Chapter 7

Jake was walking back and forth through the castle courtyard. He was getting restless. There had been no sign of an impending attack for two weeks. Aside from it being disconcerting that there was no movement at the border of two powers at war with each other, he really wanted to fight something. His problem was that there was no one equal to his strength garrisoning the castle, only people weaker or much stronger than him. As he walked up to the castle parapet, silently praying that London would send him some enemies, he found the Baron sitting in a chair, staring off into the forest. He looked confused about something.

“Oi, Baron, youz look troubled. What’s up? You wanna fight somethin' like me?”

The Baron looked almost excited when Jake spoke to him, almost jumping out of his chair.

“Yes! Yes! Something is bothering me! I have been hoping to see some of the native fauna, but so far all I have seen is deer and squirrels! We have deer and squirrels in Bickenstadt! I want to see something different! Why haven’t we stumbled across anything interesting?”

Jake was almost disappointed. The Baron looked like he was pondering the mysteries of the universe.

“Well, da smart animals like Direwolves an’ Deafclaws ain’t come anywhere near a bunch o’ gitz wif spears, or someone ‘ho seems strong, like you.”

The Baron looked almost alarmed.

“Did-did you just say ‘deathclaw’?”

“Yeah, deafclaw. Youz know deafclaws, don’t you?”

The Baron stared at him blankly.

“Oh, you really don’t know ‘bout deafclaws. Roight, well, you know bears? Big, furry, brown or white dependin’ on ‘ow norf you go, big paws. You know, bears?”

“Yes, I am familiar with bears.”

“Roight, den imagine a bear, brown fur an shit, but ‘bout twice as big, claws ‘bout like a foot long, kinda longer snout, an’ it walks on two legs an’ leans on it’s knuckles.”

“What the fuck is even that!?”

“It’s a deafclaw! Dey’re da reason wez made cities an’ armies! Dey real smart, maybe smart as me n’ youz, an’ dey know dat ten angry gitz wif spears ain’t worf da trouble!”

The Baron’s face displayed an emotion Jake had never seen before. It was a mix of horror and bewilderment.

“Don’t youz got shit like dat in Manland? Dey’z called like Demi-somfin’?”

“Demigryph. A beast native to the Grossenberge mountain range. I have yet to see one in person. Only the Empress may tame and field demigryphs. They are about as intelligent as horses, and that is mostly what we use them as, and by we I mean the Empress. And, they are incredibly difficult to tame, the Empress only has around 40 demigryph knights, so that's also a reason I've never seen them.”

“Dey strong?”

“Yes, very. Take this with a grain of salt, all I have heard is hearsay, but they may be worth a whole battalion of Yorksburg cavalry. And not only are they strong, but flying cavalry tends to be much more terrifying than regular cavalry. And, as far as I know, they are the only flying cavalry in the world.”

The Baron stiffened up almost as soon as he finished speaking.

“Wait, dey fly?”

“Uh, yeah. They fly-sorry Jake, but I’ve gotta go talk to my lieutenants about something! Tell me if you get any signs of an impending invasion!”

The Baron quickly ran off, leaving Jake alone. Jake scratched the top of his bald head.

“I still ‘ad questions…”

The Baron was sitting in a window, eating an apple, bored out of his mind. He couldn’t fathom why Yorksburg had yet to attack them after three and a half weeks.

“Baron!”

The Baron almost dropped his apple as Jake appeared next to him and yelled at the top of his lungs.

“Jesus man! What is it?”

“Baron! I need you to send one of your boyz to Londonsburg an' ask for more gitz! My scout boyz told me York is musterin’ thousands o’ Orcs just outside castle Blenham! Dey’re sendin’ deir own scout boyz as well, more dan mine can deal wif!”

“Why do you need one of my men to do it?”

“None o’ mine’l make it trough da wild alive! Deafclaws n’ shit!”

The Baron hopped down from his window, taking another bite of his apple before handing it to Jake.

“Right! I’ll get on. Fergus! Someone find Fergus for me! And Jean and Helmut! We’ve got preparations to make!”

