A man wearing plated armour was holding his helmet, nervously fiddling with the visor.
His breathing was short and quick.
The anxiety was bubbling over to his underlings; they exchanged wary glances and stared into the distance with a heightened heartbeat.
A hand clutched the tower bell's rope, trembling at the thought of pulling it.
One would set all the others across the walls into motion…
A signal reserved for only the direst of situations, but that is what it had come to.
Their higher-ups had given word to prepare.
They slept in rotations, always ensuring several sets of eyes were on the lookout, day and night.
"Commander." a quivering voice shook the man with armour out of his stupor.
"Yes?" he spoke firmly, but his apprehension seeped right through.
The soldier hesitated for a moment, "We have sighted clouds of dust at about 20 kilometres' distance."
"How long?" the commander inhaled sharply.
"Five hours on foot, perhaps. Less if they are mounted."
The commander closed his eyes and slowly nodded his head.
It was news they had been expecting for days, still, only now was it starting to seem real…
"Sound the bells…" he whispered through gnashing teeth.
"Commander?" the soldier couldn't hear him, or maybe he didn't want to hear him.
"SOUND THE BELLS!" he shouted, screaming out his frustration!
He hoped to wish all of this away… their city would run red with blood, theirs, or their enemy's.
The hands around the rope tightened, and with all their strength, they pulled.
The great bell above awakened from its lengthy slumber, swinging ever wider, until the clapper struck the bronze.
Thunderous echoes drifted outward from the tower, growing fainter with distance yet never quite disappearing.
The sound evoked goosebumps on those present, but this was only the beginning.
Another bell on a neighbouring tower joined the first, their voices resonating through the air.
Then another, and another.
A choir of bells was unleashed across the fortifications and the city.
A harmonious spectacle… were it not for what it heralded.
The city stirred, rattled like a hornets' nest.
People clad in armour flocked to the ramparts and the walkable interiors.
Openings in the wall allowed defenders to view the outside, and prepare to fire, should the encroaching army come close enough.
Those in command were barking orders through the ranks, lining up the soldiers behind the gates, setting up a last line of defence should it come to a breach.
Meanwhile the clouds of dust were drawing nearer, and the silhouettes within them grew clearer.
Whispers had circulated without end, but information about the Aventia family was scarce.
None of the commanders and generals atop the walls could estimate how large of a force they would have to contend with, thousands? Tens of thousands?
And what was their strength like?
Were there as many rank one mages as the Ironhoof family had access to? More?
What about higher ranks?
Anyone who held even the smallest position was left wondering this, and nothing else, for days on end.
What strategies could one draw upon when they knew nothing of their foe?
A group of men, each adorned with a crest of the Ironhoof family, stood huddled in a semi-circle.
One of them lifted a slender tube to their eye, a dark wooden cylinder with golden rings on either end.
Grey unknown symbols flashed within his sight as he turned the far ring.
His fingers moved with great care, slowly adjusting the instrument to sharpen the distant world.
"Hm." he grunted, rousing the attention of the others.
"What do you see?" someone took the initiative.
He squinted his other eye, "I recognise Cykrus Aventia, he is riding shoulder to shoulder with someone unfamiliar."
"Someone from the royal family?"
"Very likely." he scoffed, "That's some really fancy armour they're wearing."
"How many?"
"Hard to say, at this distance they're blending into each other, but I'd say less than five hundred."
The military leaders recoiled in shock, "Five hundred?!"
"Are you counting right? Or is that artefact of yours broken?"
"Five hundred men to take Yelera?! Such confidence!"
"Give me that, something has to be wrong!" one of them stepped closer and made a wanton grab for the spyglass.
"Hands off!" the man swatted the reaching fingers away, "A brute's touch is bound to destroy the flower!"
"Tch!" he rubbed his fingers, "Fine then! Keep it!"
"Five hundred… are all of them mages? Can you tell?"
"Can we defend against such a force?" another question was thrown into the round.
They stared at each other silently.
"Impossible. The Aventia family doesn't have such deep connections!"
