<u>Chapter 47 - Another Scheme</u>


    "The towers are retreating early today," Rask said, huffing, sword dripping red. He cleaned it with a rag and sheathed the blade. Unlike Kalin, he frequently took part in repelling the Empire''s armies that constantly sought to gain a foothold on the walls using their ladders and siege towers. Parts of the stone parapets were cracking from having siege towers drop their heavy gangplanks onto them.


    Kalin nodded, watching Tarmian soldiers retreat while pulling back their towers. Xenarians continued to pepper them with arrows, but Tarmia had a proper guard holding up thick and wide shields for the occasion. They accompanied the hundreds that were required to pull and push the towers each morning and evening. Each time saw dozens fall to arrows as not everyone could be protected. Normally, holding walls when footholds were created for the attacking side was a difficult maneuver, but the garrison''s better trained forces had prevailed thus far. If this continued, then the defenders would chip away at the Empire''s forces until a sizeable difference had been created.


    "Perhaps they retire to an early rest," Kalin said, keeping a solemn expression, though eager to head inside. Dusk approached and temperatures were dropping. The wall''s defenders were eager to retire as well and change shifts with a fresh batch of well rested men.


    "Mm," Rask agreed, interlocking his fingers and stretching his arms out before him. "The weather has to be getting to them for them to start seeking early rests. Kazir chose a losing battle this time."


    Kalin snorted. "Hasn''t he always chosen losing battles when facing me?" Some of the surrounding soldiers laughed at the remark. Their drained eyes glowed with hints of satisfaction. They stared at their lord, pride on their lips though breathing hard and leaning against their spears. A brief flame just like the sky at sunset. Kalin rewarded them with a praising grin of his own, making sure everyone around him saw it. He was proud of them too. "Go all of you. Eat and sleep. You will be on these walls again at dawn."


    "Salute!" Rask bellowed. All who heard him pressed a fist to their heart in unison while yelling a short cry.


    Kalin clapped the nearest men on their backs as he toured the walls. He hadn''t drawn his sword once to fight during the long month that had already passed. He instead kept a watchful eye over everything from a vantage point within the castle, giving out orders when thinking them needed and only showing himself at the day''s end to praise those who''d fought, fanning the flames of loyalty burning in their hearts. Fighting would not be required of him unless morale began dropping.


    Tarmia didn''t always attack during daylight hours. Sometimes, their supreme commander ordered night assaults too, likely prodding and seeking a weakness as Kazir often did. He checked to see if the garrison had grown complacent or still remained vigilant at all hours. Though night assaults were always half-hearted. Just hundreds of men following commands, trying to put up ladders and gain a foothold when siege towers had failed to win them that.


    The maneuver would seem pointless to the average soldier in the Empire''s camp, but a drawn out siege was more about mental warfare. Prodding attacks at all times kept Xenarian soldiers on edge. Even with how well disciplined Kalin''s army was, he had no doubt that some among his soldiers struggled to sleep at night with screams and clamouring of a battle still raging. Kalin too, after all, had struggled to find long rests, wondering while lying awake about whether his officers were handling things well in his stead. Especially since that blunder on the first night of the siege.


    "Lord Serene!" soldiers above the gate called. "Kazir is coming again."


    Kalin frowned. He rested his arms on stone and peered out at the fields. Sure enough, a rider with a bare torso was slowly pulling up towards the fortress, waves of his own soldiers marching past him. As he drew near, the length of silk black hair around his neck confirmed him as Kazir. A black spot was on his abdomen where the scorpion tattoo of Wickar assassins were.


    "Er, L-Lord Serene," an officer stammered, making his way toward Kalin. He had a spyglass in hand and his arm was shaking. He held out the glass and Kalin took it, holding it up to his eye to better inspect the approaching assassin.


    Kalin''s breath caught. His limbs went rigid. His muscles felt heavy. And his heart pounded. He knew this feeling, but it had been years since he''d last felt it. Chills crawled along his skin. Chills from cold sweat, enhanced by a harsh winter wind.


    Fear.


    Kazir didn''t do things without purpose. He paused a safe distance from the walls, somehow judging what distance was safe despite being blind. Xenarian soldiers on the front wall muttered as they stared at the enemy commander. Those manning ballistae began loading them again.


    Kalin, spyglass still held up, couldn''t look away. Kazir''s left arm muscles bulged, veins showing along them. His left hand was curled around the haft of a spear. And at the top of the spear was the body of a woman skewered through the back and through the bottom of her jaw, tip protruding from the top of the head. The face was battered, barely recognizable. The skin was pale as if left out bare in this weather, but there was a clear olive tint that could be recognized as a dying sun shone on it clear, dried blood down the front of the naked corpse reflecting its light.


