Chapter 14
January 1st, 1665. Leibenstadt.
The Baron stood in front of the gatehouse of the third layer of defenses.
“Excuse me! I have ended the bombardment for the moment! I wish to speak to the men of the gatehouse, not Hasselbach!”
No response came from the gatehouse. The Baron continued.
“If any men wish to surrender, we will accept it and treat you well! You will be given three meals a day and proper shelter! We won’t even chain you up, so long as you lay down your arms!”
The gatehouse continued to be silent. The Baron sighed.
“I wish for it to be known, even when we storm the third layer of defenses, we will not be executing prisoners! I want to incentivize surrender, so you will be treated well! As much as I have my grievances, we are all fellow Imperials at the end of the day!”
Finally, a voice came from the gatehouse.
“Eat shit and die traitor!”
The muzzle of a gun peaked through the slatted windows and fired, hitting the ground next to the Baron. He flinched and stepped back, fanning his arms out flamboyantly as he shouted again..
“Fine, have it your way! Just keep in mind that we accept surrender, even when we are attacking! Spread the word, unless you want your brothers slaughtered down to a man! I am trying to be reasonable! If you do not surrender, you will be killed! I want you back home with your families just as much as you do!”
“If you actually wanted that, you would fucking leave!”
Another shot impacted the stone next to the Baron and he swiftly retreated, yelling as he did so.
“Just keep surrender in mind!”
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January 5th, 1665. Bickenstadt.
The Empress felt her inner breast pocket buzz. She withdrew the sending stone and put it up to her ear.
“...ma’am, the fall of Frederick is imminent. Can you reach us in time to relieve us?”
The Empress sighed solemnly.
“No, unfortunately. Our supplies have been heavily delayed by heavy snowfall in Grössenstadt and the Orkney Berzerkeri, if we try to assist you we will run out before we even reach Leibensburg.”
The stone was silent for a few seconds.
“...understood. What are your orders, ma’am?”
“Hold for as long as you can, and make them pay for every inch of territory with blood.”
“...that was the plan, ma’am.”
The Empress smiled.
“Excellent. You have done your duty well. Your family will live in luxury for the rest of their lives.”
She took a deep breath to steady herself. Hasselbach was one of the few men of the old guard who never questioned her just because she was a woman. He was also one of her most competent commanders. After he was gone, all she had left was Hans, who was a good commander, and a bunch of mediocre yes-men.
“Know that your efforts will be rewarded in the next life, and you will be venerated for generations to come as a martyr.”
“...thank you, ma’am.”
She heard a thump from the other end.
“...for the Empire.”
The Empress saluted hard enough for Hasselbach to hear through the stone.
“For the Empire!”
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January 10th, 1665. Leibenstadt.
The bombardment had stopped, and the men of the gatehouse knew what that meant. They immediately rushed out on the parapet with guns loaded, aiming over the side. They saw men already have way up, Ottoman mages raising great pillars of earth to get them up. They fired down on the men, just fifteen of them. Bullets pinged off of helmets and pauldrons as the warriors continued to rise.
The defenders readied themselves and aimed their bayonets at the rising attackers, and soon steel scraped against steel as they reached the top.
The Baron smacked a bayonet out of his way and stuck his pistol in the man’s face, firing from point blank range. Udo slid his longsword up the length of an Imperial’s musket and thrust, catching the side of his neck with the tip and gouging out a massive amount of flesh.
The attackers jumped onto the walls and fought hard. A Bickenstadt grenadier smashed the butt of his gun into a defender’s face, knocking him down before finishing him with his bayonet. A second later a bullet ripped through his neck and he fell back over the parapet.
The Baron ducked under a thrust and came up behind the man, slashing his armpit as he crouched past. He thrust his saber forward and skewered another Imperial engaged with one of his grenadiers through the neck, twisting his blade and kicking the man to the ground.
