General Areveli, Supreme Commander of the Makini forces, was leading an army into battle on this day.

On horseback, he stroked his beard. After a brief juncture together, his army had split from Varsis’, and headed south. Due to constant streams of reinforcements, he now had fifty thousand men under his command. No one had anticipated how quickly Hisa had been able to levy the Makini armies. No one.

And news of Varsis’ successes in the north had entitled him to use the vast army at his disposal. Indeed, without Areveli’s help in the south, all of Varsis’ gains would begin to unravel.

And so, today, the siege of the Holy Citadel began. Areveli gazed around him. On this fine morning, his troops had encircled the city. There were more people inside the city than he had troops, to be sure, but in a city of two hundred thousand, there could only perhaps be twenty thousand troops with a level of experience, plus that number again of conscripts.

Areveli’s forces outnumbered the defenders, and his soldiers were infinitely better trained. The Vedil called the Makini soldiers hordes simply because of their number. A more professional army than the Makini simply could not be found.

Areveli looked around, at his siege weapons at the ready. Catapults abounded in his formations, in every shape and size. There were massive ones, meant for sending projectiles flying over the city walls, and those smaller, as well, meant for breaking down the walls themselves, with boulders.

Areveli was not a man to leap to conclusions, but he knew that on this day, the Vedil stood no chance.

“Ready!” he shouted, and his captains relayed the message. “Flaming arrows fire at will!”

And so they did. From the Makini ranks, perhaps five thousand arrows flew up to the battlements of the Holy Citadel. On the battlements, Areveli saw defenders drop like flies.

“Catapults!” he shouted. “Fire at will!”

Along with the stream of flaming arrows, giant rocks were added to the mix.

In response, the Vedil…died.

They seemed to have no strategy, no idea on how to defend themselves beyond indiscriminately firing arrows back. A few Makini dropped, but the number was petty. Everything was going as well as it could be.

“Battering ram!” shouted Areveli from his horse. “Take position!”

From the Makini ranks, a gargantuan battering ram, covered with wood, and wet cow hide, to prevent the men manning the thing from getting shot or burnt, advanced. It moved very, very slowly, and immediately became the primary target for the Vedil soldiers of the Holy Citadel.

Areveli laughed. The battering ram was not supposed to break down the gate. It was merely a distraction.

“Ladders!” he shouted.

Areveli’s soldiers advanced with ladders with hooks on the end, ladder tall enough to reach the height of the Vedil battlements, and with the hook, take grasp.

The ladders were a tricky business, and were quite susceptible to being knocked down, but for every one that fell, two were raised, helped in the task by a heavy cover of flaming arrows.

Like ants, perfectly disciplined, his men began to climb.

Of course, the Vedil were not completely incompetent. They did manage to knock away more of the ladders, even as the Makini men on them flailed and fell to the ground.

But combat healers were already waiting for their part to play. As soon as the first Makini splattered on the ground, they advanced to make sure any who survived the fall would live to fight another day.

Too often did men die on the battlefield for no other reason than neglect. Areveli was not going to let that happen.

Changing focus, Areveli saw the first of his ladder men make it to the battlements. Many of them died, of course, impaled by the ranks of Vedil defenders, but many did not. They were Makini swordsmen, after all.

As Areveli watched, the tides turned on the battlements. His forces were constantly being reinforced by new climbers, and the Vedil only had what they had. He laughed again as he saw that his archers had stopped firing at some regions of the battlements, as they were completely controlled by friendly troops.

This would be a great victory in the annals of the Makini.

Little attention was being paid to the battering ram now, which, due to its heavy coverings, had weathered the assault.

“Battering ram!” shouted Areveli. “Strike!”

The battering ram moved forward, giving the Vedil something else to worry about. It began to pound on the gate.

Areveli turned to a lieutenant. “Get me my owl,” he said, and the lieutenant rode off.

Areveli continued to watch Makini victory after victory.

When the lieutenant returned with the owl, Areveli took the jet black bird on his gloved hand.

