SIEGE

Day 1

1

On the highest floor of Walhollem’s royal castle, right below the rafters, was a secluded conference hall reserved only for the most high-level meetings at the King’s behest. It was an airy, long room with a plentiful window coverage, full of light throughout the day, and far above the hustle and bustle of the lower levels. A mirror-clear cross parquet; no furniture save for a long, rectangular table in the middle and some twenty-odd chairs of skillfully crafted wood around it.

Most of the seats were vacant. The King of Langoria took no part in the unfolding council. The room was for the most part occupied by foreigner intruders, an event unprecedented in the history of the realm.

Unprecedented—what word better to describe the day?

For the longest time, none of the guests spoke so much as a word, descriptive or otherwise.

The confidants had unwittingly adopted the same seating order as on their previous gathering, back before the departure, when this day had still been but a hopeful dream on the horizon.

From a daydream into a nightmare.

Yuliana sat in her father’s place at the far left end of the table, hands rested on her lap, her figure drained of all tension and vitality. She stared through the wooden surface before her, frail and bloodless, brow apathetically contorted, gaze hollow, mind elsewhere.

On the corner seat to her left sat the Grand Marshal, whose usual rigid, upright posture was in shambles. She slouched deep in the chair, leaning her elbow on the armrest, her face on her fist. Her usually sharp gaze was unfocused, and she neglected her standard role of conducting the ceremonies.

Next from Miragrave sat General Monterey. The great man rested his elbows heavily against the table and every once in a while, he would exhale a soundless, deep sigh, like one carrying a heavy boulder on his back, knowing he has yet a long way to go. But no understandable words would he utter either.

Next from the General sat the Prince of Luctretz, a deep frown overshadowing his gaze, his messy hair partially veiling the blue eyes, and he now looked again more like a pirate than a noble, grim and withdrawn. He leaned back in his chair, his large, clenched fist on the table, and endured the painful silence.

On from there sat Millanueve De Guillon. There was more life in her expression than in the others’, and there were likely many things she would have liked to ask, but the forbidding mood at the table made it impossible to get her voice out. Unwilling to break that tension, dreading what should follow, she swallowed her queries and sat still.

Next from the knight maiden sat Arnwahl. For once, the knight champion wasn’t smiling. He sat with his eyes closed, stoic as a monk, a statue, an imitation of an imitation, a robot that turns itself off when not needed, without any opinion of his own.

Across the table, in the corner right from her majesty was an empty seat, typically reserved for the First Court Wizard of Tratovia, but Carmelia was not present at the moment. Next to the empty chair sat Master Laukan. The aged wizard had adopted an attitude similar to Arnwahl’s, and sat with his fingers crossed on his lap, eyes closed, head bowed in stoic meditation. Or simply resignation?

Beside her master sat Margitte, who looked like she was going to be swallowed by the chair too big for her. On a quick look, the girl seemed no less serene and at peace than her mentor. Upon closer scrutiny, however, one could see her slightly sway from side to side, at times shaken by a quick shudder, as if she were dreaming with her eyes open. She had dropped her staff somewhere in the city during the hasty ride. Not that she strictly needed it, but the loss of the symbol of her office was a disgrace all the same. One more blunder on the list of too many. She wasn’t going to get it back.

Next from Margitte sat Waramoti, his notebook open in front of him on the table, pen in hand, ever true to his calling. He wasn’t actually writing anything though, but only endlessly moved his pen up and down along the same brief line. The lyrics escaped him and the usual self-content smile was gone from his face.

Next to the bard sat Izumi, her sword rested against the table at hand. She stared at the mirror-clear blade, likewise in silence, her expression impossible to read.

What could anyone say in such a situation?

There was one person in the room who had no shortage of vocabulary.

Colonel Foulton of Langoria was too impatient to sit still and wait—wait for what? He couldn’t understand. He paced back and forth on the floor by the table, reasonably confused by the mystery act.

“Could someone here finally explain to me what Hel is going on?” he demanded the company. “Where have all the people gone? Where is the King? What was that thing at the marketplace? You know what this is about—Don’t you? So why won’t any of you speak?”

