Contrary to Nathaniel’s expectations, the Duke’s army did not wait until the morrow to renew their assault, but struck again that very same day. While their next wave came far too late to take advantage of the disorganized ranks of the city’s defenders, presumably delayed by their severely strained logistics, they came nonetheless. Thrice more they struck against the earth works, a few hours reprieve granted to the drained defenders between each wave before the foe surged forth once more, attempting to drown the defenders with the weight of their numbers. The cycle lasted until the sun hung low in the sky, signaling the coming of dusk.

It had been a grueling day for the city’s defenders amidst near ceaseless attacks and a constant stream of casualties. As if to spite the Empress for her fell workings upon the weather, they came with fresh veterans at the fore of every attack while with every wave the peasant levy grew fewer in number and ever more exhausted. It was a complete inversion of the paradigm of the day prior, where the men of the Duke had been the ones dispirited, weakened by weeks of deprivation from their march and the seemingly endless rain, while those men of the Empress had made merry under the warm cover of their shelters.

While the conscripted peasants were severely depleted for a certainty after such a taxing day of relentless combat, the Duke’s army did not seem to be faring much better despite its advantage in manpower. The muddy tract of land between the two forces was choked with the bodies of the fallen, most bereft of either treasure or armor after the rapacious bands of roving scavengers had stripped them bare. While the first engagement had left only a few thousand upon the field, the commanders of both friend and foe had learned the hard lessons from that battle, and the subsequent waves had led to even greater loss of life until well over ten thousand men lay slain amongst the muck.

It was an astonishing loss of life. Normally in battle only a relatively minor portion of either side would be slain in actual combat, with the majority of casualties incurred either from sickness or as they broke and fled from the field of battle, only to be cut down for their cowardice from behind. But this battle had been a great departure from normality. While it was only to be expected from the peasants of the Empress’s army, as inexperienced with battle as they were and lacking the inexhaustible supply of fresh fodder that the Duke seemingly possessed, it was rather unusual upon the part of the enemy.

As an experienced, well equipped, and highly disciplined force, to suffer such casualties in anything but the very storming of a fortress’s walls was near unheard of. Furthermore, those losses had not been incurred facing any particularly great foe, nor for accomplishing any great feat, but from mere probing attacks made against a vastly inferior force. While the Duke had certainly been headless of caution in his past days as Lord Protector during the civil war, utterly ruthless as he was and quick to expose the weaknesses of his enemies as they presented themselves, he had never been one to so callously throw away the lives of his own men. Not for the accomplishment of little of any value at least. That he now seemed to view his own men as expendable pawns was extremely concerning, and would likely necessitate a complete reconceptualization of the Duke’s personality before Nathaniel would once more be able to preempt his tactics with any surety.

Nathaniel had intended to use the city’s fall as the hot coals with which he could reforge its defenders anew into a great army, the equal of any amongst the enemy after they had survived weeks of grueling siege. But it was seemingly not to be, not at the rate the Duke’s army was cutting down their men like so much chaff at least. The city would likely be left entirely bereft of its defenders in mere days if the present rate of attrition was allowed to continue.

The Duke’s forces acted in such haste that, rather than meticulously dismantling the city’s defenses and launching his men precisely at an exposed vulnerability as he was wont to do in the past, he seemed content to inelegantly flex the weight of his superior numbers to force a swift victory. It appeared that he was uncaring of the price paid in blood on the part of his men, men sworn to him that had fought alongside him for decades, for that victory in a great departure from his usual character. With the Duke content to spend the lives of his men as freely as gold coins at auction, Nathaniel was doubtful that the earth works would stand to hold for even one day longer.