    Kalin''s arm trembled as it slowly came down. He wanted to puke, but the hammering in his chest was the only part of his body that seemed to be functioning. His gaze was still glued to the woman —to the girl on the pike.


    "How is it?" Kazir bellowed, his voice somehow carrying clearly despite the distance he sat at. "How is it seeing your beloved daughter again? It took a lot of effort to drag this corpse back from western Xenaria. You were missing her, weren''t you? So I''ve returned her now." Kazir planted the spear into the ground. "Stare at your precious Elizia all you want, Kalin Serene. She won''t go anywhere. I promise."


    And then he turned and rode off.


    A harsh breeze pressed against the tears rolling down Kalin''s cheeks.


    No.


    This was just another one of Kazir''s ploys. Just a scheme as was usual with him. But the girl''s height and skin… the body seemed fairly toned too. Kalin''s lips parted wide. His mind went blank. He was barely aware of breathing in through the opening. His screaming voice tore into the burning sky. Every soldier near him stared his way, all of them silent, all of them shattered.


    They awaited orders. Awaited them while silently crying themselves.


    Kalin stormed past them and skipped down the steps of the wall. He stalked towards the gate, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Open the gates. Now!" he shrieked. Rask was right there, face stern but tears caught at the beginnings of his beard. He didn''t fall in line behind Kalin, but rather stood in his way. "Move!" Kalin cried. "It''s an order!"


    Rask placed a firm hand on Kalin''s chest. Angered, Kalin swatted the hand aside, and shoved his General with all his might. Rask stumbled back, but he recovered quick and shoved back harder. "Lord Serene, calm yourself," the larger man said.


    "I won''t ask again, Jengard. Don''t stand in my way." Kalin spread his feet apart and slowly drew his sword. Many soldiers had gathered around them now, muttering. "I have to go. I have to go end this now and kill him. I…" a stone weight in his throat blocked out any further words. "I have to bring her back," he finally croaked. "I have to see with my own eyes."


    Rask''s gaze flickered to Kalin''s weapon, contemplating hand around the hilt of his undrawn blade. "It''s just a ploy, my lord," he said with a shaky voice. He obviously didn''t fully believe his own words. "He wants to anger you. Anger us. He''s just messing with our minds right now. That could be any woman up there."


    "It could be the corpse of my baby girl!" Kalin shrieked. "Left out for crows rather than buried!"


    "Do you truly believe that? Even if you were to storm out there, even if we were to accompany you, there''s no doubt that a trap awaits us. Just a ploy, Kalin. Just a ploy."


    "It was just a ploy when he poisoned Sar''tara too! Just a ploy to get back at me. How… how is this any different? You expect me to stand firm and in denial while that corpse remains there and the siege continues?" Kalin took a ready stance. "Move, Rask. Please." He smeared his tears across his cheeks.


    Rask nodded to the men behind Kalin and they swiftly restrained him. He roared and struggled but his blade was taken and he soon stopped, strength drained. "Take him away to rest," Rask ordered. "Deploy double the soldiers on the walls tonight. Kazir won''t just stab our morale and leave us to wrap the wound. He''ll come to tear at it further. Do not let his schemes dishearten you! That is not our Second Princess. Elizia is somewhere far to the west, safe and fighting hard for Xenaria. She''ll be expecting the same effort from all of you. Salute!"


    The men cried in unison as they saluted. But it was different than the one they''d given Kalin moments earlier on the wall. Their movements weren''t crisp. Their voices weren''t strong.


    Shadow fell upon the fortress as the sun dipped below the horizon.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ***


    Emeria huffed as she dusted off her rear with one hand and sheathed her thin blade with the other. She untied her hair and let it rest over one shoulder, fanning at her damp neck with little success. It was still possible to work up a sweat when training inside the walls despite the winter weather.


    "Had enough for the day, your highness?" a thick armed knight mocked, smiling innocently. He had a thin layer of brown hair almost like a scrap of cloth placed atop his head, and a scar running across his nose that almost seemed like a pair of frowning lips. He was fully armored, humoring Emeria''s request to fight realistically in the event the need arose. So far it hadn''t, luckily.


    "I will remind you, Sir L''Faleur, that mocking royalty is punishable by various degrees depending on the severity of the insults. And I''m the one that decides the severity," Emeria said.


    "It was a genuine question, princess," Irus L''Faleur continued in a mocking tone.


    Emeria scowled but said nothing more. Strange how she''d grown accustomed to living under siege. Sheltered and pampered as normal while people outside fought during day and sometimes night. Every day, she passed by soldiers who took rotating positions atop the walls. Every day, they greeted her with enthusiasm. Some of them ended up in the infirmary. She visited them as it only felt the right thing to do. But even when injured, they never seemed grim faced or hard pressed as they had on that first day of the siege. Sure they looked a little worn and starved as the days went by, but nothing severe. Things seemed to be going as Duke Serene planned.