Udo rushed into the gatehouse and nearly fell back as a gunbutt flew at his head. He skidded forward and swung his longsword down at the nearest defender, mostly to keep himself from falling backwards.
The defender raised his musket and blocked the strike while his comrade thrust at Udo’s exposed armpit. His bayonet scraped off the enchanted cloth Udo wore under his armor and he kicked the first Imperial, sending him flying back. He grabbed his sword in the middle and thrust over the second man’s guard, sticking him in the neck.
He turned and slammed his longsword down on the first man, glancing off his helmet as his own strike glanced off of Udo’s armor. Udo grabbed his longsword by the middle again and thrust the pommel into the man’s face, dazing him and knocking him back. Udo stepped forward and thrust his hand forward, slicing through the man’s neck with the top portion of his longsword.
The rest of the defenders were busy with Udo’s comrades so he ran over to the gatehouse controls, pulling a lever which slowly began to open the gate. On the other side of the gate a firing line of Imperials was already formed, with commander Hasselbach behind them, Katzbalger raised high in the air, and three cannons in the middle and sides of the formation.
“Hold your shot til I say so men! Cannon, fire as soon as the gate is open!”
The gate slowly opened, revealing the formation of Brayherds in their Testudo. The Cannons fired, ripping through their tight formation, killing many and knocking down those around them. Hasselbach dropped his sword down.
“Fire!”
His formation erupted in smoke and a half second later bullets ripped through the scattered Brayherds. Their shields were shoved to the side, and many of their flanks were fully exposed. Brayherds screamed as the guns punched through their unenchanted lorica segmentata, slumping down and staying still as their seemingly limitless vitaity drained out of the holes in their bodies.
Tiberius behind the Brayherds raised his greatsword and screamed at them.
“Surge! Surge! Vacua sunt, antrorsum!”
Brayherds scrambled to their feet and charged the defenders, Braying as loud as they could. The Imperials greeted them with a wall of steel, multiple layers of bayonets presented forward. The Brayherds slammed into the Imperials with incredible force, however the Imperials held their line, their commander behind them belting war cries and encouragements at the top of his lungs, ready to die alongside his men.
“Hold the line men! Don’t give them an inch!”
Bayonets scraped off shields and pierced lorica segmentata, while gladius were deflected by helmet and jackchains or pierced through unarmored joints and armpits. The Imperials fought with bravery and tenacity, pushing back the Brayherds for the first time in this conflict.
“Push men! PUSH!”
Imperials shouted and stepped forward, slowly forcing the Brayherds back step by step until a horn played behind them.
“Recessus! Liceat in hoc facere Bigkenstadters!”
Brayherds turned tail and ran, passing by the line of Bickenstadt grenadiers marching forwards. They had taken surprisingly heavy casualties due to the cannon, and they needed time to regroup.
The Bickenstadt grenadiers marched forwards with the Baron himself at their back, saber leveled and pointed toward the enemy.
“Lets get them men! Company! Halt!”
The men stopped and aimed at the defenders, who were reloading as swiftly as they could, not needing to break eye contact with their enemy as their practiced hands went through the motions.
“Fire!”
The grenadiers formation exploded into smoke and a split second later defenders all around the line dropped. Hasselbach flinched as a bullet bounced off his enchanted cuirass but stayed standing strong.
“Hold men! Plug the gap! Bayonets forward!”
The Imperials shouted and layered their bayonets as the grenadiers began to charge. A massive spike of earth flew over them and crashed through the Imperial line, scattering a good dozen or so men and killing five instantly.
More defenders poured out of their barracks into the courtyard, and coalition forces began to come up through the narrow stairwells. Soon the entire courtyard was filled to the brim with men, both living and dead, fresh and exhausted, all determined to fight with everything they had.
The Baron parried a bayonet and flicked his wrist, slicing the man’s neck wide open. He slipped past another thrust and lopped the man’s head off, his enchanted blade cutting clean through the sinew of his neck with ease. He tilted his head and a bayonet scraped his cheek, leaving a small gash and punching a hole in the top of his ear.
