Chapter 23
October 16th, 1666. Grössenstadt.
The siege of Fort Reikspal had been ongoing for seven months, and very little progress had been made. The Baron had underestimated the strength of the defenses. It was designed for an older style of combat, however, it turned out that choke points and kill zones were deadly no matter what era they were designed for.
They had been bleeding men, though with a constant stream of recruits and conscripts from Bickenstadt, Waffenstadt, and Leibenstadt, they were still a little over one hundred thousand men strong.
The Baron watched as a rider rode down a slope and over towards him. He wore a blue żupan under a red kontusz, traditional Bszerci clothing. He rode over and saluted in the Bszerci fashion, two fingers to the forehead, palm facing out.
“Krysia’s forces are two miles out, they will arrive within the hour.”
The Baron smiled.
“Excellent. Tell her that as soon as her men have rested and settled in, and after I have shared everything that needs sharing, we shall commence our attack.”
The Bszerci saluted and rode off.
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October 18th, 1666.
Ottoman engineers dug dozens of tunnels in the direction of the fortress, supported by Bickenstadt engineers. The Imperials would collapse some of them, however it was highly unlikely they would get all of them.
The Baron tapped his foot impatiently and fiddled with his wedding ring. He was getting impatient. He hadn’t been able to personally fight in nearly a year, and he was itching for battle. He had left Ludwin in overall command, so he would soon be able to fill the sword-shaped hole in his heart.
And finally, after hours of waiting, he heard a series of massive booms, and saw sections of the wall lift high in the air before crashing back down. He was always amazed at how easy it was to destroy sections of enchanted walls, as the mortar between them was not enchanted, nor the ground beneath them.
I wonder why that took us so long to figure out?
He cheered and drew his saber as his now two hundred thousand total force descended on Fort Reikspal.
One hundred thousand Bszerci would lead the charge, as they had been denied offensive battles for a good few years. They began to surge forward, letting loose a thousand deafening war cries as they ran.
Columns upon columns of Bszerci marched hard towards the gaps in the walls. The defenders, at least the ones not caught up in the explosions, fired at the approaching men. Bszerci ran as quickly as they could, officers screaming at men to stay in line as soon as they began to stray. Any lapse in discipline could lead to a route, something which they had learned at the cost of thousands of dead Bszerci over the past few years.
Behind them the rest of the Bickenstadt coalition began to move, ready to surge forth as soon as the Bszerci had secured the gatehouses. Artillery fired at the walls, trying to kill as many men as possible, or at least keep heads down to cover their allies' approach.
The artillery fell silent as the Bszerci reached the walls and began to climb up the crumbled stone. Men threw grenades onto the walls and charged after they burst, finishing off anyone caught up in the blast.
Imperials fired at the climbing men, dropping dozens of Bszerci at a time, barely even needing to aim as the massive throng of men and women crashed against the walls. Bszerci fired at the Imperials before drawing sabers, running with them held high in the air.
Bszerics began to fall to bayonets and Imperials to sabers as the melee began. A gun butt crashed through a Bszerci’s guard, smashing his saber back into the man’s face, knocking him over. The Imperial thrust his bayonet into the Bszerci’s guts, twisting it before turning his attention to another man.
A Bszerci woman knocked aside the thrust of an Imperial aimed at her comrade and lashed out with a lightning fast cut, chopping off the man’s hand at the wrist before slashing his throat. Her comrade redirected a thrust aimed at her into down her armor and the Bszerci swung down at her attacker, saber glancing off of his kettle helm as the man bowed his head forward.
Men clambered over their dead comrades as the Bszerci pushed farther along the walls towards the gatehouses. A rough line formed on the walls, reinforced and motivated by the dense knots of men behind them. Even if they wanted to break, the wall of bodies behind them prevent such thoughts from becoming reality. Bayonets scraped against Bszerci armor and sabers glanced off helmets and jackchains as the fighting began to stall.
More and more Bszerci reached the walls and began to push against their comrades, forcing them forwards and the Imperials back. A Bszerci slashed an Imperial across the face, forcing him over the side through the force of the cut. Another lunged forward and thrust her saber at an Imperial, missing her strike before setting it against his neck and drawing it across as she pulled back.
Imperials were forced further and further back until soon the only men left were those in the gatehouses. Grenades rolled in and burst, killing many and deafening those relatively safe from the blast. Bszerci flooded the rooms and easily killed the stunned defenders, opening the gates to allow their comrades in.
Bickenstadters, Ottomans, Elves, Brayherds, and Tlanzomans cheered as they marched forward and through the gates. The Brayherds led the charge, bullets pinging off of enchanted scutum. Brayherds near the back threw javelins over their running testudo, dropping handfuls of Imperials, though not killing a single man.
The Brayherds crashed into the Imperial firing line, scattering them with ease. Such things had become routine for them, and a few of the eldest, most experienced of Brayherds even yawned as they thrust gladius into the downed defenders.
