Lotharians

(Right After the Ambush at the Parley)

“That went well,” commented Vida Ferrer, cleaning the blood off her rapier after they had hastily vacated the tent where they had talked and fought with the Spire’s new Steward. Looking back to the scene she saw the bodies of Lotharians and Fidajin alike scattered throughout the are the impromptu battlefield.

“Treacherous Wizard!” cursed Lord Gaius, waving his sword at the Spire, its beautiful blue form contrasting with the sundown.

The mercenary captain snorted, looking at him sideways. “It was we that broke the truce, Gaius,” she pointed out.

“Nothing more than they deserve for their crimes!” the man replied indignantly, making her shake her head at the man’s capacity of justifying his own dishonorable acts.

“You’re right, captain,” interjected Lord Agor as he approached the duo, having given the necessary orders to spread lies about what had just taken place to the camp, “It’s not how I enjoy to act, but this could have saved us from a lot of bloodshed.”

“Yeah, now that you talk about it, I suspect you’ll end up having to pay me the bonus we agreed. Maybe a lot more of them, even.”

“Were you that impressed, sellsword?” inquired Gaius, frowning at the thought of respecting their enemies - even though their sneak attack had just been rebuffed.

“You never said anything about necromancers,” she started counting out her fingers, “those are as nasty as they come. There’s also that rogue paladin, I sure wasn’t expecting anything like that. Who knows what kind of dirty tricks the man has in store? Then, there were the warriors, they were far from pushovers, one of two could actually make me break a sweat. And that’s just the enemies we’ve met yet from the Spire, who are probably preparing a lot of ugly surprises for us in there.”

“That’s not a-” Lord Gaius started saying before Vida rudely interrupted him, making him scowl.

“Hush, I’m not done yet. There’s still the Druids at our backs, too silent for my liking, and those annoying Realm’s soldiers who bled our scouts the whole way in and then vanished.”

“That’s a pretty comprehensive summary, Vida,” replied the lotharian heir with mirth at the commoner’s habitual impudence. If the woman hadn’t beat the shit out of Gaius a dozen times at the sparring rings, he was sure his cousin would be choking her for the non-stop insults and slights she directed his way.

“Have I said something funny, *milord*?” she said, curtsying mockingly, her tone dripping with sarcasm. Rising, she looked him in the eyes before continuing, “And you still haven’t told me how we’ll break in that damned Spire. The Elfey couldn’t do it, but you’re awful sure of your lordly self.”

“The day after tomorrow, you’ll see.”

The mercenary captain nearly growled at his non-chalant secret keeping. She turned around stiffly without asking his leave and started walking back to camp.

“You keep saying about the day after tomorrow, cousin. But what’s our next step?” asked Gaius as he looked at the departing warrior’s backside with appreciation.

“Tonight, the siege truly begins. We’ll give them no rest, tire them out before we’re ready to strike.”

“Good, good… But tell me something, cousin. These Fidajin you’ve hired didn’t impress me at all today. I expected better of them, people always talk like they are the boogie men.”

“They did great things for our Purge already, cousin, like opening the gates of Arburgh and taking down some strong wizards. Master Garner predicted our attack somehow and took the wind from our sails completely. Besides, the rogues work better under the cover of the dark, and their best operatives are still a ways from here or occupied with other work.”

“I see…”

“Let’s go, Gaius. We’ll have plenty to do tomorrow.”

***

The Spire

Many people were already high-strung in the Spire, the tension of the upcoming days weighing heavily on many, not only on the duo talking at a balcony upstairs. It hit specially hard the unblooded and the non combatants. Romer had naturally taken charge of any and all servants that had been brought to the Spire with another wizards, though there had been some grumblings he’d promptly quashed. This was far from the kind of situation where servants should play their petty games of power and favor. The majordomo walked towards one of the kitchens, hearing loud sobbing and preoccupied conversations before he strode in.

“What is the commotion I’ve been hearing about?” he asked firmly, making everyone turn to face him. Serving maids, cooks and dishwashers were all centered around a sobbing young redheaded girl, Dalia, one of his - Master Garner’s people.

“We were talking about what may happen, and she broke into tears,” said one of the helpless cooks, shrugging his shoulders.

“I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again, people. Trust in our wizards, trust in our warriors. Things might start looking bleak for a bit, but we are in one of the strongest fortifications ever built by the Realm. Not a single one of the Spires ever fell, and we won’t be breaking this tradition now.”

“But Jeen just died today, Mr. Romer!,” Dalia protested vehemently, trying to dam the unending tears for a moment.

“Yes, I’m afraid there will be many other deaths before this is over,” Romer said, not without sympathy.

“He bled out on the floor! I had to clean his blood!” the girl said before breaking into sobs again.

The majordomo stared at her for a while, then rose and frowning he looked at the people around who avoided his eyes, shamefully. His slight frown could be translated as a normal person’ bloodthirsty expression, and it deepened particularly when he caught the eye of the maid he’d ordered to clean it all up. Oh, there would be a reckoning for this one, and everyone at the kitchen could realize that. Everyone but the brokenhearted Dalia.

