As the sun began to slowly rise into the sky, casting a warm glow over the camp, Mengus emerged from his tent to the loud outside morning, where soldiers prepared for battle. Lysa and Isaak were already at the command tent, looking over the map and discussing strategy.

"Lysa, Isaak," Mengus greeted them with a nod as he approached. "What news do you have for me?"

Lysa straightened up, her eyes looking for something, Mengus didn't know what. "My lord," she started in a joking matter. "We've received words from our scouts. The castle is heavily fortified, but there is a weakness in the eastern wall that we can exploit."

Isaak nodded in agreement. "Indeed, Mengus. The defenders are expecting an attack from the west, so if we strike from the east, we may catch them off guard."

Mengus studied the map spread out across the table before them, tracing the path to the castle with his finger. "Very well. We'll attack at dawn. Lysa, I want you to lead the assault on the eastern wall. Isaak, coordinate our archers and siege engines from the rear."

With their plan in place, the camp buzzed with activity as soldiers made final preparations for the coming battle. Armor was polished to a gleaming shine, weapons sharpened to a razor's edge, and morale was high as they gathered for a final briefing before the march.

As the first light of dawn painted the sky, they set out towards the castle, their ranks stretching out across the landscape like a big wave. As they approached the castle, the defenders sprang into action, raining arrows and dropping insults down upon them from the castle walls. But they pressed on, their aim was to get to the eastern wall.

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"Lysa, now!" Mengus called out, signaling for the assault to begin.

With a mighty roar, Lysa and her soldiers charged forward, battering at the weakened section of the wall with axes and hammers. The defenders fought fiercely, but they were no match for their relentless assault.

Meanwhile, Isaak and the archers unleashed a hail of arrows upon the defenders, picking off anyone who dared to show themselves on the walls. Small siege engines hurled stones at the castle gates, splintering wood and stone alike with each thunderous impact.

The battle raged on, the landscape was transformed into a scene of utter carnage. The clash of swords and the screams of the dying filled the air, mixing with the scent of blood and smoke that hung over the battlefield.

With each swing of their weapons, the air was filled with the sickening sound of steel meeting flesh, the sickening squelch of blades finding their mark. Limbs were severed, bodies rent asunder, and the ground ran slick with the lifeblood of the fallen.

The defenders that rushed out of the west gate trying to defend the eastern wall fought with a ferocity born of desperation. But for every blow they struck, Mengus answered with tenfold fury.

The eastern wall, weakened by the relentless assault, finally began to crumble. Stones tumbled from its heights, crushing friend and foe alike beneath their weight as they crashed to the ground below.

With a deafening roar, the breach was opened, a tear in the castle's defenses gave Mengus and his army enough space to flood the castle. The defenders, caught off guard by the ferocity of their assault, were overwhelmed by the sheer force of the numbers, their ranks shattered and broken by the relentless tide of Mengus's advance.

In the narrow confines of the castle corridors, the fighting became a brutal melee, the air thick with the stench of blood and sweat. Blades flashed in the dim light, cutting through flesh and bone.

The screams of the dying echoed off the stone walls, a haunting chorus that filled the air. But still, they pressed on.

The last of the defenders lay dead at their feet, the victory, at last, was theirs. The bodies of the defenders broken and battered, their blood staining the cold stone floor. With a triumphant shout, they raised their weapons high, their victory cries echoed across te ruins of the castle.