    Emeria squatted down and stretched her legs one at a time. She was spared every luxury the castle had to offer, from baths to books to time in the training rooms. That last one might not have appealed to most girls her age, but it was where she''d been spending most of her time since the siege began over a month ago.


    Her stomach growled.


    Almost every luxury, she thought. Even she had to eat reduced portions to save food. Not to mention most food consisted only of porridge with dried meat chunks mixed in. She was sure she could ask for more and the cooks of the garrison would be more than willing to serve, but Emeria wasn''t so insensitive. It wasn''t right for her to indulge when her subjects suffered.


    The dull ache of hunger gnawed at her belly and she —very briefly— reconsidered that opinion. "I''m going to the mess hall," she told Irus, who nodded and waved over uniformed Queen''s Guard on standby to follow after her. Irus was now the head of the two dozen knights in charge of her protection. Emeria hoped Sir Draumen was well and returned soon after finding out the truth of his family.


    "Will we be doing the same training tomorrow then, your highness?" Irus asked as he walked to the arms rack and placed two heavy shields —thick iron blocks really— down next to a set.


    Training he called it. She''d asked for something realistic, wanting to be prepared for the worst. The castle wouldn''t fall, Emeria was sure of it. Not so long as men like Lord Serene and General Rask still defended it. But she''d never been in a real fight, and wanted to know she had the confidence to last in one rather than succumb to fear as she had when imagining what a real fight looked like. Irus, on the other hand, thought she was playing around. He sparred against her without weapons, using his thick arms to hold up twin shields instead, knowing full well her thin blade could do nothing against them.


    Almost nothing, she smirked. She''d managed to poke into the space between his pauldron and breastplate today. Tomorrow, she''d show him how much she''d managed to adapt to his silly tactic and maybe get him to take her more seriously. "Yes, we''ll continue tomorrow," she answered. Irus sighed as if annoyed. "Am I boring you, Sir L''Faleur? Do you believe that I shouldn''t be swinging around a sword? I will remind you that your position as the head of my Guard is only temporary until Sir Draumen''s return."


    Irus shook his head. "No such thing, princess. You think I''ve been playing when I have not. You''re the one that seems annoyed with me rather than the opposite."


    Emeria flinched at the reverse accusation. Her temper flared and her frown deepened. "You think I''m annoyed when all I''ve been asking is for a serious fight? I can beat the soldiers in a duel, but to fight against armored opponents with our lives at risk is a whole different beast. I don''t want to cower in fear if I''m ever placed in such a position."


    "The day you are placed in such a position, your highness, is the day we''ll all have failed. But yes, having the skills to defend yourself is not a bad thing. However, you''re going about this wrong. A fight is not just about killing. What do you feel when you stare at me towering over you whilst holding two giant shields."


    "Annoyed!" she snapped. She flushed as she realized she''d just admitted to annoyance. Irus crossed his arms and cocked his head as if seeking more of an answer. Emeria ground her teeth. "And frustrated," she grumbled.


    "And in your frustration, you are robbed of your delicate movements that I''ve seen many a time within your duels. You do not think with a level head. You know you have no threat to your life since I wouldn''t harm you, so you come again and again with reckless charges."


    "I managed to score a hit to your shoulder!" Emeria protested.


    "A light poke that I barely felt on my mail shirt," Irus said.


    "And how exactly are you supposed to kill me with shields?" she tried, crossing her own arms.


    "I could force you down and pulverize you beneath my boot. I could slam it into you and render you incapacitated. Or, I could stand there, letting your frustration grow, and just let my allies kill you while you try and figure a way to get past me."


    "Allies? What all— oh." All of Emeria''s anger drained away and was replaced by embarrassment. She''d been asking for a realistic fight without considering how a realistic fight would play out.


    Consider every possibility. Every scenario. Prepare on your own assumptions. But be wary when acting on an assumption perceived of the enemy. More words from that infuriating journal she had at her bedside.


    "On the battlefield," Irus said, "when required to hold the lines, thick shields and spears are best. There isn''t much killing happening if both sides are well trained, but the battle is held in a deadlock. That''s the perspective of soldiers on the frontlines. A deadlock might not seem to accomplish anything, but the wider battle unfolds, then, as each army''s commander conducts maneuvers elsewhere."


    "So you''ve just been trying to teach me a lesson then for the past cycle?" Emeria asked.


    Irus smiled. "A lesson I pray you''ll never need to use. Nonetheless, you are equipped with the knowledge. Realistic battles will always be fought in units, but if you wish, tomorrow we can try having you learn how to face multiple opponents on your own. With training weapons of course. Not sharpened blades like you used today."


