The morning glow reddened the horizon, and white clouds drifted across the azure sky.
Victor pushed aside the animal-hide blanket draped over him and climbed to his feet on the city wall, bleary-eyed. He stretched, rubbed his face with both palms, scraped away the crusts of sleep from the corners of his eyes, and turned to look at the noisy grand training field not far inside the city.
"Goddammit, this life is unbearable—getting woken up by this racket every single morning before dawn…" Victor grumbled, kicking at several of his subordinates sprawled across the walkway in deep sleep. "Get up! All of you, get up! If the patrol comes by and finds you still sleeping, they'll give you a good lashing! Move it!"
This was the north gate of Windbury Royal City. Victor was a decurion in charge of the gate—his ten-man squad's job was to open and close the city gate, and incidentally skim a little off the small merchants passing through.
"Boss, it's still early. Why'd you wake us up? The city clock hasn't even chimed—it's not even eight, no need to open the gate. Look, the sun hasn't risen. Let us nap a bit longer." An old veteran named Klisha grumbled through sleepy eyes.
Victor's temper flared. He strode over and delivered two sharp kicks. "You've got the nerve to say that? If it weren't for you and Feiba pestering me yesterday afternoon to go all-in, I wouldn't have lost not only the squad's entire stipend but also had to take the night watch shift for Old Wolverine's squad. Otherwise we'd be cozy in the barracks right now instead of freezing our asses off on this wall all night!"
Klisha shot back defiantly, "That was just your rotten luck! Old Wolverine rolled a one-three-four—practically handing you the win—and you just had to roll a one-two-three. Didn't you see his face splitting into a grin like a chrysanthemum? You lost all the money and still wouldn't quit. You challenged him to one more round, saying if you lost, our squad would take their night watch on the wall. And what happened? Old Wolverine threw three sixes in one roll! You're the one who got us stuck up here freezing in the wind!"
Victor's face reddened, and he grew almost indignant with embarrassment. "Then why didn't you speak up sooner? Why did you push me to bet everything? After I lost it all, I tried to win it back by offering Old Wolverine the night watch shift as stakes. You and Feiba didn't object then either! Now that everything's lost, what's the point of whining…"
"Will you two cut it out?" another voice groaned. "It's bad enough being woken this early. How about thinking of a way to get something hot into our stomachs? Dammit—those lazy bastards in the barracks won't even think about bringing us food until nine at the earliest. They've got to serve those precious officers first. Probably ten o'clock before anything shows up…" A portly old soldier lay slumped against the wall, pulling his hide blanket tighter.
Klisha immediately redirected his anger. "Feiba, all you ever think about is eating. You're already fat as a pig…"
The fat old soldier answered impatiently, "None of your damn business! I've got a broad heart—unlike a petty little man like you who counts every grain and has a heart smaller than a needle tip. Lost is lost, what's done is done, so what's the use of crying about it now? The only thing I regret is that damn Grand Duke. The moment he showed up, our good days were over. We had the cushy job guarding the Royal Palace—gone! Demoted to gate duty. Not only did we lose our side income, our pay was cut in half. I swear to hell…"
Feiba's outburst immediately struck a chord with the rest of the soldiers, and in no time, curses and insults against Grand Duke Fisablen flowed freely. They had originally been a company-sized guard unit stationed at the Rose Royal Palace, answering directly to the Queen. Palace duty was a plum assignment—good pay, plus nobles who wanted to dig up palace secrets were always willing to pay handsomely. There were other unmentionable perks, too. Feiba, for instance, had been a permanent guard at the palace kitchens and had grown as soft and round as a ball of dough from eating too many good things.
But after Grand Duke Fisablen arrived, the very first group he made an example of was this palace guard unit. The company commander and several platoon commanders had their heads hung on display in the square before the palace. As for the rank-and-file like Victor, Klisha, and Feiba, they were sent off to guard the four gates of the royal city, replacing the private soldiers of several southern province nobles.
Those southern province nobles had fought vicious backroom battles for years over control of the four gates. But with a single order from Grand Duke Fisablen, they had no choice but to hand over the gates—if only for the sake of the Border Patrol Corps' reputation. And in doing so, they sealed their own doom. Without the ability to freely enter and exit the gates, they were chickens trapped in the royal city, and Grand Duke Fisablen could slaughter them whenever he pleased.
