Mist hung over the green pastures of the Alpes' feet. Animals and men alike awoke as dawn appeared. The songs of birds and the noise of humans with their cattle filled the village. The sun illuminated the land. A normal day had begun.
The fog started to disappear with the rising sun. Revealing a way down from the Alpes into the lands of Italia. A grey snake emerged from the mountains. Iron boots stamped the ground as the legions descended. A horn was blown and its sound echoed throughout the homes of the farmers.
Soon the first villagers noticed the approaching troops. People began to shout. Children were pushed back into the houses. The cattle back into their sheds. Wagons and firewood were used to somehow barricade the entrances to the village.
All able men and woman armed themselves with whatever tool they could find. Pitchforks and hoes were picked up. Others simply took poles and stones into their hands. War knew no mercy, but they wouldn't go down. Not without a fight for what was theirs.
Their land, their cattle, their grain, their home and their livelihood.
The legions continued the way down. Distance began to close. Seconds felt like hours for the villagers as the lines of soldiers continued to march on. For every step they took, five new ones appeared on the mountain's top. The tide seemed endlessly to the peasantry. Valour crushed by the pointlessness of resistance.
They got a better look at their enemies when not more than 100 metres separated them from each other.
"Those are dwarves from Raetia", the village chief said as he stood on a wagon blocking one of the entrances to the village.
"How many are there?", a woman asked.
"I don't know. I would guess a thousand, but more are still appearing", the chief answered. "Wait they are changing directions!"
The people looked on as the lines of armoured dwarves changed their direction. The tide marched parallel to the village. Ignoring them entirely. That was except for one man riding an armoured ibex.
He turned to look at the village and saw their armed population. A deep laugh reached the village as the rider galloped back to the front of the legions.
"Where are they going?", a man asked.
"The first major settlement in that direction is Mediolanum", the village chief said. "Better them than us."
Tension remained as the village watched the legions march on.
Soon the dwarves started to sing.
When the hammer falls
Forging weapons for all
When the hammer falls
Songs of battle fill the halls
When the hammer flies
Lines of armoured dwarves arise
With the hammer's roar
We go marching off to war!
Raetia's legions have entered Italia. Led by their archduke Widukind.
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City of Albingaunum, bulwark against western invaders.
The gates of the city were closed. An iron chain stretched through the harbours waters. Keeping enemy ships out and the ones of the northern alliance trapped.
Smoke rose from inside the city. The legions of the Kingdom of Aquitania had surrounded Albingaunum. They pelted the walls with their trebuchets, catapults and ballistae. The walls had held firm. Many cracks forming, weakening the structures, but for now, they held. Gates had been reinforced to defend against rams and to stop deserters from easily opening the doors.
The population was not that lucky. The besieger had started to fire inside the city instead of targeting the walls. Burning ammunition was used and started several fires. Grain supplies burned down. Spells by war mages were exchanged. Fireballs met thunderbolts.
The boulders thrown by the trebuchets destroyed several homes before they lost their momentum or the walls of a stone building stopped them. The population was suffering heavily from the siege. Dissatisfaction began to spread on both sides. The commoners wanted the siege to end. No matter which side would stand victorious.
The besiegers had not planned to take so long for the city. They were losing valuable time and supplies. Waiting for the walls to give way or for the defenders to open the gates. The other nations were already heading for the richer inland cities.
The city was also needed for their supply lines. The Alpes didn't allow to supply an army for longer times. The paths were too narrow and the weather too unforgiving. Most supplies arrived by ship. The Kingdom's expedition would only be safe with the city in their hands.
The queen of Aquitania stood behind the artillery on a small hill. Her guards and advisors and fellow lords of the country surrounded her. Most of them looked simply bored. The ones who knew what was at stake looked more agitated with every day without progress.
"My Queen our spies have sent a report from inside the city", a kneeing brown-skinned elf said. He had appeared from the ground, surprising many of the present people who didn't know him.
"Speak Felagund! May this be good news", Queen Eleonore replied.
"The commoners won't rise up in arms anytime soon. The military suppresses any riots and they fear us more than they do the consequences of a long siege", Felagund informed.
"What about the powerful in the city? The mages, local nobles or the merchants? Are they willing to cooperate?", she inquired.
"Most of the merchants and nobles have long fled inland. Long before the siege had started. The remaining ones are not powerful enough to help us", Felagund answered, keeping his eyes on the ground. Not continuing despite feeling the queens gaze upon him.
"Felagund, what about the mages?", the queen asked again. Loudly and clear. The elf looked up into the queen's eyes.
"They killed two of our spies. They will not cooperate", he said. "We have found another one. A retired war mage."
"What does he want for his service?", the queen asked.
The elven man pointed to one of the nobles.
"Baron Isgards' head. A guarantee to not plunder the orphanages of the city", Felagund said slowly. The baron erupted in laughter, but quickly stopped when he noticed he was the only one laughing.