Even if any among them attempted to draft a response in their minds, they soon found it too crushing for delivery. What could knowing change? Had human words ever felt more futile? Foulton’s query received only subdued, frustrated sighs and shaking of heads. Not that this helped his temper.

“Answer me, damn it!” he stopped and shouted. But he had no means to force truths out of them, and he certainly wasn’t going to get any without real, concentrated effort.

Fortunately, before the officer’s agitation could grow any worse, a welcome change arrived. The door in the western end of the room opened and Carmelia’s tall figure returned. Everyone raised their expectant gazes at the sorceress, as if instinctively expecting that ingenious cirelo to deliver a wondrous, straightforward solution to all of their worldly problems.

Naturally, she had no real solutions to offer and they knew it just as well.

Carmelia came to stand before the far right end of the table, facing the Empress across it, and produced her colorless report,

“I have contacted the bearer of the Gilded Bow. She is on her way, but it will take her approximately sixteen days to reach within firing range of the city.”

The apathy returned with a collective sigh and everyone dropped their gazes.

“We’re not going to last three,” Miragrave grunted.

“What the devil is she talking about?” Colonel Foulton asked again, shifting his gaze back and forth between the dark sorceress and Yuliana. “What is going on!?”

Whereas no one else had the heart to, Carmelia complied and unceremoniously answered the knight,

“The city has fallen to daemons.”

“Daemons?” Foulton repeated, his brow heavily skewed. “I thought they were a myth?”

“They exist. They are here.”

Turning then to the others, the sorceress resumed with a more elaborate explanation,

“Humans are...feeble. They have been typically deemed unable to endure the strain of Silen Devehra and prone to die before fully converting. But we have not observed such a large number of cases before, and neither did it occur to us that the enemy might attempt mass conversion despite the poor odds. In theory, it is possible that a very small percentage of humans possesses the necessary level of magic resistance to withstand the course of the curse to its end. Considering the total population of the city, even at the transmutation rate of less than 0.001, we are now dealing with an enemy force approximately thousand strong, or more.”

She ended her bleak summary in a declaration of most devastating effect,

“These numbers are no longer within anyone’s power to contain. We should now consider all of Noertia lost to the enemy.”

“How could this happen?” Miragrave exclaimed. “How did we not see this coming?”

Though she said ‘we’, her voice bore accusation primarily aimed at the mages. With their extrasensory abilities, they should have realized the city was devoid of life well before the company passed through the gates. But magicians weren’t Divines and their senses had their limits.

Carmelia answered,

“It appears that as a collective, the enemy is able to generate mental noise closely imitating a live population. They would not be able to emulate a harmonious emiri society, but their chaotic psychic frequencies are very similar to those of man. Foreseeing this, or identifying the noise as false without specialized methods is not a rational expectation.”

“By all means, the city seemed teeming with life,” Laukan concurred. “Until the very moment we passed through the gates.”

“What are we going to do?” Millanueve now asked, persuaded by the exchange.

“We cannot stay here,” General Monterey said. “The territory is foreign to us, the odds overwhelmingly against us. We should leave the city while we still have light. Seek our way back to allied ground.”

“We’d never make it,” the Marshal objected. “Even if we got out of the city, we’d have no shelter on the fields. Sunset is but a few hours away. They would follow us and butcher us in the cover of the night. Not that anything keeps them from doing so in broad daylight either. Only, our chances of fighting back will be that much worse if we can’t even see them coming.”

“What is the problem?” Foulton interjected. “That woman made short work of one, they don’t seem so bad to me. They may have us outnumbered, but we’ve horses and more arrows than a standard regiment. Speed is on our side. We can make for Haal, summon reinforcements, and—”

“—And let me stop you right there, Colonel,” Miragrave interrupted, raising her voice. “I’ll tell you now, there are altogether four among our entire force, who have even the theoretical means to kill a daemon in single combat. The woman you referred to is one. The others are Caalan; Master Beuhler; and Arnwahl. The rest of us are as good as toddlers. The Yodith arrows can kill daemons, but it is nigh impossible for a human archer to land a clean hit unassisted. The enemy is invulnerable to conventional weaponry. They can outrun horses. No, throw away all illusions of battle! Just one would’ve been bad enough; not even the armies of all three nations together could bail us out of this.”

