Aric Stine stood looking over the battlements upon the walls of Aric City. His fists clenched so tightly that the blood drained from his flesh and his nails dug deeply into his sweaty palms. He watched nervously as the Cypress Alliance gathered their army outside his city gates.

“Vhat vill you do, my husband?” Natal asked. She took a hold of Aric’s strong arm and bit her lip. “The time has come for you to decide. Do you surrender your daughter’s city to our enemies or do you make your stand and defend her people?”

Aric snapped his head at his messenger who crept up behind him. “Vhere is she? Vhere is Div’Rah Tashna!?”

The young runner rubbed his neck and swallowed hard. “She is not in the castle, m’lord. But there vas a fire in the lib—”

“Useless!” Aric cried. He raised his hand to the boy but did not carry his threat any further. “Get out of my sight!”

The messenger gave a hurried bow and made his exit as fast as his feet could carry him.

“You mustn't be angry vith your subjects, my dear. They only vish to help,” Natal cooed.

Aric massaged his temples and gently kissed his wife’s hand. “You are too kind to them, my queen. Surely you see the dire straits that ve have found ourselves in?”

Natal gave him a kind smile.

“Vithout Tashna here, Dallin and Greyblade vill not vant to be reasoned vith, and vithout the Dawnedge brat they vill not think twice before attacking us. Our only hope is to surrender,” explained Aric.

“The Estinian people vould rather die vith a sword in their hands than to surrender at the feet of an enemy, but you knew that already,” Natal said with a flip of her hair.

Aric leaned against the battlement and rested his head in frustration. “My people are fools…” he said with a brooding mindset. The darkness of his situation rolled thick in his voice.

“Then open the gates and allow the Cypress Alliance to valk your streets with no resistance. I am sure that is vhat your daughter vould vant.”

“Vhat vould you have me do? Our child is missing and the var she so haphazardly entered has arrived at her door!” Aric sneered. “My gut tells me to give up the city. Perhaps ve can bargain for our lives and keep a shred of our freedom.”

“You vould be remembered as a coward, Aric Stine,” Natal spat. She tugged his shoulders to her so that she could see him eye to eye. “You have been a disgrace to the realm of Cypress and my allies. I married you because of your strength and your mighty empire. My people see you as a blithering idiot now. You’ve made a mockery of me after your failed attempt to capture the realm.” Natal’s eyes grew black and her irises glinted orange. “Now you vish to fail my daughter’s realm. I vill make sure you die a hero before you bring more shame upon my name.”

Aric’s eyes dropped and his jaw slacked. “I vill die a hero,” he repeated.

“You vill open these gates and vith your army, you shall charge the enemy for one last hurrah,” finished Natal. She released him and adjusted his cape and armor. “Go forth, my Div’Rah. Die as the man that you once vere.”

Aric swayed about before nodding. He put on his iron helm and drew his sword. “Bring me my horse!” he called out to his nearby squire.

***

Wiccer walked the lines of the various units, double checking with their commanding officers to make sure all was in order. The spearman units practiced their drills and ate a hearty meal to charge on the front lines. The bowmen strung their bows. The artillery units carried choice stones from the nearby quarry and covered them with pitch, ready to load them into their catapults and set them alight. The infantry sharpened their swords and had polished their shields, while the quartermasters went down their lists with having a surplus of extra medicinal supplies for the surgery tents.

The scent of a fresh animal carcass caught his attention. Wiccer passed through a gathering of soldiers to see a ring of the Bloodbog orcs performing one of their barbaric rituals of sacrificing an animal to their pagan gods.

Perhaps they wish to bless our forces with steely might and courage. We could use all the help we can get, thought Wiccer.

Yes, all was ready for the long siege to take Aric City. With a little bit of hope and a lot of luck, Elucard would succeed in his mission and secure his king. He was unsure if Koda was still alive, but he prayed to the merciful goddess, Alue, that he was.

Wiccer raised his head and shielded his eyes from the bright Estinian sun. Aric Stine watched him from his battlements. He stood with his queen, but there was no sign of Tashna. It did not bode well for the Estinian people that their Div’Rah made no attempt to show her face in time of war. Was she a coward by sending her parents to deal with Wiccer’s army? Perhaps she scrambled around the castle, desperately trying to recover her escaped prisoner?

Wiccer grinned and waved to Aric. He wished to believe that at that moment, Koda was free and Tashna was turning the castle upside down looking for the missing king.

Wiccer watched as Aric disappeared from his sight before finding Dallin and Greyblade donned in their royal armor, ready for an all out attack on the foreboding city.

“Fine day for a siege?” asked Wiccer. He gave them a light chuckle.

“Every day is, lad,” responded Greyblade. He rested his saber on his shoulder and twitched his whiskers. “What are we bloody waiting for?”

Dallin looked back to the crumbled mountain. The drakes screeched and flapped impatiently while soaring around the mountain peak. “We’re waiting on your blasted drake riders to get in position.”

Greyblade raised his brow. “They are ready, trust me. Give your order, Varis King, and my drakes will swoop down in a blaze of inferno and destruction!”

Wiccer glanced at the battlements once more. He saw no one. No archers, no watchmen, no king. No one. “Something is wrong…” he whispered, unsure of what he was seeing.

“Captain Weavervale! Front and center!” King Aemor Greyblade called over a square-jawed, strapping young harekin buck. “Signal for the drakes to get in flight formation over our main forces.”

“Sah!” the captain clicked his long heels and gave a fast salute. He turned to the mountain and lit a large blue-tinted torch. Upon striking a flame a tall plume of blue smoke puffed into the air. Weavervale waved it back and signaled the flight of drakes to move closer to the walls.

Giant shadows shot over the army as the drake riders glided towards the wall. Weavervale turned to his king and waited for another command.

“Do it, Captain!” ordered Greyblade.

Weavervale smirked and rotated his flare in a large circle. “Go! Go! Go!” he shouted in glee.

With that, the drakes sailed over the walls and engaged the New Estinian drakes. Streams of fire criss-crossed through the sky and fireballs rained onto the city below.

Wiccer watched in awe. He would never get used to seeing a dragon engaged in combat, but he caught something in the corner of his eye. Something he didn’t expect to see. The city gates opened wide and armies carrying the banners of both New Estinia and Old Estinia rushed out into the field. The thundering hooves of their Talon Riders, fifty-five heavy cavalry troops, shook the very earth as they rushed headlong into the Cypress front lines. The blitz trampled over Captain Weavervale and the enemy cavalry smashed through Cypress’s infantry, sending men flying about. They seemed to be on a single-minded suicide run straight for Wiccer and the two kings!

“For the Raven God! For the Diiiiiiiiiv’Raaaaaaaah!!!”