Enlightened Empire-Chapter 410: Final Counterattack

Three days had already passed since the collapse of Antila's outer walls. By now, Saniya's troops had taken full control over every portion of the newly built star fortress that surrounded the old city walls. Atop these outer walls, they had already built reinforced positions, which they had even managed to defend over night. From within these positions, Saniya's soldiers were now ceaselessly storming up against the inner wall, like waves against the sides of a singing ship.

Since this morning, the southerners had even added cannons to the fortifications. From such close range, they could fire at the old city wall with impunity. As the last remaining defense of the city, it did not remain standing for long.

Since the inner city wall was an older construction from the days before cannons had conquered the battlefields of Medala, it was never built to withstand such powerful impacts. After only a few hours of bombardment, it had already partially collapsed under the cannon fire.

Thus, a continuous ramp had been created from the bottom of the outer wall all the way to the top of the inner wall. This passage was now funneling more and more soldiers of the southern kingdom into the last bastion of the allied forces that stood against their king.

Excited about their impending victory, the southerners charged up without pause, driving back the overwhelmed defenders wave after wave, as they pushed further and further into the city. Soon, the water would fill the ship completely, and cause it to sink.

Very good, just as expected.

Duke Herak of Balit watched the battle with great satisfaction. This was the first time he had had such a clear view of the siege from the outside. After all, he was no longer watching the battle from atop the walls of Antila. Instead, he was now hidden behind the hills west of the city, where he watched the last day of the war unfold from a save distance.

Behind him stood an army of about five hundred, elites made up of his own knights and the strongest, proudest remaining warriors among the allied armies of Antila. Behind them, the last stragglers of his raid group were just crawling out of a dark hole in the ground. The hole was well-disguised, hidden between the western hills and covered by branches and mud, far off from any battlefield or points of interest. It had been specifically built here to circumvent the merchant's army, and to deceive the eyes of his scouts.

Back when Herak had approved the request of the architect to start tunneling underneath Antila, construction of this tunnel had been his main goal. Of course, preventing the collapse of the wall had been a part of it too, but the duke had no longer had any illusions about winning the war by that point. No, rather than trying to win, he just wanted to gain some time. With more time, he could collect some additional cards to play during his eventual counter attack. Now, it was finally time.

Thus, while the architect had kept up his attempts to collapse all of Saniya's tunnels, he had also circumvented the entire underground network to create a single outlet for Antila's trapped forces. Through this outlet, Herak would now lead their final counterattack.

Once he had inspected his men to make sure all had made it out, he looked north-east, once more towards the enemy army. In their enthusiasm for glory - and possibly their desire for the plunder which awaited them inside Antila - almost all men of the southern army had balled up around the now defenseless city. For a myriad of reasons, no unit wanted to miss out on the final moments of this great war.

At this rate, the defenders wouldn't hold out until sundown, especially now that they were lacking most of their elites, as well as their commander. However, they wouldn't have to last much longer to cover for Herak's plans.

As he looked further towards the north, a wide grin formed on the duke's face. Somewhere underneath his mask, some of the thin, stretched-out skin burst again, and a trickle of blood ran down his cheek and towards his mouth, a familiar feeling.

As he watched the well fortified enemy camp, and even more so the southern army's command tent high up on a hill within, he licked his own blood off his lips. The iron taste excited him, and let him anticipate his immediate future. Within that tent, only a few hills away, he would find his arrogant nemesis, the little merchant who had created so much trouble for him throughout the years.

All he had to do was kill this one, weak man, and then Herak would be able to return back home. With the little king dead, he would restore his damaged honor, and he would also sow further chaos in Medala. With a single move, he could create a fertile field for other Arcavians to reap more benefits in the future.

Of course, this wasn't the only reason for Herak's operation, maybe not even the main one. Instead, he had come for revenge, revenge on the fat little merchant who had continued to defy him for years, who was responsible for his exile, who had made his last few years hell.

Finally, the day had come. Finally, Herak would get his revenge. That wouldn't save the city of course, nor would it change the outcome of this war, but none of that had ever mattered to the Duke of Balit anyways.

Once all his men had left the darkness and got into formation, he immediately gave the orders to advance towards the tent with the ostentatious purple flag on top, on towards his victory.

"Enough rest, form up!" Herak shouted towards the men who had only just caught their breaths after their escape from the claustrophobic underground world. With an impassive face, he watched as the men stood and slowly got into formation.

About one hundred knights, some four hundred local warriors. That should be enough.

As soon as his men were lined up in two distinct squares of different sizes, he gave his next orders.

"Now, march north! Let's break through their walls, see how they like it! Then we kill their heretical king, and end the war!"

