years) Lady Siske asked him what was the meaning of this.
>
> To which a sullen Sir Reinir had replied soberly. ‘I can’t have my only daughter running after Lord Anker’s armies whilst I stand at the cold docks and gaze at the waves. Not by herself. Not after yer brother’s fate. Since you are too stubborn to be convinced and I’m too old to lose time in the attempt, I’ll come along after I have Howard straighten this darn armour. I swear some rascal had it shrunk or something!’
>
> Mysterious shrinking armours and daring war maidens aside, the Iron Griffin of Pastelor did ride out on his tall warhorse (not famed Tophorn since the destrier that had carried the knight to more than twenty trophies and several wars had given up the ghost some twenty years ago, but another horse probably of equally good stock) that winter of 194 NC.
>
> Upon seeing the knight’s banner leaving his manor almost six hundred enthusiastic locals, from men-at-arms to squires, old veterans of the Foots or the King’s marines, rangers, fighters, Krakenhall refugees and even a unknown warband of roaming Northmen ‘casing the lands for no particular reason’ who promptly decided to come along to ‘fight the Khan’s rich cunts in the lands of never winter.’
-
[https://i.postimg.cc/TxQNTyMv/Castalor-194.jpg]
> Lord Putra’s engineers under Tibia-Han started bombarding the west gates of Castalor on the last week of Alter (Secundus) 194 NC under heavy rain and after weeks of delays for proper ammunition to arrive. They had approached to three hundred meters with the trebuchets firing from further back. After an hour few shots had found the range and minimum damage was showing on the old walls. Standing at seven meters the walls weren’t that impressive on this side (they rose to ten meters on the northern walls) but were over five meters thick at spots and the towers built next to the gates answered destroying three catapults.
>
> Tibia spread his machines out to make it difficult for the fixed towers to get to his men with the Khan’s engineers arching around the gates fortifications for half a kilometer, the southernmost grouping of four catapults pushed at the edges of Hunter’s Trap Forest, no more than a hundred meters from the shores. This new arrangement caused problems with several shots skirting the walls and falling amidst the Sough Harbor’s buildings.
>
> During the night a local captain of a large fishing boat (a Ketch) somehow managed to convince Vice Admiral Huug Faber who was visiting the docks to inspect the damages, to allow him to outfit his ship with one of the spare catapults (a lot of siege weapons were getting out of the warehouses still and were left haphazardly in front of buildings) and try to attack the enemy from the water. Faber, a thoroughly unimaginative bureaucrat that later wrote a lengthy autobiography milking his brief war-participation for all it was worth, found the idea ‘darn right brilliant’.
>
> The captain with a crew of eight loaded the bulky catapult on his ship (sawing off one of the two masts to make room) and slowly sailed out of the port in the middle of the night. He looped around the west breakwater, neared the shores and waited for the morning. When Tibia-Han’s cold-suffering engineers’ lit fires to warm themselves up after the rain stopped just before dawn, the captain started lobbing shots from his ship that in the meantime he’d anchored almost ashore.
>
> According to witnesses –the events unfolded very near the walls- he managed to fire at least twelve shots afore an engineer realized something was amiss with rocks falling on them from unlikely angles. Two catapults were damaged and seven engineers were injured or killed afore a detachment of medium Cavalry charged out of the undergrowth into the rocky beach.
>
> The captain tried to turn the ship around but it was impossible to escape in time. The stunned riders jumped from their mounts and managed to climb onto the fishing boat after a brief struggle. They killed the captain, his crew and sunk the boat afore returning to their camp.
>
> A scaled model of the Ketch, the installed catapult and the unnamed captain with his crew has been cast in bronze. It can been visited today in front of the Admiralty building in Castalor’s south port. On the last day of the month Alter (Secundus) and of winter, the Castalor kids place the wooden single mast toy boats in the waters of the port and watch them fight bravely with the waves with cheers until nightfall.
>
> Tibia-Han resumed bombarding after this incident was resolved presumably, but not three hours later a flotilla of initially four brigs and three schooners, popped out of the mist coming from Castalor’s harbor.
>
> Faber was going to milk this idea raw also.