“What about Lia’s teleportation magic?” Izumi suggested. “We could leave the city unnoticed by a portal, no? Would give us a head start, at least.”

“The Gate of Shadows has an operational range of three miles,” Carmelia answered. “Hardly a distance to be considered safe, but it is my personal limit. The further the exit point, the more unstable the tunneling phenomenon will become. At maximum range, the Gate can be sustained long enough for perhaps five or six to pass through in succession, after which a cooldown period of one hour is required. At this pace, it would take close to two days to evacuate all the personnel we have here. Furthermore, casting magic of this intensity and moving so many people would not go unnoticed by the enemy. They would be guaranteed to interfere. But I could transport her majesty and select others now, if you wish.”

Everyone looked at Yuliana, who stirred from her thoughts with a startled look at being mentioned.

“...That is unacceptable!” she said. “I will not run away and leave the rest of you trapped here! If we are to take this path, I will be the very last one on the line, or not at all.”

“What about your highness?” Carmelia asked the Prince. “You may still have a chance to warn your own people. Evacuate as many by sea as you can.”

“And where would we go?” the man wryly replied. “Would the Senate even believe me? I wouldn’t believe it myself, if I hadn’t seen the city and that thing with my own eyes. I know my duty would have me go, nonetheless—but could I live with myself, if I turned my back on you here? No, not while there may still be something I can do. Perish the thought!”

The cirelo nodded in affirmation and turned back to Yuliana.

“Would you like me to begin evacuating the civilian personnel then?”

Yuliana didn’t immediately answer. It wasn’t a decision as simple as it sounded. Doubtless there were many willing takers for the offer downstairs, but the knowledge of a possible escape path alone was guaranteed to bring about disorder. Could they afford to have the unrest tie their hands, while they could fall under enemy attack at any give moment? But what else was there to do?

Then Miragrave’s steely voice interrupted the deliberation.

“—We can’t go.”

All turned to look at the Marshal in surprise as she continued,

“This trap was made for us. For whatever reason, the enemy wanted us here. If we leave, so will they. Right now, mankind’s remaining time depends solely on how long we can hold their attention here, in one place. If, by some chance of a miracle, we can stand our ground long enough for Aury to come and wipe this city off the map, the millions of oblivious souls out there may yet be saved. We must bet everything on that hope. It is our duty, as human beings. Foreign or not, advantageous or otherwise, this is our home now, until our days run out. Here we must plant ourselves. Here in this castle all life prevails or fails.”

2

Separated from the rest of the city by the waterless gorge, inaccessible by any other means than the connecting bridge—the royal castle was an aerial island outside the reach of any mortal army. Yet, mortal was not the enemy. What beleaguered them was a horror of devilish cunning and none could make the mistake of thinking walls and closed gates alone ensured their safety. They had to arm themselves with courage and unfailing vigilance to have any shot at survival.

The Imperial knights had already been taught the essentials of daemonology before their departure from the capital and they enlightened their Langorian colleagues. After the leaders’ conference, the troops were briefed on the situation with additional instructions. Moving alone was strictly prohibited. Everyone had to have at least one other person with them at all times whom they knew by name. Anyone going alone would be either put to isolation, or even executed, in case they failed to explain their behavior. Every troop was equipped with a whistle, with which to alert the others if anything was wrong.

“Martial law is in effect,” Miragrave declared to the company gathered in the courtyard. “We are now in a state of war. Discipline will be reinforced. Any violation of standard military protocol will be punished by the harshest degree. Food will be rationed. Water will be rationed. Four hour-shifts, day and night. And no complaints! Don’t be the weakest link! Stay sharp if you want to live!”

Employing Margitte’s shadowmeters and the magicians’ senses, the company went on to scour the castle and the fortifications, to secure the base for themselves. The battlements were manned, harpoons armed, every non-critical door locked and magically sealed. Including the main gate. But the drawbridge linking the castle to the main city couldn’t be pulled up.

“The mechanism is broken on both sides,” the knights reported to General Monterey as he came to inspect the gatehouse. “The castle doesn’t have the tools or facilities to repair machinery of this size.”

“Oh well,” the General replied, sizing up the grand doorway. “Two feet of solid, enchanted bronze-lead alloy—if that won’t hold them back, nothing will. No way are they climbing up a wall so smooth either, unless they’ve suction cups for hands.”

