Chapter 9

 

The Baron was gently shaken from his slumber. He was still very tired, his brief nap was not nearly enough sleep. He looked up at the man who had awoken him and waved his hand.

“Yeah yeah, just give me a little bit.”

“Baron, I doubt we would want to keep Spymaster Brusilov waiting. He does not seem like the type to forgive tardiness.”

The Baron rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and was greeted by the serious face of Hans Volkner.

“Ah, apologies, Hans. I have been feeling the years accumulating as of late. I will make my way over to him as soon as I can.”

Hans saluted and walked out of the tent while the Baron put on his poofy clothes and strapped on his chestplate. His armor was absolutely beautiful, and extremely detailed, which seemed like a strange choice for a piece of armor meant for combat, though it did seem to hold up to rigors of battle fine. Even after his near death at the hands of the Berzerkeri Seamus it had nary a scratch. He put on his helmet which resembled a Spanish Morion helmet and clicked his tongue. He didn’t know he had it during the battle of Baktenburg. He strongly doubted it would have helped against Seamus, but it most likely would have helped against literally anyone else. Finally he strapped on his weapons and eyepatch and headed to the War tent.

The War tent was massive, it looked more like a house than a tent. The doorway was covered with a cloth emblazoned with the symbol of the Empire, a gauntleted arm holding up it’s pointer finger. Underneath read the words “Ein Reich Von Einem” in the Empire’s strange swirly font. He pushed aside the cloth and entered the War room. He was greeted by his Lieutenants, Spymaster Brusilov, and a couple of other well dressed men he didn’t recognize, sitting at a large round table. Brusilov looked up from his papers as the Baron entered.

“As yes, Baron. So good of you to join us. You are 5 minutes behind schedule.”

“My apologies, Herr Spymaster, my years seem to be catching up to me.”

“It is fine, you are 50 years of age, yes? I understand. I turn 47 this year. Just sit down there, by Ludwin Albrecht.”

The Baron nodded and sat next to Ludwin. Brusilov slid a folder over to the Baron. It looked far more crude than the manila folders he had seen in his past life, but it held the papers just fine. The Baron skimmed the documents, which mostly had troop numbers and rough estimations of how several siege plans would go. Brusilov cleared his throat and began laying out papers on the table.

“The Empress has invited all of you here specifically because she has heard tales of your battle prowess, your tactical mind, or both. We have a need of specialists, and you men and your troops will act as such. Firstly we will begin by explaining the plan our Empress has created, and then I will tell each of you your role in the plan.” Brusilov was still speaking with a Russian accent, but his grammar was perfect and his accent was lessened, most likely because he wanted everyone to understand him properly.

“Are there any objections?” Everyone shook their heads.

“Good. Currently, the Empress wants to bring down the walls of Leibensburg. We will use the Artillery you have brought, alongside what the Grand Imperial Army already has, to break open the gates on every side and breach the walls in select locations. After this, we send in the army in squads of 50 at a time, each being led by a gifted one with specific orders on what to do and what to focus on. Any questions?” A man with a bushy moustache and a giant plume on his helmet spoke up, his voice was deep and rough.

“How many squads would there be in total? And why are we dividing the army into squads? Shouldn't we just flood into the city with our superior numbers?”

“Including the men all of you have brought, there would be about 45 squads in total, more or less. As for dividing the men into squads, the Empress wishes to test if this would reduce the property damage done by the attacking army. Do not worry, she has informed me that looting is still allowed, she just wishes to keep the damages of infrastructure to a minimum since these are still her lands. Is that explanation satisfactory?” Plume helmet nodded his head and gestured for Brusilov to continue.

“We would love to immediately proceed with our plan, but, the rebellious prince has been able to convince Elven wizards to join his side.” The men around the table all groaned.

“Do not let this get you down, as far as our intelligence network can surmise, he only managed to recruit four Earth mages, and their only purpose is to strengthen the walls, and since they are earth specialists, specifically Elven earth specialists, our artillery cannot break through. So, our plan is to infiltrate the Castle and kill the mages. I will hand pick men to form squads for infiltration, we will send in 15 squads of 4 men, and their mission will be to find and kill the mages, as well as wrecking as much havoc on the defenders as possible during the bombardment. You will signal your success of killing the mages with fireworks. After killing a mage you are to find a window and shoot a firework into the air. After four fireworks have been shot off, we will begin our bombardment. Any questions?” Ludwin piped up.

“Will every squad be equipped with four fireworks?”

