Within Castle Marcoir, a Rhankish footman navigated through the castle corridors until he reached a study room which he entered quietly after a knock. Inside the room sat a lone nobleman working on a pile of documents. He looked quite young, but stress had worn him down to the point of weariness.

“We still haven’t heard from them since three days ago,” the Rhankish footman reported, though the nobleman didn’t look like he was paying any attention to the footman.

“We still haven’t-”

“Yes, yes. I heard,” the man interrupted before finally taking his eyes off the parchment he intently held.

“Shouldn’t we be worried, Lord Elldrick?” the footman asked.

Elldrick placed his quill down, then kneaded his brows. It had been less than a week since his liege, Count Marcoir, left the castle to his charge in order to fetch reinforcements from Central Rhankia, and already he was starting to hate this honor that was bestowed upon him.

The scouts which had been tracking the movement of the Vyssians had gone missing. Scouts missing from their ventures wasn’t uncommon, since death lurked in every corner the moment the scouts enter enemy territory. Many scouts could be caught by enemy patrols or lost to the harshness of nature. The possibility of the scouts deserting wouldn’t be zero either, since they would be in the best position to escape should they realize the situation was dire.

It would be fine for Elldrick if one or two scouts stopped reporting back. But it was a problem to him if all of them stopped reporting back.

The young lord felt a chill run down his back as he stared at the endless pile of document in front of him. At last, he prepared a piece of parchment, then inked his quill.

“I need this letter sent to Count Marcoir, wherever he may be. Immediately.”

“Yes, Lord Steward,” the footman replied with a bow, then left the room with the letter.

Alone in the room, Elldrick wiped the sweat off his forehead, then looked back at the pile of documents on his table. It would be weeks or perhaps months before the Vyssians would attack Castle Marcoir, judging by the estimated number of Vyssians currently raiding in the region, but by then, Marcoir would have returned with fresh reinforcements and news from the rest of Rhankia.

At least, that was what Elldrick thought until he realized that all of his scouts went missing.

Instead of returning to the documents, Elldrick donned his coat, and marched out of his room to assemble the men.

Two shadowy figures observed Castle Marcoir from afar. From time to time, they would be joined by small groups of figures but they would disperse into different directions from time to time.

“What is your evaluation of the human fortification, Slayer?” one of the figures asked as they continued to analyzed the motte-and-bailey castle which guarded the path leading to Central Rhankia.

“I identify that the chance of a successful direct assault is high, but very costly,” Slayer responded. “What is your evaluation, Exarchi?”

“The hills are a problem when trying to scale the inner keep, but not before we have to get through the ditch surrounding the wooden outer walls. We won’t be able to bring battering rams to break down the walls,” Exarchi replied.

Exarchi fully understood why the Vyssians thought that this castle would be a challenge. The hill’s cliff provided a natural barrier on some parts of the castle, and a large ditch was dug around the entire castle to hinder any attackers. The front gate would be the only plausible location to attack to most attacking armies.

Except, Custodian’s army wasn’t counted in the most part of ‘most attacking armies’.

Thanks to Exarchi’s proficiency in commanding and the addition of independent Thane drones which acted as officers, the drone army would be able to perform complicated maneuvers which most armies wouldn’t even be capable of. In fact, the drones managed to make their way from Castle Norwind to Castle Marcoir in a matter of days by breaking the huge army numbering hundreds into several smaller drones led by Thane drones to make use of all paths efficiency.

This also helped with catching the watchful eyes of the Rhanks off-guard. Exarchi had already been out-maneuvering the humans even before the attack on the castle had started.

“I observe that they are in full alert,” Slayer noted.

“Then there’s no use in waiting. We begin the assault now,” Exarchi replied as the army of drones behind him began marching forward. The main vanguard emerged from the forest, and almost immediately, bells from within Castle Marcoir rang which alarmed the human defenders.

Large Steadfaster drones used for cargos began dumping components onto the ground, while the warrior drones picked them up for assembly. While it would be impractical to send rams to break down the walls due to the ditch, the drones could still soften up defenses using catapults.

Of course, the defenders weren’t blind. They could see the siege weapons being built from afar, but their archers wouldn’t be able to reach them. “Ballista, ready!” a Rhankish footman called out.

From the highest keep of the castle, a large ballista launched boulders down onto the drones while the Rhankish soldiers formed up at the courtyard.

Unfortunately for the defenders, most of the hits were missing or did little damage as Exarchi had learned to predict the trajectories of the ballista’s boulders thanks in part to the drone’s inhuman processing capabilities and the flying scout drones watching from the sky. The catapults of the drones were also loaded up onto the backs of the ox-like Steadfaster drones so that they could be moved around as Exarchi saw fit.

‘All units, forward,’ Exarchi commanded in a localized hivespeak.

