“Come on! Get those mats into position. Overseer, get your teams to bring out the stone! Is the second batch ready to pour?” Anselm was busy directing the laborers, the last few days had been spent digging a trench around the base of the hillside upon which the town of Grenne stood. These were around five feet deep and about three or four feet wide, after the sides were smoothed out, large square planks of wood were placed along those edges.
The sawmills provided the town a significant increase in production, freeing up a large portion of manpower that was no longer required to manually saw the wooden logs into planks. A small river cut through the town, barely more than a creek which was fed by the snow melt from the mountains above, running down the hillside and forming a small pond. It was this creek which pushed the wheels that turned the saw in the mills, allowing the iron blades consistently provide more precision to the cuts, on top of the decreased worker requirements.
Grenne was compact, the lion’s share of the homes, smithies, and mining facilities focused closer to the mountains upon the upper plateau of the gently sloping hills. In addition to hosting the clan quarters, the chieftain’s home, and forge, it also held much of the upper nobility and the numerous craftsmen along with their shops. This inner region was the best defended, sporting an old-style stone curtain wall, it wasn’t particularly high, standing at around twelve feet, with the towers located in the four cardinal directions elevated a little higher at twenty. However, these walls benefitted from being placed near the edge of the upper plateau of the hill, any attacker would have a lot of trouble going up the hill and scaling the inner walls, all while facing a hail of arrows, javelins, and stones.
The second portion of the city took up the largest area, this was in the center, and housed most of the population, as well as the longhouses that acted as the barracks for the warriors and soldiers, in addition to the training fields. This central sector also had access to the creek which ran through it, so all the sawmills were located here, alongside lower value production such as grain stores, butcher’s shops, leather workers, and more wells than the noble quarter had with its single cistern.
Although a wall was present and encircled the hill, it wasn’t constructed out of stone, instead it was a palisade wall with an earthen berm as its base. The stout wooden logs stood around ten feet, with the earthen berm adding an addition two or three, there was a walkway for soldiers to patrol, but as the approach was less steep it would not offer anywhere near as much defensive capabilities as the inner wall. However, the difference in elevation between the inner wall and central wall was great enough that those standing atop the stone wall could fire over the central wall and upon an attacking enemy force. This strategy had been proven effective many times over the years, Anselm having been the one designing and overseeing the construction of the palisade, and more importantly building it in a way where the terrain could be maximized in defensive sieges.
Current construction efforts were not focused on either the inner or central sections of Grenne, instead they stretched out from the base of the hill, encompassing some of the grasslands below. Winter chills were starting to set in, and a very thin layer of snow rested upon the sparse bed of green. It was here that Anselm began construction of the outermost walls of Grenne, turning the entirety of the hillside into a self-sustaining stronghold. The first layer of liquid stone, what the Scholar had seen aboard the Sawtooth and named concrete. This miraculous grey slurry was slowly poured into the trench, until it reached close to the top of the wooden planks that had been set. Upon filling this first layer, another plank was placed atop, and more planks were fitted into place, with the plan being to pour the second level the next day after the first layer had hardened.
Following this systematic method of construction, it took a little over two weeks to complete the new outer wall to a level where it stood around twenty feet tall. It wasn’t much, just a thick slab of concrete packed within a wooden frame, anyone who attacked expecting a paper-thin barricade would be in for a rude awakening. While there was still considerable work to be done on completing the outer wall to make it into a formidable bulwark, the open lands between the central palisade and outer wall could now be developed. Anselm spread out his map depicting the plans for Grenne’s expansion, upon which hand drawn images of small farming plots, with the rest housing the beast pens.
Just as the construction teams painstakingly placed the final plank upon the fourth layer, a chime began to ring from atop the hill. Two rings in rapid succession, followed by one bang of the drum indicated only one thing, an unknown force of considerable size, whether hostile or not was in doubt. From the bottom of the hill Anselm’s sight was obscured by the yet unfinished wall, which had walls, but lacked a functioning gatehouse, and still had a massive open area where the creek ran through. An iron grate needed to be placed there, but those additional structures would take weeks to complete, for now they could only leave behind their materials and make for the safety of the upper levels.
“What is it? Have the Karsi come in force, or is it the usual raids?” Anselm raced up onto one of the wooden watchtowers, setup along the central wall, nearest the gates. The guard was caught completely off guard, before quickly realizing who it was that was speaking to him and responded as quickly as he could. “I’m not sure my war chief, they appear to be Karsi, but something isn’t right. There are no warriors in their ranks.”
