As the pale sun brought dim light beneath a heavily overcast sky upon the third day of the rains, the people of Maegwyn awoke to an abrupt change in the city’s status quo. The previous night the earth works surrounding the outer city had fallen, with over ninety percent of the garrison slain in a swift but terrible enemy raid against the fortifications. Hundreds of veteran knights and men at arms, and many thousands more conscripted peasants now lay dead and rotting in the burnt ruins of what had once been their encampment. The pride of the capital region’s nobility had been thoroughly trodden upon and ground to dust, with only the most fortunate or cowardly among them having managed to return to the city intact. Even the indomitable veterans of the civil war that had been instrumental to the preparations of the earth works lay still and cold upon the field of battle.
The enemy had by the time the subtle glow of the decrepit sun feebly illuminated the land below, thoroughly looted the camp. While the supplies had only been sufficient for a single day of the earth works’ defense, they were a gift from the very gods themselves for the logistically floundering army of the Duke. It was the first fresh resources that had been secured in the weeks since their last pillaging, the Empress’s depletion of the capital region having proven a near death blow to their ability to forage. Gaining considerable provisions and ammunition for their trouble, the Duke’s army was strongly positioned to resume its advance under the light of day.
The earth works themselves were mostly devoid of the foe that morning, owing to the fact that the city’s armament of cannon held an unobstructed view of the interior of the captured fortifications. If the enemy had dared to group in such numbers to render the expenditure of shot and powder worthwhile, then their formations and any encampment they attempted to erect at the position would be torn apart from afar at the leisure of the city’s defenders. Therefore, the Duke’s army posted only a meager compliment of men there to serve as scouts and observers while the knights returned to their own encampment to rest and recuperate.
The enemy had not yet encroached upon the outer city. The previous night the knights that had so thoroughly destroyed the outer layer of the city’s defenses had halted and turned back well before reaching its twisting alleyways. The foe had seemingly been content only to drive the city’s defenders from the earth works, before withdrawing back to their camp with an abundance of looted supplies in tow. Even the scouts seemed uninterested in approaching the labyrinthine network of buildings that composed the outer city, merely coldly observing the curtain wall from afar.
It was most fortunate that the enemy had lacked the numbers the night before to assault the outer city after the absolute success of their raid. Under the cover of night, the city’s cannon lay impotent and despite the lighting present in parts of the outer city, cannon fire had a far greater chance to strike the many intervening buildings than it did a body of troops advancing through the alleyways. No, after the enemy reached the outer city, the cannon would only be able to effectively fire once they penetrated cleanly through to the large area of cleared plazas immediately surrounding the curtain wall. By that point, the gunners manning the cannon would be in range of the enemy’s skirmishers making the task increasingly hazardous.
Nathanial leaned against the crenellated stone of the gatehouse tower, gazing thoughtfully at the enemy encampment. In quiet contemplation, he considered the previous day’s events. That the Duke’s knights would be able to thoroughly rout the conscripted peasantry employed by the local nobility he had held no doubt. The night attack itself was a bold tactic, one that placed the attacker, who could neither see the terrain nor the enemy lest they be sighted in turn bearing torches from afar, at a rather severe disadvantage until they reached the defenders. But he was coming to expect such bold and aggressive action from the Duke’s army and it no longer seemed surprising. But the crux of the matter, what had led to the enemy managing to come so near to the city’s defenses before being sighted despite the treacherous terrain, was still a matter of mystery. The thick muck should have rendered all but the most lightly armored infantry sluggish, forced to struggle through the tightly gripping mud at a snail’s pace at best. But that was not what had transpired, the foe had arrived both swiftly and unmarred by their advance through the mire.
Such discontinuities between the terrain and the night’s events pointed to only one possibility, witchcraft. While he and the Empress had theorized the presence of one of the fell practitioners of the esoteric arts lurking within the enemy’s ranks, it was another matter entirely to have evidence of that theory so thrust so poignantly before him. There were certainly mundane ways to quiet the loud clanking and clamoring sounds emitted by steel armor on the march, usually with the liberal application of oil to the armor’s joints and overlapping plates. Such things were not done commonly, but had been known to happen to achieve the element of surprise during several battles in the civil war.
