Prince Barbro sat atop his horse, that was his favorite place to be, it let him tower over everyone. His back was straight, his broad shoulders even broader thanks to his expensive orichalcum and mithril plated armor. He felt the sword sway at his side, in most occasions, he would have been quite happy right here. Being looked up to, being admired for the powerful man he knew himself to be.
But now he was vexed. “Tell me what you just said. Tell me… one. More. Time.” He spoke very slowly and glowered down at the scout.
“Th-They have a wall, a very impressive wall, and people on top of it say they’re not opening the gate. They said…” the soldier on his knees cleared his throat and lowered his eyes to distance himself from the repetition, ‘He can sit his purple ass on his purple throne back home, but he’ll never set foot in here.’” He cleared his throat again and added, “Majesty.”
Prince Barbro felt his face turn red with anger. “Were we able to get a spy to infiltrate the other day and look for anyone matching the description of the ones we’re looking for?”
The scout bit his lip and reached to his side where a bag hung. “Th-They dropped this.” The young man’s voice was full of disbelief at what he held, but he reached into the bag anyway, and removed the head of their spy. “They ah, sire they did say that the guilty are within their walls, the spy… was unnecessary.” The young soldier swallowed with discomfort and lowered the head back into the bag.
Barbro felt his fury rise ever higher, ‘All we’ve done will be meaningless if these are allowed to get away with… no, they have to die, they ‘have’ to die.’
The crown Prince bellowed out his rage filled order, “Go! Make ladders, we may not have intended a siege but by the gods we’re not letting them get away with this!”
The scout scrambled away from where he knelt and rushed to pass the orders along to the other soldiers. ‘Walls or not,” Barbro considered with white hot anger, ‘They’re only peasants with hoes and sticks, and maybe a few bows. This won’t take long.’
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...Hours earlier…
Enri stood in front of her assembled crowd, goblins, trolls, nagas, and humans stood in neat rows armed and equipped with what was provided to them by Master Gown. “We’ve done the best we could to prepare, now all we can do is our best. But remember… Master Gown believed in us enough to save us. Someone like that doesn’t act unless you’re worth it, today begin to prove it. Go take positions, they’ll be here in a few hours.”
The cheers went up, and Enri noticed that trolls really liked to wave their hands in the air when they were happy. They weren’t very bright in general, but she came to think of them as overgrown children. ‘They have simple desires, but if they’re fed and taken care of, they’re happy to do things we ask them to do as long as we’re nice about it.’
Not far away, Enri’s ‘advisors’ stood in the wings, and as her village began to drift away to snatch up one more meal before the inevitable, her companions approached. Peter’s face was serious, “Once we win,” he said, “you know we have to start taking other places, there’s simply no other option. How will we protect the village from retaliation until then?”
“Simple.” Ninya chimed in, “Miss Lupu taught me a lot on the way here, and if we keep them guessing, keep them having to respond to us, they won’t get a chance to attack. Except for the Princess, and somewhat, the King, most of the nobles are held in contempt, we’ll raise rebellion everywhere we go, and as long as we keep winning, we’ll get stronger, they’ll get weaker.”
“Careful, Peter, or I might make Ninya my military advisor instead of you.” Enri gave a silvery laugh, but then added at his pretended look of offense, “She’s right, of course. I know we can’t stay here.” Enri, unsure of what else to do, held a hand tight over the hilt of the sword she wore on her belt.
She looked over to the recently returned Ninya, “Was a week there really that good?”
Ninya bobbed her head up and down, her short brown hair, still cut like a boy, waved in the breeze, “Uh huh. Master Gown had me stand in a circle, I floated up, I heard a funny noise like falling coins, and then it was like a torch lighting up in the darkness and I could see what I couldn’t before. According to the master, I went from a nine to a fourteen. He called it ‘power leveling’. I have… no idea what that means, except that I’m now a better magic caster than ever.”
Enri traded a glance with her husband to be, he shook his head silently. He didn’t get it either.
“It’s fine either way, as long as we win, we can worry about the finer points later, right?” Brita asked, tapping her sheath with one hand.
“Yeah, the lady’s right.” Lukrut remarked, “As long as we win here, everything is fine. We’ve got enough arrows and weapons, we have a plan, and they’re not expecting our… reception.” Lukrut’s silly expression and charming eyes were gone, he was now the scout, the hunter, the practiced veteran adventurer. “My only real concern is the lack of true battle experience, but hopefully desperation makes up for that. There’s nowhere to run and they know there’s no mercy ahead for any of them, or for us, for that matter. Do or die.”