But as frustrated as his plans may have been, weeks of preparation and meticulous design foiled by an almost inconceivable sudden change in the personality of their foe, that was not to say that the day had been an utter disaster. While the Duke’s numerical and qualitative superiority were undeniable, his reserves of manpower were far from infinite. With almost ten thousand of the man men lying amongst the dead clothed in well tailored surcoats bearing the devices of the Duke or his sworn bannermen, his army had lost a full sixth of its strength. The peasants had acquitted themselves well in the struggle, the few that remained becoming well blooded veterans in but a day’s time. Observing both with the calm and collected mind he possessed gazing from afar upon the field of battle, and with the more impassioned spirit within his heart that possessed him while in the very thick of battle, he had come to know well the disposition of the leaders of both camps.

The Duke’s army, whether by delegation to lesser men or directly commanded from the top was unknown, seemed to favor massed frontal assaults using experienced yeomen on foot split between that of heavy infantry and longbowmen. Possessing a large reserve of manpower and a secure camp, the commanders were content to send waves of men at the city’s earth works, knowing well that they would fail to overwhelm the defenders but satisfied with causing a steady attrition of their enemy. Having learned their lesson from the failure of the first wave, they no longer blindly charged the earth works with intent to storm it, but rather had their heavy infantry walk forward to begin dismantling the sharpened timbers and abattis that lined its perimeter.

Wielding large pavaises all but immune to the arrows launched by the city’s defenders, they could dismantle the outer reaches of the earth works with impunity while the archers accompanying them kept the peasant longbowmen and retainers of the nobility in check. Their strategy still involved great risk, but they continued seemingly uncaring for their losses as they mounted, especially amongst the unprotected ranks of their own longbowmen. While it lacked much in the way of either guile or elegance, their straightforward tactic to clear the way for a much larger assault at a later date, presumably upon the morrow once the sun once more afforded them visibility of the treacherous battlefield, was no less effective for its directness.

As much as the forces of the Empress had bloodied the Duke’s first assault upon the earth works, they had been spared the brunt of the impact from the enemy heavy infantry reaching their lines. Their survival was owed in large part upon the obstructions like the emplaced stakes that had kept them out of reach of the enemy halberds. Discharging their longbows or thrusting with what weapons they had to hand at point blank range, they had made the heavy infantry of the Duke’s army pay for every inch taken in pain and death as they clumsily clambered over the abattis. Without those obstructions, only the men at arms and knights kept in reserve by the local nobility would remain to push the enemy back, and they were far too few in number to accomplish any such feat alone. Their defensive line would surely crumble once their protections had been stripped.

Where the Duke’s men were aggressive, eagerly risking their lives to whittle down the city’s defenders and fortifications until none were left to impede their advance, the local nobility held a decidedly cautious approach. Whether the intent was to preserve what manpower they could to hold the earth works for a prolonged period of time and redeem the honor of the aristocracy in the eyes of the Empress, or if it was to ensure the survival of their men at arms so as to make mischief once they returned to the city, the effect was the same. They held their men back, refusing either attempts to sortie against the enemy camp or to make flanking attacks against their advancing ranks of their foe. While such tactics ceded the initiative wholly to the enemy, it also immunized the rather inexperienced peasantry to attempts to draw them out and ambush them, playing to the strength of their encampment in a fortified position.

Learning from the first attack, each time that the enemy infantry neared the peasant longbowmen, they would withdraw to a man only to be replaced by the eager, waiting blades of the knights and men at arms of the nobility. It was an effective means of preserving both the lives and strength of their men, and wreaked havoc amongst the heavy infantry of the Duke, protected as they were with clumsy pavaise. Oftentimes as soon as the two lines met in melee, the Duke’s men would retreat with haste, casting aside the great shields in their retreat.

More importantly than either of those things, however, at least for the aristocrats involved, was the fact that the nobility themselves never seemed to be in much of the way of danger thanks to these tactics. They remained lurking as they were in the rear echelons of the formations of their retainers. If their timidity had been the only factor taken into account upon the outcome of the assaults, then the Duke’s army would have lost nary a man even if they slew few in turn, but fortunately for the Empress’s men that was not the case.