    Emeria nodded. Her stomach growled again. She turned and left the training field. Two knights waiting at the exit followed after her. She didn''t think she needed the protection here at Arcaeus Peak, but they didn''t go to such lengths as to become a nuisance. One of Lord Serene''s many servants was also waiting in the hallway leading out. Emeria nodded to her without a word, letting her know to prepare a bath in her chambers. Such had become her routine. Read, train, bathe, read again, and sleep. Not much else to be done.


    Castle corridors grew dark as the sun began to set. The sounds of hundreds of footsteps suggested wall defenders were rotating shifts. Only, there were more mutters and whispers than usual. Emeria turned a corner to see an unusual sight. A very unusual sight. Soldiers marching along in disarray like a flock of sheep being driven to their pen, all of them with heads hanging low and shoulders slumped.


    Had the fighting been vicious today? Certainly hadn''t seemed so when Emeria had last checked the walls a few hours earlier.


    Among the passing group was Lord Serene himself, being pulled along by a few others. His face was wet and eyes red. He didn''t even spare Emeria a glance as his men pushed him up a flight of stairs. In fact, no one was sparing her a glance. No one was offering their usual greetings. This felt like the first day all over again, but much worse. The men weren''t on edge this time. They were just… lost.


    "What is going on here?" she demanded, approaching the soldiers. Some of them grumbled greetings and walked past. "I asked what''s going on!" she cried, giving every man a pause. "Has something gone wrong? Are the walls still standing?" She pushed past them and out into the open air, a blast of cold washing over her damp skin.


    The sky was blackening, few final embers scattered amidst the clouds. Silver eagle banners still fluttered upon the ramparts. Waves of well rested soldiers climbed the steps and took their positions. Commander Jengard Rask stood before the still shut gates barking orders. Nothing seemed amiss.


    She turned back to the soldiers who''d resumed their half-hearted shuffling through the corridors. "Will someone tell me what has happened?" she demanded. The two knights at her side pushed away soldiers close to her and opened up a pocket of space around her.


    "That…" one man in chainmail mumbled, a half empty quiver strapped to his back and bow in one hand.


    "Um…" said another, scratches all over his vambrace and a line of dried blood from a cut on his cheek.


    "Er," said a few more. They had minor injuries and damages to their gear. Nothing to suggest severe hardship that would warrant trained soldiers to act like jaded men who''d lost purpose in their lives.


    "Spit it out!" Emeria ordered.


    The soldiers looked to each other, nervous. One man finally stepped forward. "The enemy commander, Kazir, brought forth a body impaled on a spear. It… belonged to a woman. He left it there and claimed it was… er..."


    "It was who?" Emeria asked, heart beating faster as she ran through all the possibilities that could possibly bring Lord Serene to tears like that. Who would he be so attached to that Tarmia could leverage like that?


    "They claimed it was the Second Princess," one soldier managed.


    Emeria felt alarmed and relieved at the same time. El was somewhere far to the west. There was no way… But would her father be crying like that if there wasn''t some truth to the claim?


    "Kazir said they dragged her all the way from the west," the soldier continued. "I saw it. The body was ghastly pale, but it''s tall and lean and—"


    Emeria didn''t want to hear anymore. She didn''t believe it. She couldn''t. But her feet didn''t carry her to the mess hall as was planned. They ran out, chill night air straining her lungs. Heart pounding, she skipped several stairs as she made her way up to the walls and pushed passed the ranks of muttering men that stood there, some of them pointing to a spear planted in the ground a short distance from the fortress. There, impaled on the spear, was the corpse of a woman. Emeria gasped, covering her mouth with her hands. A wave of nausea overcame her. But she had to confirm it with her own eyes.


    "Someone get me a spyglass," she whispered. A man with an officer''s badge on his shoulder handed one to her. She brought it up to her face with trembling hands. The sickness in her chest grew thick as the full extent of brutality became apparent to her, the image of it firmly planted in her mind like a pressed wax seal. She dropped the glass and heaved her head over the wall, gagging as only saliva fell. Her stomach didn''t have much else to throw up. Some of it caught in her locks which dangled from the side.


    Emeria finally stood straight and sucked in a cold breath, letting it fill her. She closed her eyes and willed the heinous image out of her mind. She then forced herself to feel relief. The face of the corpse was battered.


    It''s not Elizia.


    Emeria repeated those words in her head until she finally started to believe it. Until a fiery confidence burned in her heart. She turned to go back inside but was overwhelmed by the wave of Xenarian soldiers standing there. None of them, from what Emeria could tell, were questioning the truth of the matter at hand. They were drained, and unready. None of them believed that that wasn''t Elizia. Not when their own lord didn''t believe it. Sar''tara was dying. Her daughter perceived dead. House Serene had no heirs. The soldiers saw no future. The tragedy of three years past resurfaced and plagued them anew.


    Their will to fight had been thoroughly shattered.