“Do or die.” Nfirea shot out and thrust his hand into the center of the knot of people.
The quiet Jugem was the first to thrust his hand atop Nfirea’s. “Do or die.” He said in the rough voice typical of goblins.
“Do or die.” One by one they repeated the phrase, finally capping off with Enri, who put her hand atop the rest and added her own, “Do or die.” to theirs.
“I think a royal house just gained its motto.” Peter grinned and both Nfirea and Enri gave a solemn nod.
“If we survive today, then yes, we did.” Enri replied, “Now let’s get to our part, and then… we wait.”
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The sound of hammers and ropes and the shouting of low ranking soldiers busy about their tasks weren’t Barbro’s favorite sounds. The ground under their feet was churned up and foul smelling, the undisciplined soldiers were mostly one jump beyond peasants, and peasants just relieved themselves wherever. As a result, they were not well used to camp discipline, so the smell of piss was acrid in his nostrils over most of the camp after just a few hours of preparing to take the walls. So far, there’d been no sally, there’d been no negotiations. There’d been no noise of any kind. It was unnerving really, how quiet it was.
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His more experienced soldiers, the better trained and those who had seen battle against the Empire, or bandits, or even monsters in a few cases, were some comfort. ‘I still wish I had more people though.’ The Prince thought, despite reviling the stench.
The only tent that was up was his own, and that had little more than a cot and the woman he’d brought for his own comfort and recreation. He licked his lips again. ‘Lakyus… as soon as I’m King, I’ll make life difficult for you until you give in.’
The whore made a passable substitute at least, ‘Eight Fingers really knows how to break them. I might have to throw down a few nobles and raise a few of that organization up, I can use people like them.’ Plans for the future, the throne he could practically feel under his ass already, were running through his mind when the young lord serving as an officer approached on horseback. He saluted his Prince, slamming a mailed fist over the heart.
“We have ladders ready, sire, and one of the trees we cut has been made into a ram.” The officer looked toward the sun, it was already descending toward the horizon. “Should we wait until morning or…”
“Absolutely not. This should finish what we set out to do, there’s no reason to delay.” The Prince barked and shouted, “Call to arms! Make ready!”
Like swarming ants, the soldiers of the Re-Estize Kingdom assembled into lines. Not many ladders were ready, but it didn’t take a lot either, not by Barbro’s estimation. Behind him, out of reach of their arrows, his soldiers were lined up eight rows deep, each man holding the space between two rungs. The ladders were crude things that no carpenter would take pride in. Simple ropes bound in cross patterns along uneven branches hastily stripped. Privately, Barbro wondered, ‘Will those even hold up when they’re climbed?’ Some of them he knew likely wouldn’t.
‘The ram will be good enough, once they’re in, it’s over.” The bloodshed ahead was comforting
‘But it’s alright, if only a few make it up, that’s all it will take, these are just peasants…’ He thought, squinting, ‘Is that…?’
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Lukrut stood with leg back, side facing the host ahead, he nocked an arrow and drew it back, the bow he’d taken from the wagon was, according to Ninya, the best one in the lot. Buffed for range, he relied on himself for accuracy. His muscles were loose and ready, easily handling the heavy draw.
Breathing was slow, his martial arts were ready, his eyes narrow and clear. Peter’s orders clear in his mind, ‘Pull the turtle out of its shell.’
His fingers opened, releasing the arrow and it flew from the string, screaming over the field. “This is going to really piss them off.” He grinned, and atop the wall up and down the line, the other archers waited for the signal for them to rise.
“I hit it.” Lukrut said.
Enri frowned, “How do you know, it hasn’t reached him yet?”
“Because I’m Lukrut, and I may be lecherous, perverted, cocky, obnoxious…”
Beyond the wall, they heard shouts of shock and dismay, Enri snapped her head away from the blonde archer to see the man on horseback picking himself up from the muck.
“But he does hit what he aims at.” Brita acknowledged, albeit with a roll of her eyes. She took out her sword and whacked his butt with the flat of it.
“But so do I, so keep your hands to yourself till I bring the drinks.” Brita grinned up at him, and Lukrut lightly rubbed the leather seat of his pants. He looked down at the red haired adventurer and made a sheepish grin, again the playful and boyish man Enri had come to know.
“Yeah, he’s mad.” Enri said with a dry, clinical voice.