“But Skipper! Wez is gettin’ killed out dere! Youz gotta modernize our boyz! I watched what ‘appened wif da siege towers! Dey got wrecked! 3,000 boyz fought off by less dan a tousand! Ain’t it look to youz like wez is gonna lose at dis rate?”

The Skipper of Yorksburg sat up in his giant, beautifully lacquered, reddish brown throne. His cape got stuck in the thick black steel wires which made up the decorations on the sides, ripping slightly as he leaned forward. His voice was far deeper than a normal Orc.

“Youz fink wez gotta modernize? ‘Ho are we to change da way York fought ‘undreds o’ years ago. ‘E know what ‘e was doin’, you fink youz is smarter dan a god?”

The lieutenant lowered his head further.

“No, Skipper, Iz ain’t sayin’ I’m better. I’m sayin’ dat Londonsburg is winnin’, an’ wez is losin’! Dere’s gotta be a reason for dat, an’ da reason is our strategy!”

The Skipper downed the contents of his mug and chucked it at the lieutenant’s head, missing it by a wide margin and crushing one of the various flowers in the snow covered garden.

“Youz really do fink youz is better dan York if you fink ‘is strategies are da fings failin’ us!”

“But Skipper! Da boyz from Londonsburg changed deir strategies, and London’s strategies were the same as Yorks! Do dey fink dey’re better dan London?!”

The Skipper stomped his foot hard enough to crack the wooden platform his throne sat upon.

“If dey’re changin’ da time ‘onored strategies o’ London den dey betray ‘is vision! Dey’re ‘eritics! All wez gotta do now is wait ‘em out! Dey gonna lose da favor o’ London any day now! An’ den wez is gonna crush ‘em, startin’ wif castle Cornwall! Now get outta my sight!”

The lieutenant stood up and saluted the Skipper.

“Rogiht. I’ll get roight on dat.”

He turned on his heel and left the courtyard, making sure to kick some snow onto a nearby flower. He walked out of the Skipper’s Palace, and then walked out of Yorksburg, and then walked into the woods, stopping when he found a secluded place.

“FUCKIN’ ‘ELL!”

He reeled back and punched a dead tree, knocking it down completely.

“FUCK DIS SHIT! FUCK YORK!”

He stomped the fallen tree until it lay in rotten splinters on the forest floor. As soon as he finished off that tree he turned to another, kicking it until it fell. He reeled back to kick it again, but stopped himself before he destroyed it, sitting down on the stump he left behind, burying his head in his hands. A single tear managed to find its way out of his eye and on to his palm.

“I just wanted Yorksburg to prosper. I just wanna make ‘em win, make ‘em proud. But does gitz woN’T LISTEN!”

He jumped off the log and kicked the down tree in half. He couldn’t bring himself to kick it again. All the rage had left his body, replaced by dismay. He flopped back down onto the stump and buried his head back in his hands.

“Yorksburg’l wiped out at dis rate. All because ‘o does idiot priests o’ York. Dis is why Londonsburg ain’t let priests be generals. What can I even do?”

He sat alone in the woods for a while, silently contemplating his choices. Suddenly, he had an idea.

“Well, if York is gonna fail me, den, why don’t I just convert? Yeah! Dat’s a great idea! Fuck off York! London’s my new god now!”

He rubbed his hands together as he contemplated the ways he could destroy Yorksburg.

“‘Ehehehe, I can tell da Skipper o’ Londonsburg anyfink! I can tell ‘em all ‘bout da next offensive! ‘Ell wanna ‘ear our numbers n shit! I can see ‘im droolin’ as I tell ‘em ‘bout all da shiny shit Yorksburg’s leavin’ undefended! Oh, dis gonna be good! Dis gonna be good as ‘ell!”

The lieutenant quickly ran back to Yorksburg to grab his horse and rode off in the direction of Londonsburg.

