The sun had not yet risen when the camp got ready to set out towards Highwatch Keep. Olly hoped Nannade and Ionna had been successful in their mission to infiltrate and sabotage the keep ahead of them.

The priest was speaking a last prayer with the rest of the platoon. Olly joined in. He had never been a believer and his father – ever the cunning merchant – was a follower of the Communion of sanctified Trade, but he had seen his mother, a lesser daughter from a lower branch of the house of Teccarno, to sometimes pray to Her Holy Radiance. And here, it had brought him ease of mind, an abatement from the haunting guilt and shame that had kept him awake so much these past few days.

They set out, already in formation. Two of the mages, Olly among them, was put ahead of a squad of archers of the Ordo Militaris. They were told to take position on the walls by themselves while the colonel would accompany father Syagricus and Ser Andronicus down the middle. The scouts had been in contact with their lieutenant and had a rough description on Highwatch Keep. Its outer walls were built some seven hundred years ago during the age of quarrels, old but still solid and doing their purpose, infused with magic to shield them against reshaping and obliteration. The interior walls and the fortress inside housed were built some four hundred years later, direly understaffed by guards, enough for the platoon to take on by themselves. And finally, less than two hundred years old, the palace itself, thought to house the cult and their most holy rituals. This would the platoon’s final destination.

They could see the fortress from afar, its dark granite walls rising before them and the bright rosy palace spires rising into the twilight sky. The gate standing open, as expected. The women had succeeded in their sabotage mission. They quickly marched over the drawbridge and not all were inside when the alarm was rung. Through the gatehouse, Olly lead his archers up the walls. Little resistance in the outer yard, but the first soldiers were swarming out of the fortress already.

Olly instructed the archers to lay down a barrage on the fortress’ battlements, to suppress the enemies before they could take position, then he erected the barrier. It would allow projectiles to pass through from his side, but shield him and his squad from the enemy’s projectiles.

His colleagues down in the yard were shielding the soldiers’ advance, among those soldiers was Ser Andronicus, who strode across the field like a lord through his own castle. Under the magic shields, the trunk of a large tree, felled and equipped with handles last night, was carried over to the fortress’ gate. The colonel cast his spell and the trunk was engulfed in an angry red energy. The soldiers started to batter the fortress’ gate with the trunk and pulsing rage washed across it, shaking even the walls.

The enemy’s arcanists had taken position on the fortress’ walls and the Olly’s captain gave the signal. The mages of Northwatch university started to hurl their bolts and balls of flame at the gate. Thunder and crackling energy resounded form the mountain’s flanks.

Drawbridges were let down from the fortress’ battlements to the thoseof the inner walls and from there to those of the outer walls and over them, soldiers of the cult spilled onto the battlements with wide shields, pushing towards Olly and the archers under his command. He redirected their arrows towards them and looked on in horror as they pushed everyone off the walls or slaughtered them, driven by unholy fervour.

Olly pulled a less often used spell from his ledger and directed a lance of hot steel their way. It splattered off their shields, setting a few of them on fire before disappearing back into the void. The soldiers moved ahead unhindered.

Olly called out to his comrades below. They saw his distress and pelted the advancing column with rage and prejudice from their unshielded sides and the advance staggered, but soon, the attackers in the yard saw themselves in a pinch themselves. Enemy soldiers jumped down from the fortress’ battlements, the cult’s arcanists cushioning their fall with spells. As they landed on top of the attackers, the battering team had to let up and defend themselves.

That’s when Ser Andronicus drew his blade. A battle cry boomed across the yard and his soldiers, invigorated by the mighty presence of the Paladin, doubled their efforts to keep the assault up. Steel and wood clashed at the front line. The mages were now completely occupied by the battle that raged below.

Olly refocussed his efforts to halt the enemies advancing on him and the archers. He kept drawing aggressive spells and hurling them at the shield wall that had re-established itself. Their large barriers were remarkable resistant, even against stronger magic, and so it came that Olly saw himself almost eye to eye with the enemies, that now shoved their spears between the wood braced with iron that could just as well been stone braced with endurium.

That’s when Olly had one last idea. He slammed his staff onto the ground and erected a momentary barrier between him and the enemy, to buy himself time. Then he found a spell used to pull down crude walls and fortifications.

“NOCK AND DRAW!” he yelled to those under his command. Then he cast the spell.

Three of the four front men on the battlement held fast, but the last fell forward, holding on to his shield as it was pulled down towards the ground.

“LOOSE!”

Dozens of arrows barraged into the small hole in the enemy’s defence. Already thinned out, they failed to fill the gaps quickly enough and with their short swords drawn, the archers stormed past Olly, scattering the last enemies down the walls.

