"Please say no, Captain." Sira stepped up next to the table, picking up a gold coin and biting it with a loud, hopeful click. "I really want to try these new axes."
’Rutheus’s timing is an absolute work of art,’ Kane thought from his command position down the road, listening to the mountain horns echoing across the valley with quiet satisfaction.
’Captain Vane is a pragmatist who fights for profit, not loyalty. Staring up at a mountain ridge full of screaming barbarians while a chest of guaranteed gold sits at his feet only leaves one logical choice. Sylvander is officially on its own.’
"Give me the quill," Vane muttered inside the tent, turning his back on the glowing mountain ridge with a defeated sigh.
"We will be packed and marching east within the hour."
"A wise business decision, Captain," Seraphine purred, pushing the contract across the table while Sira let out a loud, disappointed groan.
One hour before dawn, morning mist hung low over the southern valley road leading to Sylvander’s outer gates. From their concealed command post on the eastern ridge, Kane, Misha, and Thora watched in quiet satisfaction as the entire camp of the Black Vanguard systematically packed their tents and marched eastward away from the city, their supply wagons loaded down with Kane’s silver.
Riding down from the western hills to join the command group, Rutheus rested his greatsword casually on his broad shoulder, a wide, satisfied grin plastered across his scarred face. Beside Kane’s stirrup, Misha closed her eyes, channeling her oracle sight to scan the distant Elven city walls for any hidden magical wards.
"Look at them run!" Rutheus boomed, slapping his thigh as the mercenary column retreated safely into the eastern mist. "They didn’t even stay for breakfast! Your little shadow-dancer must have given them a terrible fright, brother!"
"Seraphine can be persuasive." Kane smiled, watching Sira and Seraphine trot their scouting horses back toward the main line. "How did Captain Vane take the deal?"
"He signed the contract so fast he broke the quill, Commander!" Sira cheered, pulling her horse up alongside Brak and hopping effortlessly off the saddle. "He didn’t even let me threaten his lieutenants! It was boring!"
"You did perfectly, Sira." Shifting his gaze toward the towering, white-stone outer walls of Sylvander three miles down the valley, Kane rested his hand on his sword hilt. "Now that the queen’s hired swords are gone, the only thing standing between us and their treasury is that outer customs fortress."
Opening her eyes, Misha turned to him with a focused expression. "The outer walls are protected by a standard Tier II kinetic barrier, Kane. The Elven archers are already manning the battlements, but their numbers are thin without the mercenaries holding the lower courtyard."
’The Elven Queen spent months building an economic blockade to strangle Menual, convinced her forest fortresses were untouchable,’ Kane thought, his eyes narrowing as he studied the defensive towers. ’She relied on gold to fight her battles while her own military grew soft behind high walls. Today, she learns the difference between buying an army and building an empire.’
Turning his horse toward his assembled commanders, Kane raised his voice so the surrounding squad leaders could hear him clearly.
"Pass the word down through every rank and tribal banner," Kane ordered, his tone shifting from playful banter to absolute warlord authority. "We are here to break the Elven garrison and seize the customs treasury, not to burn a city. The merchants and commoners inside Sylvander trade with Menual every week; half of them actually prefer our tariffs over their own Queen’s taxes. Anyone who raises a blade against an unarmed civilian or loots a private home answers to my blade. Are we clear?"
"We only chop the ones holding weapons!" Sira chimed in happily, tapping her short axes against her leather cuirass. "I can remember that!"
"I will keep the mountain boys in line, brother," Rutheus promised, giving a firm nod. "We came here to fight soldiers, not shopkeepers."
As the very first rays of sunlight struck the white walls of Sylvander’s customs fortress, Kane gave the signal to advance. Pulled forward by teams of draft horses, his upgraded Tier III Ballistae rolled smoothly onto the ridge line, their polished mahogany frames gleaming in the dawn. Taking immediate command of the artillery crews, Thora supervised the loading of the mana-forged steel bolts, each projectile engineered specifically to pierce enchanted barriers.
Down in the valley below, the Elven archers on the walls panicked at the sight of the siege weapons, firing frantic volleys of long arrows toward the advancing lines. Stepping out in front of the winch crews, Brak and his shield-bearers locked their iron tower shields together into a solid, moving wall that absorbed the incoming fire with rhythmic, ringing thuds.
"Archers on the right tower are trying to target our winch crews, Commander!" Thora shouted over the crisp snapping sound of Elven bowstrings. "They are leaning too far over the parapets!"
"Griselda!" Kane pointed toward the right-hand watchtower. "Clear those bows!"
"With pleasure, Warlord!" Griselda laughed from above, folding her black-and-gold wings and diving through the cloud cover like a falcon.
Sweeping low across the battlements, the fallen angel unleashed a sharp gust of wind magic that blasted three entire squads of Elven archers off their feet, scattering their arrows across the flagstones and throwing their bows over the outer wall before she soared safely back into the morning sky.
"Clear shot on the main gate barrier!" Thora called out, raising her hand high above the artillery line.
"Fire!"
Three Tier III Ballista bolts screamed across the valley simultaneously, trailing thin wisps of blue mana as they slammed directly into the shimmering green kinetic barrier protecting the fortress gates.
The moment the mana-forged steel met the enchantment, a blinding flash of energy erupted across the courtyard.
The Elven ward shattered like cheap glass with a thunderous crack that echoed off the surrounding mountains, sending shockwaves through the fortress foundation that splintered the iron-reinforced wooden gates right down the center.
’The Tier III siege weaponry is performing even better than the blueprints promised,’ Kane thought, feeling a fierce surge of pride as the smoke cleared to reveal the broken gateway.
’A standard Elven barrier usually takes days to batter down with conventional catapults, but mana-forged steel cuts through their wards effortlessly. The front door is wide open.’
"The barrier is down!" Thora roared, drawing her halberd and pointing the blade toward the smoking breach.
"Vanguard, advance!"