Decurion Victor went pale at his subordinates' disrespect toward Grand Duke Fisablen. "Shut up! All of you! If you want to die, don't drag me down with you. Have you forgotten how many people His Excellency the Grand Duke had killed in the second half of last year? How many of those nobles who used to lord it over us are still alive? When they sent us to dig graves, we buried dozens—even hundreds—of bodies at a time! How many powerful nobles we knew ended up in the ground as fertilizer—have you all forgotten?"
A miserable wailing cry drifted over from the nearby grand training field, but it was abruptly cut short.
Victor shuddered involuntarily and muttered, "I wonder whose unlucky head is about to go up on the wall for display…"
Klisha said beside him, "Yesterday it was seventeen. Who knows how many heads will fall today."
Feiba stared toward the training field. "Boss, I heard it from Old Poke in the palace kitchens yesterday at noon—the several thousand men gathered for training in the grand field are only the first batch. Grand Duke Fisablen has decided to take the private soldiers left behind by those nobles, along with the garrison troops rounded up last year, and reorganize them into a new garrison corps. He even told me to seize the opportunity and volunteer to join. After all, I'm
Victor nodded. "Yeah, I heard Captain Bouston say yesterday that this garrison corps demands discipline and obedience stricter than a regular field army. Apparently they'll be used to defend several key strategic locations, so the training instructors His Excellency the Grand Duke sent are all cold-blooded killers—whippings and executions at the drop of a hat, no hesitation. I'd advise you not to sign up just to torture yourself. The suffering in this corps is no joke. You wouldn't be able to stand it."
"Boss, stop talking—the patrol's coming." A sharp-eyed soldier spotted the patrol squad approaching along the wall in the distance.
The patrol squad was composed of guards from Grand Duke Fisablen's personal retinue, with several squads patrolling the royal city daily. This wall-inspection squad was also ten men, but every one of them was at the Silver Qi rank. Armed in the Fisablen family's standard military equipment, their mere presence on the streets was itself a silent intimidation to anyone who harbored discontent toward the Grand Duke.
"You lot look alert enough," the leading knight of the patrol squad said, with rare approval of Victor's squad. "Who's in charge?"
Victor bowed respectfully. "My lord, I am Decurion Victor."
The leading knight said, "Victor, very well. His Excellency the Grand Duke has ordered the gates to open an hour earlier and close an hour later for the next two days. In addition, gate defense personnel are to be doubled. Your captain should have already received the order."
"Why is that?" Victor asked curiously.
The knight didn't ignore him and explained the order's rationale with surprising civility. "Because after the winter wheat harvest in the outlying areas, His Excellency ordered the harvested grain from those unclaimed territories to be transported to the royal city. The increased traffic makes early opening necessary. Also, the First Border Patrol Corps marched out yesterday, and a victory report should arrive any time now—so we're delaying gate closure to ensure we don't miss the messenger. Understood?"
Victor nodded, then watched the patrol squad stride away.
Feiba said excitedly beside him, "Boss, if those supply convoys come through, we could snag a sack of winter wheat to make porridge. Freshly harvested winter wheat porridge—fragrant and thick, absolutely delicious!"
"We'll see. Hey, isn't that a supply convoy over there? That's a long line of wagons—they really are coming this early! Klisha, go ask Captain Bouston—didn't they say they were doubling our numbers? Why hasn't anyone shown up? If they don't come, I'm not opening the gate." Victor pointed at the long train of wagons appearing at the far end of the road outside the city.
The squad of reinforcements sent by Captain Bouston turned out to be Victor's nemesis—Old Wolverine and his ten men. Old Wolverine had once been a mercenary, Black Iron Three-Star. His real name had long been forgotten; everyone just knew him by his nickname, Old Wolverine.
The city clock chimed seven times, then after a pause chimed seven more, and after another pause would chime seven more to complete the signal.
"Time's up. Old Wolverine, you open the gate—we're not coming down. Running up and down these stairs is exhausting." Victor shouted from atop the wall.
Old Wolverine cursed under his breath. "Won yesterday and thought we could sneak into the city for some fun today. Dammit—Bouston gives us another assignment. I haven't even had breakfast and they've already chased me over here. I hope his young wife finds him impotent for the rest of his life!"