"Even if they belong to the king himself, who in their right mind would authorise this many mages to leave the royal capital?"
Another round of silence followed, but the leaders were less convinced this time around… the king's authority could turn any spark into a flame, and he wasn't particularly known for his restraint.
"There is nothing to indicate they are mages." the man with the artefact spoke.
The uncertainty alone seemed to ease some of the building tension.
"Remember, we are to buy time. Bringing down those troops isn't necessary. Baroness Silvana has assured me the rest will be taken care of."
One of them cleared his throat, "Well, I wonder…"
"What's that?" another inquired.
He averted his gaze, "Marquis Aventia is a rank three mage, I am not sure how we can bring him down or even just stop him."
"That isn't for us to worry about. You have your orders. Delay them for as long as you can. The rest is not in your hands."
The sun was setting, half-swallowed by the massive walls, its last rays illuminated the tall towers as their shadows stretched across the approaching army.
The formation came to a halt; leaving only the final distance to cross.
"Not even five hundred!" they gasped.
Aventia's soldiers were close enough, one mystery had been revealed, and it didn't look like any more reinforcements were going to follow…
Two figures approached the gate on horseback, leaving the army behind.
"It's Cykrus and that other one." the general with the spyglass announced.
"Should we fire? Will we get a better chance?"
"Are you crazy? Neither spell nor arrow will touch a hair on his head! All that will do is anger them!"
"SOLDIERS AND CITIZENS OF YELERA!" a booming voice drowned out everything else.
"I am General Porter, in direct service to His Royal Highness, King Lysander Van Tale, and I come bearing his decree!"
Porter unfurled a scroll, "The soldiers gathered before Yelera stand under the authority of the crown, you are hereby commanded to lay down your arms, open your gates, and submit yourselves!"
"Those who surrender shall be spared from any misfortune; this I promise in my very name! Those who refuse this command shall be deemed to have rejected my kindness and will bear the consequences thereof!"
"Furthermore, the Ironhoof family shall swear fealty to the Aventia family, or face annihilation."
He stowed away the parchment, "Soldiers and citizens of Yelera, allow me to reiterate: refusal of this command is tantamount to treason! A capital offense punishable by execution!"
Cykrus' horse took several steps forward, "My name is Cykrus Aventia, Marquis and ruler of the land neighbouring yours. I have come not to lay waste to your city or your people, but to claim what the Ironhoof family has rightfully ceded to me!"
"What awaits you is no tyranny. Far from it."
"Only recently did I first set foot into your territory, and what was I met with? Bandits roaming the outskirts in the name of your rulers, robbing merchants and the common folk alike! Lands struck by drought!"
"Both your home and mine will greatly benefit from this union. With His Majesty's support, and the Church as my aid and witness, I swear that your people shall not be mistreated."
"I give you until the end of daylight to deliver your answer."
Cykrus' words hung heavily in the air as he turned his horse away from the fort.
In the end, no arrows or spells were loosed upon him.
The generals and commanders atop the walkway were stunned.
Even if they managed to hold the army back for long enough, would they not incur the wrath of the royal family?
Of the entirety of the royal army?
And if they harmed the members of the church strewn throughout the troops, would they not be punished by the very gods?
The sun was sinking behind them, there wasn't much time to consider, and none of them managed to speak for the majority of the duration.
"Do we surrender?" those words broke the silence.
Heads snapped towards the speaker.
The question itself was treasonous, but perhaps the lesser of two evils.
To be hunted by the royal family, and in turn by every other family, or to turn their backs on their masters…
There were old sayings like, "Death before dishonour" but was their honour truly worth dying for?
"Did Baroness Silvana's plan account for the king's decree?"
Another round of silence followed.
"The orders to watch for Cykrus Aventia came from her. If we had the means to track their departure, then she must have known about his company and their goal as well."
"While that sounds plausible, is it worth the risk?"
The generals shook their heads, neither decision was the obviously better choice.
The most pressing question was: what had their masters planned?