Not only did the vanguard began to approach the castle, several smaller groups of drones appeared from every angle of the castle, including the supposedly impenetrable part of the castle which was blocked by a small cliff.

Learning from the lessons from fighting troglodytes, specialized warrior drones were modified to allow them to climb better. Instead of giving four arms to climber drones, two of the four arms were replaced with pickaxe-like limbs in order to climb any steep obstacles.The other two arms were free to use a shield to protect the drones as they climbed.

As the climber drones began their ascent, the drone’s vanguard was peppered with arrows. With shields above their heads, and decent armor to protect from low-quality arrows, the drones weren’t deterred from moving forward.

The drone’s advance was supported by the mobile catapult platforms which started raining boulders, including boulders thrown from Castle Marcoir, towards the castle.

‘The boulders are doing minimal damage against the wooden walls,’ Slayer noted.

‘Given enough time, they will fall,’ Exarchi replied.

‘I see. You are going for a prolonged assault,’ Slayer said.

Drones could relentlessly attack, while organics had a limit on their endurance. Exarchi understood that the drones could trade blows in the longer term so he prefered a longer drawn-out battle, unlike Slayer who focused on quicker but more brutal attacks.

To that end, the drones did not approach the castle any further. They began setting up walls of shield around the castle, and began firing back. However, the drones did not stop with simply building a wall of shield, they started sending logs, stone blocks, and any other materials forward to the frontline in an attempt to build a wall around the castle.

Not long after the drones began walling the castle off, Exarchi received a flood of notifications.

[Aerial Bomber Prototype-02 Theta-Three-Nine joined the local channel.]

[Aerial Bomber Prototype-02 Beta-Beta-One joined the local channel.]

And so forth...

Flocks of modified scout drones joined the fray not long after the vanguard had started their advance. After some days of work by Niner and Smith, some flying scout drones were modified to have tiny claws at the bottom in order to hold onto bolts. There was much work to be done in order to improve the bomber drones, but for now, Exarchi was willing to bruteforce and micromanage every single bomber drone in order to make use of air superiority.

Sixteen bomber drones flew down onto the drone camp behind the frontline and worker drones started loading them up with bolts. One by one, the loaded bombers clumsily hovered upwards, then flew over the castle in order to drop the bolts.

‘And now, the siege has truly begun,’ Exarchi announced.

A Rhankish rider rode his horse through a road by a grassfield, then up on a villa. He was stopped by two other Rhankish soldiers before being promptly checked for identification at the villa gates.

“I have a message for Duke Villbrod from Count Heredasbert,” the rider explained.

“Duke Villbrod? This must be important, then. Ride on,” the highest ranking soldier ordered.

As soon as the rider reached the main entrance of the villa house, he gave the letter to a nobleman, then rode off. The nobleman inspected the seal, then went to the villa’s courtyard to find the recipient of the letter.

“Duke Villbrod, I have a letter from Count Heredasbert. It must be regarding the-...”

“Wait, wait. Before that, do you think the color blue or green would suit the cape better?” Duke Villbrod interrupted the nobleman as he studied an unpainted sculpture in front of him.

“Er… blue, Your Highness?” the nobleman hesitantly answered.

“Yes, indeed. You have quite a good eye. Blue it is, then!” Villbrod exclaimed.

“Yes, Your Highness,” the artisan standing next to the sculpture replied, then started painting it. The statue looked like a caped man with a sword and shield fighting off many small red dogs.

“It looks good, doesn’t it? This sculptor is from the Great Republic, and it costed me a fortune to have him make this,” Villbrod said.

“Yes, Your Highness. However, you have a letter from Count Heredasbert, and I believe you should read it first,” the nobleman said as he held the letter out.

“A Vyssian warband was pushed out of the River Dens, then back to… Ah, I see. That’s good news,” Villbrod remarked. “It seems that the Vyssians couldn’t push any further thanks to my efforts. We shall ride out soon to try and push the red-haired barbarians off Rhankia before the king’s son could arrive.”

“That is good to hear, Your Highness.” The nobleman nodded.

Just as Villbrod was about to turn his attention back to his statue, a servant arrived with another letter.

“Who is it from this time?” Villbrod asked, annoyed that he was being disturbed.

The nobleman took the letter from the servant and read the sender’s name out loud, “It’s from Count Marcoir, Your Highness. It must be another letter about the ones he call ‘demons’.”

“That lunatic! He should already know I can’t send my army to defend some barren wasteland, so why is he still trying to fabricate a story in an attempt to scare me?!” Villbrod shouted.

“He doesn’t sound like he’s trying to ask for help. He’s merely reporting what’s going on in Northwestern Rhankia,” the nobleman pointed out.

“You need to learn to read between the lines. If anything, Count Marcoir should quietly hold his castle until the Royal Army arrives. My scouts have already reported that the Vyssians have barely any men to assault any of the three castles up north,” Villbrod chided.