“Yes, every man will have a single firework and a box of matches.” Next, Fergus leaned forwards and asked a question.

“Will tha mages be fightin’ back? Aye donnae ken much aboot magic, but ah hear sum magicks take alota focus ‘n effort ta maintain, so will thay be shootin’ rocks at oos or will their ‘eads be so deep in their grimoires they won’t 'ear oos comin’?” The Spymaster stroked his chin for a couple of seconds in thought.

“From what I understand, at any time two of the mages will be completely focused on maintaining the wards and spells on the walls, so about half of the mages should be too distracted to fight you, but their guard will be heavier, and half of the mages should be awake and able to fight, but they would most likely have less of an entourage, as the defenders can only spare so many men. Is that a satisfying answer?”

“Aye.”

“So, after we deal with the mages, we just attack anyone we run into?” asked Udo, feet up on the table, balancing his chair on two legs.

“Yes, essentially. Though if your squad is feeling too tired or is too injured to fight you may withdraw. Additionally, try to keep away from the outer walls and gatehouses, for obvious reasons.”

“And where do we withdraw if we need to?”

“You will simply need to retrace your steps and come back through where you entered. Our entry point will be guarded by my men so extraction should go smoothly. Satisfied?”

“Oh yeah, of course.” responded Udo.

A dangerous looking man wearing a Shemagh to cover his face and leather armor quietly rose his voice, if such a thing was even possible.

“Is there any problem with civilian casualties? Should we get spotted, are we allowed to silence whoever spotted us before they can raise the alarm?” He had a quiet, whisper-like quality to his voice. Even though he was speaking at full volume it felt as though you could barely hear him. His accent was clearly Arabian.

“None at all. You have the greenlight to kill all who oppose you. The Empress just requests you do not let it get out of hand. Additionally, as I mentioned before, you are allowed to take whatever loot you can carry. The Empress wishes to make an example of Leibensburg to an extent. Looting is fine, but no fires and no wanton slaughter. The Empress wants the population cowed, not wiped out, and she wishes for the infrastructure to remain relatively undamaged. Clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Now, if there are no more questions, I will be handing out assignments.” No one spoke up and The Spymaster continued onto assignments.

“Firstly, we will start with who will take part of the main force assaulting Leibensburg. The men who have been chosen are…” He trailed off as he shuffled his papers.

“Ludwin Albrecht, Hans Volkner, Johan Schreibkopf, Udo Fudopfiegler, and Helmut Freier. We have looked into your pasts as much as we could and allotted you accordingly. Firstly, Ludwin Albrecht, Udo Fudopfiegler, Hans Volkner, and Johan Schreibkopf will each be given command of a squad for the assault. Next, Helmut Freier will be working with artillery crews.” He looks up from his papers and stares directly at Helmut.

“You were very hard to find information on. Had the Empress’s bureaucratic reforms not been implemented we would have absolutely nothing on you. But our records show that you were briefly enrolled in the Imperial Gunnery School at Waffenstadt, and you were top of your class until you disappeared. Our Master of Artillery is currently buried in a warehouse in Grossendorf, so we need someone else to manage the men. Do you take any issue with our assessment of your abilities?”

“None at all. I just ask that you assign someone with authority to work with me. People have a tendency to not notice me.”

“Of course, no problem, we’ll send someone the men know and trust.” He quickly wrote a note and called over a messenger boy to deliver the note.

“Ok, now for the infiltration team...Baron Johan Bleichroder Von Bickenstadt, Fergus Ulpagahn, Ahmad Salib, Hans Messenschaft, and myself.” He walked over to the chalkboard and began writing.

“I will not be writing out every squad, just the ones that include us. The first squad is made up of the Baron, Fergus, and two of my own personal men. Next squad is Ahmad, and three of my men. Last squad is Hans, myself, and two of my men. Now is time to air your grievances, if there are any.” No one spoke up, and Brusilov nodded appreciatively.

“Fantastic, then we have nothing further to discuss. We will begin our infiltration at 0300 hours tomorrow. Infiltrator squads get your supplies in order, visit the quartermaster to receive the mission equipment, and then rest in preparation for the infiltration. Assault force will meet with their men and prepare for the assault. Understood?” Everyone muttered their agreements.

 

At 3 am the next day, the infiltration squad met at an entrance to the Leibensburg sewer system. Everyone got into their squads and awaited orders from Spymaster Brusilov. Soon after everyone arrived, he stepped onto a box and addressed everyone.