“Watch the fighting for me, Darken,” said Areveli. “When my men break past the walls into the city proper, return to me.”

The black owl flew off, and Areveli continued to watch. Even after the walls were passed, it would take a long time to pacify the city, due to the great hill it had been built on. Vedil archers would be able to fire from rooftop down onto the Makini below. The conquest would not be over until the Greatest of the Temples was reached. Still, when his men passed beyond the walls, it would still be the beginning of the end.

Not that the Vedil had ever stood a chance.

Areveli stroked his beard once more as, before long, Darken came flying back to him.

It had only taken half a day to reach this moment. The Makini conquest of the Holy Citadel would go down as one of the shortest captures of a walled city in history.

And Areveli stroked his beard.

“Make sure the order goes out to kill as many Vedil soldiers as quickly as possible,” said Areveli.

His lieutenant nodded, and disappeared again.

Areveli hoped that order would be carried out. Once white flags were raised, prisoners would have to be taken, and this war had given the Makini far more prisoners of war than they could ever use. The Vedil soldiers were better off dead.

A different lieutenant came scurrying up to him. “My lord,” said the man, “the Vedil are beginning to surrender.”

“Good,” said Areveli. “Quite good.” There will be less dead than I hoped, but prisoners of war can always be used. I only worry about how many guards will be needed to oversee them.

On his horse, Areveli turned. “Make me aware when the city is fully under our control,” he said. “I will be in my tent.”

“It shall be done, my lord,” said the lieutenant.

Areveli rode off.

A battered city stood behind him.

***

Priest-Lord Ralad was a complicated man. He, unlike his fellow Priest-Lords, felt inclined to follow his secular Vedil Lord brethren into battle.

He felt that if the Holy Citadel fell, so too did all Vedil hope, and so he risked everything just so that the defenders could have one more man.

But, with he or not, the Vedil were losing.

The Makini invaders were in the Tower of the Vedil now, and only the upper levels remained in the hands of the rightful.

Ralad stood at a twisting hallway, wearing white robes, as he always did. However, he held a mace in his hands. Priests were not allowed to shed blood, but they could kill in other ways.

Only one ally stood by Ralad’s side, the Asurik Talil. Aside from he and her, the twisting staircase was empty.

It would not remain empty for long.

“You do not have to stay here,” said Talil. She held a sword in one hand, and a staff in the other. “You can still return to your quarters, and seek the protection you would be due as a priest and a non-combatant.”

“I do not consider that to be an option,” said Ralad. “If I die defending this place, so be it. Remember when you fought the undying giant, back on that night when hell broke loose? You did not turn away even when you saw it crack one of your fellows over its knee, and God rewarded your bravery by sparing your life, and the lives of several of your other fellow Asurik.”

“I have told you many times,” said Talil, “the metal giant was not after us. If we had not wanted revenge for the loss of one of our kin, it would have left us without killing a second.”

“Do you know what the giant was after?” asked Ralad.

“No,” said Talil.

“Then God saved you,” said Ralad. “And you, as an Asurik, should be the last to scorn Him.”

“I bask in your wisdom, Priest-Lord,” said Talil. “I am humbled.” She briefly closed her eyes, but a second later, they flashed open. “I hear soldiers, Priest-Lord,” she said. “Here the come.”

A moment later, climbing up from the twisting staircase came a squad of Makini swordsmen.

Seeing Talil to be an Asurik, and the more deadly of the defenders, the Makini squad focused on her. But Talil was ready.

As the first came at her, Talil parried his sword with her staff, and cut at his exposed neck with her sword. He dropped to the ground, blood pooling.

As two more Makini swordsmen came into distance of Talil, Ralad solidly connected his mace with the side of one’s head. The man, not prepared, dropped to the ground, but another pair of Makini stepped up to take his place, now realizing that Ralad was indeed a threat.

Ralad stepped a pace back up the stairs, just missing a vicious sword slash from one of the Makini. As he saw that Talil was now pinned against the wall by three of the men, he rushed forward to help.

As his mace parried a sword strike from one of the Makini warriors, Ralad suddenly saw that his help would be to no avail, that Talil was doomed.

