Sticking to the plan, Meldor and his remaining elves left the woodlands midday. Though severely slowed through the narrow paths, their caravan regained speed past the treeline. Their column was a single file when they traversed through the forest paths, but when they emerged in the plains, they traveled two abreast.
As always, Meldor rode in front. This was not merely in accordance to hierarchy, but because the prince had the most powerful senses.
The journey to Chaeld was uneventful. They spotted bands of orcs and goblins, but none big enough to warrant much attention. The Kingdom of Chaeld was within the protection of elves for hundreds of years, and scourges had failed to flourish in the land.
They went past several villages. Most of the villagers paused in their daily chores to wave at their convoy, oblivious of their king's betrayal.
The sun slowly went down in the horizon, and when they were about a kilometer away from the town, the night had fully come. It was then that the elves halted in their journey. They set up fires beneath a large linden tree by the side of the road, way out of sight from the guards that man the ramparts, but the guards within their much superior vision.
Meldor ordered them to rest and moved the time of the assault to midnight. The elves were not easily worn out, but the ones with him had been fighting for a week and in that period had not eaten a proper meal. Thus, every bit of rest was needed.
While his retainers rested around the fire, Meldor stood right beside the tree, monitoring the movement on the walls. His left hand was across his chest, his right massaging his jaw. He was deep in thought, and the conversations were to him muffled background noises.
"Turns out you were right, lord Prince." Orlem emerged from behind and stood beside him, hands on his hips.
Orlem was referring to the meager number of guards that man the walls.
"When was I ever wrong, Orlem?" Meldor weakly smiled to his childhood friend.
"Never, Meldor. Even your prediction of the betrayal of the empire and the other kingdoms was proven true. If only they listened." the elf recounted.
Meldor heavily sighed, the statement struck a chord within him. He was reminded of his passionate speeches in the king's court, arguing that they make preparations for war. All of which were all for naught.
"I think I was wrong once. Never had I expected that Chaeld would backstab us. My father so pampered this kingdom." the prince spoke bitterly.
Orlem shuddered and hugged himself at the passing chilling breeze. It brought with it the scent of earth and grass.
"Now, how do we get in?" inquired Orlem.
"The usual tactic. Someone will sneak in and open the doors for us." Meldor replied.
"Then I volunteer myself, Tholpiel, Elendiel and Cirdan." the elven guard offered, glancing at where his friends had sat.
"All three of them had remained?" the prince also glanced at the trio.
He caught Baldomir's glare who stood alone in a corner, but ignored him.
"You are our friend Meldor, there's no one we'd rather follow." Orlem gently gripped his shoulder.
"But… we shall ask for our own barrel should we find wine." he followed up, raising a finger in emphasis.
"Do it quick and clean." Meldor patted his back.
"Aye, lord prince, consider it done."
+++
The knee-high grass emitted little to no sound, as Orlem and three others skillfully creeped closer to the town. Before long, they were only a hundred meters away from the wall. Orlem halted and motioned others to stop.
Seconds later, they heard the sound of arrows whistling on air. The guards above the gate suddenly fell, all slain by a single arrow each.
Taking it as the signal, the four sprinted towards the wall and, with the famed elven strength, covered half the height in a single leap. They skillfully scaled the rest.
There was not a single enemy left on the ramparts, and so the elves descended the stairs. Below they saw three guards seated and sleeping by the gate, using their knives, they swiftly made sure that they will never wake up again.
They wasted no time and hastily dislodged the wooden bar, and swung the gate open. Orlem sounded the horn, awaking everyone in the town.
But before anyone inside could make out of what had happened, elven horsemen led by Meldor himself poured in through the opening. Each of the elves wielded a torch, and an unsheathed sword.
Inside, the intruders scattered through the many paths, lighting on fire anything that could be burned. Buildings with thatched roofs became targets.
"What is th-" the guard placed his hand on his throat, before dropping dead. The other guard was not given time to mutter anything, when he too had his throat slit. The lantern he was carrying fell to the ground and erupted in flames.
Meldor shook the blood off his sword, after slaying the unlucky duo, who were the only guards out to patrol that night. The prince continued traversing the main street, directly riding towards the citadel.
The alarm was at last sounded, but the town had already descended into the chaos. Seeing that their raiders were elves, the townspeople further panic.
"This is all Frederick's fault! Now the wrath of the elves is upon us!" a man shouted, stating what was on the mind of every Chaeldean in the town.
Screams continued to rung out, even though not a single civilian was slain by the sword. There were, however, people who had died within the burning buildings.
The gates of the citadel opened, and out of it poured a small group of soldiers, led by the garrison commander. He saw Meldor and other elven riders beelining in their direction.
"Lord Prince! How have we offended you!" the commander yelled at Meldor behind a hastily assembled shield wall.
The elven prince stopped, just meters away. He recognized the face of the commander, he has visited Atherdaine before.
"Soldier, I have come to avenge the death of my father, and the fall of my kingdom. If you lay down your arms, you shall be spared." the prince announced.
"How do you plan to avenge the king, my lord?" the aged man asked, there was fear in his every word.
"I plan to burn this place to the ground, rid it of its riches, and kill everyone in the family of your king." Meldor replied nonchalantly.
"We are sinners, my lord. But I have sworn an oath, and tonight I must die by your sword." the old man readied himself.
"So be it."
As soon as the last word was spoken, the elves behind Meldor took out their bows and unleashed their load. The clumsy formation proved to have many gaps, and the arrows made their way to the soldiers. The shield wall collapsed, with three soldiers dead in one round.
The elves moved to finish the job, and the commander and the remaining soldiers fearfully retreated towards the gate of the citadel. The elven riders, however, were faster, and the soldiers would not survive the onslaught.
The commander, in his last act, turned and faced Meldor, refusing to die a coward's death. As a sign of respect, the prince refused to hit him in the front. With great strength and accuracy, he hit the base of his skull with the blunt of his sword, bestowing the man a bloodless, instantaneous and painless death. The commander stiffly fell, joining ten of his underlings on the cold stone pavement.
Past the gate was the courtyard, where the last of the guards mounted the final resistance. Outnumbered and outskilled, they stood no chance and were massacred.
With no defenders left standing, the elves entered the keep and other buildings within the fortification, largely unopposed.
"Bring me your masters and mistresses, I have not come to hurt any of you. Spare me the effort and I shall spare you, your lives." Meldor announced as he entered the largest of the fortified towers.
"How could you do this evil, elf! What did they ever do to you!" a plumpy maid shouted at Meldor, greeting him at the door and violently grabbing his robe.
"You will unhand me, woman." the elven prince growled.
"I was told elves were kind, and benevolent, but I was wrong. You deserve to be betrayed!" the woman continued.
Meldor snapped, and grabbed the woman by the hair, and force her to her knees. She made her face the other ones in the room. He then slowly cut her throat, holding her firmly down as she struggled. She tried to speak, but all that came out were gurgling sounds.
Petrified, the other servants were forced to watch the cruel execution to unfold. Even the elves flinched at the sight.
"Elves are not always kind. We, too, can grieve, can be enraged, and can kill." Meldor threw the woman's dying body to the ground.
"Now, I shall ask again…. "