But for all of his reasoning and experience, Nathaniel could not fathom how the enemy knights had crossed the boggy mire so effortlessly, at least not without the aid of some working of witchcraft. That they had only accomplished a single such supernatural feat in all of the days since their arrival three days passed, and that what was enacted only allowed a relatively small quantity of knights to make their assault was an indication of the practitioner’s limitations. That no such witchcraft had been in evidence that morning, when the dawn’s weak light had revealed several enemy cannons in the midst of being dragged halfway to the earth works, indicated that it would be some time yet before the city’s defenders would once more be assailed by unnatural means.
Thankfully, the enemy had been rather unprepared to take advantage of the success of their knights. The crew dragging the cannon they had intended to use to bombard the curtain wall from afar had been successfully forced back once the might of the city’s own cannon was brought to bear against them. More of the foe had been ravaged during that one exchange, during their futile retreat against the might of the city’s cannon, than had been slain the entire previous night. What’s more, all of the enemy’s toil was of but little avail as the battered ruins of the cannon so dragged now lay in pieces strewn about the muddy earth. If the foe’s pet conjuror still possessed ability enough to intervene in the conflict in the foreseeable future, they would not have allowed their limited quantity of cannon to be so unilaterally destroyed.
It was unusual, however, for the enemy to go so long without attacking. Given the Duke’s increasingly aggressive strategy, Nathaniel had expected near ceaseless assaults upon the outer city in mirror to the assaults that had been made throughout the previous day against the earth works. But aside from the earlier failed ploy with the cannon, the enemy had not once stirred even as the sun rose, and it reached three hours past dawn. It was almost disappointing, eager as he was to avenge the fallen from the previous night. It would be a much fairer battle when he pitted the might of the Empress’s Shield against the Duke’s veterans in place of the mere peasants that had been so ineffective before. His idle musings were interrupted as a musical cacophony arose from the enemy encampment; its shrill trumpeting calls audible even from the long distance to the city. Behind the now completed and obscuring palisade of the encampment, dozens of colorful flags moved as one. It had taken some time, but the enemy was returning for another assault.
He could see them as they left the camp, albeit with an unclear blur owing to relying upon his naked eyes and the great distance. Two entire armies of men, each posed of dozens of individual companies, marched out onto the field from the camp. Every company was composed of several hundred men, and there were dozens of companies within both groups. Well over ten thousand men now marched across the plains, far more than had ever been thrown against Maegwyn’s defenses the previous day. It would seem that the Duke was greatly encouraged by his success in taking the outer fortifications, and held confidence that he could take the rest of the city in short order. There would be no reason to send so many men otherwise, as unless they took the curtain wall that day they would be savaged by the city’s cannon upon any retreat.
Every company present walked beneath a large and colorful banner, with the designs of the banners exotic and atypical of those of Albion, things that Nathaniel could put no house name to. Large enough to spy somewhat clearly even at such great distance, the banners depicted a wild assortment of varied things. Many were simple in design, consisting of geometric shapes and stripes oriented in various directions and clearly relying more upon their gaudy coloring than that of their plain designs to match the more intricate flags of their fellows. The rest were chaotic, clearly attempting to evoke the feeling of an aristocratic house’s familial coat of arms while not being so tied to a noble title. A veritable microcosm of the natural world was presented with nearly every beast, either great or small, found beneath the sun’s light in attendance. Varyingly depicted in playful or warlike scenes, the creatures were highly stylized and portrayed using bolts of expensively dyed cloth.
Despite the colorful banners, the leading army of marching men that came out from the encampment were but plainly dressed. They moved in a mass of dull gray or brown trudging along in the muck, likely simple woolen or linen garments so common amongst the peasant folk. They did not seem well disciplined, the shakiness of their uneven lines plainly visible even from afar. The individual companies moved asynchronously with each other, to the point where the entire formation resembled a skewed and fraying rope, a veritable clump of loose and straying fibers. They carried what must be short spears or other close ranged instruments of battle, as the shafts the men held stood not much taller than themselves. None among them seemed to possess much in the way of armor, as only the rare glint of still shone out across the field from a handful of scavenged helmets other miscellaneous coverings.
In sharp contrast to the leading army, the rear one was made up by men dressed in colors as dazzling as that of the flags they marched beneath. Far more disciplined, they walked in neatly dressed ranks, their long pikes perfectly balanced as they marched upon the uneven terrain of the mire. Each company moved well in time with their fellows, as if every man present was listening to the same drummer’s beat as they stepped onward. While the individual companies formed the core of their formations, in a cloud orbiting each block of pikemen were skirmishers. From the great distance, Nathaniel could not spy their equipment, but likely it likely consisted of either bows or crossbows, as it was too damp for arquebuses to reliably fire.