“I’ve instructed the mage corps to set up inertia-reduction fields and reinforcement wards around the perimeter,” Margitte told him. “Scaling the wall or piercing through it are absolutely out of the question.”

“Can’t they just warp through?” Izumi pondered, standing close by.

The young magician turned to the woman with a scowl.

“What? No! They do not ‘warp’! Did you even read the documents you were given? Their ability is called ‘instantaneous movement’!”

“Doesn’t that mean the same thing?”

“No! No! They are completely different things! Listen here!” The girl straightened her figure, as though to give a speech in a lecture hall and explained, “What mages call ‘warping’ is about connecting two separate points of spacetime by arcane means, to allow direct passage of matter or information between said points. Not that human mages are capable of using such advanced spells, but so Master Carmelia’s sources tell us. But daemons cannot use magic, nor are they able to manipulate space! ‘Instantaneous movement’—or, IM for short—refers to the target altering not the environment but its own physical characteristics, to enable transfer from one position to another with minimal interference by the elements, such as friction, air pressure, et cetera. The actor still remains in the same physical plane the whole time and cannot reach coordinates that are not naturally accessible to it. Furthermore, they must also move out of the IM phase in order to interact with physical matter again. According to field studies conducted overseas, IM is limited by the daemon’s perception. For example, they cannot directly move to blind spots, behind trees, or walls, or other locations they cannot directly observe. Interestingly, it seems the smoke veil often perceived when IM is used is not part of the technique itself, but simply a distraction, a sort of camouflage to throw off the observer—”

“—Yes, alright, so it’s like Flash Step,” Izumi interrupted. “That’ll do, professor, thank you.”

“Flash what...?”

True enough, even back in Eylia, the monster had chased them along the halls and corridors on foot, and could take no magical shortcuts despite its elusive abilities. Was it alright then to count on the fortifications to hold them off?

“The wall’s over fifty-five feet,” Monterey said, looking up. “The extended battlement blocks view well from below. They shouldn’t be flashing up there, if your thesis is right.”

The perimeter wall was straightforward to take over, with only few in-built passages and rooms along its length. There were various facilities at the foot of the wall, guard barracks and storage houses, and also the royal stable. Not a hair of the native beasts could be found in the long, one-floor shelter, but no enemies either, so the guests stationed their mounts in the stalls instead, and positioned the carriages next to the stable.

The main building, on the other hand, posed a hurdle many times harder to clear.

The castle had a cross-like layout, with hundreds of rooms on six main floors, and that wasn’t counting the underground areas. All available manpower went to comb through the rooms and corners, floor after floor, and even with the help of the mages and Margitte’s ingenious tool, the effort was both slow and nerve-wracking. From the refined ballrooms to parlors, conference halls to pantries, kitchens to dungeons, royal chambers to servants’ quarters, they scoured the regal dwelling, trying their hardest to ignore nothing.

And yet, in spite of the wealth of places to hide and spots for ambush, no contact was made with the enemy, to the explorers’ great confusion.

No survivors were found either, no corpses, no trace of a living soul, not so much as a leftover note to explain the progress of the disaster. It appeared the ruin had caught the natives entirely unaware, unless the daemons themselves had gone to the trouble of cleaning up evidence after themselves. Nobody thought it was in their character to do so, but who could tell what these strange creatures could or could not?

Over time, as more floor space was gained without fighting, it began to seem less like a trap and more as though the castle had been left for the guests on purpose. The ease of the conquest strengthened the troops’ spirits, but no voices of celebration were heard. They all remembered the legends regarding the fall of Amarno and the ill-fated war to reclaim the lost world, which paralleled their present predicament with unsettling closeness.

In a few hours, as promised, nightfall was upon them, like one gargantuan foe above any other, and the waning light turned the search effort too difficult and unsafe to continue. Forced to admit they weren’t going to cover anywhere close to all of the castle in one night, they took instead to fortifying the halls and passages and they already had. The mages isolated the unexplored areas with wards and that was all they could do.

No spell was completely infallible. Its potency could only go as high as the ability of the caster allowed, and whether or not the seals could withstand the raw might of daemons remained to be tested.

