There was an ominous mist that had descended across the hills at Ravenscourt with only a couple of the trebuchets and siege towers visible in the distance; however, the clanking of metallic armour as the Lionmane army prepared their final formations meant the battle would soon be upon them.
Ethelston glanced over the horizon, desperately trying to gain a glimpse of the vast war machine that planned to sack the city. As the cold autumn sun shone down, the mist was slowly dissipating, but all it would serve was to hasten the army's advance.
Only an hour ago, a section of the eastern wall came crashing down, leaving a heap of rubble and twenty more defenders dead. Still, even before then, Ethelston and Ithelred had begun preparations for the defence of the city.
Despite his arguments against such, Ithelred had taken it upon himself to lead the defensive force on the ground. Ethelston had argued that it was his position as Duke of the castle, but Ithelred's resilience, determination and discipline was everything required to lead the bulk of the army.
This led Ethelston to govern the remaining walls, fight back the siege towers and organise the artillery. It may have felt like an insignificant position, but only a fool would believe so. Each part of the army required the other for any hope of a victory.
Peering through an arrowslit, Ethelston growled at the infernal mist that was butchering his visibility. As he unceremoniously swore at the weather, a young boy with a crossbow in hand looked nervous next to him.
The boy looked incredibly uncomfortable and shuddered as the cold breeze floated around the walls, even more so by Ethelston's disgruntled behaviour.
"You boy, what's your name?" Ethelston asked.
"Drew, milord," he responded nervously.
Ethelston smiled at the boy's obvious trepidation at speaking with the Duke of Ravenscourt. "Drew, aye, I guess this is your first battle?"
The boy, possibly no more than fifteen winters old, nodded enthusiastically.
"I knew a boy once who helped me fight the monstrous Manticore," explained Ethelston, watching as the eyes of Drew grew wide, "he was much the same age as you, yet he was a fearless fighter. Do you think you can be too?"
The boy nodded even more enthusiastically than before. He smiled as Ethelston clapped him on the shoulder before turning around to see if the army had advanced. It was quiet, which was a positive sign.
Walking to the inner edge of the wall, Ethelston looked down to the eight hundred solid Ravenscourt armies that had positioned themselves at the foot of what was left of the eastern wall.
He could not see their faces from his position, but he could hear their grumbles and sense their fear. They were right to be afraid. As things stood, they would have no chance of winning this battle, and should the battle be lost; there was no telling what the Emperor would do to the city. Would he welcome it back into the Empire or leave it in ruins as an example of what happens to those who defy him.
Knight Inquisitor Ithelred had drilled them well. Their formation was solid, their grips on their shields and swords or spears were menacing, but all it would need was for one person to mentally capitulate at the most inappropriate time for the whole battle to be lost in an instant.
Turning towards the boy Drew, he watched as he seemed to already stand much taller after the speech made by Ethelston.
For Ethelston, speeches did little to rouse him, but perhaps it was because of his almost narcissistic belief in his ability. Yet, time and time again, he had seen mere average individuals feel invincible after the right words were spoken.
In front of him were farmers, blacksmiths, tanners, merchants, shepherds, mercenaries and knights. They were a ragtag bunch of individuals pretending to be an army. It was his job to turn these conscripts into warriors.
"People of Ravenscourt," Ethelston called, instantly grabbing the attention of those on and below the wall. "Before us stands a vast army, brought to us by the usurper, Emperor Arnaud. The very Emperor whose solemn duty is the protection and restoration of the people within Isovine. Yet now, his army stands at the foot of this hill with the sole purpose of destroying all that we hold dear."
As the wind blew a faint bit of dust across his eyes, Ethelston started to pace up and down the wall.
"Ravenscourt is not just a city or a beacon; it is our home. It is our livelihood; it is the reason we rouse each day to endure all that the world has to offer, " continued Ethelston.
He could see the nods of a few starting to bobble up and down like a ripple in a lake, a ripple that Ethelston knew he could turn into a wave.
"We are outnumbered, and you may not think you can defeat such a vast army, but I tell you now, I have travelled half the globe and never have I seen such a ferocious army as the one that fights for their homes, for their livelihoods, for their friends and their families. For every one of you, you are stronger than ten of them!" he called, banging his chest with passion.
The nods were becoming infectious, with some of the soldiers grunting in agreement. As he spoke, Knight Inquisitor Ithelred banged his gauntlet hard on his chest plate; the clang of metal on metal shattered the silence savagely. He did it again; this time, the other knights echoed his actions, causing a thunderous clank of armour.
"TODAY WE FIGHT, " shouted Ethelston.