>
> This larger threat resumed firing at the Khan’s engineers destroying another two catapults. When the peeved Cavalry returned to the beach, bringing foot archers with them to get rid of the annoying naval units they realized that at least ten larger boats had parked on the rocky beach this time.
>
> The officer ordered every man with him to charge on foot and seize the moored ships or burn them. About ten meters from the first one –a brig- the stooped grim-faced Issirs rose on the decks equipped with crossbows and released a devastating volley of steel-tipped bolts on the charging Horselords.
>
> Thirty out of forty men were cut down in the blink of an eye and the rest ran for their lives back up the beach and dived inside the woods.
>
> Lord Putra was informed of the trouble the naval units were causing Tibia-Han but had no solution to this fresh predicament, so he ordered the engineers to just distance themselves from the shores and try attacking from the north side. Seeing that instead of progress they were facing setbacks, Lord Maluph urged Lord Putra to get the ‘herd moving’ and deal with Castalor on his own time.
>
> The decision taken was to leave the infantry (the Jang-Lu) behind alongside the engineers at their camp to besiege the city. Larmir who was initially to go after Dumar was instead held back and the war Chariots with half the medium cavalry were to assist the scouts with taking over the fork until news of the Khan reached them.
>
> To bolster the chariots (they expected to face good terrain, but no one had real first-hand knowledge of the area other the single scout report they had received) it was decided Horus Mirpur (the Master of Horses 3rd son) and his Cataphracts would follow after the chariots to act as ‘mounted infantry or a hammer… anvil. Just do what you think is best Lord Horus,’ a hard-pressured for results Putra had ordered.
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> The early warning sign from the scrap at the beaches of Castalor forgotten which was to prove extremely costly for Putra’s mission. No one thought to ask what was Castalor famed for? Or what was the second thing the port city exported throughout Jelin despite being one of the most difficult to build personal weapons ever produced?
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> The answer rather pedestrian for Issirs and Lorians but cryptic to the Khan’s generals.
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> The ‘winch’ as it was called was a patented heavy crossbow made out of hardwood and metal that utilized an ancient Issir design, a winch or crank, to easily redraw the bowstring into the locked position. The mechanism needed precise tools to be produced. The result was that the user didn’t have to set it on the ground or use a hook to do it as was the matter with Eplas’ metal crossbow. This allowed it to be larger in size than its counterparts but still serviceable with the use of a stand. It also had a greater range at about three hundred meters to the Cataphracts less than a hundred (effective) and greater punching power.
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> Castalor at the time of Burzin’s invasion could field well over five thousand 'trained' crossbowmen with some units missing or serving on loan around the realm (most notably with Sir Gust’s Crows on Eplas). That left about five thousand of them available which Lord Basten Van Oord had initially split, with half of them traveling towards Colle with Sir Walter but then had been ordered to turn back, the rest gathered at Hunter’s Cot to join with Scaldingport’s two thousand Old Spears, 500 hundred marines and a thousand riders (500 men-at-arms, 500 hundred rangers) that were marching towards the fork under the Old Crow’s own banner.
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> Lord Ruud De Weer, who famously never really traveled without his armour on, faced none of Sir Reinir’s problems.
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> ‘Live long enough,’ the ancient Duke commented in great spirits –easily the oldest general of the war with Burzin being in his early seventies- ‘and eventually you’ll fuck all there is to fuck, you’ll taste every god darn flavor, hear of dragons roaming the skies and fight slanted-eyed cunts without stepping a foot out of Jelin!’
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>
>
> -
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> Lord Sirio Veturius
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> The Fall of Heroes
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> Chapter XIX
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> (The Cofol/Horselord generals)
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> Burzin’s Horde- Year one
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> Horus Mirpur
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> ‘Ermin Suru’*
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> *(Archaic Cofol, Imperial: Gale of the Steppe)
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> Battle of Even Fork, a wrong assessment, the siege of Castalor and the Clash at Shallow Straits.
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> Prelude to ‘Oras Wheels’ (Khanate name, Battle of Three-Roads)
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> Circa winter-summer of 194 NC
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>