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Barbro felt the horse wobble for a moment before he fell, he had enough awareness to fling himself from the saddle to keep his leg from being crushed, and landed face first into churned up mud. He planted his hands on the soft ground and began to rise. The acrid taste of somebody, or many people’s piss, lingering on his tongue. He spat the filth from off his tongue and went to wipe his mouth, only to find his arms and hands were no better off than his face.
He whirled to face the walls, the archer responsible was waving his arm as if saying hello to an old friend. “Peasant! Insolent scum! Disgusting worm!” Barbro roared his outrage like a wounded lion and drew his sword, it was slick in his muddy glove, and he bellowed out, “Attaaaack!”
His soldiers hesitated for a brief second, and then let loose a battlecry of their own. Recent ‘victories’ over peasants had given them some confidence at least, and so they jogged forward, ready for another easy win, walls or no walls.
Till the screaming began overhead.
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As the attacking host came on, Peter put his hand on Enri’s shoulder, “Now, my Queen.” She then climbed atop the small platform where the banner of the Kingdom flew, and tore it down, cutting the thin ropes with her knife, and tossing it down into the muck in front of the gate. In its place, she raised another pole, with a new banner.
Solid vibrant green, except for the center, where a sheaf of wheat stood up.
It caught the wind when Enri unfurled it, a further defiance that would earn her a torturous death if she failed. Still, her fingers did not waver, her golden hair caught the wind and billowed at her back, and her defiance was made final.
Archers rose to their feet, drew, and loosed. The first volley was going to be the least accurate, and so the first arrows used had not iron heads, but little hollow wooden cones with slits cut throughout for the air to pass through. This created a whistling noise like the screaming of demons when done in a mass.
The unholy wailing overheard was enough to slow the courage of the soldiers trotting toward the wall, but not halt it. “Draw!” Lukrut shouted again.
“Loose!” He bellowed and began firing arrows of his own. The village was outnumbered, even with the refugees, even with their numbers increased, the very real possibility of death was ever present. He drew and loosed and drew and loosed again. Arrow after arrow left his hands and came to rest in the face or neck of an unlucky soldier. Some fell clutching wounds, bright blood spurting through their fingers, thrashing before they went limp to be trod over by their living comrades.
Most of the peasants on the ground below couldn’t see what they were doing, ‘For the best, the ones up here are the hardiest hearts.’ Lukrut’s thoughts turned to the strong eyes of the people arrayed beside him. Peter and Brita were waiting near the ladders and crude steps, readied at the front positions to charge the length of the wall when the archers drew back.
“Fireball!” The bellowing cry of a young woman near the center position was drowned out by most, but the spell stood out like a sore thumb as the burst of flame rocketed through the air and slammed into a group of ladder bearing soldiers. Three men were incinerated and the rest dropped their ladder, scattering as they batted out stray flames and dancing where they themselves were caught.
One fell with an arrow through his throat, the others threw up their shields and retreated to the back of other lines of ladder bearers.
“Fireball!” Ninya shouted again and targeted the ram bearers. The fire struck and put two men on their backs screaming in flame as the pop and sizzle of fat beneath flesh burst into the air, the smell of burning meat as strong in the noses of their comrades as the smell of blood.
But given the strength of numbers to support courage that not one in ten had on their own, it became obvious that they were going to reach the wall.
“This will only work once.” Enri said through gritted teeth as the ram came up and the ladders began to rise.
“Now!” She shouted, and taking up the golden stalk that was her banner, the woman who would be Queen waved it wildly left and right.
The trolls waiting behind the gate raised the wooden barrier holding the gate shut, and dropped it at their feet. They flung the door wide, and just as had been practiced, the trolls charged out the door swinging their tree branch clubs into the faces of the ram bearers.
The screams of men and the crunch of their skulls and bones as they were beaten or trampled into the muck and the ram thrown over to fall with a crash, sent chills of horror through the ranks of men. Facing monsters had not been part of the plan. The trolls began to trot towards the ladders as fast as their lumbering legs would allow them.
Men jumped away from their ladders and began to scream as they ran in terror.
Not a single one made it to the top of the wall.
The way cleared, the trolls began to rush back to the gate, which closed behind them.
“Loose!” Lukrut called out, and arrows fell into the backs of the retreating Kingdom soldiers, pinning men to the blood stained earth to spasm and die, like insects pinned to a collector’s board.
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“My Prince…” The young nobleman asked in a hushed whisper as the wall they faced became silent as the grave again. “What do we do now…?”
Prince Barbro’s mind raced, but found no ready answer, and so he said nothing at all, much like the dead that lay strewn in front of him as the sun finally descended over the horizon, and the cloak of night slowly began to dominate the world, and end the day.