The front ranks of the companies of pikemen wore heavy armor, its glinting sheen sparkling dimly under the sun’s light as each advanced. These more protected men would likely be expected to take the brunt of any missile fire and engage first with their opponents. They did not wield pikes, but shorter polearms that were likely halberds or similarly sized weapons. Their superior equipment and place of honor at the front of the formation indicated their status as respected veterans, something that was curiously missing from the leading army.
These must be the Aachish mercenaries, Nathaniel thought with an appraising eye. They were certainly as flamboyant as they were lauded to be, although the leading army must consist entirely of new recruits given the vast gulf in appearance. It was fitting that they appeared now, when the outer city lay defenseless with all of its outer fortifications fallen. Likewise, the massed ranks of longbowmen that would have decimated the unarmored men of the leading army in other circumstances, now lay cold amidst the soil. The Duke must have a rather tenuous grasp upon his mercenaries indeed if he had allowed his own men to suffer such grievous casualties in the previous day’s assault in place of these coin hungry thugs. Perhaps he had needed to coax them into battle with the prospect of plundering Maegwyn’s outer city. As impoverished as the district was, it was still a part of the city and held far greater potential for rich plunder than the spartan earth works that the Duke’s bannermen had fought and died for.
As the two armies marched, they split apart from one another forming a vast envelope around the outer city. What had once been a field teeming with well over ten thousand marching men in a tiny space, now only held perhaps a few thousand for each mile. Their new lines stretched nearly from the southern banks of the engorged river to its northern inlet, encircling half of the entire city. It would seem that their intention was to engage the city from as wide a variety of angles as possible to stretch the curtain wall’s cannon thin. Everywhere however, the leading army remained at the fore, with a nearly even split of men where each company of the rear army would be preceded by one of the leading army.
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About halfway across the field, the mercenaries passed the farthest of ranging markers placed by the Home Guard’s first company of artillery. With a cacophonous boom, several of the iron beasts belched fire and death as their shot came screaming down from on high and plowed through the densely packed ranks of the mercenaries’ leading army. Wherever the iron missiles touched, men were blown asunder into clouds of heavy red mist before they could raise even a scream. But as undisciplined as the leading army was, their disorganized and relatively loose formation proved resistant to the cannon fire as each man stood at some distance from his fellows. While the cannons reloaded, a laborious process that could take many minutes, the mercenaries continued to advance, shaken by the deaths of many of their fellow but not lacking in determination to march on.
By the time that the second round of shot had been loaded into the city’s cannons, the leading group of mercenaries had almost reached momentary cover in the shadow of the earth works. Shooting more hastily now that the enemy drew nearer, the accuracy of the cannon was diminished, and several shots went wild, plunging into the intervening earthen embankments instead of the foe. But the shots that did strike did so to great effect, plunging into formerly loose columns that had begun to converge to enter the gaps between the earth works. Once more the ground was strewn with bits and pieces of the fallen, the rest of the unfortunate men having been obliterated from the mortal plane of existence. Once composed of dull grays and browns, the advancing men were now spattered with hot and shining bright coatings of crimson. The sticky and viscous fluid soaked into their linen and wool garments with alacrity, permanently marring them and filling the owners with both fear and a sense of impending doom.
But the leading army of mercenaries, as lightly armored as they were, made good time in their march and by the point that they vanished behind the obscuring cover of the outer city’s buildings, the city’s cannon had only managed two further salvos. In contrast to the swiftness of the fore group, the latter strode leisurely across the muddy tract. They made greater time than the Duke’s knights would have in similar circumstances, despite their heavy armor. Evidently they were quite used to marching through such terrain from prior campaigns, but it still took them near twice the span than the fore group to reach the cover of the outer city. But for all of that time, they had interposed the fore group between them and Maegwyn’s armament of cannon, and had suffered naught but two salvos, which they weathered with tenacity.
It seemed that the fore group had been intended as expendable fodder for the survival of the slower and therefore more vulnerable latter group. It may have been cold hearted, but Aachenwald was a heartless land and those mercenaries, unlike the Duk’s bannermen, were very experienced in assaults upon cities defended by a compliment of cannon. Such tactics had therefore arisen as a necessity, and they soon displayed their superiority when pitted against the more antiquated realm of Albion in the first real foreign invasion in centuries.