Thankfully, by the time the enemy began advancing upon the earthworks for the second assault that day, the cannon emplaced upon Maegwyn’s curtain wall had been ready to fire. While not as effective against blocks of infantry in the damp and mud, as the great iron balls serving as their ammunition tended to embed themselves into the mire upon the first strike rather than bouncing to cause additional damage, as they were wont to do upon firmer ground, they still reaped death’s own harvest. Having spent the last month preparing for the siege and secreting dozens of ranging landmarks in the fields, they kept up an impeccably accurate rain of iron death upon the foe that made mockery of pavaise and armor alike. It was certain that whatever form of warfare the Duke’s army was experienced in, it was most decidedly not in conquering a fortress city armed with such a wealth of cannon. The cannon more than any other asset had stymied the Duke’s attempts to either dismantle the fortifications at leisure or to overwhelm the defenders in melee.

Of particular note amongst the ranks of the assembled nobility was Count Reginald Stern. Being a count he possessed the highest title of all those called to defend the city’s earth works, and accordingly the greatest quantity of either longbowmen or personal retainers. As a veteran of the civil war himself, he was well versed in the art of war and was more than eager to hold conferences with his fellow nobles as he instructed and advised them on how best to hold the earth works. For all of his useful service in the defense of the fortifications however, the particularly interesting thing about the good count, Nathaniel noted with cold calculation, was that it was not just himself that seemed reluctant to face combat, but that of his entire entourage.

While the rest of the nobility had shied away from the melee themselves, leaving it to their retainers and the more expendable peasantry, the Count had managed to politick to such efficacy among the nobles assembled for the earth works’ defense, that he and his men never even came near battle. Despite the Count possessing the largest of personal forces, they were seemingly always committed to battle last amongst all of the lords, as if reluctant to shed their blood in the name of the Empress. Particularly alarming, was how close they seemed to edge to the waiting defensive bulk of the outer city as if ready as an entire body to flee at a moment’s notice. For such an experienced veteran to avoid risking his own men even as he advised his fellows to better serve as his shields, must surely have possessed a keen sense of awareness.

That sense of perception, seemingly somehow knowing that the Lord Protector intended to use both him and his men as so much fodder to slow the advance of the Duke was admirable. It was a rare talent for cold-blooded acumen that had surely been a deciding factor in ensuring the count had survived the Empress’s purges with both his life and title intact. But his skill in political maneuvering could not be pardoned, Nathaniel could not allow such a clearly rebellious force to enter the capital at nearly full strength. No, they would have to die, to a man if at all possible.

With only three men of the Empress’s Shield to his name and surrounded upon all sides by men sworn to the nobility, the very thing he sought to castigate, immediate action was… inadvisable to say the least. Not if he was to retain his head at any rate, he would be a poor right hand to the Empress if he were so enfeebled after all. Aware as they were to avoid facing the enemy in battle, they would have to be dealt with through an act of betrayal it seemed. While he had steeled himself against the necessities of keeping the rebellious nobility in check, it was never an easy thing to toss away the lives of the very men he sought to protect from his high office as Lord Protector.

He clenched a mailed fist, pondering the necessary course of action. While most of the nobility had proven themselves of reasonable loyalty in the face of the enemy, and had accordingly suffered sufficient casualties per his plan to leave them so weakened that they could not resist the might of the Home Guard, the Count had not. His evident disloyalty aside, Nathaniel could never let an all but unbloodied army be the very first to abandon the earth works and flee to the city. The impacts to the morale of the Home Guard alone would be disastrous, let alone the mischief a wholly unchecked army in the hands of a renowned political maneuverer and veteran soldier could accomplish.

He walked calmly to one of the shelters, bearing the burning crown of the Empress overlaid with a ream of parchment upon its awning. It was the outpost of the imperial couriers at the earth works, ever waiting for urgent messages to be relayed to the rest of the city. While he was in a hurry, as time was of the essence, he could not afford to draw suspicion, not with the eyes of his targets ever alert and constantly surrounded by men of dubious loyalty. Thus, he walked, pressing in under the awning until he found a courier, a young lad of no more than seventeen. The youth was clearly surprised to see such a high ranking official, especially given how close to the enemy the earth works lay. Handing him a quickly penned and sealed letter, the wax of which was firmly pressed by the stamp of his office, he entreated the youth.