Bickenstadters, janissaries, and elves fanned out and formed firing lines, killing dozens of Imperials at once before charging in, their Tlanzoman allies close behind.
A janissary batted aside a thrust and a Tlanzoman conscript thrust his obsidian tipped spear into the Imperial’s neck, leaving a nasty gash, as well as jagged shards of obsidian in the wound. A jaguar warrior covered an elf with his enchanted shield, giving him enough time to load and fire at an approaching man.
A Tlanzoman conscript fell and a second later a janissary chopped off the head of the Imperial who killed him before ducking the strike of a gunbutt and flicking his wrist to chop at the armpit of the Imperial, severing the axillary artery. A bayonet screamed down at him and was redirected by a Bickenstadter’s own thrust, trapping it on the ground. The janissary wasted no time and thrust his yataghan through the man’s throat, nodding to the Bickenstadter before continuing forward.
The Baron led his grenadiers forward, cutting a bloody swath through the crowded courtyard. He sliced off hands and heads alike as he danced around the battlefield, perfectly covered by his grenadier guard. A katzbalger bounced off the Baron’s back plate and less than a second later the attacker was impaled by four bayonets, killing him instantly.
The Baron blew a massive plume of fire into a knot of men before summoning a spike of earth from the ground, impaling three men at once. They screamed for a few seconds before being silenced with lightning quick slashes to their throats. He howled with joy as his eyes glowed yellow, forcing a group of ten Imperials to their knees, who were swiftly killed by his grenadiers.
It’s been far too long!
Yaotl laughed as he cut men fully in half with his massive, enchanted macuahuitl. Bayonets bounced harmlessly off of his enchanted ichcahuipilli and his jaguar warriors materialized out of smoke behind his attackers, chopping off heads and arms with ease.
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The courtyard was covered in bodies, and every man was soaked head to toe in blood and viscera. The fighting was intense, and more and more men began to tire, switched out with fresh troops as quickly as they could arrive.
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After nearly two hours of fighting, hundreds of deaths and even more wounded, the Imperials had lost the courtyard. The Bickenstadt coalition pushed into the inner sanctum, led by the Bszerci and Tlanzomans.
Yaotl pointed his macuahuitl forward and shouted prayers to his god, and to the gods which his god worshiped. Jaguars howled and they ran forward, unconcerned by the iron hail crashing into their enchanted shields and armor.
They sprinted down a hallway, only a handful of them dropping as bullets found gaps in their armor. They leaped over barricades with the grace of a jaguar and began to cleave men in twain with their macuahuitl, humming with enchantments created with the energy of countless human sacrifices.
The Bszerci fired down the hallway as they walked, passing back muskets and continuing to fire, keeping up a near constant stream of lead, something which they had nearly perfected after countless battles. When they got close enough men pulled tabs on their grenades and chucked them over barricades, drawing sabers and charging over once they had all burst.
Bickenstadt grenadiers cleared individual rooms as their allies passed, making sure their formations wouldn’t be attacked from behind. A grenadier kicked open a door and immediately fired, killing an Imperial before he could even pull the trigger on his own gun. His comrades flooded the room, and one fell as an Imperial caught him in the neck with a katzbalger.
The Baron burst through a door, sprinting even as he crouched low to the ground. Within a single heartbeat he had crossed the room and beheaded a defender, drawing his pistol and nailing another through the eye. He ducked under a shot and rushed over, chopping off the man’s hand before slashing his throat, then his legs, then deftly kicking off his helmet and splitting his head in half. He left the room before his grenadiers had even had a chance to enter and turned his attention to the next one, clearing it in an instant of precisely targeted violence before continuing on.
Elves kept up a constant rate of fire, firing and kneeling as their comrades took two steps ahead of them before aiming and firing. They kept the Imperial’s heads down the entire way down the hall, tossing dozens of grenades over the barricades and slaughtering anyone left not killed in the blast. Such work was easy for them, they had spent hundreds of years fighting against the hated Royales, and the Royales all liked to hide away in their castles and force them to clear it room by room.
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After hours of dirty, gritty, knock down drag out fighting, the inner sanctum’s resistance crumbled. Individual knots of men kept up the fight, but any who could flee did. Anyone who even thought of surrender was killed by their officers, and the remaining men fought valiantly to the end.
The Bickenstadt coalition were more than happy to oblige, and they slaughtered the massive garrison, at least those who weren’t making their way back to Grössenburg, down to a man. They had taken Fort Reikspal, but it had been an incredibly costly and bloody affair. The men would need time to rest and recover, time the Baron wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to take.
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October 21st, 1666. Grössenburg.
An Imperial watched from the walls as a massive camp was erected before his very eyes. Tents stretched out as far as they eye could see, over two hundred and twenty thousand men were readying themselves to take his beloved city. He would do everything he could to keep the race traitors and subhumans out of it, even if it meant his death.
“Alaric’s left nut that’s a lot of fucking tents.”
His comrade nodded.
“Yeah. We’ll fuck ‘em up, though. We’ve got the Empress and the gods on our side.”
