Chapter 17
February 9th, 1663.
Abbot Adol was waiting for his informant to come into his private room at the Wooden Anvil, a fairly dirty but very discreet establishment. The door opened and the warrior monk took a seat across from him.
“I am very worried about how the Baron has been acting. Everyone in the castle has been acting far colder to me than usual, and the servants haven’t even done my laundry yet. I worry that he is planning on revolting and doing away with me.”
Abbot Adol blew a puff of smoke before speaking.
“I agree, and the Empress is beginning to take measures to defend herself should he start a civil war.”
Behind Adolf the door opened, and Abbot put a hand to his stiletto.
The first thing that entered was the very large barrel of a gun, and the man holding it immediately fired blindly from behind the door. Abbot Adol was already under the table by the time the Buckshot tore a dozen holes in Adolf’s back, killing him near instantly.
The door flew open and a man appeared, wearing just a simple canvas shirt and pants as well as a mask of a daemon, black scales glittering in the low candlelight and twisted teeth gnashing in anger and frustration. Abbot rushed up at his masked opponent as nothing more than a cloud of smoke, materializing halfway up with stiletto fully raised.
He plunged the dagger into his assailant’s chest, provoking a low grunt from the man as the breath was driven from his lungs. He thrust his own knife into Abbot’s flank, but only hit smoke as the cloud began to part around him. He materialized and kicked the man to the floor, then kicked him again to force him face up.
He stepped on the man’s chest and took off the writhing man’s mask, revealing a young ethnic Imperial, barely old enough to enter university. He turned and found a kilij flying at him, slicing him apart into two human shaped clouds of smoke.
I’ve seen that sword before.
Thought Adol as he watched from the ceiling as a cloud of smoke. The new masked man looked at the dying, unmasked man and audibly clicked his tongue. He raised a fist then extended his fingers and swung down at the downed man. Another group of masked men rushed into the room and began administering first aid.
Unless they could get him to a healing mage, the boy was going to die. Abbot Adol had just barely missed his heart, but the long, thin blade of his stiletto pierced all the way through his body.
The masked man looked around for a moment before gesturing for them to leave. The group swiftly picked up the boy, alongside his mask, knife, and discarded blunderbuss, and flowed out of the room. The masked man with the kilij stayed behind, looking up at the ceiling suspiciously.
Abbot was calm, the only thing that could hurt him in his smoke form was ice magic, and he could tell using his esoteric senses that the man was not an ice mage. He didn’t know what kind he was, but he didn’t carry himself with the same smug demeanor that ice mages had.
The masked man clicked his tongue and turned to follow his men.
Wait, I’ve met a man with a kilij who clicks his tongue.
His smoke began to grow darker, looking and smelling like the black, acrid smoke released from a firearm.
Brusilov.
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February 10th, 1663.
The Baron was standing at another podium in the main square of Bickenstadt. A large portion of the city was there to listen, the crowd stretching out as far as the eye could see. Behind him was the entirety of the Klarwasser Mercenary Company, each of his three thousand six hundred men in their traditional puff and slash with the blue and orange colors of Bickenstadt covering their bodies.
The Baron briefly spared a glance at his son, who smiled and nodded. He took a deep breath and spoke into the air sigil.
“People of Bickenstadt! I am not going to waste your precious time today, so I will get right to it! The institution of elven slavery must be ended by force! The Empress has refused to even consider gradual abolition, only fully unabated expansion of elven slavery!”
The crowd jeered and made their displeasure with the Empress clear.
“I cannot in good conscience allow this to continue! The elves must be free! This must be done, for the moral soul of the Empire! We will not allow Grössenstadt and their slavers to make us a truly immoral nation! Effective immediately the Bickenstadt Provincial Guard will be reorganized into The Bickenstadt Liberation Forces! Additionally, the legendary Klarwasser Mercenary Company is now officially part of the Liberation Forces!
The crowd cheered and stamped their feet, making their approval known to people miles around.
“One hundred and seventy thousand men are now dedicated to the cause of abolition! We will liberate the elves of Leibenstadt, joined by our brothers in Waffenstadt and the Brayherds of Caprae Loco! We will not stop until every elf has been freed!”
The crowd roared, shaking the earth with the force of thousands yelling in unison.
“Bickenstadt will be kept safe from the Empress and her slavers! Our brothers in Holenstadt will assist us in keeping the Grand Imperial Army, the armed servants of slavers, away from our beautiful city! All ferries and bridges across Der Grösser Teilanderfluss are now closed, to keep us safe from their clutches!”
The crowd cheered, carried on by the energy of hundreds of thousands of people’s support.
“Klarwasser battalions of the Bickenstadt Liberation Forces! We move immediately! To Leibensburg!”
His men shouted to voice their acknowledgement and began to march, the columns moving so perfectly in sync they looked like a wave of bodies flowing out of the square. They waved to the crowd as they left, causing their cheers to rumble the city itself with the force in which they screamed.
The Baron moved away from the podium and mounted his horse, sighing heavily.
“Alright. Time to send their sons and daughters to die for the cause.”
Ludwin punched his shoulder.
“We’re doing a good thing here. The men know what they are signing up for, they are willing to die for the cause.”
The pair began to ride after the columns.
“I know, it’s just hard not to think of it. Soon enough, they will learn the cost. I just wonder if their cheers will continue as strongly after mothers receive the news that their sons won’t be returning.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Well, imagine breaking the news to a mother that her sons and daughters have been taken from their homes and enslaved, and imagine the pain of an elven slave used as a broodmare to create more elven slaves. This is painful, but it must be done.”
The Baron smiled.
“When did you get so mature?”
Ludwin shrugged.
“Who’s to say?”
