Chapter 620: eptance


    Chapter 620: eptance


    (The Next Morning: The Baron at the Gates of Briarhelm)


    Next morning, as the sun barely rose over the horizon, Baron Gregor and his forces arrived at the gates of Briarhelm.


    The early morning mist clung to the ground, but even through the haze, something felt unmistakably wrong.


    The familiar white and blue banner of Duke Victor, which had always flown proudly over the city’s walls, was now gone, and in its ce, a deep crimson g fluttered in the morning breeze, marked with the sigil of The Uprising.


    “What in the red hell is that?” Gregor muttered, as he could feel his stomach turn inside out.


    The red g over the city gates could only mean one thing, and that oue made Gregor feel uneasy to his core.


    Nheless, hoping that maybe the fight had still not concluded, Gregor rode his horse towards the entrance, only to be stopped by an arrownding in front of him.


    *Shud* “Halt!” Amanding voice rang out from atop the city walls, as rebel soldiers, fully armed and lined along the battlements of the city walls, watched as Gregor and his men approached.


    “What is the meaning of this?” Baron Gregor demanded as he urged his horse forward, ring at the soldiers above.


    “I am Baron Gregor of the Daveg Barony, summoned by Duke Victor himself to defend this city from rebellion! I demand entry at once!” Gregor said, his voice unyielding, as he put on a show of bravery.


    Nheless, his words were for naught, as out came Captain Hal, whopletely disregarded the Baron as nothing more than a peasant.


    “Briarhelm is no longer under Duke Victor’s control, Baron. The Duke is dead, and the city along with the rest of Eastern Duchy now belongs to Lord Boss.


    You have two choices: surrender your forces and swear fealty to our lord, or be annihted.” Hal said, as his words caused shivers to run down Gregor’s spine.


    “The Duke… dead? And the new lord is Baron Boss?” He asked, as he could almost not make sense of the situation.


    The very idea that Briarhelm, the seat of the Duchy’s power, had fallen to rebels overnight was unthinkable, however, to think that a noble had joined hands with the rebels was even worse.


    “WELL IF YOUR LORD KILLED THE DUKE THEN YOUR LORD IS NOTHING MORE THAN A TRAITOR!” Gregor spat, his voiceced with fury.


    “This rebellion will be crushed, and I will see everyst one of you strung up for your crimes! I swear it on my honor as a noble of the Eastern Duchy!” Gregor promised, as responding to his threat, Hal immediately ordered all his men to load their bows.


    “If that’s your choice, Baron, then so be it. But know this— if you insult Lord Boss before me again, I’ll personally ride out of here and hack your body into a dozen pieces….. this is yourst warning” Hal said, as he signaled for his men to hold their fire for now.


    Gregor’s anger surged, but he understood the gravity of the situation…. With Briarhelm already under rebel control, he did not have enough men for a seige, while a frontal assault was straight up suicidal.


    He had no option but to turn away, which is exactly what he did, as turning to his men, he issued swift orders to retreat.


    “We will not surrender to traitors,” he hissed under his breath. “But I will rally the other nobles. This fight is far from over.”


    With one final nce at the red g, Gregor spurred his horse and led his troops away from the gates of Briarhelm, a burning resolve building in his chest.


    He had to warn the other lords—before the entire East was swallowed by rebellion, s little did he know that Briarhelm was not the only city to have fallen.


    *******


    (Meanwhile Inside Briarhelm)


    As the sun climbed higher, the streets of Briarhelm slowly began to stir. But instead of the usual hustle and bustle of the city, a heavy stillness clung to the air.


    The people of Briarhelm awoke to a city that felt eerily different—its familiar routines disrupted, its heart stilled by an uneasy quiet.


    News of the Duke’s death spread like wildfire. Whispers of his assassination, of the rebellion’s swift takeover, echoed in every alley and corner of the city.


    People gathered in small clusters, their faces pale with disbelief, as they struggled toprehend the enormity of what had just transpired.


    “We’re trapped,” a middle-aged man muttered, staring up at the closed city gates. “They’ve locked us in.”


    “Do you think it’s true?” a woman beside him whispered. “About the Duke? That he’s… gone?”


    A teenage boy, barely old enough to be called a man, nodded grimly. “It’s true. The rebels control everything now. My uncle said they marched the Duke’s old guard through the streetsst night, and those who refused to swear fealty were… executed.”


    The woman’s eyes widened in horror. “But what will happen to us? Our city… our homes…?”


    As fear and confusion rippled through the people, the rebels began spreading their message. In every square, on every corner, rebel soldiers stood atop crates and wagons, proiming their cause with loud, confident voices.


    “The Duke was corrupt!” one soldier shouted to a growing crowd. “For years, he taxed you into poverty, sending your hard-earned gold to the Empire while you suffered! He cared nothing for your welfare—only for his own wealth and power!”


    The people listened, their expressions a mixture of uncertainty and anger.


    “But we, the Uprising, fight for you!” the soldier continued, his voice ringing with conviction. “We fight to free you from the chains of the Empire! Under the Duke, you were nothing but pawns in a game of noble greed. But under our rule, you will have a voice, a chance to thrive. No more corruption, no more endless wars for the Empire’s glory. This city will belong to its people!”


    For many, the message resonated. They had lived under Duke Victor’s heavy hand for years, and while they had grown used to his rule, it had never been kind. The promise of a new life, free from oppression, was tempting.


    Yet, others were less convinced. A group of older men huddled near a market stall, their faces etched with distrust.


    “They’re no better than the Duke,” one of them muttered. “They’ll say whatever they need to gain our trust, but mark my words—once they have power, they’ll be just as corrupt.”


    “We don’t know that,” another replied, his voice quieter. “Perhaps… perhaps things really will change. They say that it’s Baron Boss who is the new rebel leader, and his tale of bringing prosperity to Crest-Hill Barony is legendary. If he’s the ruler, perhaps…. Perhaps there is hope”


    “Baron Boss is a fighter not a ruler…. He’s an assassin like his master Ben Faulkner, and knows nothing on how to rule” A third said, as not everyone felt convinced that Leo could be a kind ruler to them.


    Nheless, as the day wore on, the new reality slowly began to sink in for the NPC’s and yers of Briarhelm.


    The Duke was dead and the regime change wasplete. All they could do now was pray that the new rule would be better than the old one.