"Fire!" Kristof shouted the order to his men, a host of a few hundred cavalry.

He himself pressed the trigger of a crossbow. The bolt took flight in a curved trajectory and vanished into the mass of Tulosans. Scattered screams confirmed that some bolts found their mark.

"Retreat!" He bawled. He gripped the reins of his mount and steered the horse around. The others followed. They retreated in haste.

Behind them the Tulosans chased, a force several times their numbers with some armored Knights included.

Kristof bit his tongue so hard that the iron taste of blood filled his mouth. He was hoping for the best. He was hoping that somehow, with some freaky stroke of luck, they would survive this.

He threw a glance behind and fixed his eyes upon their pursuers. A gap of just more than a hundred meters separated his men from the Tulosan swords.

This better be worth it, he thought. Those mercenaries better fight to the death or else this heart-pounding distraction his men are making will be all for naught.

"Prefect, they are stopping!" He heard someone say.

He peeked and confirmed the disappointing words. The mass of Tulosan Cavalry are halting, disturbing the dust on the ground.

Other commanders would have been overjoyed with the sight of Tulosan cavalry ceasing their chase. Kristof was not.

"Reload and fire men! Reload and fire! We must distract them for a few more minutes!"

His host made a sharp turn and fired at the Tulosans again. Some bolts made a hit but most just bounce off from the Knights' armors.

Their actions agitated the Tulosans. It felt like pulling the tail of a bull. The Tulosans again chased and his men again ran.

Kristof gritted hit teeth, accidentally biting part of his already wounded tongue in the process.

This better be worth it, he again thought.

**********

Benedict was looking at the chase from the top of the wall.

Prefect Kristof was doing a splendid job, he thought. Kristof knew when to retreat and when to stir the Tulosans. The laughably small force of Castonian cavalry were drawing the attention of thousands of Tulosan cavalry. This was a feat only his best Prefect could accomplish.

He was well aware of the rivalry between Prefect Kristof and Prefect Ryon. The two were not really enemies but they often compete. But Kristof's success in drawing the attention of the Tulosans had just put him ahead of Ryon. That lanky man Benedict left in Greenwater have some catching up to do.

He turned his eyes towards the mercenaries currently sprinting towards the castle. They were fewer than he expected. Timothy told him in the letter that fifteen companies of mercenaries were coming- a host of fifteen thousand men. The number of mercenaries currently approaching the castle, according to his educated estimation, was barely ten thousand.

The multitude of colorful coat of arms fluttered in the chilly wind of the western region. The coat of arms represented the different mercenary companies King Edmund employed- a force united only by gold if Benedict was to be asked.

He grimaced after he took notice of one of the coat of arms. He was far from pleased that the coat of arms of 'Widow Makers' was included in the mix. The mercenary company was infamous for abandoning their employers a few years back. They routed without even raising a sword.

Another mercenary company he was displeasured seeing was the 'vultures'. The name of the company alone was distasteful enough. Benedict had heard that the Vultures sacked their employer's city in the past because of the late payment. King Edmund mercenaries had quantity but not quality.

" Cowards and criminals." Benedict shook his head "Never in my whole life have I dreamed of fighting with cowards and criminals. Marquis Benedict Connel swinging his sword hand in hand with degenerates. Ha. Must have been a sight eh?"

"But we need them sire. We are lucky to even have reinforcements." Bernie said.

"I know, I know. Ramblings of an old man, nothing more. I am not complaining. Really. I just want to go home to Greenwater with Maria and Erik as soon as possible."

"And you will sire. You will. In a few months you will talk with Master Erik and Lady Maria about what happened here as war stories. In the balcony of the villa, facing the humid but lovely breeze of Greenwater bay, with me serving the three of you cups of tea and my famous smoked tuna. We will laugh and mock the Tulosans for failing in taking Knightsend for the fourth time. Just like how it used to be, sire."

Benedict threw in a laughter. That would be quite the experience, he thought. Bernie's smoked tuna was his shared favorite with Erik and Maria. Whenever Erik would come home to Greenwater from the Palace, he would always request smoked tuna. The three of them would then bury their faces in the food not caring even if their faces were smeared with oily bits of the fish.

"I can't wait for that" he stifled his laughter. "But you know Bernie, I really do have the urge every night to slip away into the darkness and go to Maria and Erik. My wife is under the care of Timothy. And my son, the last I've heard, is a hostage of King Leopold. The three of us are divided. I dream of the day the three of us meet again. Unfortunately I can't. I have a responsibility to defend Castonia."

"After we come back, I will cook for you the biggest, tastiest and juiciest tuna I could find." Bernie said with a grin.

Benedict just smiled and turned his attention to the mercenaries again. Dreaming of the future is good, but they still have work to do.

By now the mercenaries were almost at the gates. Benedict scanned for the Tulosans and saw that Prefect Kristof's distraction was already waning. The enemies were now turning their attention to the mercenaries. Like a buzzing hive of bees, the Tulosans advanced towards the mercenaries.

"They won't make it" Benedict said. Experience was telling him that the Tulosans would reach the rear of the mercenaries before all their allies could enter the castle.

"Open the gate" he ordered.

"Open the gate!" Bernie repeated the order to the soldiers controlling the gate.

In less than a minute the gate opened and the mercenaries entered. They poured into the castle.

The Tulosans by now were only about a hundred meters from the rear of the mercenaries. The front of their column was led by what appears to be lightly-armored horsemen. Benedict smelled blood. He could already imagine losing half of the mercenaries. Thousands will be slaughtered in front of him and the front of Knightsend will soon be bathed with a red hue. He waited for the moment the Tulosans slam against the mercenaries.

It did not happen. The onslaught he was expecting did not happen. Instead of charging at the rear of the mercenaries, the Tulosans halted just a few meters away. They did not move as if they were petrified.

"Ha! Look at them sire. Cowards. Afraid of mercenaries. They've lost their balls sire. We got another funny story to talk about when we return to Greenwater." Bernie said in an almost shouting manner.

"No" Benedict shook his head.

"No" he chanted the word again.

A foreboding feeling enveloped him. The Tulosans had every opportunity to demolish the mercenaries. The rear was open to a charge. If he was the enemy commander, he would order an all out attack without second thought. But that's not how things turned out to be.

His heart started to race. He felt fear. It was sinister, an eerie resonance.

And then a realization occurred to him. It was a cruel realization that could explain everything.

How did the messenger slipped into the castle last night despite the heavy patrols of the Tulosans?

Why are there fewer mercenaries?

Why did the Tulosans not attack the rear of the mercenaries just now?

All of these pointed to a single conclusion.

"Close the gate!" Benedict shouted.

His order was met with confused look from Bernie and the soldiers.

"Close the damn gate!" he poured all his voice into the shout. He was almost pleading for the soldiers to close the gate immediately.

But it was too late. Too late indeed.

It started with a mercenary burying a sword into the neck of a Castonian. The poor man gurgled blood and fell limp on the ground. There was a momentary silence after that as the two sides looked at each other.

And then all of the mercenaries slowly unsheathed their swords.