“Boy, this is urgent. Please deliver this to Captain Alderman of the Home Guard as quickly as you may.” With a serious expression upon his face, he pressed the letter into the surprised lad’s palm.

“Right away m’lord!” Quick on the uptake, well used to delivering such urgent missives in the city’s time of crisis, he got over his personal shock at encountering the second most powerful man in the Empire and set to his task with gusto.

As the messenger disappeared into the night, a sharp and questioning voice spoke up from his left. It was Andross, surprisingly having lifted the visor of his great helm so that his face was for once plainly visible, his eyes cocked in a mixture of confusion and suspicion. After doing precious little that day besides entering the melee himself, leaving the actual leadership of the Empress’s army to the nobility, he had suddenly sent an urgent message to a captain of the Home Guard. Not just any captain either, but that of the eighth captain of foot whom, in addition to acting as a conventional captain of the Home Guard’s eighth company, also served as the chief quartermaster of the entire city for the duration of the siege. While urgent requests were often made to him, they were typically made by individual unit commanders or captains to request resupply, not by a man that had expended not even one mote of ammunition in the day’s fighting, one that did not even command any present upon the field of battle save for his bodyguards. It was an extremely unusual action and, to Andross at least as one who was not only unquestioningly loyal to the Empress but also already suspicious of Nathaniel’s intentions, it was highly suspect.

“For what purpose have you need for such urgency with the chief quartermaster?” Suspicious, but willing to offer the benefit of the doubt to the Empress’s most trusted vassal, he firmly, but politely inquired upon his intentions.

“A simple matter of repositioning the supply train tonight. We must be ready for when the enemy comes upon the morrow after all. I have ordered the wagons to assemble within the vicinity of Count Stern’s encampment. I intend to have them positioned so that if the Count flees in the face of the enemy, he will find no avenue of escape.” Knowing that it would be pointless to conceal his purpose from the ever watchful eyes of his bodyguards, Nathaniel confessed his plans honestly.

“You would cut off their path of retreat? But that is the plan that you yourself devised for if the earthworks were to fall! If they cannot retreat, then they shall be caught by the enemy and slaughtered to a man. You intend to consign such a large body of men to pointless death? Are you mad?! The Empress demands the city to hold and you would throw away the lives of thousands of men, for what? All this day we have fought side by side with the men sworn to the nobility, bled with them, and succeeded in repelling the foe due to their courage, how could you abandon any of them?” Eyes aflame with both anger and scorn, Andross gazed with dire judgement back at Nathaniel’s composed face as he inched his hand towards his sword.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

For all of his zeal and loyalty to his sovereign, Andross was decidedly inept in the politics of the court. Neither particularly insightful nor perceptive, he was profoundly lacking in his ability to root out traitors. He was a soldier, a bodyguard willing to lay down his life upon a moment’s notice so that his charge may live. He was most emphatically neither general nor inquisitor, entirely ignorant of the art of subterfuge. Perhaps this weakness of his was grave, an unprecedented vulnerability within the safeguarding of the Empress, a task which demanded keen discernment and awareness at all times. But that very weakness seemed to play nicely into Nathaniel’s plans, as even as suspicious as Andross was of him, he would never have even dared to conceive of Nathaniel’s plan for betrayal. The plan that, even now under Andross’s very own vigil, wound its inexorable way forward towards completion.

“Have you not noticed? For a man from such a famed regiment of bodyguards as the Empress’s Shield, you are surprisingly lacking in your ability to detect threats. Every time the foe draws near, Count Stern’s men form up in that clearing yonder. It is so very far from the fighting that I wonder if he even intends to fight at all. I know that, at the very least, I have seen them engage in battle not once throughout the fighting of the day. Your outcry is misplaced, it is clear that he intends not to fight either alongside us or for the Empress.” Unable to resist, Nathaniel poked fun at the weakness he had found in the more impassioned man.