By the time that the enemy had begun to diverge into its half encirclement of the city Nathaniel had departed the gatehouse. He walked swiftly and with purpose knowing full well that the invasion of the city was imminent, having his ears assailed by the raucous cacophony of cannon fire all the way. Eventually he reached one of the parade grounds that had been cleared in the outer city, one in which nine hundred and fifty men of the Empress’s Shield were present. While not the full complement of the regiment, they were all that could be spared from the palace without fully compromising the Empress’s safety. They were, to a man, dressed in armor as thick and antiquated as his own, ready and waiting to wage war in the Empress’s name. Each man turned his head as Nathaniel entered the plaza, his three bodyguards in tow and raising a sharp clacking sound of metal upon stone with every step across the cobbled ground.
While he would not be commanding the overall battle from afar, he had delegated that particular responsibility to the first captain of foot, he would be personally leading the Empress’s Shield into battle. While possessing of incredible personal skill and tactical expertise in the defense of antiquated castles such as that of the palace, they were rather unschooled in tactics of trickery or street fighting that Nathaniel intended to use in the coming battle. Drawn as they may have been from the ranks of the legions’ veterans, even the legions were seldom wont to engage in defensive maneuvers during the Empress’s reign of peace. Therefore, their own commanders were woefully inadequate, and as the Lord Protector he alone possessed rank enough to command them in battle.
At least, that was the excuse he had concocted when he had asked the Empress for permission to lead them. As unquestioningly loyal to the Empress as the regiment was, he could not trust them to utilize their abilities to the greatest extent possible in the coming battle. Especially not when they were as increasingly suspicious of him as they were, or at least on the part of certain individuals like Andross in light of his recent acts of personally and openly undermining the city’s defenses. No, If he desired for their inevitable deaths to accomplish something of value, then he would have to lead them into the thickest of the fighting himself.
As he entered the parade ground, Nathaniel stepped through parted ranks of the Empress’s Shield and cast his gaze around the field. There were more of the imperial bodyguards assembled in one place than he had ever before witnessed, even when thinking back to the days of the civil war. Each man among them was tall, hulking in their thick steel plate armor, veritable giants of men recruited as much for their great size as mastery at arms. It would be a very poor bodyguard too diminutive to intercept an arrow or bullet meant for his charge after all.
An assemblage of wicked and deadly weapons of war was to be seen, largely dominated by war hammers and halberds, but also including greatswords wielded by those of particularly exceptional skill. It was a marked difference to the simple spears and crossbows of the Home Guard, and filled Nathaniel with satisfaction as he imagined their usage against the unsuspecting Aachish mercenaries. With their enemy for the day seemingly being naught but pikemen and mere fodder, the shorter implements of the Empress’s Shield would surely reap a great slaughter in the narrow confines of the outer city. Reaching the center of the parade ground, he ascended a small wooden stage, before turning to address the assembled troops.
“Wish as I might that these were better times in which we find ourselves brought together, I bid you all a good day in spite of our ill circumstance.” With a nod of respect to the assembled men, a honoring gesture necessitated by their long years of experience and the regiment’s prestige, the tense hush hanging over the air was broken by returns to his greeting.
“The Empress’s Shield stands as a stout bulwark between the Empress and those that would harm her. Though this storied regiment has had but little experience in the peaceful days since the civil war, it has preserved its elite status through constant training and strict standards of recruitment from amongst the veteran ranks of the legions. This is the greatest assemblage of fighting men in all of the Empire, a fact that each of you should bear with pride. But the Empire is no longer at peace, the Duke of Brackenweir has risen up in rebellion against our sovereign with Aachish lackies in tow. Her life is threatened, and it now falls to us to assume our duty to ensure her protection, not as mere bodyguards, but as soldiers in war fighting as a regiment. Many among your cadre of officers have asked me why I seek to deploy your strength here and now in the outer city in place of the stout palace you were endlessly drilled to defend. Know this, the Empress has demanded for this city to stand defiant in the face of the Duke’s treachery, it cannot be allowed to fall. Should the curtain wall be breached, the enemy’s artillery will swiftly bring down the remaining walls of the city, including those of the palace. Therefore, they cannot be allowed to take the outer city, and we shall defend it no matter the cost.” The crowd grew excited at the prospect of once more being able to test their mettle against an enemy.
