Ingo seemed to be the one in command as he advanced confidently, holding a scroll and opening it with a dramatic gesture, gazing up at our tower.

Then, he began to shout:

“Kent of Riverhold, Count of Achenia in the Kingdom of Alabenia. You stand accused of treason and conspiracy, as well as five counts of murder of commissioned city guards, in collusion with the Elves of the Verdant Court. We demand your surrender, where the local city inquisitors will take your confession, and the immediate handing of all properties and estates under your rule to the corresponding authority. Other charges include harboring elements opposing the kingdom, including any individuals belonging to the Elven race and any Northern barbarian.”

I looked at him. The part about taking confessions and the inquisitor in the same sentence didn’t sound right at all.

“Fools,” Kent hissed, looking down. They expected him to give a response. We had sketched a conversation to stall them and gauge their reaction. He cleared his throat and moved toward the edge of the battlement. Then, he began shouting.

“A lie,” Kent raised his right hand to the side. “I swear it upon Aria and upon the coat of arms of this kingdom. I swear it even for my honored father, my ancestors, and by the Goddess of Light. I haven’t harbored any enemies of the state and have not conspired against the rightful rulers of this kingdom. All I have done has been for the good of this kingdom. So now, I say to you all, stop this travesty at once. Ingo, Waldemar. If you desire to speak to me and have an honest conversation, come with me, one of you at a time. There’s much to show you, as friends and allies.”

His words caused one reaction, and it was a wave of laughter that spread through Ingo’s ranks.

“Waldemar,” Kent exclaimed. “You know my character. You know my interest has never been in gain or corruption. I only want to protect this kingdom and serve my people.”

I used the grid to focus on Waldemar. His expression didn’t betray an ounce of emotion. Maybe I was wrong; he looked pissed, if anything.

Ingo’s voice echoed in reply.

“Deny that you’re a conspirator. Deny that you’re harboring elves and barbarians. You won’t, will you?”

And now, Kent had much to lose, but he’d agreed to gamble. There was no other option now.

“It’s quite late to call out a conspiracy, isn’t it? I am loyal to my king. But what you did to our royal family was an unspeakable crime. Treason and conspiracy are better described to you.”

Ingo’s brow dropped in anger. “I won’t stand by and hear this nonsense.”

Kent’s voice echoed louder. “I only wonder what happened to our beloved king and his sister. I corroborated it with my witnesses, and no one saw them die. They saw them getting attacked and body-bagged by your guards. Then, they were never seen again.”

Ingo chuckled.

“Stop spewing nonsense, you liar. Everyone knows, and all the lords can witness that there was a funeral held for His Majesty. You are only lying to confuse us. But we know the truth. If you have nothing to hide, come down.”

“Nothing to hide, but you’ll have me crucified and tortured to give the witness that you want. No, Ingo, I will not play your games. I will not flee. No, I will kill any of your men that attempt to break into my home. If you want me, come and find me yourself. If you can.”

The moment Kent’s defiant words echoed across the field, the tension in the air solidified like a wall.

Ingo took a step forward, clutching the scroll like a weapon.

“This is your final chance, Kent,” Ingo snarled, his voice sharp and venomous. “You think your walls can protect you from the wrath of our King? You’ve signed your own death warrant. And I’ll execute it. I will enjoy the process.”

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Kent, standing tall on the battlements, raised his fist to the air. “If the wrath of the kingdom is represented by a pompous liar, then so be it. I’ll meet it head-on.”

Waldemar, still mounted and flanked by his banner men, remained impassive. If Ingo noticed, he gave no sign, his attention focused solely on Kent and the castle.

“Break it down!” Ingo shouted, spinning to face his soldiers. “Bring the ram forward! Let’s end this farce!”

The siege engine began its slow advance, a massive wooden construct studded with iron and pushed by sweating, armored soldiers. They’d have to cross the creek first, for which they brought forth a large detachable bridge. Behind it, Ingo’s forces cheered, jeering at the castle defenders. A chant rose, a drumbeat of impending violence, as the ram’s wheels groaned against the uneven ground.

We were still working on the traps around the door, but we could stall them for a moment longer.