“Do you think yourself Emperor? You overstep your bounds, Lord Protector. It is to the Empress and to the Empress alone that lies the power to cast judgement upon the traitors of the Empire, this is not the dark days of the civil war. Furthermore, as she has made abundantly clear, she requires the lives of every man available to defend the city. She cannot even afford the waste of even one life, let alone that of thousands!” Red in the face from the disparagement, Andross harshly criticized Nathaniel’s initiative. However he lowered his hand down from his sheathed blade, content that whatever Nathaniel’s intentions, he was at least seemingly acting in the best interests of the Empress rather than his own in an overt act of betrayal.

“I would not dare to presume upon the Empress’s authority, but I will make one matter absolutely transparent. We are at war, likely one that will be as impactful as the civil war. I do not usurp the sovereign’s powers, I merely act within my capacity as the Lord Protector of the realm, wielding the powers that she herself bequeathed to me upon my assumption of the office. The capital is in dire straits, and as the chief commander of the city’s defenses I will brook no fomentation of rebellion upon the part of the nobility or any other within the city’s walls. I have responsibility over all men sheltering within the city’s defenses. Here, I am judge, jury, and executioner of all those that fail to uphold their oaths to the Empress in her time of need. I require neither oversight nor guidance from the Empress in carrying out my duties, no matter what you may have believed.” He emphasized his poignant words with emphatic taps with his metal clad fingers against Andross’s breastplate with every sentence.

He would not allow the dullard to get in his way. He acted solely in his official capacity as he signed the death warrants of thousands of men, for the good of both the city and the Empress. While he held a heavy heart as he considered the unnecessary waste of life of otherwise good men, he was resolute. None would be allowed to threaten the city’s unity in its time of crisis. Likewise, if he made Andross the fool when he was acting within his rights, then Andross was liable to be sufficiently cowed that he would overlook Nathaniel’s actions even when he was actually overstepping his authority.

“If the count is a traitor… surely we could arrest just him? Bring him to the Empress and have her cast judgement. His men are surely not all so guilty, even if their lord has conspired against the crown. We… can’t just uselessly cast aside the lives of so many able men, not when the city is so imperiled.” He retorted, his face flushed red, this time from the embarrassment of being caught ignorant of the powers of Nathaniel’s high office, his anger having faded in the face of impeccable logic.

Andross was clutching at straws to find a way to save these men, of such grave import as they were to the Empress’s plans. As Andross’s mind spun, he began overlooking the very reality of the situation out of sheer desperation. With the fate of the city growing more dubious with each passing day, how could he ignore the loss of so many potent soldiers? The Empress could not approve of such actions, not as desperate as she was herself to save the city. How could he not speak in their defense? Both in their capacity as bystanders innocent to the charges of treason Nathaniel lay against the Count and as the dependable soldiery necessary to ensure the city’s defense. Nathaniel seemed dead set on bypassing the sovereign entirely as he eroded the very tools with which she sought to defend the city. If he did not speak out for them then who would? Helpless and voiceless, they would be slaughtered without recourse while the enemy laughed.

“Have you not eyes you fool? Arrest the Count with what force? Taken together, we are but four men and Count’s band numbers in the thousands. If even ten of his retainers remained loyal to him in the face of his treason, we would be slaughtered! No, to arrest the Count we would need to marshal the Home Guard or the entirety of the Empress’s Shield. Doing so would invite disaster! No noble could bear to stand by and do nothing as we so openly move against one of their own. Chaos would reign and they would rebel against us, causing thousands more needless deaths as our men slaughtered one another with impunity. The Duke would not even need to make a final assault, he would come over the earthen embankments and find naught but the corpses of foolish men.” Clenching the bridge of his nose tightly between his fingers, Nathaniel tried to talk down Andross’s passion with his cold logic.