Fires pits and jack candles were lit on the walls, patrol routes planned, and watchmen stationed, and then they were as well-prepared to receive the night on the hostile zone as could be reasonably expected of mortal beings.

“Is that such a bright idea?” Colonel Foulton commented on the fires, touring the battlements with the other officers. “You’re just making targets out of your men and wasting wood in the heart of winter.”

“On the contrary,” Miragrave answered him. “Forget everything you think you know about how wars are fought, Colonel. These things are unlikely to chuck arrows or javelins at us. And they don’t like open flame. Heat interferes with their senses. Our little candles may not be of much protection, but they’re infinitely better than the naked dark.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Foulton replied and peered past the rampart, shaking his head.

“Colonel.” She turned back to him, not feeling humorous in the slightest. “The instant I begin cracking jokes, you’d better take your sword and cut off my head, because it won’t be me you’re talking to.”

Whatever the methods, holding the nearly mile-long castle wall, the main building, and the associated facilities with only two hundred men, a hundred per watch, was an effort best described as “desperate”. If even one position was breached, they were all going to die. Nevertheless, what else could they but believe?

Most of the soldiers rested in two neighboring halls on the ground floor, in the west wing of the castle. The servants were given a smaller ball room on the floor above. The commanding staff, in the meanwhile, occupied the King’s quarters on the top floor, which Carmelia’s own barrier protected.

Putting all the eggs in one basket would have been unwise, after all.

But even if they were safe for now, it didn’t seem like sleep would come.

As her majesty’s knight and bodyguard, Izumi had her resting place with the commanders, a privilege less luxurious than it sounded. In the back of the bluish chamber stood the late monarchs’ own resting place. Surrounded by transparent, colorless silk veils, that silent double bed reminded her of a mausoleum. No one felt like sleeping in the dead King’s bed, his daughter least of all, so they laid their mattresses on the cold floor, along the walls.

Yuliana set her mattress next to Izumi’s under the north side window. The other spots remained unoccupied, their owners still restlessly fine-tuning the defenses, as little difference as nitpicking could make. Yuliana didn’t feel particularly sleepy either, but the others had insisted she took a break. Izumi, on the other hand, was so tired she could’ve slept standing. Half the watch was on duty, while the other half rested. Millanueve was in the other watch. Was she going to be fine?

Hila and Tilfa brought Yuliana a set of better bedclothes and then bowed for farewell. “Then, we shall excuse ourselves here.”

“Eh? Why?” Yuliana looked at the maids and raised a brow. “You can stay here with us?”

“As immensely tempting as the offer is, I fear I must kindly decline,” Tilfa replied.

“Likewise, though doing so wrenches my chest in a most hideous way, I can only turn down your benevolent offer,” Hila said.

“What are you talking about?”

“I beg your understanding,” Tilfa explained. “The other servants would not take well to it, if we were to receive preferential treatment under the circumstances. No. They would surely assume they’ve been abandoned.”

“Indeed, I sympathize with them too much to do otherwise,” Hila concurred. “If I were to put myself in their shoes and imagine some worthless schmuck sleeping with her majesty, while I’m left for the wolves so far below, I’d orchestrate an uprising before the sun comes up.”

Did Izumi only imagine it, or did the maid glance at her when she said that?

“When you put it like that, it feels like I should be sleeping downstairs with everyone,” Yuliana told the maid. “In fact, I would’ve preferred that, but the others wouldn’t hear it…”

“Nonsense, your majesty,” the maids said. “Your place is not among the riff raff. Everyone knows that. Such is the way of the world and no special circumstances will change this elementary truth. Please, rest easy. We shall all feel better knowing you’re safe. May the Divines watch over your sleep.”

The servants bowed again and left the room.

Izumi put her pillow aside, rolled up her felt blanket for a replacement, and lay down on the naked mattress in her outdoor clothes, ready to jump up on a moment’s notice. And she yawned wide.

Yuliana remained standing in front of her own spot, staring off, lost in thought.

Probably thinking about what the maids had said.

“Hey.” Izumi spoke to her. “How are you holding up?”

“Huh?” Yuliana stirred, shaking her head. “Oh, I’m…I’m alright.”

“Come on. Even I can tell that’s a lie.”