In a burst of energy, Talil cut down a second swordsman, but overreached, and another impaled her on his sword from behind.

The man pulled his blade out from her back, and she slid to the ground, quite dead.

Ralad let out a howl of anger, and slammed his mace out, yet again, just missing another head, but the Makini, now only having to deal with an old man, rushed at him. One slammed the pommel of his sword into Ralad’s chest.

Wheezing, Ralad dropped his mace, and fell to the ground. Before a sword strike could be levied to dispatch him, Ralad cried out, “I yield!”

And so the Makini took him.

***

Lin stood around a campfire. His short fellow, General Xaien, was nearby speaking with some lieutenants.

A few minutes later, Xaien returned to the campfire with a dark expression on his face. “I fear what Achang did by delaying us was worse than what even Emperor Ehajdon realized,” said the little old man.

“What happened?” asked Lin.

“The Holy Citadel has fallen.”

“No,” said Lin.

“And, reports have it that this was no hard victory for the Makini,” said Xaien. “Fifty thousand troops fell upon the Holy Citadel, and destroyed its defenders.”

The number fifty thousand was not frightening because it was impossible for the combined Houses Minsu and Vedil to match. Indeed, the combined population of their two Houses was greater than that of the Makini.

But the number fifty thousand represented the speed at which the Makini could martial their troops. The war was two months old.

Lin had no idea how the Makini had been able to raise so many troops in so little time, but he had to begrudgingly congratulate them. Then, he had to find a way to kill them all. The twenty thousand troops in his and Xaien’s army were no match for the fifty thousand Makini in the south, and the ten thousand Makini in the north.

And now the Holy Citadel had fallen.

If the war continued at this rate, Makini troops would conquer Minsu heartlands before the year was out. And that was something that could not be allowed to happen.

“How do they do it, Xaien?” asked Lin. “Where did those troops come from?”

“The Makini had most probably lightened the guard on almost every territory they control, in order to produce the armies before us,” said the little old general. “Unfortunately, as we can hardly attack Makini lands from the Eastern Range, that matters little. Almost all of their troops are on our front lines, right where they can be most effective.”

“And we can’t drop the guard on our own lands because we have potential enemies in every direction,” said Lin. “The Makini know the mountain barbarians won’t come after them, since they were defeated so strongly less than a decade ago.”

“Right,” said Xaien. “So what do we do, young one?”

“How many of the Vedil high lords were captured?” asked Lin.

“Out of the ten secular lords,” said Xaien, “only seven were in the city at its fall. Out of that number, we know not what happened, beyond the fact that at least one was captured, and at least one was killed.”

“And of the Priest-Lords?” prompted Lin.

“Out of the ten Priest-Lords, nine were in the Holy Citadel at the time of its fall,” said Xaien. “All we know is that more than one was captured.”

“And of the Augrave?” asked Lin.

“He is in enemy hands,” said Xaien. “This much, we are sure of.”

All in all, what had just been said was all horrible, horrible news. Out of the twenty one leaders of the Vedil, all but four had been in the city. The Vedil leadership would take a long time to recover from this.

The captures were a boon for Vedil-Minsu integration, as less Vedil leaders meant less opposition to the policies of Emperor Ehajdon. But looking at the military aspect, as opposed to the domestic aspect, it was all an utter nightmare.

Lin had to find what was left of the shattered Vedil armies, and rally them together. As the south of Vedil was all but fallen, he would have to find what he needed in the north.

“We will head to Barad,” he told Xaien. “To add to our army, any Vedil in reasonable shape that we find will be conscripted. As this maneuver will leave our homelands somewhat exposed to Makini assault, we will urge that Emperor Ehajdon initiate conscription of his own. Unless you have a better idea?”

“I, sadly, do not,” said Xaien. “As much as I hate tearing young men away from their lives, I fear we have no other choice.”

“Then, it is decided,” said Lin.

“It is,” said Xaien. “May the God-Kings have mercy on us.”

“I only hope that mercy is enough.”