Castle Arstella was a fortress constructed during Ishgria’s infancy to defend the kingdom from raiding barbarians and other enemies from the far north. Now, it serves as a home for Queen Phaedra and the remnants of the royal guard, protecting them from the various rebel groups which had infested Ishgria ever since the death of the king.
Harsh wintry winds carried with them a biting cold that constantly enveloped Castle Arstella. Yet, the fortress stood steadfast, unyielding against nature's onslaught. Its walls, hewn from the rugged granite of the mountainside, remained mighty and imposing, even despite the fact that it was buried underneath layers of frost.
But the true gem of Arstella was not something displayed so easily, hidden beneath various hatches, levers, and secret entrances, deep underground, laid the war room: a clandestine chamber that was carved out from sturdy bedrock, its walls were adorned with faded tapestries depicting grand battles and victories of ages past. The air within carried a distinct aroma of aged parchment, mixed with the scent of steel weaponry and flickering candle flames.
At the heart of the war room stood a colossal oaken table, weathered by countless deliberations and heated debates. Its surface was etched with intricate maps, meticulously detailing the vast expanse of the realm and its surrounding territories. Miniature figurines, representing armies, fortresses, and crucial landmarks, were carefully positioned across the maps: usually, these figurines would be placed on maps of foreign nations or on the outskirts of Ishgria. Now, they are all placed at various points within Ishgria itself.
Sir Falkner led a meeting within the War Room, with two other members of the royal guard and even the queen herself in attendance, “and that is why we must meet Lord Agramond’s forces at Frostbite Pass, we cannot allow him to lay siege to us, we will not survive long without supplies.” the knight commander explained.
Commander Olmus, a veteran of the Varandus campaigns, was first to respond, “With all due respect Sir, Lord Agramond’s forces number over 3,000 while our own forces only number half of that at best, and you expect us to strike first?” His tone carried the chastising weight of decades of experience.
“Lord Agramond’s forces consist mostly of only Varanian mercenaries, I’m sure you of all people know that they have no experience fighting under the winter cold, Olmus.”
“It would be wise for us to not underestimate Varanian Soldiers, though they prefer to fight in the dry deserts of their homeland, they are still fierce fighters.” Olmus replied, stroking his graying beard. The veteran had seen first hand what the warriors of Varandus could do, for they had wrought utter devastation to Ishgrian forces before, a mistake that he was eager not to repeat.
"I believe Sir Falkner's assessment is valid," a grizzled woman with a scarred face interjected, her voice a testament to a life shaped by warfare. "We cannot afford to let Lord Agramond lay siege to us. Our supply line would be severed, and our survival would be in grave peril."
“Irina, please, this is not the time for us to throw away our men. We should only retaliate if and when Lord Agramond’s forces come close to us” Olmus pleaded.
“Then what do you propose? That we sit here and die?” Commander Irina exclaimed, her voice booming throughout the war room like rolling thunder.
"Enough, both of you!" Queen Phaedra commanded.
Irina and Olmus ceased their debate immediately, “Forgive us, your majesty.” they said in unison.
Queen Phaedra’s emerald green eyes were glued to the patchwork of maps and array of figurines arranged at the heart of the war room, “It is of no matter, I just wanted to remind all of you that we are already pressed for time, so let us use it wisely.” she said, never once looking up to address the two commanders.
“Of course, your majesty.” Sir Falkner responded, “do you have any concerns in mind?”
“In fact, I do, we have lost all of our battle mages since the start of the civil war, how can we possibly engage in warfare without magic users?”
Olmus raised a hand. He was eager to show his usefulness to the queen.
“Commander Olmus, you may speak.”
The aged veteran gave a respectful nod before speaking, “thank you, your majesty. Pardon my crudeness, but from experience, I am aware that the Varanian’s loathe magic almost as much as they loathe our beautiful nation.”
“Is that so?” Queen Phaedra asked aloud, her eyes glancing over all three commanders at the war room.
“It is indeed true.” Ireena stated, “there was a time when Arstella housed several hundred of these Varanian mercenaries, something born out of necessity, I assure you all.” The grizzled commander did not hide her contempt for the Varanians in her tone, a common sentiment in Ishgria.
Queen Phaedra’s interest was piqued, “care to elaborate, commander?”
“Yes, your majesty, around a decade ago, Castle Arstella had a shortage in its garrison which needed to be filled, lest the Ishgrian north be beset by savages. So in desperation, I authorized the hiring of Varanese mercenaries, at least temporarily.”
“And you spoke with these mercenaries?”