Smoothing his expression, the majordomo approached the girl and raised her from the stool she was sitting on. “I will take her to her room, but I expect you to finish up the cleaning and go back to sleep as soon as you’re done. We’ll have a lot of work to do tomorrow, one way or the other.”

***

The Spire was planned from the start as a fortification, a huge edifice built for war - to stand it, and to finish it. It was a functional building and as such, the first floors had no easy ways to access, full of arrowslits instead of proper windows. The higher floors had crenelated balconies where wizards and other spellcasters could sling their spells from, but even higher than that there were some luxurious and comfortable rooms with beautiful and large windows. Though Maia was an archer, she opted for the balconies instead of one of the arrowslits, for she was accompanied for her grim nighttime task.

Though they had posted sentinels in the most vulnerable spots, the Guardian decided it was better to alert the Steward for one problem they hadn’t been expecting so soon. Climbers, many, many climbers. Trying to once again catch the defenders by surprise, a surprisingly large number of rogues and soldiers had approached under the cover of the dark, like rats trying to find a way in to the cellar. The Spire was huge, and it was a pretty big risk that some of them might actually gain entrance uncontested.

So, Garner had been woken up by the Elfey spirit, and he had recruited his three best archers to rid the Spire of the unwelcome people scaling its walls. On one side of the Spire his hunters shot dutifully with bow and crossbow, aided by Tara’s apprentices, just in case, while on the other Maia did the deed, covered by his own apprentices.

It was dark, the pale moonlight being of little help, and Maia was having a hard time noticing the black-clad climbers, but she had some help, thankfully.

“A ways to the left and a bit higher than last time, Tealdin,” she instructed, drawing her bowstring in anticipation.

The sleepy boy focused and created a short-lived flame close to where she had desired. It was enough. She saw the panic on the wide eyes of the black-clad lotharian, who was trying to hammer a piton. She smoothly released the string, and her arrow flew true, hitting the man’s chest and knocking him off the Spire to a long fall with a sudden stop.

“Ouch,” commented Tealdin as he heard the sound even from way down below.

“Yeah. If they manage to find some weak points to put those anchors, our lives will get a lot harder the following nights.”

“Are there any of them left?” asked Leanor, bleary-eyed and with a surprisingly tangled hair for how short it was. She was the designated defender, alternating between a Shield and a Barrier in case someone noticed where the arrows were coming from and decided to retaliate. Luckily, the darkness of the night worked both ways, and Maia had shot her arrows unmolested.

“Not on our side, I think? Hey, Guardian, are we clear?” she asked looking back to the inside of the Spire, and the nasty creature materialized in the empty air.

“No, you’ve got them all. Nice shooting,” it said, smiling at her with sharp teeth before vanishing.

“Not creepy at all…” Maia grumbled.

“How many did you get?” Leanor asked, dropping the spell as they went back inside, where it wasn’t as cold.

“Seven, I think. But they didn’t look to be very experienced. I think this was a probe.”

“Throwing seven peoples’ lives away just to test us?” asked Tealdin, surprised at the ruthlessness.

“You two don’t get it yet… They have the numbers, this was quite a cheap test. Lives can be extremely cheap on the battlefield.”

“I’m sure I’ll be horrified tomorrow, but for now I just want to sleep,” replied Leanor, as they went back to their rooms.

***

The Spire's Watch-room

“Is it over, Guardian?” asked Garner from the Watchroom, where he drank tea with Lowa, observing Mons trying his hardest not to doze off right next to his new boss.

“Yes, watchful Steward. The few who aren’t dead are running back to their lines.”

“How many climbers did we have this night?” asked Lowa, taking a sip.

“Two dozen, witch.”

“Say, creature, you must be old. Did you actually meet any true witch?” the elder asked, glancing at the apparition.

“Yes. A mostly annoying Order. Killed a few people, and they sent battle Witches to take me down. I actually had to retreat, though I wouldn’t have needed to if I was more experienced.”

“Truly? How were they like?” Garner inquired, scratching the stubble on his chin. Romer would be furious, but he had better things to do with his time. Like worrying, and asking irrelevant questions instead of going to sleep.

“They were… Militant. A lot more belligerent than you, wizard lot. It’s no wonder they run afoul of the cursed Paladins. They were truly dangerous.”

“…”

Lowa had a good laugh at his expense.

“I don’t think we can actually do anything more tonight. Are the Golems set up as I instructed?”

“Yes, they are. Unless you’ve changed plans for the fifth time?”

“Don’t give me sass, Spirit. You’re too old and too ugly to pull it,” he riposted, making Lowa laugh again. “Let’s go, then. Warn me if anything important or dangerous happen, don’t let our sentries sleep on the job.”

“I already miss the decades when I was alone…” the Spirit snarked at their backs, but they ignored it this time.