An Angel Called Eternity

The Field Rat's Banquet - Lykourgos X: To Shatter the Battlements

Lykourgos X: To Shatter the Battlements

The Forth Day of the Eleventh Moon, 872 AD.
Ousdaal, Southern Teleytaios, Klironomea.

The camp was a flurry of activity, the chill of the morning air serving to do little other than wake the men from a night of fitful sleep.
Already word had spread around the camp that there had been an attempt on the prince's life, although in typical rumourmongering fashion the truth had been contorted in a hundred minute ways, one small detail changing from person to person.

The attempt on his life could not be allowed to shake him. He could not let the men see him scared or timid. He had a duty to face the foe head on again, showing that he was as ready as ever to exact bloody justice over the enemy.

The bombardment of Ousdaal had continued all throughout the night, and the efforts were bearing fruit.
Though the onagers were limited in effectiveness to damaging the ramparts atop and buildings behind the stout walls, the trebuchets had been able to completely shatter a section large enough for a dozen men to walk through side by side.
The breach was made. Now all that was left was to storm it.
"Ilias. Find Dreamwulf and Romanos, then ready your horse and prepare my standard, if you please."
The young boy scrambled to exact his commands.
"Certainly, your Grace. It will take only a moment."

"Lyk. How are you feeling after last night?"
Romanos' voice was steady, but his face betrayed concern.
"Better. My hand doesn't really hurt at all, in honesty, and the cut across my face was so shallow the blood stopped flowing hours ago."
Romanos nodded, a slight smile gracing his features.
"Good, good. If I may ask, why have you summoned us? Are our orders to be changed?"
The prince shook his head.
"Yourself and Lieutenant Wulfstan will lead some two-thousand men through the breach and try and force a surrender of enemy forces, as planned. However, you and I both know that we might be able to convince them to lay down their arms without risking a bloody fight, however unlikely that chance may be."
Romanos nodded, and Dreamwulf smiled.
"Aye, they probably won't listen to calls for peace given what they did to the garrisons down here, but there's no 'arm in trying anyway."
"Quite so. Romanos, Dreamwulf, ready your mounts, mine as well. Ilias will arrive soon bearing my standard. Romanos, I would ask that you wave the flag of truce alongside it."
"Is this purely a gesture of goodwill, or do you intend to negotiate?"
"I doubt they'll listen. Whoever's in command here is clearly experienced and well versed in this kind of warfare, and that will give them leverage. I'd rather fight knowing I at least tried to avoid bloodshed than not."
Romanos stroked his stubble.
"I don't expect the knights to accept surrender, and if they don't then the levies won't be able to either, but it might encourage more of them to throw down their arms during the assault. I'll ready Ilona and ride behind you for the parley."
The prince grinned.
"Finally named that giant of a horse, have you?"
"Indeed I have. He's carried me into battle enough times to earn one, that much is sure."
Dreamwulf spoke up.
"Come on you two, if we want to get this over with it'd better be soon."

Whoever was commanding here was a damn sight smarter than Marshal Harran, or at least the men beneath him were. To be sure, the prince had known that already, but upon a closer approach it became far more apparent; there were men with shortbows in windows and led on their bellies on the roofs of the various buildings in the walled compound, protected by the pitch of the roof from returning arrowfire and javelins.
From here he could also see that there were menials and servants on the remaining patches of the broken roofs as well, no doubt instructed to throw roof tiles down on any attackers. Other men might scoff at such tactics, but Lykourgos did not. Neither did Ser Romanos. A roof tile dropped from height could split a skull or shatter limbs and ribs just as easily as a mace or sword wielded by a trained soldier.
At the approach of the party of four there was some commotion on the walls, but a figure rode out and halted any movements with a flick of his hand. He was ageing and grey, but no less fierce for it. He was not large, far from it, but that didn't really matter in siege warfare.
If he could swing the sword at his hip as well as his cocksure gait implied, he could still give a good blow before falling.
"Ser. I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting."
"Indeed, Ser. I am Ser Nikolaus, head of his Grace's forces in the south of Teleytaios."
Lykourgos nodded. He had heard of Ser Nikolaus, but not in any official capacity.
"I am here to demand the surrender of yourself and the thousand under your command. Lay down your arms and leave this place."
The man chuckled.
"Well, you've got bollocks on you, that's for sure. I could wave my hand and your rebellion would end in a second."
Half a hundred men stood on the battlements above them, bows ready. Looking further down the wall two of the scorpions were trained on his party as well.
Lykourgos shifted his shield in his hand, and both Dreamwulf and Ser Romanos moved forwards almost imperceivably to better cover the prince.
Ilias remained as still as possible, the prince's purple flower on a blue field waving proudly in the wind. Ser Nikolaus continued.
"But I won't. The laws of Saints and men both would see me forever consigned to oblivion for such actions."
"But you're fine sending out assassins against his Grace."
The man's face scrunched up in confusion at Dreamwulf's words.
"Assassins? There has been an attempt on your life?"
The prince nodded, and the man turned his head and cursed.
"It was no man of mine, that much I can assure you. I'd be happy to kill you in battle, but I would never stoop to such dishonourable lows. I hear Ser Ingfred is in your host?"
The prince nodded, and a small smile broke across the man's face.
"A pity we should end up on opposite sides. We fought together at Klandahar as our first battle, and when we met again fighting Triarios two decades later we placed bets on who would be the last survivor of Klandahar. We must be some of the only ones left now."
Lykourgos coughed, and the man looked back at him.
"Surrender your forces or prepare for battle. That will be all."
The man frowned and turned away.
"It will be battle, boy. It will be battle."