“You know your orders men. The sewers are clear of patrols, and the guards at the entrances have been replaced, so your way is open. You have full discretion to do what you must. The only stipulation is no arson. If you are caught torching buildings or destroying infrastructure you will be shot for insubordination. Let us get moving, time is of the essence. For the provinces! For the Empress! For the Empire!”

“FOR THE PROVINCES! FOR THE EMPRESS! FOR THE EMPIRE!”

“Now, let’s go kill us some traitors!” Everyone gave another cheer and then quietly filtered into the sewer. As they were moving to the city entrance, The Baron tried to get a feel for the men he would be working with.

“Alright lads, we will be working together tonight, so we should go around and give a summary of our abilities, and our names. I’ll start, I am Johan Bleichroder Bickenstadt, I am an excellent duelist proficient in many different weapons and combat styles, as well as a fantastic shot with a pistol. I also carry with me four pistols, four flashbombs, and two fragmentation grenades.”

“Aye’m Fergus Ulpagahn! Aye'm a Berzerkeri, ah use ah 'andaxe an’ a Knuckleknife!”

I have no idea what a Berzerkeri is, but apparently it is well known enough that he doesn’t need to elaborate on his skill set. As soon as this is done I’m gonna lock myself in my study and read as much as I can about this world. If I remember to.

“I’m Uwe. Brusilov’s Finest don’t give last names. I’m Empire Special Forces, recruited out of Waffenstadt, hand trained by Brusilov. I’m a demolitions specialist, and I got a variety of grenades and explosives with me, though no flashbombs, as well as a pistol and boardin’ axe.” Uwe was fairly tall, about as tall as the Baron, and about twice as wide. He was wearing a red and white striped shirt and had red cloth tied around his waist. Bits of his chainmail were visible through the rips in his shirt. He wore a bandolier with many bombs and pouches on it. He wore his hair in a buzzcut, and on his face he sported a small soul patch.

“I am Bartosz, Empire Special Forces and one of Brusilov’s Finest. I am from Brzęczys...I mean Holenstadt. I am an excellent duelist, I have exceptional stealth skills, and have exceptional hearing. I am armed with an armbow and arming sword. I can also use Healing magic. I use hand signals as my medium and I burn poppies for pain relief.”

Bartosz was much shorter than Uwe, around the same height as Fergus, but much thinner. He was wearing a gambeson with jack chains and a kettle helm, the standard issue armor of the Grand Imperial Army. He was wearing leather vambraces, and a small crossbow was folded up and mounted on his left arm. At his side was a simple looking arming sword. He had a very slight accent, it was hardly noticeable. He sounds vaguely Eastern European, maybe...Polish? And he definitely started to call Holenstadt by a different name...I really need to wrap this up so I can figure everything out.

After introductions the rest of their journey through the sewer was mostly silent. They quietly reached an exit near the castle and started to look around for the mages. As they were stalking through the halls Bartosz held up his hand.

“I can hear a patrol. Six men. From the sounds of their footsteps they are all wearing chainmail. I suggest we ambush them.” Everyone silently agreed and found a place to hide. Uwe hid behind a pillar and the Baron did the same. Bartosz clambered into a cupboard and Fergus managed to cling to the ceiling just above the doorway.

The patrol made their way into the hallway a few moments after everyone got settled. Their formation had four men in the middle and one at the front and back. As soon as the last one came into the doorway Fergus jumped down from his spot above the door and landed on him, slamming his knife through the top of the man's head, killing him instantly. Bartosz burst out of the cupboard and slammed into one of the men in the middle, knocking him to the ground and stumbling his comrades. As soon as the patrol started to figure out what was happening Uwe and the Baron stepped out from behind their pillars. Uwe took a step forward and swung his boarding axe up in a great arc, impaling the front guard on the spike end and lifting him in the air. The guard lived just long enough to let loose a blood curdling scream before he went limp on Uwe's axe. The Baron quickly stepped forward and slashed a guard’s hand off at the wrist, letting the momentum of his strike bring his torso down and lift his leg up, performing a wheel kick. He felt it connect with the jaw of another and heard a sickening crack as his head twisted and he collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. As soon as the last man was able to raise his sword Fergus was on him, pulling his foot out from under him with the beard of his axe, raising his knife high above his head. Just as the Baron finished off the handless man he turned to Fergus and shouted.

“Wait! Don’t kill him!” Fergus was obviously in the hold of bloodlust, his eyes were dull and he was smiling and howling as loud as he could. He was just about gouge the poor man's eyes out, but at the last second he was able to compose himself enough to change his strike at the last second, punching him in the face with the brass knuckles that made up his handle.

