“The situation is tense.”

“Yes, I heard we already lost a good many men.”

“Yes… and I heard we sought help from the Confederation.”

“Yes, that’s what I’ve heard as well.”

“You Lohaani mutts!” shouted an enthusiastic voice next to Avignon’s cell. It seemed Iqba Suhliq was a bit happy today.

“You infidels will be destroyed! The Almighty has said it to be true! You’ll all die! And I’ll still live!” His wicked laughs echoed the halls. “And I’ll kill every one of your people. Every. One. Of. Them. For this humiliation that I have endur—

The cell door creaked open and, before long, screams began echoing down the halls instead.

Religion and status always made such a deadly concoction. Entitled. Intolerant. Excessive. What had changed to make Iqba so stupid? Avignon remembered his father, a calm man born in the villages who rose to become lord, telling him to guide his son to becoming less impulsive and more considerate of his surroundings. But how could he when Unda, a man Iqba was quite fond of, preached his repulsive nonsense at every meeting and at any opportunity?

Avignon remained mute, bearing through the screams the Suhliq child shouted as the man meant to watch over him beat him instead.

“Don’t worry you Haraan desert rat!” the man growled. “I’ll make sure to drown you even before they make it to these castle walls.”

“Keep beating him!” added Avignon’s guard. “Make sure he bleeds.”

Oh god. The screams made Avignon want to vomit. Though Iqba was the one to start it, how could they keep beating someone so cruelly in their custody?

It was beyond horrendous.

“Westerner! You’re just going to sit there and do nothing!” shouted Suhliq, his anger now turning to him. “How dare you! I’ll kill you t—

Another one of his groans echoed.

Damnit. It’s not like I can do anything you moron. Avignon gulped, feeling the sweat flow down his cheek. Though the new situation was a problem of itself.

If Lord Gahkhar really loses, I’d lose all the generosity that he has shown me and I’d be at the mercy of this pathetic kid. Avignon placed a hand on his head and felt the odd warmth. If Suhliq was freed, then Avignon would be forced back into servitude and bear with his stupidity. But if Lord Gahkhar wins, I might be able to build a relationship with him and perhaps…

Avignon furrowed his brows. Did he really want to do this? There was a chance Lord Gahkhar was dead anyways, setting him up to join him in hell for going against the Afraaris.

But if I sit here doing nothing, then my plans will be screwed over! Avignon cursed. Either he was reduced to a mere servant or he rose to a influential adviser. Those were his two options.

“Friend!” he shouted, speaking in his broken Lohaani tongue. He stood up, wrapping his hands around the bars that confined him to his cell. “I need your help.”

“Yes?” said his guard, approaching him cautiously. “What do you need?”

Avignon gulped.

“I need you to let me free.” He gripped his hands tightly. “I wish to help Lord Gahkhar.”

---

“Afraari arrows!” shouted Bhagat, crouching and ducking his head under his iron round-shield. “Take cover!”

Shrieks echoed and the arrows came down, either clinging on, or rolling off into the puddles around him.

Bhagat glanced around, finding those who weren’t so fortunate either laying on the stone dead, or slowly bleeding to death as their blood ran with the water stream and down to the ground below. He cursed. I don’t want to use more cannon balls in case they have some surprises under this bloody mist. Bhagat looked around him.

Of the 300 men initially on the walls with him, only around half of them remained. He’d need to be prepared for a drawn-out siege.

“Afraaris are mounting the walls!” shouted a voice to his right. Turning, he found his man trying to pry the ladder off the walls.

“I’ll be right the—

An arrow —flying through the crenel— pierced the man’s throat.

A jolt went through Bhagat’s mind, watching as his warrior landed backwards onto the stone.

”No!”

Bhagat rushed to the man, ducking under the cover of the battlements.

No! The man’s eyes stared right back at him, the blood rushing out his throat and joining the bloodied puddles under them.

“Lor… Gahkh…” he said, voice shaking.

A chill ran down Bhagat’s spine, placing his hand on the man’s head. “Don’t speak warrior. Don’t.”

The man gripped at Bhagat’s arm.

“Did I… did I—

He groaned, coughing up the blood stuffing his throat.

“Fight… fearlessly…”

His grip loosened.

The man was dead.

“Yes… yes you did.” Bhagat rested the man’s head back on the stone and curled his fists, slamming the puddles next to him. “Someone, get this man down!” he shouted. A pair scurried, lifting the body on a makeshift stretcher and carrying the body down the stairs.