If they had the means to deal with Cykrus Aventia, there might yet be a world in which the king rescinded his decree, having nothing left to gain from it.
But if they chose to betray the Ironhoof family, they would have to pray that Cykrus dealt with all the remaining members permanently, lest they survive and seek retribution for getting stabbed in the back.
And also, that he had use for a bunch of traitorous generals.
"Is there still no word from the Baroness? What could possibly hold her up when there's an army just around the corner?!" one of them furiously shook his fist.
"The sun has set!" the same voice from earlier announced, "I would have your answer now."
The generals and commanders peered down the ramparts, Cykrus Aventia's stern gaze fell upon them.
Indeed, it was time to provide an answer.
"Marquis, we-" one of the generals leaned over the wall, his scalp was tingling from the eyes that stared at him.
Not just his fellow leaders, or the enemy, but also the many men and women behind him, awaited their judgement.
Yet Cykrus interrupted him, "I do not recognise you. Who are you to speak on behalf of the Ironhoof family? Or are your masters too afraid to come face to face with me, intending to push all the blame onto a pawn?"
The general sneered, he knew Cykrus was sowing distrust, still, even he was feeling a growing resentment towards the Ironhoof family.
But who was he indeed? A loyal follower, and citizen of Yelera.
All these years of servitude, was it worth throwing them all away?
Where had his senses gone? His trust in his masters?
The general clenched his fist, "Silence you instigator!"
His shouting rattled his allies.
"You claim our soldiers to be bandits, yet it is them who dedicate their lives to the protection of our territory. They work tirelessly to ward off intruders like yourself! Your appearance here means they have met their ends!"
"You call yourself merciful, and make vain promises to our people, but we know how you deal with our kind! How you dealt with General Hodwan!"
"Countless lives, countless fathers, brothers, sons, lost, all because they made the grave error of marching near your border, the execution grounds of our Baron Simon Ironhoof!"
"What about Pyrehaven? How your Ice-Witch-lackey froze the entire city, killing hundreds! Thousands!"
"You are no saint! Your arrival here is no liberation!"
"General Porter! We ask your forgiveness, may His Majesty the King learn how deeply regretful we are to oppose his orders, but we will NOT surrender ourselves to Aventia!"
"Our two families have been at odds for far too long for us to feel safe bowing our heads!"
The general took a moment to breathe, he looked at the others standing beside him, the unease in their eyes was becoming fainter, they nodded, agreeing with his stance.
"Marquis Aventia thus is our answer." the general's posture straightened, his demeanour hardened.
Cykrus sighed, "I understand. I have heard your answer. I can see your resolve."
An abundance of earth particles in the vicinity got whisked away, they swarmed to Cykrus and surrounded him like a cloud of insects.
A terrifying sight for anyone capable of glimpsing into the world of magic.
"Know that you were given a choice out of the kindness of my heart. That grace has expired…"
Cykrus held one hand outward, particles rushed to fill the gap in his palm, forming into a golden lance, whose lustre was dimmed beneath the darkness of the night.
He drew his arm back, then unleashed the attack!
The lance rushed towards the high walls and the gate, "Fire!" one of the generals ordered, "Intercept!"
Then like clockwork, spells erupted from the strategic holes in the ramparts.
Rank one flames spewed forth in surprising numbers.
The Ironhoof family had developed a solid foundation within their army, and yet, even enveloped by the heat, the lance continued on its path unperturbed.
With a loud thud the lance wedged itself into the wall of stone, the soldiers inside the halls, and on top braced for impact.
Faces scrounged up, one eye closed, the other peeked through the defensive posture of their arms.
"No-… thing?" they wondered.
No explosion followed the impact, the lance embedded in the wall shrunk, it was vanishing into thin air!
Was that a rank three attack?
Surely not…
Were the reports false? Was Cykrus Aventia not as much of a threat as they had feared?
One of the soldiers pressed his head against the wall embrasure, trying to gain a clearer view of the outside.
The army was standing still behind Marquis Aventia, if this attack wasn't supposed to destroy, but also wasn't a signal to attack… then what was it for?