“WHY BARON! AYE WERE GONNAE…” He began to trail off and his eyes began to regain some of their color.

“...Sorry, sorry. Aye donnae think ‘es dead, though aye do punch ‘ard.” The rest of them walked over to the guard. Bartosz knelt down and felt his pulse.

“It is weak, but I can fix that.” He made some movements with his hands and suddenly his eyes started glowing. He made another sign with his hands and touched them to the man’s head. The torches lighting the hallway began to die and the guard woke up. The Baron stood over him and pointed his saber at the man’s neck.

“Welcome back to the land of the living! Now, where are the mages that the Prince has hired?”

The man muttered a bit, looking around, obviously confused. Uwe delivered a swift kick to the man’s ribs, snapping him back to reality.

“Thank you, Uwe. Now, the mages? You ought to have seen them during your rounds. Tall, pointy ears, ethereal beauty, possibly glowing eyes. You’ve seen them, right?”

“Uuuuuh, yeah...I've seen them around.”

“Good, now, pray tell, where can you usually find them?”

“Um, they...they have their own living quarters. And there is a specific room they go to so they can reinforce the walls. It is marked by a sign with a caricature of an elf on it.”

“Well, thank you. That’s useful. Sleep tight!” The Baron swiftly smashed him pommel into the man’s face, knocking him out cold.

“Uwe, he looks heavy, stuff him in the cupboards.”

They randomly galivanted about the castle, ambushing patrols when they came across them, until they finally came upon a room with an elf sign over the door.

“That feels...dumb.”

Bartosz kneeled and put his ear to the wall.

“No time to worry about that, the room is filled with men, I can hear them shuffling about and breathing. There is about 15 men, and I can feel magic being done in the farthest part of the room. The men are not moving enough for me to tell their armor, so we will just have to hope they are not all gifted ones.”

“So...what do we do?”

The Baron plucked off a couple of flashbombs from his belt.

“Well, flashbang!”

Uwe pulled two grenades out of his satchel.

“Fuck yeah! Let’s make some noise!”

Uwe lit a match and ignited three of his bombs, tossing them into the room, shortly followed by the Baron’s flash grenades. They waited until both sets of bombs exploded and rushed in. Only four of the men were already dead, missing arms, legs, and having huge holes torn through their chests by the shrapnel. Many of the others were reeling from the flashbombs or injured by the shrapnel, or both, and the men closest to the flashbombs were bleeding from the ears. Fergus howled and sprinted into the room, tackling men left and right, stabbing through their armor like it wasn’t even there and beating others to a bloody pulp. Uwe rushed in with Bartosz, hacking off legs and arms as he moved, leaving Bartosz to finish the disabled men. The Baron lunged forward, impaling a man through the throat, spinning around him as he dislodged his saber and slashing another man’s throat in the same motion. Soon most of the men who were dazed by the blasts were dead, and the rest of the men were beginning to form up, and, worst of all, the mage was beginning to regain his bearings. One of the men rushed at Uwe, swiping wildly with his arming sword. Uwe caught his wrist and headbutted him, tossing him aside to be finished by Bartosz. Uwe stepped forward and swung his axe down in a wide arc, lodging the axe in another man and slamming him into the stone floor so hard it spiderwebbed. Someone got around Uwe while he was trying to dislodge his axe and raised his sword.

“FOR MY BROTH-” He was cut off as a small bolt appeared in his throat. Bartosz rushed forward, kicking him away from Uwe before his sword hit as he fell. Uwe lifted his axe with the body still attached to it and smiled at Bartosz, turning around and swinging his axe so the body dislodged itself, flying into a group of 4 men approaching them.

The Baron quickly aimed his pistol and shot through the neck of a man approaching Fergus from behind and then quickly ducked under the swing of another, twisting his body and slamming his guard into the man’s stomach, swiftly rising and chopping the man’s head off while he was doubled over. He returned his pistol to it’s holster and pulled another, quickly using it the parry another strike and slashing at the man at the same time. The man was able to dodge back at the last second and send a wild strike at the Baron, which he parried with ease, stepping inside of the strike and elbowing him into the wall. Just as he was about to finish the man off he felt the ground begin to shift beneath him. He jumped to the side just as a spike of stone erupted from the floor. He turned to find the source and saw the mage waving his hands in the air, his eyes glowing a dark green. He was wearing a navy blue long coat over a Napoleonic era officer uniform. He quickly finished his air signs and some stones jumped out of the floor, flying at his attackers as soon as they began to fall back down. The Baron redirected as many of the rocks as he could as he desperately dodged at the same time. Fergus took on the rocks head on, smashing through the rocks as he ran at the mage. Uwe and Bartosz frantically tried to dodge the stones and find cover. They ran to jump behind a turned over dresser, but Uwe took a rock in the back as he jumped over, hitting the ground hard with the added force of the rock, landing at an odd angle and breaking his leg, while another rock glanced off Bartosz’s head as he tumbled over the dresser. Bartosz was knocked unconscious as he flopped down behind the dresser, and Uwe was out of commission until he could get his leg fixed.

