At the far end of the throne room, I sat there in silence, pondering my predicament. Upon a dais of black metal sat a throne of dark red. Cushions of the finest fabrics, delicately woven with gold and silver threads, created a sense of comfort that soothed a tired soul. The floor beneath me was a masterful mosaic of marble and precious stones, arranged to form breathtaking patterns that seamlessly connected into the Marauders emblem plastered into the middle- a silver chalice filled of gold and red fluids.
The ceiling soared high above, being lifted by gigantic pillars as durable as Arago's walls. From the arched ceilings hung chandeliers arranged in two columns. From behind, sunlight filtered through a wide window that illuminated not only the Warlord's seat, but colossal statues, fierce warriors frozen in stone. These stone guardians stood tall, their presence evoking both awe and a sense of intimidation. Each statue wielded a massive sword, a symbol of their strength and readiness to protect the higher authority. Their stern expressions served as a constant reminder of the consequences of disrespecting the power that resided within the throne room.
Quietly, I stared at the tapestries that adorned the walls, depicting the many sieges Arago had withstood for years.
"Yes… No one will breach our walls. It is impossible. We have not yielded to the other powers, and never will…"
The Liberators, while strong, cannot breach Arago. It was evident that the Liberators faced a significant challenge in their assault. The moat filled with dangerous creatures and the sturdy walls guarded by vigilant archers presented significant challenges for any would-be attackers. The moat acted as a natural barrier, deterring any direct approach to the city. Stepping into its waters meant facing a swift and gruesome demise. Additionally, the walls of Arago, built to withstand sieges, stood tall and imposing, offering further protection against intrusion.
The guards stationed on the parapets, armed with fire and arrows, were a formidable line of defense. Their duty was to rain down death upon any foolhardy enough to challenge the might of Arago. Their trained eyes and steady aim would make any frontal assault a costly and deadly endeavor. The Liberators' best chance of success lay in attacking from the northwest. The Liberators' infantry had already set up their camp in that direction, and allocating additional guards to the north section would strengthen Arago's defenses. This strategic move would make it even more challenging for the enemy to breach the city from that angle.
However, caution was necessary when considering the southern approach. A potential pincer attack could catch us off guard and create a significant advantage for the Liberators. Yet, such a move carried a considerable risk. Alerting the beasts from the nearby Wandering Woodlands could lead to an uncontrollable and chaotic situation, with the stench of blood attracting these creatures like moths to a flame. The resulting onslaught of ferocious beasts could result in heavy casualties for both sides, complicating the liberation effort. So, the northwest presents the most viable and prudent option for the Liberators. By focusing their attack from that direction, they could leverage their strength while minimizing unnecessary risks. It would be a challenging endeavor, but one that held the greatest chance of success and the least potential for unforeseen consequences.
"I am aware of all of your schemes, Warlord Bazark. Once your little siege has failed, your legacy will be scattered into the wind. This will be a great success for Arago and a steppingstone for the Marauders' ambitions…"
As I subduedly laughed to myself, the burly, aged oak doors of the palace were suddenly flung open as a single guard rushed in. I watched him curiously as he strutted forward and kneeled.
"Greetings, Warlord Rex. I have brought troubling news…"
"…Go on."
The guard nodded and said, "The Liberators soldiers northwest of Arago seem to be acting… unusual. Recently, they have been engaging in activities such as sharpening their blades and inspecting their armor. The watchtowers in sectors A and B are worried that they may-"
"…They're beginning their siege," I finished.
The prolonged stall of the Liberators was an unexpected turn of events. Despite their repeated futile attempts to breach the fortress of Arago, they had resorted to a strategy of waiting, hoping to starve us into submission. Little did they know their plan was destined to fail. Arago was well-prepared for such a siege, boasting abundant supplies and resources that could sustain us for months without the need for replenishment.
In contrast, the Liberators are in a precarious situation. Stranded on Talik Gorge, their options for procuring food were severely limited. They could only rely on their dwindling reserves, which could only sustain them for a finite period of time. Desperation might drive them to consider hunting in the perilous Wandering Woodlands, but that would prove to be a grave mistake. The creatures lurking within those treacherous woods were fierce and deadly, capable of inflicting significant casualties on the Liberators. Such losses would deal a severe blow to their mission of subjugating Arago. The timing of their decision is puzzling. After a prolonged period of inaction, why did they choose today, of all days, to launch their assault? It seems impulsive…
The horrifying realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. Could Xalan have played a hand in the Liberators' decision to attack? Her intrusion into my bedroom days ago, her casual declaration of being a spectator to the impending battle, had left a bitter taste in my mouth. It was as if she viewed the conflict as mere entertainment, a grand spectacle to observe.
The more I contemplated the situation, the more I became convinced that Xalan had manipulated events behind the scenes. After all, according to the ancient texts, gods often indulged in mischief and games, toying with mortals and shaping their fates for their own amusement. This could very well be one of those occasions. The fact that she had the audacity to order me to push my men to their limits, training them relentlessly until exhaustion consumed them, only added to my suspicion. I felt a rush of anger and frustration at the realization that we were mere pawns in Xalan's twisted game. Her disregard for the lives and struggles of mortals was appalling. We were not playthings to be manipulated and discarded at her whim.