Once the simple words of encouragement were spoken, he turned around, and led their march northwards through the hills. There wasn't much need to motivate the men anyways.

They were far behind enemy lines by now, and their only retreat away from the enemy was to the west. All they would find there were the empty midland hills that had already killed many warriors on their harsh march from Kapra to Antila. If they valued their lives, these barbarian natives would fight with everything they had. Of course, there was no need for Herak to worry about the loyalty of his own knights.

As he walked, the duke checked his own equipment one final time. His armor was lighter than usual, easier to maneuver in. Though of course, it would still be enough to block the attacks of the commoners the merchant loved to put his trust in.

He also had only brought five arrows with him, since his bow would only be useful for a shot or two. After all, he wasn't expecting to fight at a distance for long. As they were a marauding party, they would close in quickly and fight for a swift victory. For everything else, he would have to rely on his old broadsword, a gift from his brother, one that he had yet to draw ever since he had set foot on these barbarian lands. Maybe he would even get the chance to draw his dagger if he was ever stuck in a close fight, though he didn't expect that much resistance.

However, compared to his melee weapons, the bow proved necessary almost immediately. As soon as he spotted a glint in the distance, he drew his giant, black war bow from his back in one fluid motion. With his extensive combat experience, he knew exactly where the glint had come from. As expected, when he focused more on the source, he quickly spotted a small team of two men, peeking over the hill in front with their telescopes. Ever since spring had come, the southern scouts weren't camouflaged nearly as well by their white uniforms anymore.

The duke's experienced hands pulled an arrow from the quiver behind his hip and drew the bow to its fullest. In response, the scouts stood up. Maybe they wanted to dodge his attack, or maybe they were trying to flee. Either way, it was clearly the worst possible reaction, as it exposed their whole bodies to the duke's deadly projectile. Herak's arrow flew true, and bored straight through the first scout's throat.

Four left.

Yet before he could draw his second arrow, the second scout wizened up and immediately threw himself to the ground, following his dead companion. Thus, both went out of view, hidden behind the hill's crest.

Damn barbarians, how are they still so vigilant?

Most scouts of the southern army would be farther away from the main camp, spotting for any possible flanking movements from enemy armies. That was the reason they had been able to get this close unseen, their tunnel had undercut most of the enemy scouts. However, it seemed that even now that victory was in their grasp, the southerners retained a minimum level of vigilance.

Even so, while he was annoyed that they had been spotted this early, it wasn't like he hadn't expected resistance. A proper sneak attack would have been preferable, but he was fully prepared to break through with strength if it proved necessary.

After all, almost all of the merchant's men were still tangled up on the front lines. By the time they would return to their camp, everything would already be too late.

Thus, as he watched the bright red flame rise in the air from atop the hill, he turned to his men and ordered in a calm, powerful voice: "Speed up!"

Without any resistance, his men crested the hill the scouts had been stationed on, past the dead body and discarded flare. Finally, they once again saw the goal of their journey.

Down the hill, the south-eastern portion of the enemy camp lay right before them, only a few dozen steps away. The camp was ringed with a wall made of wooden palisades, twice as high as a man.

The forest of tents behind the wall was no longer visible from here, nor were the graves and medical tents beyond them. What was visible, however, was the trench filled with wooden spikes that surrounded the entire camp. That would be their second obstacle. The soldiers standing atop the walls, half hidden by the palisades, would be the third. No doubt they stood ready with their little rifles, eager to kill more superior cultivators through cheap means. Herak had long expected both obstacles, and had prepared well for them.

However, he would have to overcome another obstacle first. As Herak and his men marched down the hill, enemy soldiers swarmed out of the camp and began to line up. Maybe a thousand commoners in total were squirreling to line up between the wall and Herak's troops. As usual, halberds stood in front, with flintlocks behind them. At the same time, a total four hundred warriors poured out of the camp's exits. In the process, they were split in two, with about two hundred attempting to line up on the left flanks and right of the commoners.

More than I thought.

If he was honest, Herak found their quick response impressive. Even in the face of imminent victory, they had retained plenty of power to protect their camp. Together with the men on the walls, they had three times the numbers of Herak's little troop. Still, even that changed little. He had spent many days watching the armies of Saniya, and he had long identified their weaknesses.

He spared one last glance towards the east. Over there, towards Antila, the southern army's reserve troops were scrambling to get back to the camp, desperate to reinforce the defending troops. However, they would no longer be a factor in this war, not if Herak's plans were to succeed.

"Charge!" the duke screamed, and pointed straight at the center of the enemy position. Today, he had brought every last resource left in Antila, as well as everything he had learned since the start of the siege. His goal was only one: To kill the King of the South.