The Baron was barely able to avoid getting pummeled to death by the barrage of stones, taking a few rocks to his shoulders and thighs as he desperately moved to avoid getting hit in the head. Fergus was making slow progress moving forward, the mage had built up a barrier of spinning stones around him and Fergus was having trouble dealing with all of them. Soon the barrage was beginning to slow down and the mage was slowly moving to a different part of the room. The area he was standing on before was full of holes and dust. The Baron started to edge around the side of the mage and the barrage lessened further. The Baron waited until his barrier thinned and aimed his pistol. Just as he saw an opening he was tackled to the ground by the man he knocked against the wall earlier.

The mage took a step back and swung his fist in an uppercut. A wall shot out at his feet and erected itself between him and Fergus. The mage then stomped forward and thrust his arms forward while shouting an incantation and the wall began to fall on Fergus, who rolled to the side just as it was about to crush him. At the same time the mage made a sign with his hands and uppercutted again, summoning a spike of stone up at Fergus as he was falling. He managed to twist his body just enough to avoid getting impaled and scraped against the spike, leaving a large trail of gore in his side. Fergus rolled aside to avoid another stone and shot to his feet, his eyes suddenly looking dull, a wild grin plastered on his face and foam trickling out of the sides of his mouth. The mage prepared another barrage of stones and launched them at Fergus, who howled and rushed forward, crushing and weaving between stones with blinding speed.

The Baron managed to get his feet onto the man’s chest and kicked, prying him off and sending him into the wall again. The Baron rolled over his back and onto his feet, readying his sword. He dropped his pistol in the struggle, but he still had one more loaded. The man got off the wall and fell in with his fellow guards. There were five of them left. The Baron grinned and reached for his belt. His grin fell. His grenades had fallen off in the struggle. Now that he looked he could see them rolling around behind them. He sighed and fell into an offensive stance. He jumped forward and slashed horizontally at them, mostly just to get them separated. Two of them rushed at him at once, one on either side of him. He ducked under one of them and blocked the other, immediately kicking the legs out of one of the guards as he dodged. Another man slashed at his back and he rolled out of the way, pulling the man in front of him into the blade of the other. The blade struck his shoulder but he was saved by his armor. It seemed his comrade wasn’t strong enough to crush through chainmail like the Baron could. He could feel what the next man was going to do, he would attempt to stab down at the Baron and impale his shoulder. The Baron readied himself, and as soon as the man began to stab at him he jerked to the side and raised his sword, using the man’s momentum against him, making him impale himself on the Baron’s saber. Another man rushed at the Baron and thrusted at his head. The Baron pulled the man impaled on his sword in between him and the attacker blocked the stab using the body. The Baron pushed the dead man over onto his attacker and rolled on top of him, grabbing the front of his blade with his offhand and slamming the middle into his throat, feeling the blade cut through his spine. The Baron saw his lost pistol laying close by and scrambled to grab it, pulling it up and aiming at a man who was charging at him, a huge grin plastered on his face. the hammer fell and sparked, igniting a few grains of powder. The man the pistol was aimed at stopped to try and move out of the way, the look on his face told the Baron he knew he was going to die. Both sides waited a second, then two, then three. The Baron looked at the pan of his pistol. Empty.