Udo slammed his longsword down through a musket and into the man holding it, cutting his musket and head clean in half. A gunbutt smashed into the side of his face, sending him tumbling to the side. While he regained his bearings his comrades covered him, making sure that their beloved officer was safe.
Janissaries began to enter the courtyard, firing their shots at will and drawing yataghans soon after. They chopped away at Imperials with reckless abandon, angry at their previous humiliation in taking the second layer of defenses. Behind them the Tlanzomans and Waffenstadters rushed past, flooding into the buildings where the rest of the defenders were.
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Jaguar warriors leaped over tables and slashed down with their macuahuitl, slicing clean through unenchanted steel and flesh with ease. A Jaguar warrior blocked a thrust with his shield and swiped at the defender’s head, chopping off the top half of it with a single motion. Tlanzoman conscripts thrust their tepoztopilli forward, unenchanted obsidian shattering against steal and flaking into massive, gaping wounds.
The barrel of a gun pressed against the neck of a Jaguar warrior and fired, killing him instantly. More guns fired and found openings in the Tlanzoman’s defenses, dropping them like sacks of wheat. Waffenstadters rushed in after their Tlanzoman allies with sabers and pistols drawn, firing at the defenders and covering their comrades as best they could.
Imperials rallied and formed a firing line behind their comrades, shouting at them to duck. A second later they all fired, tearing through the unprepared attackers. Dozens of Tlanzomans and Waffenstadters dropped as bullets punched through them. Soon, the attackers were slowly being pushed back by angry Imperials, fully prepared to die to avenge their fallen comrades.
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The courtyard had devolved into a massive, messy, and chaotic melee as more and more warriors flooded in. Men fought knee deep in blood and dead soldiers, slipping on and clambering over bodies as they tried to defeat their opponent.
Hasselbach chopped off the arm of a Bickenstadter and punched him in the face, turning his attention to another man and thrusting straight through his neck. He surveyed the battlefield and found that his men had been pushed back decently far, and more attackers were steadily streaming into the courtyard every second.
He spotted the Baron, flowing through the battlefield with ease, a whirlwind of death parrying and slashing with inhuman precision and speed. He tore through men as he made a beeline towards Hasselbach, making direct eye contact all the way, a massive, crazed smile plastered across his face.
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“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil!
He ducked a strike and chopped off the man’s head before he deftly stepped around him, coming up and lopping off hands and heads left and right as he made his way forward, allowing strikes to bounce off his armor harmlessly, almost like he knew perfectly which strikes would hit armor and which would not.
“For thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff; they comfort me!”
Hasselbach had seen the Baron fight before, he knew when he was getting death crazed. He also knew that he was no match for the Baron, so he raised his Katzbalger in the air.
“Hold men! Make them pay for every step with blood!”
He turned and ran inside, deciding that the only thing he could feasibly do was to hold them off in the narrow halls of the inner sanctum. Even the Baron couldn’t simply sprint through a hail of bullets and come out unscathed, and there was very little cover for the attacks inside the sanctums.
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Imperial grenadiers jumped on brayherd shields, pinning them to the ground. They thrust their bayonets around shields to pierce skulls and necks. They would defend their citadel with their lives, all the fighting of the previous months had turned them into single minded killing machines, ready to let loose their contained anger built up over the course of a years time being under siege.
They threw grenades behind the brayherds, killing them with blasts and shrapnel and disrupting their rough formations. Grenadiers cheered and rushed forward, pushing the stunned attackers back and out of the inner sanctum.
Men behind the grenadiers went through and finished off dying brayherds as their comrades fought, making sure that their backs were safe. The grenadiers put their faith in their allies, knowing that there was no other option, but trusting the men they had spent the past few years fighting with.