Olly took his breath and beheld the scene below. Colonel Alivor was scorching and shattering enemy forces with lances of pure energy. Her Paladin Ser Andronicus cut down heavily armoured knights as if his sword was a knife through butter. Father Syagricus kept the wards and protections up to shield the battlefield from the defending archers and arcanists. On the other side of the yard, Olly’s comrade with the second squad of archers stood and tried his best too to defend against the column of shield-bearers.

Olly gathered his men back around him and had them send volley after volley all across the yard to help the pincher’s other side. He hurled his spell as well, launching handfuls of men left and right.

The drawbridges from the outer walls to the fortress’ battlements had been drawn back up and so Olly would have to use his spells to tear them back down again. Arrows and spells suppressed them and he had problems keeping up the barriers. The flux in his flask was dropping faster than he liked and the mages below were looking to be in a fair set of trouble themselves. The stream of soldiers down the walls had stopped, but the remaining archers and arcanists were hailing their arrows and spells upon them. The attackers could do little more than defend against the projectiles and continue the battering of the front gate.

Olly pushed further towards the drawbridges, but the cult’s arcanists pelted them with their spells. Finally, one of his barriers gave in, just for a moment. A long slender needle, about as thick as his pinkie finger, pierced his calf and he sank in. A burned paper later, he had re-established his barrier. The pain was sudden and real. It felt as it had torn away a fog of suppressed thoughts. He knew what parts of his emergency pouch to apply to stifle the bleeding and kill the pain. Before he applied the herbal pill he thought for a moment. “Nannade would have closed it with her blood magic.” Was what he thought. Why did his thoughts wander to her. In the moment of pain, before the fog settled again on his mind, he knew that he loved her. He squeezes the herbal pill into the wound, its juice numbing the pain. He was ready to go on. He looked back on the battlefield. The enemy resistance was almost completely gone and the sun’s first rays crept over the castle walls.

After much effort from both his spells and the archers’ grappling hooks, they managed to yank the draw bridges down. They Stormed over the battlements and with sword, spell and bow, felled the few remaining arcanists and archers. The doors could not be barred for long and soon, they were in.

Inside, Olly met up with his comrade commanding the remaining archers and from the gallery, rained fire and molten metal upon the few defenders inside. Their moment of victory had come.

The gate was battered down. And the remaining soldiers of the platoon quickly struck down every man they could find. The fortress was theirs. Ser Andronicus called out for lieutenant Ionna, but neither she nor Nannade were anywhere to be seen. It was possible they decided to infiltrate the palace ahead of them. The doors of the palace were just as thick, possibly even thicker than those of the fortress. Opening them from the inside was probably their best shot.

Alivor and Andronicus gathered their men around them and counted the losses. Two of Olly’s comrades had fallen, quite more of the soldiers under Andronicus’ command. Yet the commanders decided to push on. They marched on the Palace walls.

Archers already stood at the windows and on the balconies, raining arrows down on them. A few times, Olly glanced up through his shield and noticed something about them. They were much smaller and slenderer, and looked as if the armour did not fit them. Could it be these were women? Home makers and mothers defending their home to the last?

Neither the Paladin nor the colonel paid heed and instructed their men to give it their all. Again, the gate was battered with no regard for a possible infiltration attempt.

The door barely showed signs of strain or damage when the raining of arrows ceased. From above, white flags were let down and the women took off their helmets, showing no signs of adversity. They yelled that they’d open the doors if the men promised to be good husbands and fathers rather than just take them before cutting their throats. They pleaded for their lives.

“Do not listen to the sinners!” Ser Andronicus yelled to his men. “Do not give in to their allure.” But his words fell upon deaf ears. The men cheered, as if they had found water in the desert. Even Olly caught himself wanting to join in. His thoughts went to Nannade, but they seemed to be suppressed. She was irrelevant, only the beautiful women on the balconies, scared and tired, seemed to matter.

The gate opened and the men flooded inside. Many forgot their vows instantly and fell to the welcoming arms and opened legs of the servants and guards. Others took their blades to the defenders, driving them deep into their exposed chests and necks. Archers and arcanists attacked from the gallery above, killing both men and women where they were too close to distinguish.

Father Syagricus and Colonel Alivor pulled as many of the men close to them, trying to keep them from storming in. Ser Andronicus stormed after his men, trying to keep them from founding a family right there in the entrance hall, cutting down as many enemies as he could find and screaming as he pushed further in.

An orgy of life and death, love and hate, unfolded before Olly and he tried to resist, but he felt himself walk in as well, just before the colonel pulled him closer and he stood back in his own boots again. Something seemed to shield him and Father Syagricus.

“Pray with me, child!” The priest said to him. “Don’t fall to the madness, stay with us!”

Olly did as asked and fell to his knees, closing his eyes off from the insanity around him.