*Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!
Four barrels crashed against the half-demolished courthouse in a thunderous cacophony, Hjalmar's barrel leading the charge as it slammed into the crumbling wall. Corporal Knightly, Ethan, and Ser Percival's barrels followed suit, their wooden frames splintering upon impact.
The harpies guarding the courthouse scattered in a flurry of feathers and shrill cries, their shrieks of alarm mingling with the deafening din of the barrels' collision. Aden's barrel, however, rolled to a smooth stop before the others.
The volunteers tumbled from their barrels in a dizzy, disoriented state, the violent descent from the Silent Forest having taken its toll. They staggered about like drunken revelers, their senses reeling as they fought to regain their equilibrium. Time was of the essence, and they knew they had to shake off the disorientation and make haste for the cellar, lest the harpies descend upon them.
The half-demolished courthouse lay exposed before them, a grim reminder of the carnage that had unfolded within its walls. Gutted bodies and dismembered human remains littered the debris-strewn floor, a gruesome sight that only reinforced the urgency of their mission.
The harpies, momentarily scattered by the daring barrel assault, soon regained their wits, their shrieks of outrage echoing through the ruins. Perhaps the volunteers had inadvertently disrupted the harpies' grisly repast, but such concerns were secondary to their own survival.
Seizing the opportunity, Corporal Knightly led the charge toward the cellar hatch, which lay diagonally against the courthouse wall. With Ser Percival at his side, they heaved open the heavy door, revealing the descent into the dank depths below.
"Quick! Get in!" Corporal Knightly barked, his eyes scanning the skies for the approaching harpies, their winged forms already converging on their position.
Aden, ever the pragmatist, crawled from his barrel straight toward the cellar entrance, eschewing the need to regain his footing and conserving precious seconds. The world still spun around him, but he managed to haul himself upright, clinging to a wooden beam that supported the cellar's ceiling.
One by one, the defenders descended into the dark, damp cellar, their refuge from the harpy menace that screeched and clawed at the hatch above.
"Ugh, my head is still spinning," Ethan groaned, his voice echoing in the confines of their subterranean sanctuary.
"Gyahaha!" Hjalmar's boisterous laugh filled the cellar, his mirth undaunted by their harrowing ordeal. "Let's do that again!" He slapped Aden heartily on the shoulder, nearly toppling the Jinn from his precarious perch.
"Hmph, never knew the barrel plan would work out fine," Aden mused, his eyes adjusting to the gloom as he steadied himself.
"If it looks stupid but it works..." Hjalmar began, his voice trailing off expectantly.
"...it's not stupid," Aden completed the adage, his calm tone belying the wisdom of his words. The Jinn knew that every great military mind had followed in the footsteps of those who dared to defy convention. There were but two strategies in warfare: the brilliant and the foolish, and the outcome alone determined which category a plan belonged to. If it succeeded, it was hailed as a stroke of genius; if it failed, it was derided as utter folly.
Aden's mind drifted back to the words of an undefeated commander-in-chief, Syaif Mualid, one of Prophet Ruhim's companions. An undefeated Commander in Chief in the Rise of Lua Light era. He was a military strategist whose exploits had become the stuff of legend, crossing the unforgiving Arum desert with his army for seven days without water.
The Commander once said Every conventional strategy is a mainstreamed unconventional one.
At its core, this statement recognizes that even the most widely accepted tactics and strategies were once considered radical, unorthodox ideas that defied the conventional thinking of their time. What is now seen as standard operating procedure was, at one point, a revolutionary concept that challenged the established norms.
The barrel plan, as bizarre and foolhardy as it may have seemed on the surface, is a prime example of this principle in action. By employing a seemingly ludicrous approach – quite literally rolling into battle inside wooden barrels – the defenders embraced the unconventional, turning a laughable idea into a brilliant tactical maneuver.
Their success serves as a testament to the enduring truth that true innovation often stems from a willingness to defy convention and to think outside the boundaries of what is considered possible or acceptable. The greatest military minds throughout history have been those who dared to challenge the status quo, to reimagine the art of warfare in ways that left their contemporaries bewildered, only to be vindicated by the triumphs borne of their audacity.
The Median Commander's words remind Aden that today's unorthodox strategy may very well become tomorrow's mainstream doctrine, a testament to the cyclical nature of innovation and the constant evolution of military thought. What was once dismissed as folly can, through the crucible of success, become enshrined as a masterful stroke of strategic brilliance, paving the way for future generations to build upon its foundations.
In the end, it was the brave who emerged victorious, their daring exploits etching their names in the annals of history, forever revered as the architects of unconventional brilliance.
⁕⁕⁕
The cellar was almost pitch black, they barely see anything in the basement. But they could make out their surroundings thanks to the natural light coming from the holes and gaps in the floor above.
"It's so dark here," Hjalmar said, ducking his head to avoid bumping the low ceiling in the cellar. The massive man had to take extra care not to scrape his head on the ceiling.
"Watch your step, fellas," cautioned Ser Percival. "You don't want to make one wrong move and end up blowing us all to smithereens."
"Hey, I think I found where the flame oil and spark powder are," Aden told Ser Percival.
"Where?" Ser Parcival followed Aden's voice.
"Over here, on my left." Aden pointed the spot with his finger.
Ser Parcival approached carefully only to be stumbled by the strange object, "Ugh! Damn it, it's so dark in here. It would've been better if we had some light."
"It's cramped with junk and debris in here." Ser Parcival complained, "If only Phil is here, we could use his flint and fire steel,"
"Anyone got any flint?" asked Corporal Knightly.