Of all things to be saddled with, the bodyguards from whom he could conceal no act just had to include an idealist. How Andross had survived the trials to become one of the Empress’s Shield with such a bleeding heart, he knew naught. They were supposed to be cold and inscrutable, loyal to none but the will of the Empress. From long years of acquaintance, he knew well that she was anything but warm and passionate. It was evident that the city folk were far from the only ones to soften after the close of the civil war if the Empress’s Shield itself had been so compromised.

“For what purpose did our people pay the price in blood to cast down the old regime, if this callous disregard of life has been allowed to fester within the ranks of command and shape every decision made, every order given? Did you not serve in the civil war yourself? Did you not bear witness to the countless horrors of the dead and dying, of youth sacrificed before they could grow to manhood, of thoughtless nobles sipping wine while the people they were charged to protect were put to the sword? Why would you willingly return us to such benighted days? Please, I beg of you, at least confer with the Empress before sending so many of the city’s defenders to such pointless deaths. If she were to approve of such a plan, although my heart may be pained, I would heed it without question.” Andross asked, almost pleading now, his eyes red with sorrow as he was forced to confront the almost evil calculations on the part of the Empire’s upper echelons.

“You misunderstand Andross. While I may have conceived of this particular ploy upon my own initiative, as is my right as Lord Protector, the Empress has agreed with every detail of the city’s defensive planning, down to the minutiae. It is not by my hand that we are returned to the times of yore, but by that of the Duke, and others of his ilk pining as they are for the petty power they had lost. The Empress has decided to match fire with fire, and in doing so grasped the opportunity to crush those that would take advantage of the Empire’s time of crisis. These men you see before you, that we have fought beside, and with whom we have valiantly defended this city until now, have always been intended to perish in battle. Sacrificial pawns, their near complete destruction as a fighting force whilst defending the earth works has long since been writ in stone, by the Empress’s own hand no less. It could be no other way, not with how she had reinstated the right of levy to that den of snakes. Even without such flagrant treason on the part of the Count, it had been arranged so that the survivors would be few enough in number to pose but little threat to either the Empress or city. With the treason of Count Stern, I have simply advanced the already existing preparations for their noble sacrifice falling in battle against the foe. Nathaniel solemnly corrected the misconceptions held by Andross regarding his sovereign’s ethics, or in this case, the lack thereof.

It was a wonder he had never held such qualms before, considering her regularly bloodthirsty and tyrannical acts, but perhaps he viewed her oppression and abuse of the nobility as somehow different from that of the peasantry. Andross audibly gulped as the reality set in, his mailed fist clenching tightly in impotent rage. As he reconsidered the situation, perhaps it was better that such a self righteous fool as Andross had been tasked with guarding him. He would stand to learn a great deal that may yet lift the naivete from his eyes and, most conveniently, he was placed far enough from the machinations of any real consequence to pose little threat.

If he had not been, the potential damage his idealism could have caused was enormous. It was a tragedy to be sure, but a necessary one for, if not the survival of the city, then at least that of the Empress and as many of her defenders as could be saved. Nathaniel could not allow anything to stand in the way of that end. Neither Andross’s idealism, nor the Empress’s inexperience, nor the petty sense of morality and ethics, the last vestiges of a better man, held deeply within himself. Sufficiently disciplined, Andross turned his head away, no longer willing to meet Nathaniel’s gaze while his values fought a war of annihilation within his heart.

Hours later, deep into the near pitch black night and long after the supply train had been positioned, Nathaniel’s predictions were once more found wanting. Creeping through the total darkness imposed by a waning moon so dimly lit it was as if it could not bring itself to bear witness to the events unfolding below, a troop of men snuck across the mucky field. Clad head to foot in fully plated armor emblazoned with dozens of intricate designs and crests unique to every man, they were not the yeomen of the day’s prior attack, but full knights sworn by both oath and honor to the Duke.