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Bullets flew down corridors and Tlanzomans conscripts took cover wherever they could. Their shields were not enchanted, neither was their armor, so all they could do was sit around and stay out of the path of the flying lead.
They didn’t have anything they could retaliate with, so all they could do was sit there and wait for reinforcements. Soon, Waffenstadters came, each one equipped with muskets, pistols, and sabers.
“Keine Sorge, wir haben das!”
They had no idea what that meant, but they assumed it was words of encouragement. Waffenstadters fired their weapons around the corner, not exposing themselves to the bullets flying past, likely missing nearly every single shot, but at least returning fire.
“We need those weird goatmen with the enchanted shields!”
A Waffenstadter looked at his Tlanzoman ally and cocked his head.
“Ich verstehe du nicht mann, kein Reikers?”
The Tlanzoman chuffed annoyedly.
“Kine Rikers.”
The Waffenstadter sighed as he reached his pistol around the corner before firing.
“Wunderbar.”
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A Bickenstadt grenadier leaned against the wall next to the hallway.
“Where are those fucking goats?!”
Another one shook his head.
“I don’t know man, they should be here soon. Dietrich ran off to ask for them.”
“Why’d we send Dietrich? He’s a fucking dipshit!”
They heard a chuff from behind them and looked back, seeing a massive pair of goat legs enveloping their vision.
“Hinc tollemus eam.”
He was just about to enter the hallway when he looked like he thought of something.
“Ignoscas, grenade habes?”
The grenadier stared at him blankly before reaching into a pouch, pulling out a small iron ball with a cord sticking out of it.
“Uh, Tu…trehere?”
He turned to his friend.
“Trahere?”
The brayherd smiled, at least the grenadier thought he did, he always had trouble figuring out their facial expressions, and took the grenade.
“Traho filum? Eh, string?”
He lightly tugged on the chord.
“Uh, yeah! Sic?”
The brayherd nodded.
“Sic.”
The brayherd walked in front of the doorway and bullets began to thwack against his shield.
“Pugnam ad te deferimus!”
He began to rush forward, followed by the grenadiers. The Brayherd pulled the chord as he rushed forward and lobbed it over his shield. It flew behind the barricade and burst, killing five men at once.
The Brayherd and his allies reached the barricade swiftly and leaped over it, expertly fending off the attacks from the Imperials behind the makeshift blocker. A bayonet was deflected off a scutum and a second later a Bickenstadt grenadier killed the man who attacked his caprine ally.
The Brayherd smashed his shield into another Imperial, knocking him flat on his back. Two grenadiers stepped forward and thrust into the man’s guts, twisting their muskets before ripping them out.
The defenders began to retreat, and the grenadiers howled as they chased after them, this time not stopped by the Baron.
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The defenders in the courtyard were slowly and steadily being pushed back, making sure that every single step forward resulted in more dead men for the attackers. The men had endured months and months of constant bombardment and attempts to take the third layer, they were angry and wanted to make the traitors pay, even if it cost them their lives. At least they would be rewarded for their bravery in the next life.
A janissary chopped at a soldier’s armpit, biting into his clothing but not going deep enough to kill. The soldier thrust his bayonet at the janissary, piercing his stomach. He ripped it out and smashed him in the face with the gunbutt, knocking him on his back.
A Bickenstadt grenadier fell as a bullet punched through his neck. His comrade roared in anger and rushed forward, skewering the man who killed his brother-in-arms. He twisted his bayonet back and forth, causing the man to scream in pain. He stopped twisting as soon as the man began to lay still, moving back to check on his comrade. He was dead, likely on impact.
A group of Waffenstadt soldiers worked together to drag a wounded brayherd out of the courtyard and to a medic where he could be healed. Just outside the third gate was a makeshift hospital, with cots filling the entire courtyard, each one writhing with dying men.
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Geidpfeld rushed around as quickly as he could, leaving braisers smoldering in his wake. His eyes glowed pink and he touched his hand to a man’s gaping wound, muttering arcane words under his breath and focusing on stitching together blood vessels with his magic.