"No," all the defenders answered almost simultaneously.
Ethan's hand shot out to stop Cedric from taking another step, his voice terse and urgent. "Wait," he said, "if that's where they stashed the flame oil, then..." His words hung in the air.
Ethan proceeded to walk to the opposite corner and search for something, probing the wall in the opposite corner.
"Ah ha! Found it," Ethan found a torch, a flint, and a fire steel.
He was familiar with the setup of the courthouse's cellar the same in every courthouse's cellar in the empire.
"Let's pray this thing still works," Ethan said as he lit up the torch. The cellar was now slightly visible in the dim light.
"Well done, Baton," Corporal Knightly and Ser Parcival praised Ethan. All the recon knights were aware of his past respectable role as a Crown's Enforcer and not just as a smuggler.
Baton is an informal name for a Crown's Enforcer, due to their possession of a retractable baton as their standard weapon, while the Crown's Enforcers usually only use swords in very serious, life-threatening situations.
The recon knights referred to him as a baton, a sign that they had accepted him as an extension of the Crown's authority.
Ethan managed to keep a composed demeanor as he was over the moon. Nothing could compare to the elated feeling of being acknowledged for his honorable prior role. This means his dream to go back to his old life could be realized when he got the Crown's Pardon.
Aden took a moment to survey the confines of the cellar, his eyes adjusting to the dim light that filtered through the cracks and crevices. Father Edgar had been correct – the sturdy construction had withstood the weight of the debris and rubble that had once formed the courthouse above, providing them with a secure refuge from the harpy menace.
"Hey, ruhimi. Let's do that again," Hjalmar's voice boomed through the cellar, his enthusiasm undaunted by their harrowing escape.
Aden fixed the warrior with a withering glare. "Buzz off," he retorted, though a hint of amusement played at the corners of his mouth.
Corporal Knightly, ever the pragmatist, took stock of their situation. "Everyone here?" His gruff voice carried an undercurrent of concern.
Ethan's response was tinged with uncertainty. "I-I think so."
The corporal's brow furrowed as he sensed the absence of one of their comrades. "Wait," he muttered, his gaze sweeping over the gathered defenders. "Where is Phil?"
Aden recalled the tumultuous descent, the barrels careening wildly down the treacherous path. "I saw him crashed into a tree not too far from here," he reported, "but he eventually made it into some house unscathed. We lured the harpies away from him."
Corporal Knightly turned to Aden, "Did you see it?"
"Yes, I slowed down so I could see him crawl out of his barrel and run into one of the houses," Aden confirmed.
Corporal Knightly nodded, a glimmer of relief flickering across his weathered features. "Let's pray for the best for him. If he's still alive, he could regroup with us later." His eyes shifted to the array of barrels and jars lining the cellar walls, and he set about inspecting their contents.
"These flame oils and spark powders are more than enough to set fire to the structures along Seren street," he declared, his gaze flickering over the assembled supplies. "All we need is to get these out from here."
The weight of their mission settled upon the defenders once more, a grim reminder of the task that lay before them. Aden could sense the determination rippling through the group, a steely resolve forged in the crucible of their recent ordeal.
As the corporal began formulating their next move, Aden's thoughts drifted back to the wisdom of the ancient Median general. Their audacious barrel assault had proven the truth of those words – what had once seemed unconventional and foolhardy had become a mainstream strategy, paving the way for their success.
⁕⁕⁕
"You mean to tell me that we are heading outside to lug these barrels and jars of flame oil while those creatures swoop down on us?" Ethan took a few steps forward, his gaze fixed warily on the array of flammable containers.
Aden watched as the former Crown's watch carefully swept the cellar floor with his feet, sending empty bottles and vials clattering out of the way, clearing a path toward the dangerous cargo.
"And this is all so we can incinerate the buildings and houses along Seren Street, from here until the border of the village and Song forest?" Ethan's voice cracked under the strain of fear, his words laced with trepidation at the daunting task that lay before them.
"We would be lucky enough if none of us got snatched by the harpies while fetching these barrels and jars outside," he added, his eyes wide with apprehension.
"He has a point," Hjalmar rumbled, the sturdy Fjordic warrior nodding in agreement with Ethan's concerns. "We would be sitting ducks out there with all these barrels and jars."
The stark reality of their mission became palpable – carrying the unwieldy containers out into the open, vulnerable to the talons and claws of the harpy menace, would be an exercise in futility and potentially fatal.
"Hey, Corporal. I have an idea," Aden's calm voice cut through the tension, his tone exuding confidence borne of his strategic mind. "What if we fill the empty wine bottles and vials with flame oil?"
The Jinn's proposal hung in the air, a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty that had gripped his comrades. "Then we can sprinkle or just throw them onto any flammable objects in the houses and buildings all along the sides of the Seren street."
As Aden outlined his plan, a sense of optimism seemed to permeate the dank cellar, the logical yet daring approach offering a viable alternative to their previous predicament.
Corporal Knightly's weathered features crinkled into a smile of approval. "Good idea," he affirmed, his gruff voice carrying a note of admiration for the Jinn's ingenuity. "You fellas heard him, let's get to work."
The defenders set about gathering the empty containers, their spirits buoyed by Aden's innovative solution. Aden's mind drifted back to the wisdom of the ancient Median general, his words ringing truer than ever before. By embracing the unconventional, they had once again found a path forward, turning what had seemed like a hopeless predicament into a feasible plan of action.