"…Things will not go your way, you harpy. We are not your pawns."
"P-Pardon me, sir?"
I abruptly rose from my throne, staring down at the man below me. "The battle against the Liberators is upon us. It is time to defend our home once more."
****
As I stood atop the imposing walls of sector A, a refreshing breeze washed over me, bringing a momentary respite from the tension that filled the air. The view before me was awe-inspiring, stretching far and wide. Talik Gorge, a vast expanse of flat land, sprawled out beneath me, its grandeur both mesmerizing and foreboding.
The gorge was flanked by towering, spiraling mountains, their peaks disappearing into the clouds. These natural fortifications served as formidable barriers, limiting the number of entrances into the gorge and providing a measure of protection for Arago. To venture into Talik Gorge meant traversing treacherous pathways nestled between the rugged mountains. These narrow routes demanded utmost caution as the threat of falling boulders or large rocks loomed overhead, a constant reminder of the perils faced by travelers.
Navigating through these treacherous paths was not the only challenge; there were also the cunning, burrowing creatures that called the gorge home. One misstep could lead to a disastrous plunge into their hidden burrows, a fate best avoided. These creatures were masters of their subterranean domain, their tunnels snaking beneath the earth's surface, waiting to ensnare unsuspecting intruders.
The strategic significance of Talik Gorge was undeniable. Its natural barriers acted as a shield for Arago, providing a powerful defense against potential invaders. The geography of the gorge, with its narrow pathways and hidden dangers, served as a natural deterrent, dissuading all but the most determined and foolhardy from attempting to breach its protective embrace. Alas, because of this, many had become jealous of Arago.
Beyond the formidable moat that encircled Arago and the expansive flat plateau of Talik Gorge, the encampment of the Liberators came into view. Their forces, divided into two brigades, stretched out before me. Each brigade boasted an impressive number of soldiers, at least 2000 strong. Leading these brigades were two renowned officers of the Liberators—Linark and Nastro. These individuals had garnered many achievements over the years, their valor and skill earning them a formidable reputation among their ranks.
Linark and Nastro were not ordinary soldiers; they were exceptional warriors, distinguished by their unwavering loyalty to Warlord Bazark and the cause of the Liberators. Despite their immense talents, their unwavering commitment to the cause prevented them from rising to the rank of Warlord. Instead, they served as trusted lieutenants, wielding their influence and prowess to inspire their troops and execute the strategies laid out by their leader.
"Speaking of leader, I heard no word of Warlord Bazark's appearance. Is he so cocky that he only needs Linark and Nastro to conquer Arago? He is as foolish as I thought."
Scowling to myself, I fidgeted with the seams of my coat as I watched the Liberators in distaste. During that time, one of the patrolling guards on the city walls shuffled toward me.
"Sir, as you have commanded, we have bolstered our defenses. Soldiers and guards from sectors A through D are waiting patiently for further commands by their respective officers. If I may be so bold, may I ask you a question pertaining to one troubling detail?"
I turned to the guard. "What is troubling you? Speak up."
"…Is it wise for there to be so little soldiers protecting sectors E and F?"
A small chuckle escaped from my lips. "Are you worried about the Albaniqes?"
"N-No, sir! This isn't about those repulsive Albaniqes! I was worried that the Liberators may have more soldiers lying in wait somewhere and could attack the east side of Ara-"
I fixed my gaze on the guard as I moved forward. "Do you know what lies in the east?"
The guard briefly lingered. "…The Wandering Woo-"
"Yes, the Wandering Woodlands. Need I say more? Or are you too incompetent to understand my words?"
"I u-understand fully, sir. Thank you for taking the time to speak with me."
"If you understand, then get back to your post. Just know there will only be one victor, and it will not be the Liberators."
A small smile crept over the guards' lips. With a firm salute and the clinking of metallic armor, he sauntered away. To my left and right were rows of skilled archers, watching the opposition with diligence. Their gaze carried no doubts or hesitation; instead, it reflected a steely determination and trust in their own abilities and in the defenses of Arago. These were soldiers who had trained tirelessly, honing their marksmanship skills to perfection. Their hands were steady, their aim true.
Standing guard on the walls of Arago was a position reserved for the elite, for those who possessed not only physical strength but also exceptional skill and precision. These archers understood the weight of their responsibility. They knew that a single miss from their crossbows could have dire consequences, potentially leading to the loss of lives and the breach of Arago's defenses. Every shot they took had to be calculated and precise, aimed to strike down any threat that dared approach our city. They had enough skill to shoot a swallow soaring through the air with ease. The Liberators were in for a rude awakening.
I glanced at an archer by my side. "Tolten!"
"Yes, Warlord Rex!"
"You are now in charge of this sector. I have matters to attend to down below."
"Understood."
Verifying that Tolten did have matters well in hand, I marched past the lines of archers, each one saluting me with a curt bow. As I descended the stone stairwell in silence, my thoughts drifted to the guard's apprehension regarding the parts of the city inhabited by the Albaniqes.