Malor had just finished his part of my plan. He’d written a message, and it’d be the first arrow to be shot from our side. He’d pass it to Lariel, and she had gotten ready to shoot it with an arrow.

It took only a minute when I received her reply.

LARIEL: It’s done. Ingo didn’t notice.

CONNOR: Great. Now, pray that it works.

I took a look around and accessed the group chat again, this time, getting everyone involved and ready.

CONNOR: Alright friends. Alynna, Lariel, Nidar, Vinara up there. Got a good position? We’re gonna begin. You know what to do.

ALYNNA: Extremely ready!

LARIEL: Let’s begin.

Ingo was lucky to hide behind his troops as they lifted their round shields to the sky in expectation.

Too bad for them. They had expected a mere volley of loose arrows aiming at random spots, lucky shots. What they’d get instead was an ambush by perfect archery demons.

And oh, they suffered. Precise elven arrows came down like directed lightning, the first stabbing through the heel of one of the soldiers, nailing it to the ground. Another came straight through, brushing past a shield and piercing right through the neck of another.

Ingo’s and Vanor’s men started pouring into the creek and began to swim, making way for their bridge engine. Naturally, not all of them could, and once they were tempted to walk on the river, they found the spikes underneath. It looked painful.

They splashed, finding themselves caught in the traps built into the castle. Spikes hidden beneath the murky water bit into legs and feet, tearing through boots and flesh alike. Cries of pain rippled through the advancing soldiers as they flailed, some attempting to retreat, others pressing forward in desperation.

The mobile bridge creaked as its wheels hit the uneven ground near the creek. The soldiers tasked with operating it strained, pulling at the ropes to angle it into place. The defenders on the parapets held their breath. Connor gave a curt nod to Vinara.

"Fire," he commanded.

The elven brunette nocked a special arrow, its head wrapped in cloth and soaked in that Bazanian oily concoction. She pressed it into a broken lantern set among the battlements, its tip burning bright. It caught fire. She aimed, and it soared through the air, arcing perfectly to strike the base of the bridge. Flames licked at the structure, quickly engulfing the ropes. The soldiers pushing the bridge recoiled in horror as the fire spread, charring wood and searing exposed flesh. Some leapt into the creek and naturally got nasty wounds.

Ingo, who had been standing just behind his frontlines, shouted furiously, “Put it out! Pour water on it, now!”

His men scrambled to obey, hauling buckets from the creek, but it was too late. The ropes snapped, and the angled bridge toppled into the water with a resounding splash, sinking beneath the surface. The soldiers who had already ventured into the creek, desperate to cross, were now trapped with no way forward and no easy retreat.

Arrows kept raining down on them. It was hard to keep a kill count, but if we killed a hundred, we’d have done enough damage to demoralize the enemy. These guards were supposed to be a security force with little battle experience. No army would stand by and take losses like that, no matter how outnumbered.

Behind the parapet, Kent allowed himself a rare smile as he watched the enemy falter. He turned to Connor. “Well done, tactician! These walls have never seen battle, but this is what they’ve been built for!”

I nodded, my gaze lingering toward Waldemar’s camp; I could see the big man discussing something with his knights.

“I can only pray,” Kent added, his gaze facing Waldemar, all of them standing guard. I could already see Ingo personally riding toward him, flanked by knights. He’d pressure him to join the charge.

I grinned. “I’m hearing them. I think they didn’t come to fight. They thought you’d give up, and they’re losing patience. Aside from Ingo, I think the men didn’t expect to lose any men, much less a bridge. And Waldemar… if we can give him the right push...”

Kent joined him, his brow furrowed. “How?”

I cleared my throat. “I have set something in motion. You’ll see. Kent,” I asked, “does Waldemar know of the back entrance?”

“No,” Kent replied. “I doubt they’d consider coming through the mountains unless they’re sure that the siege is gonna take long. They might change plans.”

“Tactician! Look over there!” exclaimed Vinara, pointing at the far edge of Ingo’s camp. Something was pulled out from a massive carriage. A large device with wooden attachments was released and set on the grass.

How cute. They had a catapult of their own.

Oh, shit.

They had two.