Irina gave a polite nod of affirmation, “only out of necessity, from what I gathered, Olmus’s words are true, their nation chastises the use of magic due to it violating some vague honor code they have.”
“In that case, I believe I have our plan.” Queen Phaedra muttered aloud, her eyes scanning the many maps in front of her.
Her finger soon pointed toward a mountainous region on the outskirts of the Ishgrian North, marking a crucial point on a map. "What if we engage Lord Agramond's forces here instead?"
While Irina and Olmus contemplated their answers, Sir Falkner offered his opinion without hesitation, “Forgive me for questioning your wisdom, your highness, but I highly doubt any reasonable commander would lead their forces to an engagement at Arisine’s Pass: it’s terrain is rough and there are many narrow passes which will slow down troop movement considerably.”
“Sir Falkner, you make an excellent point.” Queen Phaedra commended, “however, I know my foolish cousin much more than you do. He is an arrogant imbecile who would sooner seek glory in battle than listen to reason. If we can send out a smaller force to lure him into an engagement at Arisine’s Pass, victory is ours.”
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“I have heard of Lord Agramond’s…reputation from some of my soldiers before, if this is true, then we will have an easy battle on our hands.” Irina commented, a smile breaking on her visage.
“I must admit that I’ve heard similar things as well,” Olmus chimed in with a reluctant sigh, “Last I heard he commanded an entire battalion of cavalry to charge to their deaths at the battle of Marven.”
Queen Phaedra's gaze shifted from person to person, her voice infused with determination as she assigned the crucial tasks that lay ahead. "Commander Olmus, I implore you to lead a small contingent of veterans from the Varandus campaign. Your firsthand experience with the Ishgrian cavalry will be invaluable in luring Lord Agramond's forces into Arisine's Pass."
"I shall fulfill your request, Your Highness," Olmus affirmed.
Turning her attention to Irina, the queen continued, "commander Irina, I entrust you with the soldiers who were born and raised in the Ishgrian north. Position them strategically in Arisine's Pass, giving priority to archers and those skilled with the bow."
"Understood, Your Highness," Irina replied.
Finally, Queen Phaedra addressed Sir Falkner, her tone firm yet filled with trust. "Sir Falkner, I task you with leading the remaining royal guard. Intercept the bulk of Lord Agramond's forces at Arisine's Pass."
"As you command, Your Highness," Sir Falkner responded.
"Provided that everything is clear and understood, and if there are no further inquiries, you are all dismissed. You may depart first. I shall remain here for a while longer," Queen Phaedra concluded.
As the three soldiers paid their respects to the queen and left, Queen Phaedra was left alone in the war room: her mind thrumming with near endless possibility. While the queen was a patron of the arts: sponsoring renowned poets and masterful artists frequently, few knew that she also considered warfare an art all of its own. Before arriving in Ishgria, Phaedra was raised in a nation surrounded by many enemies, and so she was taught from a young age in the disciplines of warfare, when her future husband would come to lay siege to her former castle: a young Phaedra was the one to organize the defense, holding out for weeks before being breached by King Hadaron’s forces.
It frustrated the queen deeply, that she was forced to retreat north when the late king passed. Many among the noble courts had always been waiting for King Hadaron to die without a legitimate heir, so that they may carve out Ishgria into their own domains. Phaedra despised her cousins almost as much as she despised her daughter. She knew that many of her relatives were vultures who were willing to do anything to gain power: even if it meant tearing Ishgria asunder.
Queen Phaedra took a deep breath before standing up. Her mind filled with uncertainty. Though she projected confidence in her earlier meeting with her commanders, she knew that the best laid plans are seldom executed perfectly. The queen knew that her forces, though experienced, were small in number and cannot be replenished easily. She knew that there was a chance that Agramond would actually listen to his generals. She knew that if she were to lose at Arisine’s Pass, that her life and all of her future ambitions would be forfeit. Despite this, Phaedra knew that this was her greatest chance of survival: now, she can only hope that things go to plan.
***
Sir Falkner laid in hiding alongside roughly five hundred soldiers. All of whom forsook their metal armor in favor of winter cloaks to better weather the freezing cold and allow for greater maneuverability. They were all hidden in between the multitude of snow capped pine trees which dotted the landscape. Just behind them were Commander Irina’s soldiers: nine hundred strong, mostly consisting of marksmen, their numbers swelled thanks to volunteers from civilians who were willing to join the militia in service to the queen.