Life in the Empress’s Shield was dull for such grizzled veterans in times of peace, and every man present was almost salivating at the thought of a fight. A few however were skeptical, would the Empress’s person not be in most dire peril should the enemy send assassins in their absence? What could a mere nine hundred and fifty bodyguards do against fifty thousand invaders? Why deploy them now, when the Empress was not threatened, when the men of the Home Guard could be sent in their place? Soon the eagerness of the crowd gave way to shouted questions from loyal, but doubting men.
“What good can we accomplish that the Home Guard cannot? We number but one thousand to their twenty, and have neither the training nor the experience in the defense of the city’s outer fortifications!” Came a shout from a reedy looking man at the fore of the ranks, bearing quill and parchment, evidently an officer.
“The Home Guard significantly out numbers the Empress’s Shield, this is a fact beyond all doubt. But even with twenty thousand men they have neither the skill nor the weaponry to fight upon this field of battle. The struggle for the outer city will be fought in narrow alleyways and inside ruined homes. It will be brutal and bloody close quarters combat in which the space is too tight for formations. I and the Empress can only rely upon this regiment, upon each and every man present to perform this crucial task. This regiment is well valued for the great personal skill of its members, and today that skill will be sorely tested, for the enemy march against us with their famed Aachish mercenaries. With your skill and my tactics and designs for the city’s defenses, the one thousand men of this regiment will seem as though they are many thousands more in clash against the foe.” Nathaniel calmly smoothed over the concerns for the extremely skewed numbers, while somewhat of a lie it would raise their spirits and encourage them to have greater confidence in their skills despite the overwhelming disparity of numbers. It would be neither good for the city’s defense nor for his plans if the Empress’s Shield were to be held back by mere caution.
“How shall the Empress be protected whilst the regiment is deployed elsewhere? Fifty men is not near enough to hold the palace against an enemy raid.” Came a shout from the back of the formation, a great bearlike man almost seven feet tall that appeared, almost regretfully, to naysay Nathaniel’s plan.
“The fifty men of the regiment left behind at the palace shall ensure the Empress’s protection against assassins, and it will be in your hands for her protection against the Duke’s army. She has refused to abandon the city, and thus it falls to you all, her bodyguards, to give your lives to ensure that it does not. Should the city fall, she will perish, and the Empire will surely perish with her. Therefore, we cannot allow this city to fall, no matter the quantity or tactics of the foe. But fret not as inexperienced in street fighting as this regiment may be, I shall personally be assuming command and leading you into battle. We shall not let the foe advance into the inner city, we will hold them here and sell our lives as dearly as possible to ensure that they do not.” A cheer rang out from within the crows as he pledged to personally take them into battle. The prospect of dying, even when in service to a cause for which one holds deep conviction, was always sobering. It filled the men with passion to know that even if it was not the Empress herself they fought beside, the Lord Protector, her champion in all martial matters, was willing to risk his own life alongside theirs.
“Now go, assemble with your captains. I have delivered copies of the order of battle to every officer so that they may be appraised of my tactics. They will lead you to store rooms and hideaways scattered throughout the outer city, from which you will strike the enemy unseen from when they least expect it. The Home Guard will form formations of spear walls in the squares and plazas, everywhere that a large open space betwixt the alleyways is found to prevent the enemy from assembling into their own formations for any length of time. They will slow and halt the enemy advance, keeping them strung out and vulnerable in long columns as they attempt to press forward. But the Home Guard lacks the skill to defend the city by themselves. It will fall to you all to become the hammer that shall beat the foe against the anvil that is the Home Guard. Now disperse, quickly for even now the enemy approaches!” With the raising of his mailed hand clenched into a fist, Nathaniel gave the Empire’s martial salute to the assembled men, who returned it before eagerly fanning out along with their captains into the outer city.
Stepping off of the stage, he was greeted by his three bodyguards and fifty more of the Empress’s Shield. They would act together to hold the main thoroughfare of the outer city that led directly to the curtain wall’s gatehouse. Despite the hastily constructed barricades that were scattered elsewhere, the main road lay relatively unblocked. It was a trap meant to lure the greatest body of the enemy after they faced fierce resistance elsewhere. Where the other groups of the Empress’s Shield would be scattered in groups of ten to twenty men protecting the narrow alleyways, the much larger force of fifty elite soldiers would be ready and waiting to completely obliterate the strongest and most reckless of the enemy.