Anselm pushed the man aside and peered through the large spyglass affixed to the wooden railing, one of many prototypes designed before creating the ones currently in use by only the most trusted naval personnel. In this case the glass was not properly developed, creating a warped and cloudy image, however, it remained superior to a human’s eyesight.
What Anselm saw in the distance was a large group of people, their clothes ragged, bodies shaking in the breeze. They were primarily women and children, with very few elderly persons in their ranks, being carried by young boys who held them aloft upon wood and hide stretchers. Anselm could tell instinctively that these were not invaders, these were refugees, people fleeing for their lives with only the clothes on their backs.
“Hold you fire! Let them enter the outer region, but do not let them enter any further… Don’t just stand there you fool, dispatch the messenger now!” Anselm reacted quickly and decisively; he had made his decision. He would not trust these people, but he would not turn them away, or have the blood of innocent women and children upon his hands. Even still he kept glancing towards the distant forests and mountains from where they had emerged, trying to pinpoint an ambushing force, yet found nothing.
It was unlikely that a group of this size made it this far on their own, it was clear they had no weapons or even food, merely the clothes on their back and whatever little they could carry.
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The woman held her child close to her chest, any semblance of order had broken down as the crowd made a mad dash for the distant town. None had known how far they needed to go, having been lost in the mountains and forests for days. At first there were few concerns, the tribe had been more than capable of living off the land as their ancestors had done for time immemorial. However, it did not take away from the reality of their exodus, the mountains they had always called home had become too dangerous to remain.
Entire tribal settlements had gone missing, at first it was small hunting and raiding parties, but soon enough the wilds they had once been masters of were turning against them. Beasts became more vicious, thirsting for human blood and flesh, the increasingly large wolves, and flesh-eating goats they could deal with, but it was black and grey furred monsters that one needed to worry about. One could eliminate entire tribal encampments, survivors often being the few who escaped the initial attack, and the following scavengers who arrived to pick off those who fled.
Noushig was one such survivor, along with her young daughter Varteni they had fled their home and somehow made it to another tribe that had made the hear wrenching decision to leave their homes. They would leave the mountains, forsake their way of life, and submit to their cousins in the north, for the safety of their walled cities. However, the trip began auspiciously as they were beset by a pack of mountain wolves, the creatures harassing them every step of the way, picking off any stragglers and those too weak to continue.
Hunting parties were understrength as some had to remain behind to protect the women, children, and elderly, resulting in mounting casualties. The wolf packs kept them from keeping to their paths, hounding them at every step, until they had lost their way, forced to head east instead, hoping to reach any settlement which could assist them. All semblance of pride had dissipated, the hunger and fear taking precedent, forcing these formerly prideful tribesmen and women to put the survival of themselves and their children first.
On this day, after a few weeks in the forest, the convoy finally spotted smoke in the distance. However, as they made their way, a distant roar caused their bodies to tremble, children cried, and instinctively Noushig picked up Varteni, cradled the child in her arms and ran as fast as her weakened body could take her. The thrum of bowstrings reverberated, followed quickly by the screams of the men and the monstrous footfalls of the beast.
There was little care for anyone, some of the children and elderly were left behind in the mad scramble, crying children abruptly silenced followed by the sounds of crushed flesh and bone. Sometime a scream could be heard before it was quickly and violently ended, Noushig had been lucky, her quick thinking placing her at the front of the pack. It wasn’t long before the heavy footfalls of the beasts died down, they had exited the forests, reaching the open grasslands within sight of the wooden walls.
It was likely the beasts had eaten their fill, for the time being, a small pack, but large enough to destroy around half of their group. Hundreds having been killed in the weeks since they left their mountain home and had begun their journey. With the monsters appearing this far from the mountains it meant only one thing, the food in their usual hunting grounds had run out, and their range had expanded further out.
Either way, the survivors made it past the walls, thanking and praying to the Balearii guards who slowly lowered their bows as they witnessed the depressing sight. Anselm was first to meet with the group, upon conversing with one of the survivors the color drained from his face and his eyes shifted to the distant forest.
“Bring these people inside, share with them whatever you can and help them find a warm bed to lay on! As for the rest of you, we’re doubling the guard tonight, tomorrow, and every night until I say otherwise!” Anselm relayed the order before turning to his aide, the captain of the town guard. “Get any additional ballista we had been preparing for Temrenos, as well as any faulty prototypes, if it can fire once then bring it and get the men to start setting up along the center of both walls. Anything that comes out of that forest that isn’t walking on two legs is to be brought down immediately!”