More men were brought in, either on stretchers or over the shoulders of their comrades. Geidpfeld was covered in blood and scratches from flailing men, but he didn’t really notice. His focus was entirely on saving as many lives as he could.
An Imperial was thrown to the ground in front of him and he shot the soldier who dropped him off a death glare.
“Be careful with the wounded you brute!”
The soldier rolled his eyes.
“He’s a slaver.”
Geidpfeld felt around the man’s body to check for wounds. He was bayoneted in the shoulder and was going into shock. His eyes began to glow pink as he touched his hand to the man’s wound, and the soldier watched in awe as it began to stitch itself together.
“He’s a fellow man. He deserves to be treated with dignity. Now go get me more dying men to save!”
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The Baron grit his teeth in frustration as bullets whizzed past his head. The hallway was too long and the Imperials too well trained for him to just rush over to them, so all he could do, much like the rest of his allies, was to sit around and wait for the enchanted shields of the brayherds to arrive.
He stuck his pistol around the corner and pulled the trigger. As the powder slowly began to ignite he could feel the trajectory of the shot and adjusted it slightly before the bullet left the barrel. It flew through the air and punched a hole through a man’s head, or at least his ability told him it did. It hadn’t lied to him yet.
His men surrounded him, loading and firing as quickly as possible. Years of constant drilling and combat had rendered the movements of reloading automatic, they did so without looking or thinking.
“Baron, where are those fucking brayherds?”
The Baron sighed.
“They’re really shaken by those cannon shots, I might need to go find a shield for myself!”
He smiled.
“Or you could do it for me.”
A grenadier saluted him and immediately ran off. A few minutes later he arrived with four shields, barely able to hold them all in his comparatively smaller arms than the brayherds. The Baron immediately ran over and grabbed one.
“Men, you’ve seen their testudo, yes?”
His grenadiers all nodded.
“Good. We’re doing that. Get in line! Two forward, two on top!”
He stood in a line with his men, enchanted scutum facing forward. Two men stacked up behind him and the man next to him, placing their shields on top.
“Forwards! One step at a time! We’re not gonna run like the brayherds, slow and steady keeps us together and alive!”
His men shouted in acknowledgement and they began to walk down the hallway, the rest of the company crowding behind them. Bullets bounced off of shields as they entered the hallway, and by the time they were halfway through the shots had fully ceased. The Baron looked over his shield and saw the defenders had abandoned their position.
Probably the right choice.
They broke formation and leaped over the barricade. Immediately bullets crashed into the stone around them as Imperials fired down the narrow staircase leading up to the inner sanctum of Bergzitadelle Freiderick.
The Baron led the charge up the stairs, bullets bouncing off his borrowed scutum, and he slammed into the men at the top of the stairs, scattering them with the force of a cannonball. He dropped the shield and danced around the men, slashing necks and other vital points as he went.
He was followed closely by his grenadiers, who flooded the large room as quickly as they could, not wanting to leave the Baron unsupported. The defenders screamed and charged at their attackers, and a wild melee ensued.
The Baron spotted Hasselbach leaving the inner sanctum up a side staircase and raised his saber.
“You’ve got this men! I’ll go for Hasselbach’s head!”
His grenadiers cheered and redoubled their efforts, fighting with inhuman precision and accuracy, covering their comrades perfectly and striking with absolute confidence, each stroke killing a slaver dog.
The Baron flowed through the inner sanctum like a stream of death, parrying and riposting wildly, slicing off hands and lopping off heads as he made his way to the staircase. He bounded up the stairs five at a time, swiftly gaining ground on the retreating commander.
Hasselbach turned down a hallway as the Barons screamed after him, howling like a dog as he made his way through the fortress. Hasselbach got to a room and slammed the door shut, but a second later it flew off its hinges as a spike of earth knocked it down.