Why does this happen. He wiped the stray tears welled up in his eyes. Why do I see this tragedy. Every damn time. He turned, watching as an Afraari head poked from above the crenelation.

It’s because of these bastards!

He raised his shield.

It’s because of them that we have to suffer!

And rammed his shield right into the man’s head, the metal ringing as the Afraari’s screams echoed down the ladder and ended with an audible thud.

“Men!” he screamed, pushing the ladder off the walls and facing the enemy in the mist of the monsoon. “Ready the canno—

A black ball pierced the monsoon fog, aiming straight towards Bhagat.

“RUN!” he shouted, diving for safety. The rocks holding up the battlements erupted, the sound booming as the stone scattered and pelted every section of Bhagat’s back. Bhagat coughed up blood, feeling his hands and face bruising on the rugged and reddened stone.

Fuck. Bhagat raised himself up, turning to find the hole section reduced to ruble. They had cannons of their own! Damnit, these city walls aren’t strong enough for them!

Bhagat ran, waving his hand. “Hey! Point the cannon over there!”

The men obliged, angling the cannon through the crenel.

One of the men lit the fire, using a shield to cover the spark from the monsoon rain.

Come on…

Half-way.

A little more…

A loud loud noise echoed in the air.

Bhagat raised a brow. That wasn’t ours.

Glancing upwards, his eyes tensed.

“Find cover!” he shouted, again diving for cover under the crenelations.

The stone surrounding the cannon burst open, shattering into a million fragments as the cannon angled downwards.

Shit! The cannon fired, the cannon ball damaging the walls further as the front wall collapsed, the stones sliding and cracking and the cannon clanging all the way down. The men screamed as they fell all the way to their deaths.

Bhagat cursed, his hands barely clinging onto the stone as his body hung in the air.

I’m fucking screwed. A strong gust blew. He never expected the Afraaris to utilize gunpowder and create their own cannon. He glanced downwards, watching as the Afraaris struggled to climb over the reduced walls to make their entrance into the city.

Damnit! Bhagat grit his teeth. They did the frontal assault to distract us! Damnit! I should’ve planned for this!

He pulled himself up, trying to rest on the wall that remained.

I’ve still got some cannons left by the road leading to the Red Square, so I should be fi—

The stone he clung on to broke free and he fell with it.

Fuck! He hit the stairs and fell on the roof of a nearby wagon, which itself collapsed from the impact and forced Bhagat onto the ground.

Damnit. He grit his teeth. The rain poured over his face, the creeping cold dusk giving the water an extreme chill.

He shivered, rolling off the rubble with the last of his strength left. The muscles all over him ached as his heart raced from the near-death experience.

Damnit… I can’t move. He tried gripping his hands but to no avail. Fuck, I’m in shock.

He glanced upwards, finding his fort off in the distance and onlookers peaking through their doors.

Damnit… Tears welled in his eyes, the cold rain soaking into his armor and latching to his clothes. I’m fucked.

He reached out his arms, gripping the wet soil with his hands, trying to crawl for some kind of cover.

“Leave no Sudhist alive!” shouted a familiar voice.

Well grandfather… it seems I failed you. Accepting his loss, Bhagat embraced the soil. Distant pounds met the Earth. Bhagat glanced over. An Afraari approached him, each step filling him with a terror that made his heart race faster.

“Lamellar armor…” the man said, looping his hand around the knuckle guard of his blade. “You’re their leader.”

Each footstep he took was like a crow eyeing how best to rip the meat off it’s meal.

“No Lohaani should ever think they’re above us Afraaris.” The man gave a grin. “And least of all a Sudhist.”

Damnit, I can’t even use my flames because of the rain. He gripped his fists, resting his head on the dirt soil. I really am useless, aren’t I?

The Afraari raised his blade.

“Die Lord Gahkhar, perhaps your next life won’t be so tragi—

A loud noise rang through the street.

Bhagat turned his head, watching as a cannonball ripped through the air and crushed his executioner’s body.

Blood flew all over Bhagat’s back and face as screams and shouts rang along the southern wall.

“My Lord!” shouted a few of the men, using the chaos to drag Bhagat to safety in a suspicious alleyway. “Are you alright?”

“What the hell… happened…?”

“I don’t know My Lord. It’s just that… a westerner saved you.”

A westerner saved me? Wait… what?

His mind was too confused at the moment.