Fergus had almost reached the mage, blasting through his barrage with sheer strength and speed. The mage pulled out his straight cavalry sword and made a few quick signs with his hands, pulling stone from around him to build up on his forearms and chest. He allowed the barrage to end and Fergus jumped forward. The mage stepped forward and thrusted his sword at Fergus’s neck with blinding speed. Fergus brought up his axe to catch the blade in the beard of his axe, but at the last second the tip dipped to the right, aiming for his shoulder. Fergus brought up his knife and parried the strike, swinging his axe at the mage’s side. The mage brought up his stone covered arm and allowed the axe to slide up his forearm, twisting his sword at the same time to go over Fergus’s guard. Fergus ducked slightly and the blade stopped just above his shoulder, the strange way the elf had to contort his arm to pull off that move significantly limited his range of motion. Fergus pulled back his dagger arm and punched the elf in the stomach. The stone moved forward and collided with the brass knuckles on his knife, slowing down his fist and significantly lessening the impact of his punch. The mage used the remaining force of Fergus’s punch to make some distance, jumping backwards and regaining his composure. He quickly made another hand sign and called forth more stone to replace the stuff Fergus crushed. Fergus picked up a stone and chucked it at the mage, who waved his hand and the stone was diverted to the side. The mage stepped forward and started thrusting with blinding speed, pushing Fergus back with each attempted stab. Fergus was pushed all the way back to the wall and he spared a glance at it for less than a second. Just as it looked like he would be overwhelmed and pinned against the wall, his legs shot back and he pushed, flying off the wall and impacting the mage with the force of a freight train. They rolled to a stop and began grappling. Fergus was punching with his knife’s knuckle guard as hard as he could. The mage began to make a hand sign, and Fergus could feel the ground shifting behind him. A stone spike shot up from the ground and Fergus ducked down onto the mage’s chest, bringing his knife down into the man’s neck. The spike ran up alongside his back, the point missing him by fractions of an inch. The mage attempted one last sign, but Fergus cut off his hand at the wrist. Fergus leaned closer to the elf and pushed his knife down to the side, cutting his throat open from Adam's apple to the back of his neck. The stone covering his chest and arms began to crumble as the life drained from his eyes.

The Baron panicked and chucked his pistol as hard as he could. He hit one of them with the butt of the gun and attacked the other one. He ducked under the wild slash and grabbed him by the waist, flipping the man over behind him. He slashed the man’s throat and quickly turned around just in time to parry another strike. He blocked the man’s frenzied attacks for a moment and twisted his saber around the man’s blade, forcing it out of his hands. The man turned to run but the Baron ran him through as soon as he turned around. He kicked the man off his blade and turned around to assess what was left. He turned just in time to see Fergus standing up from the mage.

“Is he dealt with?”

Fergus wiped the foam from the sides of his mouth and composed himself. His eyes returned to normal and his grin softened.

“Aye, ‘e wa a good fighter! Better wit a sword than aye thought a mage would be!”

“Good to hear you had fun. Now, send the signal firework, quickly, so we can continue rampaging without worry.” Fergus nodded and went to find a window. The room was an absolute mess, the floor was ripped up by the mage, there was stone and dust everywhere, embedded in the walls and the floors, as well as the many corpses that littered the room. All of the cupboards and dressers and tables were broken or overturned. There was blood everywhere, splattered on the walls and pooling in the holes and crevices left by the Elven mage. The Baron walked around the room and retrieved his pistols. He cursed as he realized the stones had crushed the firing mechanism on one of them. He looked over at the dead mage.

“These are really expensive you know. You can’t just break ‘em willy nilly! I’ll send the bill to your employer.” He heard some very faint breathing and drew his saber, walking over to an overturned dresser. He slowly inched towards it, trying to be as quiet as possible. He leaped over the dresser and slashed at where he heard the breathing, but stopped just as the saber was about to reach the man’s neck.

“‘Hey Baron...good to see you too.” Uwe sat up against the dresser, breathing hard.

“So...is the battle over?”

“Yes it is. Is Bartosz ok?”

“I couldn’t tell ya. But ‘es breathin’, so ‘es fine...probably”

“More importantly, are you ok?”

“I will be when 'e wakes up. 'e can fix me up easily.”

“Alright, I’ll try and wake him up then.” The Baron walked over to Bartosz and gently slapped his face.

“Wakey wakey!”

Bartosz slowly opened his eyes and moaned.

“Bartosz! Welcome back to the land of the living. Do tell, how was your foray into the other side?”

Bartosz pulled himself up and leaned against the dresser, making a few gestures with glowing hands and touching his hand to his temple, and after taking a deep breath he set to work on Uwe.

“Baron, find me something long and straight. If I heal his leg without setting it properly the bones will heal wrong.” The Baron quickly did as he asked and Bartosz got to work attaching the makeshift splint. While watching Bartosz work, the Baron heard two rockets go off, one right after the other.

“Either Fergus didn’t understand the directions, or another team has finished their work.”