They were eerily silent as they marched, their armor not eliciting even a faint clinking as they walked no matter the grinding movement of the articulated plate, as if enshrouded in a cloud of silence. Making swift progress they walked across the field, somehow unimpeded by its thick layer of muck, their armor maintaining a reflective sheen unsullied by the earth even as they strode across the mire. Bearing no torches, they passed unseen by the sentries posted around the earth works, relying solely upon the distant light of their opponent’s campfires to guide their way. Only after entering within fifty paces of the earth works did they cease their silent march, breaking into a sprinting charge that saw them quickly reach and dispatch the camp’s sentries before they could even draw a blade. But, with the sharp and terrified cries of men caught unawares and butchered, their voices cut into feeble gurgles as they fell, the men encamped at the earth works were alerted.

Screams soon filled the air as the Duke’s knightly host swept down upon the unsuspecting peasant levy. Having been caught entirely unawares, unarmored, and sleeping or relaxed by roaring fires, and entirely exhausted by the ceaseless combat of the day, what proceeded was no battle. To call it a battle would be to imply that both sides held at least some slim sliver of hope for victory. To call what happened a battle would be gross mockery of the fallen. No, what had transpired was merely slaughter, a great butchery as the city’s defenders were cut down with no more resistance than lambs herded into an abattoir. Everywhere sleeping men were ruthlessly stabbed within their tents, torches taken from the blazing fires thrown onto the shelters of the unsuspecting, or even the few men awake and in arms distance of their weapons being overcome in a sea of malevolent, blood spattered steel. With a meager force of only a few hundred knights, the sprawling encampments of conscripted peasants erected around the earth works had been reduced to a scene of barren desolation, one where everywhere walked the specter of death.

In between the ruthless eyes concealed behind opaque helms of the Dukes Knights and the flaming scene of destruction and death ran the survivors. Screaming in a mixture of fear, pain, and anger, everywhere they ran, trying to flee, scrambling for weapons, or desperately attempting to form up into organized bands of resistance. But even the latter would not save them as they were no match for the experienced and disciplined knights, outfitted as they were in their panoply of war, especially not as exhausted as the peasants were from the day’s fighting. The more quick witted of the levy’s sergeants gathered all of the men that they could muster before affecting a quick retreat back to the outer city. It had long been the plan to retreat within its maze like depths, and while they would likely lose the vast majority of the earth works’ defenders, they could still save some few, lucky souls. They were fortunate, as the Duke’s knights cared naught for chasing a mere handful of survivors when the majority of their grim harvest lay before them, ready to be reaped.

Nathaniel and his bodyguards stood in mute horror at the carnage unfolding before their very eyes. What a disaster! Twice now he had underestimated the aggressive tactics of the Duke, each time to his great sorrow. This had been the attack that the near endless waves of yeomen infantry had paved the way for, and this had been why the Dule’s knights and men at arms had been so conspicuously absent from the day’s assaults. But how had they drawn so near? The heavy steel favored by knights steeped in the old ways was not quiet, they should have been heard by the sentries while hundreds of paces distant. Nor was it light, by the time they had slogged their way through the thousands of corpses strew about upon the field and through the inches deep quagmire turned to near liquid by the marching, fighting, and dying of well over ten thousand men, they should have been as exhausted as the Empress’s men. Yet here they were! Hale and hearty and not a moment’s respite did they require as they rent and cleaved their way through the peasantry.

For his own part and that of his bodyguards, they were already dressed in their armor, ever vigilant not only of the hidden blades of their foe, but of that of their allies as well. It was a fortuitous circumstance that very well may have saved their lives that day. Donning armor as intricate and heavy as that popular in Albion during the days of the civil war was a rather involved affair, and would take a great deal of precious time in the face of a determined enemy bent upon their slaughter. Even if they had abandoned their armor, they could have been caught as they fled and easily cut down as unprotected as they were without its enveloping steel plates.

“The battle is lost, there is nothing we can do here. We must make for the outer city at once before the foe catches up to us.” With an appraising eye, Nathaniel quickly deduced the dire straits of the city’s defenses and ordered a withdrawal. His three bodyguards all nodded their heads in silent assent. Not even the ever interjecting Andross could bring himself to criticize as he gazed upon the terrible scene before him. There would be no salvaging of a hopeless battle so far gone, all they could do was retreat and regroup to be prepared to fight on at another time.