Victor's squad on the wall burst into laughter. An idea struck Victor, and he shouted down to Old Wolverine: "Old Wolverine, a supply convoy just arrived! Get us a sack of wheat and we'll go cook porridge in that tower over there…"
Old Wolverine either heard or didn't—he just nodded and directed his men to open the gate. Victor leaned over the wall and watched the long supply convoy arrive at the gate. Several men jumped down from wagons piled high with burlap sacks, exchanged a few words with Old Wolverine, then handed him a sack. Old Wolverine stepped aside, and the wagons began filing slowly into the city.
The man who'd handed over the sack stood beside Old Wolverine, chatting and laughing as the wagons passed, then unstrapped a large leather canteen from his body and handed it over.
"Dammit—must be ale or something. Old Wolverine really scored this time." Victor leaned on the wall, thinking jealously—but soon he felt a faint vibration running through the wall beneath him.
What was going on? Victor thought he might be imagining things, until he heard Feiba's trembling voice beside him: "Boss… boss… l-look… c-cavalry…"
Victor looked up, and his entire body went rigid. In the distance, countless cavalry were swarming toward the royal city. The banners and armor were nothing like those of the First Border Patrol Corps that had marched out yesterday—these were clearly the enemy…
"I—" Victor finally managed to produce a sound. He lowered his head to shout at Old Wolverine by the gate—only to see the convoy man who had been chatting with Old Wolverine pulling a blood-stained short sword from Old Wolverine's belly. The man looked up and flashed Victor a hideous grin.
It was over. The gate was blocked by the wagons of winter wheat and couldn't be closed. Even if his ten men rushed down, they'd only be sending themselves to their deaths. The convoy men were all enemies in disguise—the royal city was about to fall! In that moment, Victor's mind went completely blank. What should he do? Wait—those cavalry were coming from the same direction the First Border Patrol Corps had marched out yesterday. That meant the First Border Patrol Corps was already destroyed…
Who had the strength to annihilate the First Border Patrol Corps and still push on without rest to assault Windbury Royal City? Unwilling to accept it, Victor raised his head for one more look at the rolling tide of cavalry—and recognized several familiar banners. "The wrath bear emblem—isn't that the
*Clang.* Victor dropped his weapon and sank to his knees on the wall.
"Boss, what are you doing?" Feiba asked in confusion.
"Drop your weapons! Kneel down like me! I'm saving your damn lives! If you're still holding weapons when those people charge up, they'll kill you! Hurry—drop everything, kneel behind me!" Victor shouted in desperation.
……
He'd thought too far ahead. The priority now was capturing Grand Duke Fisablen. Lorist wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth and spurred his horse onward toward the Rose Palace.
Behind him, soldiers of the Philim Family's Pegasus Knights bearing the pegasus banner and riders of the Wrath Bear Knights bearing the wrath bear emblem poured continuously through the north gate into Windbury Royal City. Ail and Reidi, who had hijacked and impersonated the winter wheat convoy, along with the family guards, had already dragged the wagons blocking the gate to the outside and were now scrambling to find mounts so they could catch up with Lorist.
The previous afternoon, after annihilating the Fisablen Family's First Border Patrol Corps at Walker Town, Lorist had set out at seven in the evening toward Windbury Royal City with the guard battalion, the Wrath Bear Knights, and Count Philim's Pegasus Knights. Bodefeng and Malek followed with the Bedrock Corps, while the task of cleaning up the battlefield was left to Ross the Fierce Tiger's Flying Tiger Corps.
Lorist had originally wanted to launch a night assault on Windbury Royal City, but when they were within ten li of the city, he discovered that everyone—men and horses alike—was exhausted. With no choice, he ordered all forces to camp in the open and rest properly. After all, a major battle had just concluded and they had marched through the night—even iron men would break.
He considered just launching a frontal assault instead. But before six in the morning, the scouting patrols spotted a long supply convoy. After surrounding and questioning them, Lorist laughed with delight—heaven had granted his wish. A way to breach the city had fallen into his hands. Ail and Reidi, posing as convoy personnel with the guards, quickly seized the north gate, and Windbury Royal City fell into Lorist's hands.
The garrison finally sounded the alarm horns. The bells of enemy attack rang out in panicked disarray. Several patrol squads fought bravely on the streets and walls, launching counterattacks against the invaders—but they quickly fell in pools of blood…
Lorist finally caught sight of the golden double doors of the Rose Royal Palace. He drew his longsword and charged at the dozen or so palace gate guards standing ready in formation…
(To be continued.)