“But Castle Norwind…”

“Bah. They got lucky. Besides, it’s three separate castles. Caste Marcoir could hold against a thousand men if need be. If Count Marcoir can’t even-...”

Villbrod’s rant was cut short when he heard a girl screaming from outside his villa. Soldiers were running out to check what was happening, but the noise was only getting louder.

“For Humanos’ sakes, what’s going on?” Villbrod angrily shouted as he went outside to check the commotion as well.

Outside, he found two soldiers trying to pin a girl down to the ground. She had apparently managed to slip past the villa guards, and tried to rush into the villa house. “They’re coming! Monsters from the north! Princess Imma!” the girl screamed.

“Get that peasant off my villa!” Villbrod ordered.

“Yes, Your Highness!” The soldiers picked the girl up and prepared to haul her off.

“Ow, ow! Help! Somebody- Ah! Princess Imma!”

“For Humanos’ sakes, man! Be gentle on child!” Villbrod reprimanded.

“Sorry, Your Highness!” the soldiers apologized then continued pulling her off.

Just as the girl started screaming more, a new voice joined in. “What is going on here?!”

The voice was full of power and arrogant dignity. Though the owner only spoke a single sentence, everybody knew there was a hint of threat thrown into that question. Only Villbrod was able to maintain his composure as he stroke his chin.

“Princess Imma! Please, I beg of you! Monsters are coming from the north!” the dirty-looking peasant girl cried. Her feet were bloodied, and her ashen clothes were in tatters.

“This girl must’ve come from Northwestern Rhankia. Castle Norwind fell a few weeks ago, so that region was mostly lost to the Vyssians,” Villbrod said while turning to the princess.

“No! It’s not the Vyssians! They’re… they’re monsters! They’re not Vyssian or Rhankians!” the girl argued.

“Let go of the girl,” Princess Imma ordered, and the soldiers obeyed.

Upon being released, the girl fell onto the ground, barely having any energy left to stand up.

“Girl, what is your name?” Imma asked as she crouched down to help the girl up.

“It’s- It’s Agnes, Princess Imma...”

“Is it true? You came all the way from Norwind?” Imma asked.

The little girl nodded as tears started to flow from her cheeks. “My village was burnt down by… by large, furred men. They… they killed my papa and…”

“Little girl, what is your village called?” Villbrod interrupted with a question.

“It’s Napens, I think,” Agnes replied after some hesitation.

“Napens is actually in Encoir, Your Highness,” the nobleman pointed out. “It seems that the Vyssians are starting to make their move.”

“How long do you think the Northern Triplets could hold against the Vyssians up north?” Villbrod asked the nobleman. He was referring to the three castles which watched over the paths which led to Central Rhankia, including Castle Marcoir.

“Long enough for Prince Orwulf to arrive with the Royal Army,” the nobleman responded.

“Little girl, tell me more about larged, furred men,” Villbrod turned his attention back to Agnes then asked.

“Duke Villbrod, it’s clear that the girl is tired and very hungry. Perhaps we should let her rest here before asking her any further questions,” Imma interjected.

“What? Here?” Villbrod asked.

“Where else, Your Highness?” Imma raised her brows, then continued. “Or perhaps you are willing to build a new house for me right this instance?”

“At my expense? No offense, Your Royal Highness, but I am not made out of silver, and I have better things to spend my money on, like a new army to push the Vyssians off my homeland.”

“Then she shall stay here,” Imma commanded.

Villbrod sighed, then waved his hands tiredly. “Fine. Servants, take care of the girl!”

“I am glad that you are very charitable, Duke Villbrod,” Imma sarcastically remarked.

Villbrod leaned towards the nobleman then subtly whispered, “Tell me again why this brat is here?”

“She’s here waiting for an answer from Count Marcoir and- Ah.” The nobleman looked back to the letter, then called out to the princess, “Your Royal Highness. Before you go, you have a letter from Count Marcoir.”

“What? Really?” Imma excitedly took the letter then read over it. Villbrod realized that he was in trouble when he saw the princess frown.

“Why would he do this?! Those damnable Vyssians!” Imma cursed out loud.

“What?” Villbrod asked.

“Marcoir’s not letting me go to Varangia on account of the ‘Vyssian raids’!”

“I mean… I can see the logic in not letting a member of the royal family strut around hostile territory. Princess, could you not just wait for a few months before you frolic around and pick flowers at some monster-infested forest?”

Imma glared at the duke, then clicked her tongue before running back inside the villa. “I’m the Royal Princess. Why do I even need to ask for permission?”

The moment Imma disappeared from their sights, Villbrod turned to the nobleman and ordered, “Get the horses. We’re going to ride out to rally the army.”

“Now, Your Highness?”

“Instead of babysitting princesses, I’d rather be out in the field.”

“Understood, Your Highness.”