The four men had encamped for the night far beyond the bounds of the peasant’s camps, not far from the outer city. Thankfully that meant that they had some time to pack their belongings before the Duke’s marauding knights would be upon them. It was truly a blessing given the several very sensitive reports detailing the city’s defenses that were secured within Nathaniel’s luggage. The forces of the Empress may have failed to hold the earth works for even a single day against the determined forces of the Duke, but he did not intend for the other layers of the city’s defenses to fall with such ease. Learning from his mistaken assumptions regarding the Duke’s strategy and leading a more trained and well equipped force than the peasant levy, he hoped to hold for some days yet in the rest of the city. To that end, retaining such important documents far from the eyes of the Duke’s men was crucial, or he may yet have been forced to abandon the rest of the city with as much swiftness as the Duke had taken the earth works.

He glanced westward, to where Count Stern’s men were encamped. They were positioned far from the edge of the earth works, far enough to be spared the brunt of the Knights’ assault. The camp was also quick to rouse it would seem, possessing a greater number of awakened men, several even already donning their armor. A testament both to the count’s military experience and the fact his men were relatively fresh, having been so conspicuously absent from the day’s previous fighting, he supposed. As he continued to observe, he sighted the count himself, already donning a suit of battle scarred armor as he surrounded himself with a few retainers. Was this the start of some noble stand? The Duke’s knights were few, and while they had reaped a grisly harvest, they had done so through surprise and superior skill. If they met with the mustered might of Count Stern’s fresh troops, could they still manage to overrun them?

Keen on learning of the outcome of such a battle, both of his foes seemingly intent on destroying the other, he observed with interest as he packed. While the Count’s men were still madly scrabbling to help each other don what armor they could, the Count himself seemed in conference with his retainers. He must have been angry as, even from a distance, Nathaniel could see the Count’s arms gesticulating wildly. He must have discovered the wagons impeding his retreat, Nathaniel mused. With no where left to run, what would the Count do?

The next few minutes stretched by slowly as the Duke’s knights came nearer and nearer to the Count’s camp. A nervous ripple erupted within the ranks of the Count’s peasants. It seems that while avoiding battle may have allowed them to retain their strength over the course of the day, it had done little to benefit their courage. Suddenly a volley of arrows were loosed targeting the rampaging knights. It was all for naught, as but few of the heavily armored men were even injured, let alone slain, and the rest had been alerted to the presence of a seemingly organized branch of the Empress’s thoroughly decimated army.

With haste did the Duke’s knights charge against the Count’s lines, the longbowmen finding their missiles all but useless and attempting to switch to lighter weapons only to find their lack of personal skill insufficient to pose much threat to men born to the melee. While the Count’s retainers stepped in as the longbowmen started to rout in panic, they did not possess the numbers to significantly delay the hundreds of knights that had begun arriving to the scene of battle. Soon the entire force was routed, all involved fleeing towards the outer city. Less than one hundred of the Duke’s knights lay slain upon the remains of the Count’s encampment, despite both his personal experience as a veteran warrior and the refreshed state of his men.

Nathaniel turned his gaze to where he had sighted the Count not long ago. Had he gone down nobly in the fighting? Despite his clear intentions for treachery, he was a veteran of the civil war and it was not inconceivable that he decided to die alongside his ambitions as his men were slaughtered before his eyes. If he had done so, Nathaniel would even have posthumously forgiven his treachery. A very generous offer from one such as he. But it was not to be, casting his gaze closer to the city, beyond the wall of wagons, he sighted the Count making off to the north, albeit making slow progress set back by both his armor and the retainers of his that had clearly taken some wounds in the previous fighting. Although it seemed the Count himself remained unharmed. It would seem that the good Count was quick to cut and run as the Duke’s men approached his position, even leaving what few men he still had to their miserable fate. Now that would just not do, he thought to himself with an evil grin.