“Yes,” the Empress mumbled and slowly sat down. “How could I be alright? I still can’t believe it’s really happening. Here I am, trapped in my own house, encircled by an enemy of all life. My parents, my people, everyone I once knew is…All of it...”

She trailed off, the distant look returning to her eyes.

“…I won’t hold it against you if you happen to feel like crying,” the woman said, turning to her side to find a more comfortable posture. “But you should know how terrible I am at consoling people. Not one good line comes to mind.”

“It’d be weirder if it did,” Yuliana said. “But you don’t seem any different from the usual. Please tell me you’re at least a little bit scared? Or did you somehow already predict this was going to happen? It already happened in one of your magic games?”

“No,” Izumi said. “I’m pretty shocked, alright. But I’ve always been kind of slow on the uptake. Comes with age, I suppose. It takes time for things to really sink in. So I’m still fine for the time being.”

“You’re not just acting to help me feel better, are you?”

“I wouldn’t say anything so lame only to lift your spirits.”

“Right…” Despite the grimness of the topic, Yuliana made a little smile.

“Well,” the woman shortly continued, “I’m kind of used to that feeling already. You know, being overwhelmed. Having no good choices left. Sitting at the rock bottom, with no light anywhere in view. It takes me back. I felt something like this at home. Dreading every day that either everything’s going to be taken from me, or I’ll kill myself first. But the silver lining is, the only way on from the bottom is up. I still have my sword. At least in this world you can cut down the thing that’s after you and not get charged for offending their sensibilities. When you spend your life being told you can’t do anything at all, or are doing it wrong, being able to fight for yourself at all feels like a victory on its own. For a short while, before the end, you’re truly free. It’s not so bad.”

“That is...a very Izumi-like way of looking at things,” Yuliana said. “Though I’m not so sure if it’s a view to admire.”

“Ah. It might be better if everyone developed their own views instead of borrowing mine.”

Time passed without a word. Yuliana drew her knees close to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and stared off.

“You know what crushes me most?” she spoke as she hugged her legs. “I actually considered it. Master Carmelia’s offer, I mean. For a brief while, I seriously thought about running away, saving only myself and leaving everyone else behind. In my mind, I was halfway doing it already. The fact that I was even able to recognize it as an option—I never would’ve thought I had it in me. I’m...so sickened!”

She hid her face behind her knees with a soundless sob.

Izumi sighed and sat up. “You should’ve done it. You still can. Just go talk to Lia. You don’t need to tell anyone. No goodbyes, no explanations—just go. There’s not a single thing wrong about that. Rather, I’m sure everyone would feel better if you did it. Nothing but bad things await us here. There’s no point in sticking around just to be politically correct.”

“Would you come with me?” Yuliana asked with a crooked smile, turning her tearful face at the woman. “Would you run away with me? We’ll start over, just the two of us, somewhere far, far away from here? Like we were in the beginning? Just two travelers, who don’t know about tomorrow? Forget any of this ever happened?”

Izumi looked away, her face darkening with remorse.

“As your knight, I swore I’d do anything you say...” she answered. “...But that’s one request I can’t obey. I’ll take responsibility and kill myself, if you wish.”

“Don’t say such things, even as a joke!” Yuliana exclaimed, hitting the woman’s arm. “Just...don’t!”

“Sorry,” Izumi apologized. But she hadn’t been joking at all.

“Don’t tell me why either,” Yuliana told her, clutching the sleeve of Izumi’s jacket. “I don’t want to hear you say it. Don’t say anything at all. Pretend you heard nothing. I didn’t really mean it, any of it. I know there is no escape. This is my destiny. I’m fine with that. Just be there, for a little while, and don’t move.

Yuliana leaned her head against Izumi’s shoulder and began to cry. Izumi took her in her arms and held her close, the young Empress shedding bitter tears against her bosom.

“I’m sorry,” Izumi said. “I’m a complete disappointment as a knight too, aren’t I?”

“You’re not,” Yuliana said and feebly knocked her again. Eventually, growing calmer, she wiped her tears and they continued to sit like so for a while longer.

“Izumi,” the girl then spoke.

“Hm?”

“This is an order. Your most important order. If you betray this, I will never forgive you.”

“Alright. What is it?”

“Don’t ever stop being you.”