A week after the Baron sent Fergus to request reinforcements, a large cloud of dust could be seen miles away. They still had a couple of hours before the assault would begin. However, this time, they were much better prepared. While they didn’t have a cannon, the thing which made siege towers obsolete wherever it was adopted, but they did have their makeshift wall mounted ballistae with large explosive bolts, bombs made of clay pots filled with black powder, nails, splinters, coins, and other things which would rip apart whatever it touched, satchel bombs for if the towers were able to dock, and plenty of pitfall and other types of traps spread around the surrounding area. It is still very possible that the castle would be overrun, but they would come out of it more than a little bloodied.

The Baron stood on the parapet, staring off in the direction of Londonsburg, hoping to see an equally large cloud of dust, finding nothing of the sort. Jake came over and slapped the Baron’s shoulder.

“So, what do you fink our chances are?”

After gazing into the distance for a moment longer, the Baron sighed and turn to Jake.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you. Our chances are quite slim.”

Jake looked contemplative for a moment before erupting in laughter.

“Well! Da slimmer da chance da betta it feels to overcome da odds! Wez is gonna blow ‘em to smifereens!”

The Baron smiled and fiddled with the fuse of his bomb.

“Too true. Too. True. Right then, I’m sure there’s last minute preparations we could be doing. Any ideas?”

“Well, we could shake our fists at ‘em til dey come?”

“Excellent. You get on that. I’ll consult Jean. He’s usually full of novel ideas.”

A few hours later, the Yorksburg army had arrived, and there was still no sign of Londonsburg reinforcements. The Baron could see ten siege towers, and they only had four ballistae. Is this really how I’m going to die? In fucking Orcland? The Baron thought to himself as he took in the massive size of the Yorksburg column. As the army came to a stop just outside of rifle range, the Baron kept fiddling with his saber, bloodlust written all over his face.

Maybe I’ll just use magic this time. No one has told me not to. I’ll do something subtle, since Orcs seem to be unfamiliar with gravity magic. Time for some shenanigans.

The Baron mounted his horse and left through the gate with Jake. As soon as the enemy duelists came over he dismounted.

“Let’s get this over with. I’m the Baron von fucking Bickenstadt, and I’ll have you head on a pike!”

One of the Orcs jumped off his horse and approached the Baron, duel arming swords in hand.

“I’m Jacob. You ready?”

The Baron lifted his saber behind his back, ready to dash forward.

“Of course.”

As soon as Jacob took up his fighting stance the Baron rushed forward, bringing his saber down directly on Jacob’s head. Jacob lifted one sword to block and chambered the other for a thrust. The Baron could see what would happen, Jacob’s sword would slide right off his cuirass. As the Baron brought his sword down on Jacob, his eyes began to glow bright yellow. His saber connected with Jacob’s sword, and went right through it and into Jacob’s skull, which it went right through as well. Jacob’s other arm thrust at the Baron on reflex alone, finding an angle and bouncing right off his enchanted cuirass. The Baron withdrew his saber and made a show of flicking the blood off before returning it to his sheath. As he mounted his horse the castle walls erupted in cheers. The noise of 800 men yelling at once was loud enough to be heard from miles away.

The Baron looked over at Jake to see how he was doing, and found that they were both staring at him instead of fighting.

“Hey! Get to it! Let’s get this bloody siege started.”

As the towers crept ever closer, the ballistae picked their targets. The rifles aimed and fired, switching places with another line of riflemen, who fired shortly after. Soon, the towers came into range of the Baron's slightly underpowered ballistae, and they fired. The noise was very different than the Baron was used to. Most of the sound came from the wooden frame creaking as the force being released from the rope was pushed into it. As one of the ballistae fired, the wooden base broke, and the force of the bolt being thrown pushed the entire ballistae forward and off the wall, crashing into a pile of splinters on the ground below. However, all of the bolts hit their target, exploding as they impacted the towers. The front of each tower struck was blown completely open, killing any Orcs standing around where the explosion happened. The Baron saw Jean thrust his fist in victory. He created a mixture he believed would explode when it impacted something, and it worked as intended. Each bolt was tipped with a large pot filled with his mystery substance and black powder.