"Aye!" the army responded.
"TODAY WE LIVE, OR WE DIE!"
"AYE!"
"BUT RAVENSCOURT. WILL. NOT. FALL!"
There was a thunderous cheer that surpassed Ethelston's expectation. If he hadn't known the number of men that we're fighting today, he would have sworn that it sounded like an army of thousands were cheering for him and his words of encouragement. Returning to the wall with the massive grin of Drew focusing on his movements, Ethelston took to looking through the arrowslit once more.
He was ready; his army was ready, now he just needed his opponent to be.
As the cheer within Ravenscourt died down, the sound of men shouting in the distance reverberated around the battlefield. It was not a cheer but the sound of individuals bellowing orders to their subordinates. As a snap and crack could be heard, the tops of the siege towers started to sway. The army was on the move.
"Arminell!" called Ethelston, prompting the city guard captain to materialise by his side.
"Milord?"
"Signal the army that the enemy is on the..." a massive crack could be heard in the distance, followed by several more, breaking Ethelston's train of thought. As he swung his head around, he spotted the trebuchets' arms at the highest points in the air.
"INCOMING!" he called just as the first boulder hit, causing it to splinter brutally against the stone wall below them. The second could be heard cracking into stone further down the wall, followed by the wails of several men in horrific agony left in the wake of the boulder's aftermath.
Just as Ethelston and Arminell took cover behind the main bulk of the wall, a boulder crashed savagely into the arrow slit where Ethelston once stood. The deafening sound of the impact left the two men disorientated, and the dust produced an unnerving cough before they could eventually pick themselves off the floor.
Trying to regain his bearings, Ethelston looked around him, helping Arminell to his feet in the process. As he looked to where the arrowslit once stood, the floor was left red and bloody. While Ethelston and Arminell had taken it upon themselves to take cover, the young boy Drew had not.
Guilt piled itself on Ethelston, but he had learnt to push it to the far reaches of his mind quickly. Drew would not be the last young man to die today.
Guilt turned to anger as he spotted the siege towers edging closer. "Arminell, signal the catapults, range one hundred metres, fire at will."
As the thrum of the catapults scattered along the walls of Ravenscourt fired their projectiles at the enemy, the army cheered them on in the hope that it would spur them towards their targets.
The first impacted the dense, compact formation of the Lionmane army, causing an unnatural and ungodly scream from the mist while another cracked its way through one of the siege towers shattering it to pieces and causing splinters to impact the unsuspecting soldiers below.
As Ethelston turned to his captain, Arminell returned a fearful gaze. Despite his years, Arminell had not been subjected to a battle of this scale. The rumbling caused by the boulders were terrifying, and it wouldn't be long before the need for hand to hand combat was required.
"Milord, your faith in me has been rewarding despite my abuse of your trust," he explained, "I have no idea how to thank you."
Ethelston knew that it was the fear of death talking, but the apology was still welcome. He had every right to have punished his captain for his involvement in the Black Knife Syndicate, but as the trebuchets continued to pummel the walls of Ravenscourt, none of it mattered.
"Arminell, fight hard and fight well; that is all the thanks I require," responded Ethelston as he slapped him hard on his back.
Despite the tension that was enveloping him, Arminell smiled, "aye milord, I will. For you and for Ravenscourt."
Ethelston smiled before turning towards the battered edge of the wall. He could just about see the Siege towers, but he needed to know their exact positions.
Crawling along the floor, sickness came to his stomach as he slid through the blood of the young boy that he had spoken to just moments before. As he pulled himself to the edge of the wall, he took a deep breath, pushing away the thoughts of sickness, and peered over to observe the enemy.
The mist was starting to lift; the troops' lines were already starting their ascent up the hill. Within moments, the actual battle was about to begin.
"Arminell, signal Ithelred; they advance up the hill," he called to his captain, instantly causing Arminell to inform the army at the foot of the wall.
"ARCHERS TO THE WALLS!" ordered Ethelston, encouraging those taking cover along the wall to find every ounce of courage to stand and peer through the arrow slits.
Standing to his feet, Ethelston had to lead by example; raising his hand high; he gave the order "NOCK! DRAW! LOOSE!"
As the final word was shouted, a barrage of arrows found its way deep into the advancing enemy. So many collapsed to the ground, but as one man fell, two took his place.
"NOCK! DRAW! LOOSE!"
Again, another barrage of arrows mowed down the advancing army, but despite the steep hill incline, the war machine was pushing relentlessly forward.
Another set of boulders crashed against the walls, the shrapnel causing horrific injuries to some of the archers along the way.