The soldier squinted his eye, the man at the helm of the enemy's forces was displaying a serene expression.
"Is he trying to feel out our reaction- AAHH!!" his words dissolved into a scream.
The floor beneath his feet gave way, his arms shot out, grasping for anything within reach!
He clung desperately to the edges of the hole that suddenly opened below him, but his grip was slipping as fine sand trickled through his palms.
"Help! Help me!!" fearful shouts escaped his throat, but his ears were soon filled with the cries of many others.
The imposing wall that protected Yelera throughout its lifetime was dissolving!
Gap after gap widened, the fortifications were collapsing in on themselves, thick segments of stone came crashing down, but burst into fine dust upon hitting the ground.
The effect was spreading along the ring around the city, slowing the defenders coming from further out.
Losing their support, the tall gates tilted forwards.
Air was pushed aside as they came tumbling down.
The thud of their impact rang louder than any of the soldiers' screams.
No matter if it was a bowman, a mage, a commander or general, they all fell on top of each other, a human pile replaced the last layer of defence the Ironhoof family had.
Cykrus addressed his men, and the royal army, "You have heard their answer! The people of Yelera have chosen to side with the Ironhoofs, accepting the mark of traitors."
"By His Majesty's decree, may none of them remain unpunished!"
Cykrus turned to the disorganized assembly on the other side of the battlefield, "Now is our chance! ATTACK!"
He spurred on his horse, as did the royal army alongside him.
His foot soldiers charged after them, roaring with their battle spirits at its height!
Particles ceaselessly gathered around Cykrus as he spearheaded the formation.
Another lance formed in his palm, and a layer of gold, slithering across him as though it was liquid, covered him in armour.
He felt most comfortable with close-quarters combat after all.
The defenders were slow to restore order, but soon commands filled the air, barrages of fireballs and arrows rained upon the approaching force.
Smoke blocked their sight, as explosion after explosion hammered against the royal soldiers.
Heat crept below their armour, but the deadly effects looking to char them to coal were blocked as the runes engraved on their protective shells lit up!
Arrows bounced off them and only caused minor slits on the exposed tissue of their horses.
Cykrus flicked his wrist, creating walls of earth to block the fire mages, then made another motion, and each of the walls catapulted itself against the nearest target.
Crowds fell under his spells, paving the way for the army to intrude.
He continued ahead, while the royal soldiers fanned out, digging their way into the shield bearers, each cleave of their humongous weapons tore a new hole into Yelera's defences.
Blood splattered, entrails clung to their swords, screaming and shouting followed wherever the hooves of the royal mounts treaded.
Cykrus lifted his palm, his fingers pointed to the sky, as thin javelin-like spikes rushed out of the earth to impale the warriors blocking his path!
Forcing their way in by the feet, puncturing the metal boots with ease, and out through the skull.
Another gesture of his hand, and the sea of bodies before him parted by force!
Whether rank one mage or ordinary human, there was no resistance to speak of…
His eyes singled in on an approaching figure, fire poured out of her hands, allowing her to fly just above the bridge that lay beyond the dismantled gates.
He let go off his steed's reigns, and leapt forwards, closing the distance between him and the freshly appointed Baroness, Silvana Ironhoof, much faster than on horseback!
Cykrus could hear his own heartbeat, louder than anything else.
The extinction of the Ironhoof family had come… after all these years…
Silvana braced herself as she spotted the unstoppable force that came launching at her.
She grimaced.
Chills ran down her spine; this was unmistakeably the aura of a rank three mage.
To them and all their preparations… a death sentence.
Cykrus readied his lance, the sharp end closing in on his target, a frontal assault intended to puncture the head!
Time slowed to a crawl, beneath his armour, his face held a distorted smile.
On the way here he could only ever imagine the look on their faces as Cykrus would rip through the remainder of the Ironhoof family, countless years of strife and torment coming to an end… and reality did not disappoint him.
Silvana's eyes were open wide; the tip of his weapon was reflected in them.
But his expressions stiffened involuntarily as Silvana's lips moved.