Just as he had done ten years ago, Duke Herak once again stared down the distant walls of Etra. In anticipation of his revenge, he couldn't suppress a small grin, but reality soon reigned in his enthusiasm. As his face transformed into a smile, the frail skin around his cheeks began to tense and crack, a stinging pain to replace his happiness. Once again, the duke's face returned to its usual frown, though no one would ever see it beneath his mask. With his joy reigned in, he had the presence of mind to observe in what way their so-called enemies had prepared for the defense of their city.

The walls were tall and solid, nothing had changed after ten years. Storming them would take a considerable toll on Herak's men. Although he was in charge of the combined armies of Borna and didn't care much about the troops other lords had sent along, he couldn't just throw them away either. In the end, it would only cause trouble for his brother. With the walls themselves ruled out, he would much rather focus on the city gates. Solid oak, standing strong in the winds of the surrounding plains, ready to withstand rams and whatever else a man could throw at them.

These were the doors the Bornish forces had washed against ten years ago, to no avail. Though according to the formal agreement, Borna had worn down the allied forces and obtained a victory, Herak had never seen it that way. They hadn't won the city. They hadn't even entered it. All they had achieved was a commitment of the free cities around Borna to remove all heavy weapons and armor from within their walls. Considering the results, the war had been a draw at best. This time, he was convinced that things would be different. This time, they had brought the weapons of the future.

“Ready the cannons!” the duke shouted, only to be answered a “yes sire” by one of his many adjutants. The new weapons would go and take care of the gates in no time, smash them apart from a distance and open up the way inside. This time around, the resistance from the Etra merchants was laughable, really. They had no chance of winning this battle. Although Herak's scouts around the city had disappeared a month ago, obviously discovered by the enemy, the Etra merchants, in their never-ending incompetence, had still been surprised by his attack.

“What do we do with the obstacles?”

With great satisfaction, Herak looked upon the sacks which had been stacked up in front of the gates. The dimwits must have been so surprised by their siege that they couldn't even load all their cargo back into the city before they shut the gates in panic.

“Blow them away,” the duke answered with content in his voice. What would be the cost of one or two cannon balls more? After they had given up their chance for surrender earlier today, the bear of Borna would let the commoners inside those walls sweat for a bit. Maybe he would offer them another chance at mercy and submission once they had proven themselves worthy and defended a few storms at the opened gate.

Having received their orders, the eight three-pounder cannons of the Bornish troops fired off their deadly cargo one by one, with thunder. Herak waited for the satisfying release of lightning, but it never came.

Most of their cannon balls created nothing but a splash of earth across the front of the gate, while a single shot crashed against the stone walls and bounced off without effect. Annoyed, the duke turned to another one in the endless supply of adjutants.

“Again! Tell the wastrels that if they can't hit that gate within three attempts, I'll charge them for squandering royal funds.”

“Ah, y-yes, Duke Herak. Right away, sire!” His usual frown deepened as Herak watched the adjutant run out of the tent. He didn't know which lordship had sent this one, but the duke was sure he would be just as spoiled useless as all the other troops the lords of Borna had sent him. It was the reason he needed money. Like his brother, the king, Herak had had enough of their neighbors dictating their positions, and he could feel the continent buckle under the tension as old powers got weaker and new ones rose. A big war was coming, he could feel it, and if they wanted to get out of it as leaders of the new era, they would have to get the funds to improve their armies.

However, Herak knew that most Borna nobles were much more complacent when it came to issues of the future and the Battle of the Blue Hell had only made those men more content. Even worse, the duke also knew that the sort of advantage they had shown in their war against Whiteport wouldn't last. They had won because of the new galleys and their use of cannons. Neither were technologies exclusive to Borna. In the end, they needed extra funds to modernize their troops further if they didn't want to be swallowed in the oncoming changes.

As the duke thought about the future of the kingdom, his efforts in the present finally yielded some results. The cannons landed, at last, closer around the covered main gate. Finally, the stacked cargo of burlap sacks received a hit. With his vision enhanced from his family cultivation technique, Herak could see the point of impact clear as day. However, something was strange. The results different from his expectations, the loose cargo wasn't blown away by the enormous strike. Instead, the sacks simply slid back a few fingers before they came to a stop, absorbing the entire force of the solid iron cannonball, which had been massive enough to split a man in half.

Again, the duke's frown deepened. After he had watched a second cannonball do the same, he began to observe the enemy's position in more earnest. Now that he looked at it, the placement of sacks seemed far too deliberate to have been left there by a panicked merchant. First, in front of the main gate, the ground had been raised. As a result, their cannons had to fire upwards, reducing the impact the balls would have otherwise. At the same time, it meant that they would have less gate to aim at. What little of the gate the cannons' muzzles could see was further covered by the carefully stacked bags. They had already proven to be useful in stopping the cannon fire, however unlikely that seemed. Furthermore, a strange contraption had been erected in front of the sacks, as thin, curled ropes stretched all across their front. Though Herak was not sure of their purpose, as they seemed to have minimal influence on the cannon balls which would just fly through the loose mesh, he needed to do something about those bags, if nothing else.