Bhagat tried raising himself back up, but faltered back onto the ground. The feeling in his legs were numb and his muscles ached from the fall. It was a miracle he didn’t die, but the pain he felt was terribly taxing.

“My Lord, you need rest.”

“How can I rest when the rest of my men are fighting the enemy?” Bhagat again struggled back up, using the nearby walls for support. “Come, we’ve got to protect the pe—”

Bhagat slouched back down, coughing up blood.

“Damnit…” Bhagat glanced at his bloodied hands, the skin completely ripped and the pain searing with each pellet of rain.

“Don’t try getting up,” said a voice in broken Lohaani. Bhagat glanced upwards. It was the westerner, clad in the same robe he had worn when Bhagat first captured him alongside Suhliq. “You’re far too hurt already.”

He crouched down to meet his gaze. Another cannon blasted, creating screams and chaos towards their right.

“You definitely planned for this mess, didn’t you?” The man narrowed his eyes. “How else would you have positioned cannons in the middle of a bloody street in such a way as to slow down the enemy?”

Bhagat gave him a frown.

“You took my scope… and you probably also took my bloody wheellock pistol too!”

Bhagat’s mouth fell a part for as brief moment, before chuckling until his ribs hurt. “Damn it hurts…”

He calmed himself, raising his head to feel the monsoon rain cleanse his bloodied face.

“My Lord…”

Bhagat raised his hand.

“Westerner… yes I did take your pistol as well and I did have a strategy, but I don’t think it worked out the way I wanted…”

“And why do you think that?”

Another cannon blast echoed across the city.

He could hear his men clash with Afraari forces, their collective shouts and screams ringing with the monsoon winds.

“It’s because I think my plan fai—

A warhorn went off to the south.

“Wait…” Bhagat widened his eyes, holding his hand to his head. “What’s happening? My head hurts too much to think.”

“I… I don’t know My Lor—

“There you are!” shouted a voice. The westerner gave a stiff frown, taking out a gunpowder-like substance and snorted it. Then, as if he were in some kind of trance, he spun around, giving Bhagat a chance to stare the foe in the eyes.

Zander.

“What do you want you retard.” Bhagat struggled back up. “Get lost.”

“How dare you!” Zander gripped at his sword. “No, not until I beat you for what you did that night!”

He lunged, whipping his blade for the kill.

Fuck. Bhagat gripped for his sword, still in it’s scabbard.

Too late!

Bhagat flinched.

Metal rang.

But Bhagat didn’t feel a thing.

What the hell. He opened his eyes, watching as the westerner fought on his behalf.

“Weren’t you Suhliq’s servant?” questioned Zander. “Why are you fighting against your own masters!”

“I’m afraid that contract ended with his capture,” chuckled the foreigner. He then gave Zander a good kick, forcing him back a few feet.

“Damnit!” he growled. “You traito—

The westerner threw a glass vial of powder at the Afraari and —snapping his fingers— it exploded.

Zander groaned, flying a few feet back. Overwhelmed by the explosion, he lay on the ground unconscious.

The hell did I just witness? Bhagat’s jaw dropped from the spectacle. First the man snorted powder and then he threw a vial that exploded? What magic was this?

It’s not like my flames, no. Not at all. What the hell was tha—

Another figure appeared around the corner.

A woman? Bhagat opened his mouth but the foreigner beat him to it.

“Madame, I’d recommend you stop.” He held another vial in his hands. “I know who you are and I know what you’re capable of. Unfortunately for you, I already beat you to the powder, so give up.”

The woman said nothing at first and then she growled, revealing her rigid teeth.

“You hurt my prince!” She shouted, revealing her wheellock pistol from her robe.

Bhagat’s eyes widened.

“Die!”

She fired the gun, the bullet running towards the man.

“No!” shouted the westerner, diving towards Bhagat.

What the hell! Bhagat raised his shield, his warriors raising theirs as well. The bullet hit his shield and fell to the ground.

Holy shit! Bhagat’s heart raced. What the fuck just happened? What? That bullet… that bullet just curved? What the bloody fuck!

The warhorn drew closer as new screams erupted. Horses neighed and new shouts rang from the south.

“The army of Lord Vhaddawalia has arrived!” shouted a voice. A figure appeared on the streets as he pointed his blade at the girl. “Put that weapon down girl!”

Bhagat blinked a few times. “Dunda? Is that you?”

“Bhagat?” questioned the voice as a few warriors appeared, restraining the quiet woman to the ground. “What the hell happened to your walls? And why is there a foreigner laying beside you unconscious?”