All among the Ishgrian ranks waited in patient silence. Though not all of them shared an equal reverence to Queen Phaedra, none of them wanted Castle Arstella to fall to Lord Agramond. The Lord had a reputation for being a greedy despot, a tyrant who cared only to enrich himself and his peers without any care for the common man. What’s worse, he was known to be an incompetent leader, often enacting policies which serve only to enrich himself in the short term: against all common sense. To the people who lived around and within Castle Arstella, almost any other person with a pulse would be a more preferable leader than Lord Agramond.
And then, as if the world held its breath, the long-awaited moment arrived. On the far-reaching horizon, ethereal figures gradually materialized, gaining size and clarity with every passing second. The silhouettes transformed into majestic horses, their forms growing larger against the backdrop of the vast expanse. It was none other than Olmus, the indomitable commander, and his valiant cavalry, executing a strategic ruse of feigned retreat. All who watched knew that battle was coming soon: Lord Agramond's forces were not far behind.
Soon enough, the thunderous hooves of hundreds of horses could be heard echoing throughout Arisine’s pass. The earth trembled beneath the relentless pounding of mighty hooves as the booming noise grew louder and louder. It was Lord Agramond's cavalry, their numbers neared a thousand soldiers, trailing behind the forces of Commander Olmus. Yet, there was something off about them, something that made them appear weaker and less imposing than one would expect.
It became clear that they were struggling to navigate the treacherous terrain and frigid winter weather, which was alien to them. It was only natural, for they were Varanian mercenaries, they were not used to their heavy winter clothing hindered their movement, and they struggled to control their horses. In stark contrast, Commander Olmus's cavalrymen appeared nimble and graceful, moving with a fluidity that defied the harsh winter conditions. They were agile and surefooted, displaying clear mastery over the surrounding terrain. Commander Olmus’s soldiers consisted solely of veterans from his old cavalry battalion, men and women who trained with horses from the Ishgrian North since youth, who were well known for their increased endurance and strength compared to other breeds.
With Commander Olmus at the helm, the Ishgrian cavalry galloped with ease, their determination carrying them deep into the heart of Arisine's pass, a narrow passage fraught with peril. Behind them, their relentless pursuers clung to their heels, refusing to relent.
Completely blind to what was planned for them, the Varanian mercenaries ventured further into the confining passage, chasing the Ishgrian cavalry with an unrelenting desperation. And then, on Commander Irina’s signal: the first volley came. Hundreds of arrows poured from the skies like heavy rain, decimating most of the Varanian ranks immediately, turning most of them and their horses into nothing more than arrow-marked corpses.
Meanwhile, emerging from the shadows, Sir Falkner led the remaining Ishgrian ground forces with unwavering resolve. They surged forward like a tidal wave, their battle cries piercing the air. The Ishgrians slaughtered the remaining Varanian warriors with ease, many of whom had still not fully comprehended what had just happened to them. Though some fought desperately until the end: it was all futile, Sir Falkner’s forces had managed to completely annihilate their opposition.
After the skirmish, the Ishgrians thought to compose themselves and reorganize once more, preparing for a counter-attack. However, their eyes widened with disbelief as a breathtaking sight unfolded before them. Emerging from the horizon, a vast multitude of soldiers and mounted cavalry advanced with relentless intensity. It was the rest of Lord Agramond's army: all Varanian mercenaries who were as inexperienced fighting in winter as their fallen predecessors. The Ishgrians could not believe their luck, the foolish lord was so blinded by pride that he was willing to send his warriors to die.
The Ishgrians stood at the ready, tense and focused as they awaited the next wave of attackers. Their eyes were fixed upon the entrance to Arisine’s Pass. As the ranks of Varanian mercenaries ventured deep into the passage, Irina commanded her archers to unleash a torrent of arrow fire. Decimating many of Lord Agramond’s soldiers, who unceremoniously dropped to the snowy terrain below like flies.
Yet, undeterred by the devastating barrage, the Varanians pressed on, seeking to break through the Ishgrian defenses. However, they soon found themselves facing a wall of steel, as Sir Falkner and the Ishgrian ground forces surged forward, their blades glinting in the sunlight. The mercenaries were quickly cut down, their bodies falling in heaps upon the rocky ground.
Those who managed to flee the deadly melee were not safe for long. Commander had positioned his troops to flank the retreating mercenaries, and now they galloped forward with reckless abandon, their horses thundering across the terrain. The Varanian, their nerves frayed and their morale shattered, tried desperately to escape. But the Ishgrian cavalry easily rode them down, trampling them underfoot, cutting them down with swords and lances, and putting an end to their futile attempts at escape.