“Reload! Aim for the base! For the wheels!”

As the ballistae reloaded the musketmen fired in volleys, each one felling more and more Orcs. Because there were so many of them, their commanders didn’t even bother trying to hide the approaching infantry behind the tower. The infantry soon spread out to surround the castle, carrying ladders and ropes. Two of the ten towers broke away from the others, heading to a different side of the castle.

“Aim for the towers who turned! Aim for their wheels!”

The Ballistae fired, but only two bolts hit their target, one flying off and landing in the middle of a mass of infantry, killing and wounding dozens of Orcs. One bolt hit the base of a tower, but missed the wheels, just blowing a hole in the wall. The other, however, managed to hit the leftmost tower’s wheel, turning it into splinters and completely disabling the tower. The massive war machine leaned to the side and slowly toppled over, crashing in a cacophony of noise.

“Reload! Quickly! Reload!”

The Baron estimated they could fire off two more bolts per ballistae before the ladders made it to the wall. They needed to make them count, as there were only enough satchel charges to blow six towers. Worst case scenario, someone could either throw or charge with the explosive bolts, though that would be a last resort.

The musketmen kept up their fire, felling dozens of Orcs with each volley. With the entire roughly 6,000 strong Orc army charging at once, they barely needed to aim. The ballistae aimed and fired, each bolt striking a tower. One bolt struck the wheel of one of the frontal assaulting towers, disabling it, but not knocking it over, as the other wheel’s axle seemingly snapped in half, the tower settling in on its flat base. The other two bolts both hit the rightmost tower which was attempting to move to a different side, one bolt hitting too high, blowing a massive hole just above the wheel, the other hitting the very bottom on the wheel, taking out a huge chunk, but just little enough to allow the tower to keep moving. There were eight towers left, with six of the towers being mangled in some way. A cannon would have done a much better job, but, beggars can’t be choosers.

“Reload! Quickly! Make this shot count, they’re almost to the walls! Fire as soon as you have your target in sight!”

More Orcs fell to more volleys, but their charge never faltered. The Baron grabbed a bolt and held it like a javelin. There would be four bolts left after the next volley. One of the ballistae fired, the bolt going through an opening and blowing the base of the tower to smithereens. The walls flexed outward and slowly, the tower buckled in on itself. Seven towers left. Another ballistae fired, striking the very top of the tower, the door swinging down and breaking off, taking much of the top front wall with it. Not necessarily disabling it, but it would be more awkward to get out of it, the Orcs having to literally jump onto the pikes of the Baron’s men if they wanted to get to the walls.

The last ballistae fired, striking the wheel of another front facing tower. The whole castle cheered as a fourth tower fell, leaving five relatively unharmed towers and one tower with no door. As the ladders docked the walls the Baron took aim with his own bolt, chucking it with all his might at one of the towers. It struck the base, not destroying the tower, but leaving a massive hole. The Baron clicked his tongue and drew his saber.

The musketmen leaned over the wall and fired, sending dead Orcs hurtling downwards, taking some of their comrades with them. The musketmen on the walls affixed bayonets and waited for Orc heads to peak over the wall, though some left to continue their fire from the tops of the towers scattered along the walls. After a few moments, the bayonets got their wish, and they began stabbing heads. Even if their bayonets didn’t pierce the Orc’s kettle helms, being stabbed in the head would make anyone unsteady. The Baron leaned over the wall and swung, slicing the hands off of an Orc, sending him screaming down to his death. One of the nearby musketmen grabbed a boulder they placed on the walls, sending it crashing down onto an Orc, almost knocking every other Orc off the ladder as the boulder and the unfortunate Orc victim fell.

This pattern continued on the other walls as Orc infantry finally made it to them and began to climb their ladders. A few Orcs even threw up grappling hooks and attempted to climb the towers, though their ropes were swiftly severed by the musketmen stationed there. Gaius leaned over the wall and swung his greatsword one handed, slicing the hands off Orcs on two ladders at once, quickly moving on to chopping through the rungs of the ladders. Udo slammed his sword’s guard into the helmet of an Orc, ripping it out and swinging it into the neck of an Orc nearby.