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Krysia Badeni sat in an open air tent in the wilds of Holenstadt. In front of her was a table, a map, and various small colored pieces. The pieces were surrounding a fortress in the mountains, both in front at the open field and to the sides where the nearly straight vertical mountain peaks kept the fortress safe.
She moved four cannon shaped pieces forwards.
“And we commence.”
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Cannons fired one after the other for an hour, a constant stream of volleys slamming into the enchanted stone of the fortress. Not everything was enchanted, as that would be prohibitively expensive, but everything facing forwards towards the valley was. A ball arced and hit an interior wall, punching right through and knocking dozens of bits of stone into the men on the other side, injuring but not killing any of them.
Roundshot flew through an opening and took off the heads of two men running past, punching through a door and skidding to a stop on the chest of another man, losing enough kinetic energy that he could catch the ball with his hands as it knocked him on his ass. He looked at it, dazed and confused before yelling and dropping it as he realized it covered his hands in blood and viscera.
As cannonballs bounced around and found gaps in the defenses, more inside the garrison died, and they could not afford many deaths. They only had around five hundred defenders, and they were facing two thousand five hundred angry Bzserci, all willing to sell their lives dearly to free their brothers and sisters from the oppressive yolk of the Empire.
By the end of the bombardment they had lost fifty men to ball and stone shrapnel. The quiet of the guns did not bring any amount of comfort to the men, for they knew the only thing that signaled was the beginning an assault.
A single Bzserci rode over, unarmed and unarmored, the eagle flag of the Bzserci attached to his back. He took a deep breath and shouted as loud as he could.
“We have far more men than you! This fight is foolhardy! We humbly request your surrender!”
The silence of the garrison was deafening, and the rider continued.
“We do not want to take you prisoner! We simply wish for you to leave this fortress alive and well!”
After around thirty seconds, the garrison commander replied.
“If you remove your guns, we will leave with our arms and armor.”
“Leave your arms behind and we will remove our guns! Leave the front door open when you leave as well! You have our word that not a single man will be harmed!”
The garrison commander gritted his teeth in frustration.
“Fine. We will leave once your guns are removed from sight!”
The rider nodded and ran back to his lines. After a few minutes, the guns began to leave their positions, pulled back deeper into enemy lines. The garrison commander sighed heavily and turned to his men.
“Send out the order. Open both gates and leave your muskets behind. We’re going home.”
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Krysia watched the Grand Imperial Army garrison leaving down the ravine from the parapet, arms crossed across her chest. She nodded her head and turned to her aid, a young Bszerci boy of just fourteen.
“Have the men taken inventory yet?”
The boy nodded.
“Yes Ma’am, food and guns, exactly what you would expect.”
“And how is the number?”
“Good, Ma’am. Six hundred muskets, a few thousand bullets, and enough black powder to blow away everything in a mile.”
Krysia nodded.
“Good. Have we received word from the other battalions?”
The boy nodded.
“Yes ma’am. The men at fort Piasha and Białe have succeeded. The men at the fortresses of Graztod and Kauber have made progress with their bombardments but their garrisons have refused surrender.”
Kryisa nodded.
“Have the men tear down Piasha and Białe then move to assist them. I want an even split of forces going to both.”
The boy saluted her.
“I’ll get right on it, ma’am!”
He ran off and Krysia sighed happily.
“He’s such a good boy.”
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“This is ridiculous! You can’t do this! You must let me pass!”
Admiral Erik von Balensburg of the Bickenstadt Naval Forces shook his head.
“I’m sorry sir, but no vessels are allowed to pass our blockade until further notice.”
“You can’t do-”
Erik stepped forward, towering over the middle aged merchant who was yelling at him.
“We apologize for the inconvience and lost revenue associated with holding onto your merchandise for longer than was initially planned, but we are a military blockade. If you do not comply, we will fire upon you. I suggest you go back to Grössenburg for the time being.”
The merchant stepped back, visibly scared. He grunted and turned on his heel, walking back to his merchant vessel angrily. The admiral sighed.
“Soon enough we’re going to see warships.”
Soon after the merchant began to sail back to Grössenburg harbor a sailor ran up to him.
“Sir! We’ve got four ships coming straight towards us! Looks like a hundred gun ship of the line escorted by three 3rd class ships with around fifty guns each!”
Erik nodded.
“Understood, keep me informed on their speed and intention. Hand me a telescope.”
The sailor did as asked and the admiral looked through, confirming what his subordinate said. He nodded when he looked at their flags and saw a white flag of parlay. He was coming to talk.
“Fetch me an air mage, quickly.”
After a small wait a short woman wearing a brown cloak appeared.
“Make your sigils, mage. I want my voice projected.”
The mage nodded and began to draw, tracing thin lines of sparkling white magic through the air.
“This is a blockade! No ships may pass until further notice!”
After waiting for a moment, a reply came.
“...has Bickenstadt lost its mind?”
“No, Grössenstadt has. And they must be stopped! Slavery will be ended!”
The ship was silent for a while, Erik was afraid they may open fire, though it would be a foolish thing to do while outnumbered over ten to one. After waiting nervously, a reply came.
“...are you sure you want to do this?”
The admiral smiled.
“I have never been more sure of anything in my life!”
“...the Empress will be hearing of this.”
Erik scoffed.
“I’m sure she will. Are you sure you don’t want to join us? Our cause is a just one, do you really wish to be on the wrong side of history?”
The ship waited a good minute before responding.
“...I took an oath to the Empire, that cannot be forgotten.”
“A man of honor, I can respect that. We have both chosen our sides. I will see you on the waters, then. With your fleet up against mine.”
“...I will see you there as well.”
Erik saluted the ship as he watched them turn around.
“It will be a bloodbath. For which side, only time can tell.”