Bartosz didn’t look up from his work, his eyes were glowing pink and he was sweating buckets. The room was actively growing colder as he worked.

“Uwe, are you and Bartosz going to withdraw? Fergus and I are planning on staying, but we weren't injured the way you two were.”

Uwe looked to Bartosz as he finished up and took off the splint.

“What do you think man? If we stay I’m sure Brusilov would be proud, but I kinda wanna sleep.”

“I think we will leave. Your leg is fixed but if you go too hard on it the bone will warp, and I cannot fix that.”

“Understood, it was a pleasure working with you men. Hopefully we will meet again.”

The Baron left to go find Fergus.

He found Fergus surrounded by a dead patrol, straddling the last one and burying his axe in the man’s head.

“Fergus, good work!”

He looked up and almost charged at the Baron, but his face quickly softened.

“...Thanks Baron! Are 'Brusilov’s Finest' pullin’ oot?”

“Yes, Uwe broke his leg, and Bartosz said if he’s not careful it will warp, whatever that means.”

“Oh! Baron! Aye found a secret passage!” Fergus was gesturing to a closet filled with dishes. He holstered his axe in a loop on his belt and stepped in the closet, kicking a brick a hard as he could. The wall next to it slid out, revealing said secret passage.

“Whadya think?”

“Sounds like fun. Just give me a moment to reload my pistols and we’ll be on our way.” As he was talking he heard another firework go off, and as he finished reloading his third pistol he heard the last one.

“Looks like our operation was a success, the cannons should be singing any moment now. Lets go, I want to see what they’re hiding down there."

The journey through the passage was uneventful. It was a dark corridor which led to a spiral staircase. It took about 5 minutes of walking before they stumbled into anything interesting, and during that time they could feel the impact of the cannons making quick work of the walls. As they were beginning to consider heading back, they finally ran into something. The hallway opened into a wider room, and at the end of the room was a door guarded by 4 knights in beautiful and ornate armor.

“Fergus, how do we want to tackle this?”

“Hmmm, can ya throw in a bomb fore weh attack?”

“Good idea! I should bring more bombs with me next time. My remaining flashbomb was destroyed by the rocks, but my grenade is fine!” He pulled the tab and threw it as hard as he could, the bomb pinged off the helmet of one of the guards and exploded, killing the man it hit and stunning everyone else. Fergus and the Baron rushed forward, Fergus taking the two men on the left and the Baron taking the one left on the right.

The Baron raised his pistol and pulled the trigger. The hammer sparked against the power and it slowly began to light.

I put too much powder in it! If you add too much powder the ignition is delayed!

As the powder slowly ignited, he could see the trajectory of the bullet when it would leave. Right now his shot would miss by two inches. He made a micro adjustment and the powder finally ignited, sending the bullet directly into the knight’s helmet, exactly where the Baron thought it would hit. The bullet pinged off the knight’s helmet. It obviously hurt but the bullet was deflected and caused no real damage, which meant he was wearing enchanted armor. The Baron clicked his tongue and holstered his pistol. He probably could have hit him through the eye, but he didn't have enough time to adjust his shot that much. Him and the knight charged into each other. The Baron thrust with his saber, aiming for the gaps in the knights armor. The knight easily parried and returned strikes at the Baron.

Fergus howled like a wild beast, his eyes dilated and he began to shake as he walked, his eyes became dull and foam began to leak out of his mouth. The two knights began to edge closer to him, looking to Fergus and then to each other every few steps. No real thoughts were entering his mind besides slaughter. He knew the knights were making noise, but it just sounded like gibberish to him.

“Was stimmt nicht mit ihm?”

“Keine idee, er sieht wie ein Orkneyer. Vielleicht ein Berzerkeri?”

“Nicht gut. Er scheint stark zu sein!”

Fergus finally stopped shaking and stared at the ceiling, unmoving. The knights inched forward and waited for him to move, but he didn’t. One of them raised their sword and waited for him to react. He didn’t. The knight shrugged his shoulders and swung down at Fergus. Just before the sword connected, Fergus’s arm shot out and he caught the sword in the beard of his axe, tugging as hard as he could and pulling the knight into him. His knife slammed into the side of the knight, piercing his enchanted armor like it wasn’t even there.