"My queen you can't consider his request", the baron pleaded. Uncertainty was audible in his voice. Others looked at him sympathetically.
"Why does he want the baron's head?", the queen asked. The baron started to run away. Two guards stopped him before he even ran five steps.
"My queen! I beg for your mercy! I am a noble! A pillar of our nation!", the baron screamed as he was pressed to the ground by the guards. The queen didn't even look at him.
"The wizard accuses the baron of pillaging a border village during the last conflict. Killing many and enslaving the rest. He claims to have rescued a part of the children from the baron's forces", Felagund answered.
"Lies! We were at war! I have not broken any law or ...", the baron fell silent when he felt iron on his throat.
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"You only speak when asked", the guard informed coldly.
"The decision will be made by all present nobles and advisors. You will decide if his death is worth to maybe open a gate", the queen said. The baron seemed to want to say something but closed his mouth when blood started to drop from the sword at his throat.
Hands were raised. Fourteen against seven. The baron's fate had been decided. He began to cry and weep as he was dragged away.
"Baron Isgards died as he led an attack to storm one of the gates. You will all swear an oath of silence on this matter", the queen ordered and everybody swore. "I will hold each of you responsible if this matter is exposed."
The present people nodded. Some looked angry and in turmoil, but nobody openly defied the queen.
"Felagund, you will bring the head to that wizard. Tell him to draw my house's crest on all doors of the orphanages. The legionaries will know what to do", Queen Eleonore ordered.
The elf soon made his way back into the city.
"Felix did you got all the things from the market?", Rasper, a man in his late forties turned around. Expecting the boy and the ingredients. So that they could start to cook for the children. "You are not Felix. What brings you here, enemy?"
Two stone tiles broke free from the ground and broke up in hundreds of stone needles. They hovered in front of the elf.
"My name is Felagund. The queen herself has accepted your proposal", he answered. He threw the head, wrapped up in black cloth, to the mage. He opened and studied the baron's head for a while.
"That is him. I am Rasper", he threw the head back. The needles formed back into tiles and filled the holes in the ground perfectly. "Take that thing back with you."
"We require your assistance with opening the gate", Felagund reminded as he wrapped up the head again.
"The orphanages, how do you plan to protect them from your men?", Rasper asked.
Felagund threw something to the mage.
"The seal of our royal house. Our legions will spare and protect any buildings who have marked their doors with it", he answered. "Do we have a deal?"
"Be ready tomorrow. The western gate will be opened at dusk", Rasper said. "I wish you good luck."
"May the eight rooted tree bring you luck and us an open gate", Felagund said and left the building.
A boy entered the kitchen shortly after.
"Who was that elf? A friend?", the boy asked as he put the box with food down.
"No Felix, not a friend. I will need you and the older children to do something for me", Rasper said.
He explained to him to mark all the doors of all the orphanages with the crest and after that the homes of as many commoners as possible. At dawn, they should hide inside the orphanage and wait for everything to calm down. Felix asked many questions but stopped when Rasper asked him to just trust him. He did. After all, Rasper had saved them.
A man cladded in a blue tattered cloak went down the streets of Albingaunum. A conflicted expression on his face as he went to the western gate. The sun was starting to rise. A young guard stopped him when he was thirty metres away from his goal.
"Step back civilian! This is forbidden territory for you!", the guard yelled and pointed his spear at Rasper.
"I am sorry, for everything. I truly am", Rasper said, a tear flowed down his cheek. The guard looked questioningly at him.
An earthen spear pierced the guard from behind. Straight through his heart and the young man collapsed on the ground. Shouts erupted and every soldier turned his weapons to attack the intruder. Three mages protecting the gate turned around and fired their spells.
Earthen shields rose from the ground and blocked or redirected the spells as Rasper started to run straight towards the gate. The earthen shields turned into earthen armour. Rasper tanked the arrows and bolts. The spells broke up his armour piece for piece.
He was about to reach the gate as a woman jumped down from the wall. A spear, glowing with lights of runes in her hand, aimed at Rasper. The woman looked determined to end his life.
Then the ground sunk. The entire gate gave way and collapsed into the hole that had formed beneath it.
Rasper was impaled by the spear, but the woman turned around after hearing the collapse. She turned back to Rasper immediately pulling the spear out of his chest and into his heart.
"I am sorry... good lu...", Rasper said and collapsed, dead.
The woman rallied the nearby soldiers to defend the breach. The elves were already heading towards it to storm it.
The siege of Albingaunum had reached its climax. Aquitania had entered Italia under their queen Eleonore.
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Gladius met gladius. Pilums thrown by humans impaled humans. The battle of Venetia near the city of Altinum was in full swing. The legions of the northern alliance met the ones of the United Kingdom of Illyricum.
Illyricum was outnumbered. All eight legions of the northern alliance had marched east to defeat their enemies in detail. Illyricum went to war with four legions. Leaving two behind to guard their home region.
The general leading the legions of Illyricum looked onto the battlefield from a secured position.