As the towers were just about to dock, the Baron strapped satchel charges to his chest and back, grumbling the whole time.

“I can’t believe they’re using the same tactics. They must be fucking idiots to attempt that again.”

He sighed and stood up, waiting for the doors to drop and the entrance to be relatively clear. The Baron’s men near the walls lit their bombs as the towers finally docked. As the doors dropped the men threw in the grenades, shredding through dozens of Orcs at once with lethal shrapnel. The Baron saw his chance and vaulted up onto the open door of the nearest tower, again tearing his way down through it with lethal efficiency. As he reached the bottom of the tower, he created a gravity field which prevented Orcs from entering and lit the fuse, he realized he could have just thrown the satchels in through the hole the ballistae made, and mentally kicked himself for not realizing it earlier. The placement might not be perfect, but at least he wouldn’t have to physically enter the siege towers.

As he exited the tower, an Orc tackled him from behind, sending him face first into the ground, smashing into the kettle helm of a downed Orc. He felt the Orc get impaled by several pikes, but as he tried to get up he found his arms wouldn’t cooperate. One of his men bravely jumped up onto the door and dragged the Baron to safety. Every inch he covered was filled with searing pain. Though he could easily handle this level of pain, it still wasn’t pleasant. He needed Geidpfeld to come deal with him immediately, because when he looked at the face of his savior he saw three of him. The Baron dragged himself over to the stairs with the help of his pikeman.

“Say, what’s your name.”

“Udo, sir. Udo Jaeger.”

“You’ll get extra pay when this is all over. And vacation time. Please go fetch Geidpfeld, he should be in the cellars.”

Udo Jaeger saluted and ran off. The Baron was seeing stars, his arms weren’t working very well, and he was bleeding profusely from his nose. But still, he drew a pistol, shakily aimed, and fired, missing his first shot in years. I am not going into another fucking siege tower.

As a siege tower was docking on a separate wall, the Baron’s men, again, lit the fuses on their grenades, blowing away Orcs as soon as the doors dropped. Udo solemnly strapped on his satchel charges, borrowing an arming sword from a nearby dead Orc, as he felt that is longsword would only hinder him in such an enclosed space. He vaulted onto the door and found his path was clear. From what he could tell by the holes blown in the tower, there were four floors. As soon as he entered the tower he vaulted the railing, landing on an Orc climbing the stairs and locking eyes with another. Before the Orc could even raise his weapon Udo lashed out, slicing his throat, swiftly finishing the Orc he landed on top of and moving on. Another group of Orcs were climbing the stairs, and Udo had an Idea. He used a loose piece of wood sticking out of the tower to swing into the group, kicking a few Orcs down the stairs. He vaulted the railing and was immediately greeted by two Orcs swiping at him, which he ducked and rolled under, coming up and slicing through the armpit one of them, the Orc's arm dangling uselessly at his side. The other swung at him again and he quickly parried, coming back down and severing the Orc’s hand at the wrist. He ran past the screaming Orcs and jumped over another group of Orcs, scrambling to the first floor and cutting off his satchels, managing to light it with the somehow still lit matchchord in his breast pocket. He looked up and found his path blocked. He knew what he needed to do.

Udo burst out of the siege tower, completely surrounded by enemy Orcs. Well, I’m outside. Now what? With most of the Orcs distracted with climbing the walls, Udo hoped he could somehow slip away and climb a ladder, and after he got to one, all he could do was trust that his fellow soldiers would realize it was him. An Orc noticed and swiped at Udo, who dodged past it and kicked the back of the Orc’s knee, stabbing through his neck soon after. Ok, first things first, get away from the gods damned tower!