Ethelston sighed in relief, knowing that it would likely be the last barrage with the enemy so close, but as one problem disappeared, another would take its place.
The enemy breached the wall for the first time; the two armies' clashing caused a roar previously unheard of before. As shields struck each other, as swords slashed and spears pierced, the screams of the dying screeched through the air like a sound never imagined.
It was almost unbearable.
Looking up, Ethelston could see the siege towers edging closer, their creaking logs and stubborn wheels up the steep hill seemed to make it look like they were hardly moving, but the hundreds of men behind them were ensuring that they would reach their objective.
"FIRE ARROWS! BURN THEM DOWN!" screamed Ethelston over the shouts of pain and death.
With the mist gradually clearing, he could now see his enemy's strategy. The vanguard, the main force attacking the collapsed wall, was a distraction. The key to this battle was the siege towers, and there were so many, all lining up along the remaining eastern wall.
They would overrun the walls with ease, causing the main bulk of the army to capitulate eventually.
Flaming arrows poured over the nearest siege tower, yet there was not enough of a spark to ignite them, and as they edged closer, it was just a matter of time before the walls of Ravenscourt would be infested with the enemy.
Peering over into the streets, Ethelston could see the battle raging below. Ithelred was doing all he could to hold off the enemy, but the enemy force's sheer size would eventually find cracks in their shield walls. The sound of battle was horrific as metal clanged into metal, as wood chipped ferociously and as the dying screamed in agony.
"We must regroup together here," Ethelston announced, knowing that stragglers would be picked off quickly, "signal the archers to come to my position."
Arminell signalled the troops, while a few instantly reacted to the order, so many could not see or hear what was happening. With the first siege tower about to embrace the wall, so many would be cut off from the army's main bulk.
Whether it was the adrenaline coursing through his veins, or the desire to make amends, Arminell raced up the walls calling all who could not hear his cries earlier. Sprinting with all his might, the further he ran, the more soldiers made their way towards Ethelston.
Never before had Ethelston seen such resilience in the man as he picked up the injured and helped them back to their feet; within moments, Ethelston's ragtag stragglers had been brought back to a solid unit.
The first siege tower opened and crashed unceremoniously onto the wall causing splinters and dust to push up into the air. With soldiers pouring from its belly, Arminell's race up the wall had come to an end; turning back, he hurried to reach Ethelston and his cohort to take the fight to the enemy.
Ethelston's satisfaction with his captain of the guard turned to horror as another siege tower crashed down between him and Arminell. As Arminell's sprint came to an abrupt halt, horror turned to dread as the soldiers jumped from the tower to cover the wall.
"ARCHERS!" ordered Ethelston, causing his unit's front line to raise their crossbows and launch their bolts in anger. Many fell with the first barrage; despite this, Arminell and a few stragglers were already cut off.
Ethelston could see in the distance his Captain raise his sword high and scream at the top of his lungs as he raced towards the enemy, with a slash, a parry, a stab, men were falling by his side in pools of their own blood. As if he had become superhuman or a berserker, Arminell was tearing through the enemy as if they were an inconvenience to his journey. Despite his attempts of heroism, his tired arms missed a crucial block, and the blood that was seeping into the wall of Ravenscourt was his own.
A cry of anguish and frustration poured itself from Ethelston's lips. Pulling the two swords from his back, he was ready to tear apart the first person in range and the next person and the next person after that.
As more siege towers crashed into the walls, a sea of soldiers was now focusing on Ethelston's defence, pushing their way through the barrage of bolts that were raining through them.
With mere steps remaining before the two armies crashed, all parties briefly halted as a new sound echoed across the battlefield, a sound neither of them had anticipated.
A deep bellow of horns reverberated across the ground causing all eyes to look towards the northeast forest. Its sound, like the roar of hundreds of angry bears, could be heard far and wide across the battlefield. Peering over the wall, Ethelston could see it, another army appearing through the trees with banners of red with a gold bird flapping in the wind.
"Another army? Who is it?" One person called out.
"I don't recognise the banner?" Another man cried.
"That's because it hasn't been seen in seventeen winters, " an elderly gentleman explained, "that's the phoenix of house Aex-Igh!"
A massive sigh of relief exhaled from Ethelston as the new army appeared from the trees in masses. The battle was far from over, but the tide had now turned in his favour. Not only had Loldirr succeeded and brought the might and aggression of the Fæordic tribes with her, but she had successfully made a statement along with it.
The true heir to the empire had returned, and all who supported the usurper would feel her unquenchable wrath.