The Lone Call: Fists of Union (Arc II) [First draft]

Glimmers (Vlos) (E)

(Hospodian political situation (East))

Palls of thinning smokes hung in the air, slowly revealing lines of men, women and teens going to and fro carrying bricks on their shoulders; some bellowing for more despite the fatigue etched in their expressions. Others carried skins of water or set up tents to treat their wounded with a hint of satisfaction.

Once again they had successfully survived a raid. Once again their walls and defenders had held firm in the face of dazzling volleys of cannon fire and masses of attacking screamers.

A youth could be seen coming out to one of the main castle's round towers. He stared glumly at the sprawling but smoking city before him.

"To think those raiders sallied forth from the city that is Hospodia's ancestral seat..." he murmured bitterly.

His words caused a female officer nearby, who was giving her sword a few strokes of a whetstone with her back to the wall, to pause and look up at him. Her armor was already slick with battle colors.

"I'm very sorry that you have to pass your ninth name day squatting away like this, my prince. Bright side is, it seems to be over for today. Unfortunately we have no navy worth mentioning as yet, to contest their control of the Sarsan Strait..."

"It's alright, Sen," the youth replied without turning. "You and the others have been working so hard these past few days to hold them raiders at bay; and I still have those flying lessons to occupy myself with." He sighed. "I just hope these raids will die out..."

"They will," Senna assured. "No military leader can afford for long to send losing raids. This really is a battle of wills and endurance."

That's it! The ship we faced then could well be one of their would-be raiders... We're indeed fortunate there was only one that day!

"But," the princeling protested, "I was told Arenda's former Mayor Varastra is no military man to begin with."

"True," the female officer's expression hardened with dawning realization. "He's a former diplomat. Where swords fail, words might prove deadlier--or even a mixture of both. We must stay sharp, in body and mind and faith."

"My uncle once besieged this same city for fifty-three days, did he not? We have endured beyond sixty. I hope supplies can last..."

"This city had seen no sieges since the general set out to subjugate Elbar, years ago," Bohma came up behind them, "but he's also a prudent man. I oversaw part of his stockpiling efforts. Commendable indeed!"

"That is past!" Vlos blurted. "Now we do have a siege, however indirect, and I can't even go down there to try lift their morale without being mocked as a wet-eared half-pint!"

Senna cleared her throat, put down the whetstone, sheathed her weapon, and stood.

"In any case," she cut in, "we may have to resort to raids of our own to revive the stocks. Thankfully a number of outlying farms are still in our possession."