“Halt!” As the duke stared ahead, planning his next step, he continued to hear the cannon fire around him, his order ignored. “Stop firing damn it! If anyone keeps wasting the kingdom's gold like this I'll cut off their heads myself!” Enraged, Herak unsheathed his sword and stomped towards the men around him with menacing steps. The innumerable useless adjutants, sent by innumerable useless nobles, all stepped back in fear, but finally, just in time, the fire of cannons ceded and with it the rage of the bear.

Our chain of command is terrible. Just another reason for reform.

“You, where are you from?” he pointed at one of the youngsters around him.

“My name is Eric, sire. I am from the Laster barony.”

“Your baron has sent fifty men, huh? The required minimum for a barony. In that case, I'll have his minimum of men do the maximum of work. Go tell your baron's commander that he is to storm the gates.”

“Sire, that is...” though the man before him tried to find excuses, he shook from fear, incapable of even refuting Herak.

Another useless one.

One moment of reflection and the adjutant would understand that he had misunderstood the duke's orders. Of course the head general of Borna wouldn't send people on pointless suicide missions. The kingdom would soon need all the soldiers it could get. To Herak, this 'war' was nothing but a test run, to show the complacent nobles how lacking their forces really were.

“I won't ask you to take the entire gate by storm. All you have to do is rush forward, protected by shields, and take away those bags blocking the door. Even your lot should manage a task that simple.”

At last, the man's face brightened up somewhat. It seemed like a simple task indeed, and one to distinguish the baron's troops when it came time to distribute the spoils of victory. With a spirited “Yes, sire,” the adjutant turned and left the open command tent on top of the hill to organize his lord's troops.

Of course, had he known what Duke Herak was thinking, he might have been far less spirited. The duke wouldn't throw men away without purpose, but testing the enemy forces with a sacrificial lamb still seemed like a good idea. The strange contraption in front of the gate had made the Duke uneasy. He really didn't want to spend too much time here, but somehow everything about their attack seemed off. In fact, taking Etra should have been easy. After all, with the bans on heavy weapons and armor in effect, the quality of the city's troops would be nothing like they had been ten years ago. Back then, the men which had stood up against the Bornish might had been formed from a coalition comprised of the free cities of the south. This time however, things were very different.

Since the Reverer faith had taken hold and caused conflict all around them, the alliance between the free cities was not nearly as strong as it used to be. Having his brother convert to the Reverers had been a wise action as well. In the face of pressure from the north, King Tolmar had been uncomfortable with the idea at first. However, as a result of his conversion, they had reduced the number of enemies around them, and it had allowed them a clear casus belli against Etra: To clean up the footlickers left inside the city. In the end, most neighbors would stand down as Borna swallowed Etra, while the merchant city by itself wouldn't have anywhere near the troops or equipment to resist.

His confidence fortified by his own logic, the Duke looked ahead to the oncoming battle. The fifty men of baron Laster charged ahead, with large shields held before them, to defend themselves from the expected archer and crossbow fire. However, instead the duke heard the whipping sound of a musket's shot. Confused, he looked over to his own ranks, to see if someone from his gunner regiment had suffered a misfire. Only the sound of screams from across the battlefield told him that the shot hadn't come from the Bornish side, but from Etra instead.

By the time the Duke looked back over towards the walls, the baron's men had already suffered casualties. At least ten had fallen to the ground, clutching various parts of their bodies as they kept in the spurting blood. On top of the walls, the spirited defenders fired one barrage after another to hold off the attack. Still, a musket had low range, so soon the remaining Borna men had crossed the distance. Their last remaining task was to remove the bags.

It should have required no more than a bit of effort, and yet another problem arose. As the first men reached the curled ropes, they tried to storm through, but their efforts were rewarded by nothing but blood-curdling screams. Rather then break the ropes with their charge, the curled traps had entangled themselves with the attackers, unbreaking, as they tore the flesh straight off their bones. A cold shower ran over the battle-hardened duke's back as he watched the men cry out in agony, before more musket fire finally released them from the torment of their mortal coil. Soon, the remaining men dropped their shields and began their retreat, without order and without plan. The first storm onto Etra was a total disaster. In the end, not one of the men had even made it to the bags which had been their objective.

As the duke scratched his scraggly beard, he looked up, towards the wall's crenelations. Up there, he was met by the stare of a young man with strange, exotic features. Though he was not large for a man of royal blood like Duke Herak, he still met his noble gaze, imposing and without fear. The duke remembered the man very well. His name was Corco, the former apprentice of the old Fastgrade, one of the reasons he had wanted to lead this expeditions.

The Duke hated loose ends more than anything. When he had taken over the Fastgrade business, Herak had decided to take care of all the stragglers left behind by the old merchant. Yet despite his decisive actions, his men had failed. Even when he had sent his own knights to deal with the bastard, all he had done was cause a conflict with Whiteport. He had chosen to oppose the strange foreign merchant and now Herak would suffer the consequences. Although the duke couldn't know for sure, somehow, he felt that the young man with the firm gaze was the reason for Etra's stiff resistance, that he would the greatest enemy to overcome.

Across the distance, the two foes stared each other down, unblinking. The siege had only just begun.