Udo weaved through the crowd of Orcs, either being ignored by Orcs fully focused on climbing the walls or quickly dispatching any Orcs who noticed him. After a couple of seconds making distance, the tower exploded. Splinters were shot out in every direction, killing Orcs who weren’t even standing near the tower. A single splinter a couple inches long impaled itself in Udo’s side, knocking him on his stomach. One of the Orcs, obviously not paying any attention to who he was, or simply not believing an enemy would be stupid enough to leave the castle, helped Udo to his feet without even looking.

“Wez got a castle to climb! No naps!”

The Orc ran off towards a ladder and Udo, utterly confused, ran to the ladder next to him. As he climbed up the ladder, he thrusted upwards, causing Orcs ahead of him to fall off. Halfway up the ladder, he saw Orcs beginning to fall above him, and a massive boulder flying down at him. He threw himself to the side, holding on to the ladder with one hand. The boulder cracked through a few rungs of the ladder, including the one Udo was holding onto, and he just barely managed to throw himself sideways and into another ladder, gripping the ankle of an Orc above him. The Orc, not even looking at who grabbed his ankle, helpfully swung Udo back over to the ladder, allowing him to grab onto it. Udo was beginning to feel bad for killing so many Orcs, they just seemed to be so helpful when he needed it! The Orc above him fell, and soon after, Udo was stabbed in the top of the head by a pike. His helmet held firm, but he barely kept his grip.

“It’s me! It’s Udo! Please don't hit me!”

After dodging another pike thrust at him, the men realized it was him, and Gaius extended an arm down. Udo gratefully grabbed onto his forearm, and Gaius lifted him up like he weighed nothing. Udo flopped down on the wall, breathing hard. This was the most out of breath he has even been in his entire life, as well as the closest he ever came to losing him life. He really should be dead, the only thing keeping him from dying was the strangely helpful psychology of the Orcs.

“G-gaius.”

Gaius reeled back and split an Orc’s head in half.

“Amicus?”

“Don’t go into a siege tower. It’s a bad fucking idea.”

Gaius hoisted Udo up and pointed him in the direction of Geidpfeld, who was running to the Baron.

“Go. you’re bleeding. Out of your back.”

The Baron was on his stomach, Geidpfeld crouched over him, hands next to both of his temples.

“Come on, Baron. You have had worse than this. Walk it off.”

Geidpfeld may have been healing the Baron, who had just risked his life to make his men's job easier, but it didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give him shit.

“B…bite me.”

“Yeah yeah, come on, you’re almost healed. And I can see a blonde idiot hobbling his way over to me, so save your breath for him.”

“Is he wearing a helmet?”

“Yes.”

“Oh God, Ludwin’s been hurt.”

“I’m not Ludwin. It’s Udo.”

Geidpfeld got off the Baron and immediately moved to treat Udo. The Baron looked up and saw Udo, still wearing his helmet!

“Lord in heaven! You’re still wearing your helmet! Did it save you?”

Udo yelled as Geidpfeld ripped the splinter out. Giving him a miffed look before looking back at the Baron.

“Yeah. Yeah it did.”

The siege had lasted for hours. Two siege towers were still standing, but many Orc, having watched how easily the Baron's men killed Orcs in the towers, had decided they would rather not die in a fancy wooden box. The Orc onslaught had slowed down, but looking out in the distance showed that they still had plenty of men. The Baron reached for an explosive satchel, utterly exhausted. But, as his hand shakily wrapped around a strap, someone took it from him.

“Baron, ya look mighty sleepy! I’ll be takin’ this one from ye!”

The Baron could hardly believe his ears.

“Fergus? You’re back? Are the reinforcements here?”

“They’ll be ‘ere in around an hour! All we gotta do is hold ‘em off!”

The Baron sighed and drew his pistol, finding it empty. He angrily holstered it and drew his saber.

“They better get here pretty fucking fast, I don’t know how much longer we can keep them away.”

“How’re the men?”

“Oh, they’re exhausted. Exhausted, but largely still alive. Turns out that using antiquated technology and tactics makes you quite easy to hold off!”

Fergus strapped on the satchels and turned towards a tower.

“Ain’t that the truth!”