"Eight legions!. They should only have six at most! And why are all of them here!", he shouted and his advisers flinched.
"The soldiers say they are troops from Hispania. They have the right dialect", an advisor explained.
"Do you mean the northern alliance allied with non-humans? Why didn't we find this out earlier!", he looked back onto the battlefield. "Order a full retreat!"
The horns were blown. Illyricum forces entered a full rout. Heading for the safety of their own border. The cavalry of the northern alliance rode them down for a while but stopped to not risk an ambush.
Rutillia, the closest adviser of the queen of Hispania, turned to the commanding general of the northern Alliances' legions.
"We have won against one of the invasions. My queen will be pleased to hear of our success", Rutillia said with a smile as she watched their cavalry return.
"Nothing was won this day. They will return, we will need to deal with the other invasions quickly", the general said. "Your legions performance were more experienced than we thought. They are veterans from the war with Numidia, aren't they?"
"Yes. We have begun peace talks with them. They won't be able to reclaim their coastal cities anyway. Even if there are now only two legions there", Rutillia answered. "It is good that we found a good use for them."
Rutillia smiled, but the general couldn't return with his own. The help of the Visigoths came at a price. Some even claimed it would be better to fight to the death than to cooperate with non-humans.
"We will see how all of this will turn out. For now, the legions head west. No time can be lost now", the general said.
The legions of the northern alliance marched westwards to meet the dwarves and to protect Mediolanum from being captured. They were on a forced march to reach the city in time and used the other cities on their way to resupply and gather more men for the upcoming battle.
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Charlemagne looked down upon the village from his white horse. Then to the deep traces of wagon wheels and iron boots near the village.
"How many days is Widukind ahead of us?", Charlemagne asked. A young elf, sharing his look and ridding a horse as well rode next to him.
"Eight to ten days. We will just ask the villagers", the elf rode down the mountain straight to the village.
"Wait, Pepin! By the great tree! Guards follow him!", Charlemagne ordered. Five of his guards rode forwards but didn't manage to catch up to the prince.
Pepin ignored his father's plea and continued to head for the village he only slowed shortly before entering it.
People turned to look at the young elf. He was cladded in silver clothes, had silver hair and rode a white horse. The children looked at him in fascination. The adults with worry as they spotted the guards now behind the elf and the legion appearing from the mountain.
Pepin dismounted down from his horse.
"Stay back. I can care for myself", he said to the guards. They complied and kept their distance, except for one who dismounted as well.
"Didn't you hear my order?", Pepin asked.
"I serve your father. Not you", the guard replied.
Pepin sighed and turned to the villagers. He went to an older woman standing with a bucket in her hand. Refilling it at a well and ignoring all that was happening currently in the village.
"Excuse me, lady. There were a few legions of dwarves that had passed this village. Do you remember how many days ago that happened?", he asked polity.
The woman turned to acknowledged the prince.
"Seven days ago. Their singing woke me up. Terrible singers I tell you", she answered.
"Thank you for your help", Pepin said. He placed a bag of coins on the well. And went back to his horse.
He heard his guard catch something behind his head. The guard drew his sword. Pepin noticed the bag of coins in the guard's hand.
"Keep your weapon sheathed", he ordered and for once the guard complied.
"Take your coin invaders. You took my sons lives and now you take my home", the old woman said and turned back to refilling her bucket.
Pepin glanced shortly at the old woman before throwing the bag to a random villager who accepted it with thanks. He climbed back onto his horse and rode back to his father.
"You should not act without care. We are on enemy territory and you are my heir. There could have been an assassin in that village", Charlemagne reprimanded his son in a strict tone.
"Your bodyguard always follows me. And why would an assassin hide in a border village", Pepin countered. Sounding annoyed by his father overprotection.
"We will talk about the right behaviour as an heir later. What did they say?", Charlemagne asked.
"Seven days. We will need to hurry. Widukind will need our help soon", Pepin answered.
"There are two things dwarves are great in, militarily wise. Sieges and defending a fortified position. He will hold out long enough", Charlemagne explained. "It is better if he takes some losses."
"They are our allies", Pepin said and glared at his father.
"For now. It would be different if he was my vassal, but my interest in him getting stronger is limited as long as he isn't. Some losses may persuade him to accept sooner to become one", Charlemagne explained.
"Or fight us to his death", Pepin countered.
"You have much to learn my son. And I hope you do in the following battles. Diplomacy is an art and if you make the right offer the other side will always accept. The dwarves have submitted in the past and will do so again if you grant them some autonomy", Charlemagne explained further.
"Then they are not real vassals are they?", Pepin asked.
"Yes and no. It is more about symbolism and getting influence in Raetia. We don't need to conquer or control them directly to benefit from them", Charlemagne replied. Pepin shook his head and didn't continue the discussion. Their way of dealing with allies was just too different.
The elven legions marched to combine their forces with the dwarves. The Franci Empire had entered Italia.