Hasselbach stood in the command center of Bergzitadelle Freiderick, Katzbalger in one hand, sending stone in the other. He raised it to his ear and spoke.
“Ma’am, ma’am, come in.”
The Baron smiled and allowed him to wait for a response.
“...yes, Hasselbach?”
“It’s been an honor, ma’am.”
The stone was silent for a few seconds.
“...the honor is all mine, Hasselbach. You were my finest commander. You will be remembered.”
Hasselbach bowed his head.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
He set the stone on a table and took up a fighting stance, Katzbalger held horizontally pointing forward, off hand near his stomach, standing slightly sideways.
The Baron raised his saber to his face and swung down in a show of respect, and Hasselbach returned the gesture. The Baron smiled as he dropped into his fighting stance, saber hand forward and held vertically, off hand at his hip, leading shoulder facing Hasselbach.
“You know, it’d be a shame to kill you. Are you sure you want to be remembered as a slaver?”
Hasselbach stared at the Baron, a look of determination across his face.
“I will be remembered as a loyal son of the Empire.”
The Baron dropped deeper into his stance, he was breathing a little hard.
I’m gettin’ old.
“I’ll make sure the history books portray you that way.”
The two men slowly inched toward each other. The Baron could see what he was about to do, a simple thrust, testing his guard. Hasselbach delivered a lightning fast thrust and simultaneously, just as swiftly, the Baron lunged forward, ducking underneath the strike. He lowered his saber onto Hasselbach’s neck and drew it across, slicing open his throat from ear to clavicle with his enchanted blade.
He pulled back and kicked Hasselbach in the stomach, knocking him flat on the stone table behind him. Hasselbach’s eyes flicked to the Baron before they slowly became glossy as the life drained out of his neck. The Baron prayed for Hasselbach’s eternal soul before taking the Sending Stone off of the table.
“Samanta, Samanta, come in.”
After a few seconds a voice came through.
“...I assume Hasselbach is dead, then.”
“That is correct. And Freiderick has fallen to my coalition forces. By now, it’s only a matter of time.”
“...what do you stand to gain from talking to me?”
The Baron smiled.
“I want you to know something very important."
He chuckled, almost allowing it to turn into a snarl.
"That I’m coming for you, and I’m going to mount your head on a fucking pike!”
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After nearly two years of siege, Bergzitadelle Freiderick had fallen. After word got out that commander Hasselbach had been slain, much of the garrison had lost the will to fight. It became to known to them that the Baron was accepting surrender, and that he was offering very good terms for it.
A total of seventy thousand men had surrendered to the Baron, a massive amount of prisoners of war. The Baron would have trouble feeding them, but he was a man of his word. He would not starve them, and they would be treated humanely.
The Baron watched as men walked in lines, hands held high in the air, weapons left behind.
“Maybe I can get some concessions from the Empress?”
Ludwin nodded.
“If I were her I would give concessions.”
The Baron shrugged.
“Well, you’re a decent man who cares about others. She is…I don’t want to say psychopath, but, perhaps empathy deficient. You end up being like that when you’re in her position.”
Ludwin nodded again.
“I suppose that makes sense.”
The Baron shrugged.
“However, I kind of doubt she will. Hopefully she’ll at least be willing to ransom the important people. Seventy thousand is quite a lot of mouths to feed.”
“True, true. So, what exactly do we do now?”
The Baron glanced over at the makeshift hospital, seeing men on stretchers being carried from place to place, some of them with white clothes covering their bodies, red staining the cloth wherever they had been injured.
“Well, the men need some time to rest and recuperate. After that, we march north, home to Bickenstadt, knock the Empress out of my province, then grind them down through the Dunkwald and Grössenstadt mountain range. From there, we move to Grössenburg, and kill the Empress. End scene!”
Ludwin nodded.
“So the plan hasn’t changed.”
The Baron smiled and shook his head.
“No it has not.”