The Imperial smiled.
“True. Plus, what can a few subhumans do against Imperial steel?”
The two men shared a laugh before observing the camp set up for a little longer.
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December 8th, 1666. On the border between Bvarian and Grössenstadt.
Gaius smiled as the Bickenstadt marines finally arrived in his harbor. They had been promised to him months ago, and he was happy to finally begin operations.
Surrounding Grössenburg were various different islands and islets in the great Grössenstadt lake. These natural structures would be essential for taking Grössenburg, as they would provide excellent staging grounds for the marines, the Waffenstadters, and the Brayherds to attack the famous Grössenburg harbor.
The harbor they had already taken would be good enough in a pinch, but it takes a single boat around thirty minutes to reach the Grössenburg harbor from there. It was a logistics nightmare trying to coordinate anything with a mountain range in between the Waffenstadt-Brayherd forces and the Bickenstadt coalition, so anything that would reduce travel time was essential.
His forces were boarding boats, each one led by a company of Bickenstadt marines. They were experts in amphibious warfare, and they had spent years in the Grössenstadt strait fighting with very little assistance from the Baron on the largely neglected front. They were hardened veterans, and they would be essential for successful amphibious operations.
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After an hour of preparation boats finally began to leave the harbor, heading for one of the largest islands in the center of the Grössenstadt lake. It was known as Erste Insel, or simply First Island, as it was the largest and first island the Imperials had colonized and turned into a harbor complex.
The others would be taken at the same time, but the vast majority of the forces were to be concentrated at Erste Insel.
Gaius could see men running around on Erste Insel, it seemed likely they were prepared for an attack on some level. Soon, a small fleet began to leave the island, sailing right towards Gaius’s forces. He raised his greatsword high in the air and shouted at the top of his lungs.
“Ready yourselves men! They come to meet us! And remember! Audaces fortuna iuvat!”
His men repeated the phrase, the most popular warcry amongst the Brayherds. Fortune favored the bold, something which their god, Flavi Hominus, is said to have uttered when he created them.
Both fleets erupted in smoke as they fired, and a second later men dropped into the water or on the decks. A velites roared and chucked a javelin, flying in a great arc and sticking in the deck of a boat. An Imperial fired at the velites, who dropped as the bullet ripped through his eye.
Soon the boats were close enough for men to cross, and the Waffenstadt-Brayherd forces did so, led by the Bickenstadt marines. Men landed on the decks of their ships and immediately got stuck into melee.
Bickenstadters smashed into men shoulder first, knocking them over the edge of the ships or down onto their backs. They formed a line and fired at the men standing, forcing them to fall on their comrades. They surged forward and swiftly finished the men on the ground, taking a volley on the chin from the remaining Imperials.
Brayherds crushed Imperials underhoof and knocked them overboard. Velites threw javelins down into the water, laughing and making jokes about spearfishing. Men began to float face down in the water, and the surface began to be dyed red with their blood, as did the decks of the ships.
Gaius stepped forward and swung his greatsword in a massive arc, cleaving off the heads of two Imperials at once. He thrust the blunt end forward, staggering a man before chopping him nearly in half.
Men began to slip on all the blood, as well as their dead comrades, all except the Bickenstadt marines, who ran across the decks like nothing was even there. They bayoneted anyone they found, tearing through the defenders with years of experience.
Waffenstadters assisted the marines, firing into their enemies and covering them as best they could. A Waffenstadter thrust his bayonet forward to catch the thrust of an Imperial and the marine swiftly skewered him, briefly nodding his head and thanks before he turned to address another foe.
More Imperials were killed and forced off the ships until the decks fell silent, and the attackers cheered. They boarded their ships again and sailed toward the harbor, firing at the defenders as they docked.
Bickenstadt marines leaped for their ships and rushed at the defenders. A marine thrust his bayonet through the throat of an Imperial, allowing his comrade’s thrust to glance off his cuirass as he ripped it out and pointed the musket at him, firing at and killing the man on the spot.
Soldiers flooded the deck of the harbor. Brayherds tossed men around like ragdolls as marines and Waffenstadters worked together to scatter knots of men. Marines and Waffenstadters formed firing lines as Brayherds broke up Imperial firing lines and killed anyone who fell.
They had gotten killing downed men down to a science, and as soon as backs hit the deck men found one or more gladius piercing their bodies. Gaius lifted a man by the collar and headbutt him as hard as he could, cracking the man’s skull and spilling out some brains. He tossed him into the lake and turned his attention to another attacker, which he chopped both hands off of.
The Imperials couldn’t withstand the vicious assault for long, and soon the less experienced men began to flee, loading onto boats and ships to get away from the Waffenstadt-Brayherd forces, and the more experienced and brave men were swiftly slaughtered without the support of their comrades.
Erste Insel had fallen in less than an hour. Now all that was left was to mop up the remaining, smaller islands. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be done. The Bickenstadt marines would make sure of it.