“IMPERIAL DOG!!” Shouted Fergus in his native language. In his berserker state he couldn't remember any Reikers, though he was working on maintaining full control, and making slow progress. The knight screamed in pain and surprise and kicked away from Fergus, dropping his sword and pulling out Fergus’s knife. The other knight rushed forward and slashed at Fergus, who dodged to the side and punched the knight in the ribs, denting his armor slightly. Fergus swung his axe at the knight with blinding speed, and the knight just barely dodged out of the way in time. The first knight made some hand signs and put his glowing hand over his wound while drawing his shortsword with the other. They walked over to each other and stood side by side.

“Gemeinsam angreifen, Ja?” They both nodded to each other and launched their attack. They worked in perfect tandem, flashing their swords to either side of Fergus with perfect precision. Fergus blocked and parried each of their strikes without breaking a sweat, his arms were a blur as he worked, a wild grin plastered on his face as he howled and shouted Orkney battle cries. Fergus parried the knight with the shortsword using his dagger and kicked him back, turning his complete focus on the other knight. He began to attack him with both his weapons, his arms a blur with frenzied strikes and feints. The knight couldn't block and parry all of Fergus’s strikes, he had to rely on the strength of his armor and enchantments to keep him alive. The other knight got back to his feet and began to run back into the fray, but suddenly the castle began to shake. The artillery barrage had started in earnest.

The Baron and his sparring partner stumbled as the castle began to shake. The Baron looked up at the ceiling.

"They're making steady progress.”

The knight swung down at the Baron and he sidestepped the slash, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the wall. He stabbed down at the exposed area behind the knights knee and the knight twisted his leg, causing the Baron to miss. He pushed against the wall and ran the Baron into the opposing wall, elbowing him in the ribs until the Baron was able to disengage from their grapple. The Baron slashed at the knight’s neck and the knight dodged back slightly, immediately responding with a stab at the Baron’s open chest. The Baron angled his chest slightly, allowing the blade to slide off and grabbed his sword by the middle, jabbing it into the knight’s neck. He hit flesh but his chainmail neck covering was also enchanted, stopping the sword from digging any deeper before the knight could regain his footing.

Fergus knocked the sword from the knight’s hands and swiftly followed with a two pronged attack, his axe flashing for the knight’s head and his knife aiming for his armpit. The knight tried to bring up his arms, but he was too slow and Fergus was too strong, the knife pierced his hand as he brought it up to defend his armpit, and the axe crushed through his chainmail coif and opened his neck to the spine. The other knight wailed in anger at the death of his friend and began to attack Fergus again. He easily parried each of the knight’s blows and slowly began to decimate him, occasionally throwing a punch between parries with earth shattering force. Soon, the knight collapsed, exhausted from his assault on Fergus and his beating he had taken. He dropped to his knees, taking in rasping breaths. Fergus pulled his axe back and dropped in onto the knight, splitting his head, helmet and all. Fergus looked over at the Baron and began to take slow, deep breaths to calm himself down. He knew that if he rushed in now he would quickly lose sight of himself and kill the Baron along with the knight.

They were having trouble staying steady. The barrage was tearing apart the castle, dust and stones were falling from the ceiling at an alarming rate. They were both exchanging strikes quickly, parrying and countering madly, but neither of them could get a clean hit. The knight stabbed at the Baron’s head and quickly feinted, changing the path of his sword and slashing down at the Baron’s shoulder, creating a small gash. The Baron looked at the gash, frustrated that his ability was so inconsistent. The world began to shake even more violently than before, Almost knocking both of them off of their feet. The Baron heard a cracking and looked up, the ceiling was beginning to collapse in on itself. The Baron had an idea, taking out his spent pistol and chucking it at the ceiling. As soon as the pistol hit the ceiling it began to break apart even faster. The Baron stepped forward and kicked the knight into the path of the falling debris, almost losing his footing in the process. The knight fell onto his back just as the ceiling began to cave in. He looked up and raised his arms, his screams getting cut off by the giant slabs of stone crushing him to a fine paste.

When the dust began to clear and the roar of the falling stones calmed down, the Baron walked over to the rubble, silently praying he could salvage his pistol.

“Fergus! Are you still alive?” After a few seconds he got a reply.

“Aye! Aye’m fine, how’re ya?”

“I’ve been better, but I’ve also been worse. Tell you what, I’m going to investigate what’s behind that door. You go find Brusilov and get him to organize a team to free me. Understood?”

“Aye, Aye’ll get on at! See ya soon, Baron!”

The Baron nodded as he heard Fergus running off down the hall and up the spiral stairs. It was a long way back, he almost felt bad for him. The Baron walked to the door and pulled the handle, being greeted by a messy looking study, and a well groomed young man furiously writing at his desk.