Day 27 – Nightfall
The fire trap had bought them time. The Baron's forces had been forced to retreat from the walls, their dead littering the battlefield. Smoke still curled from the scorched ground, but the settlement's defenders knew this was far from over.
Alexander stood atop the barricade, scanning the darkening horizon. Beyond the fire's glow, he could see the distant torches of the Baron's camp—unmoving, but not idle.
"They're planning something," Silas muttered, stepping up beside him. "The Baron wouldn't just sit back after a setback."
Alexander nodded. "He's waiting for the flames to die down. He'll come at us harder next time."
Tyrell jogged up from the perimeter, blood staining his bracers. "No sign of movement yet, but they'll be back."
Gareth, resting his hammer on his shoulder, exhaled. "We've lost men too. Not as many as them, but we're bleeding."
Alexander's jaw tightened. "We hold until morning. Then we take the fight to them."
The others exchanged looks, but no one questioned him. They knew—this battle wasn't ending with a simple defense.
The Baron's Counterattack
A deep horn echoed through the valley. The Baron was making his next move.
The sound of heavy footfalls signaled the approach of the next wave—armored warriors, their weapons gleaming under the moonlight. Unlike the previous attacks, this force moved with discipline, shields raised, marching in a tight formation.
The Baron had sent his elites.
"Form up!" Alexander ordered.
The defenders braced as the enemy reached the barricades. Instead of attempting to climb, the armored warriors drove their shields against the defenses, working together to force gaps in the wooden walls.
A heavy crash shook the settlement. A battering ram, carried by a dozen men, smashed into the reinforced gate.
"They're breaking through!" Marcus shouted.
Elias, his blade ready, spat to the side. "Then we meet them head-on."
The ram struck again, and the wooden gate cracked.
A third impact, and the barricade splintered.
Then the Baron's warriors poured through.
The Fight Inside the Walls
Steel clashed against steel as the battle spilled into the settlement. The settlement's defenders fought desperately, using their knowledge of the terrain to strike and retreat, but the Baron's warriors were trained for war.
Tyrell drove his spear into the gut of an armored foe, only to be forced back as two more pressed forward.
Elias parried a sword strike, twisting his opponent's arm before slitting his throat.
Marcus, wielding a massive club, swung wide, breaking bones and sending men sprawling.
Alexander fought in the thick of it, his spear a blur of movement as he parried blows and struck with precision. Blood soaked the ground as both sides suffered casualties.
But they were being pushed back.
The settlement's defenses had turned into a battlefield of chaos, and for the first time, Alexander felt the weight of their situation pressing down.
"We need to turn this around!" Gareth growled, fending off an attacker.
Alexander scanned the battlefield, looking for an opening—something, anything, to shift the tide.
Then he saw it.
The battering ram, abandoned near the broken gate.
And behind it, the torch-lined trenches still filled with oil.
A desperate plan formed in his mind.
The Last Gambit
"Fall back to the trenches!" Alexander shouted.
His men hesitated, but he didn't give them time to think. He drove his spear into an enemy's chest, using the momentum to retreat toward the oil-soaked defenses.
"Retreat, now!"
The defenders pulled back, luring the Baron's forces deeper into the camp.
The enemy, sensing victory, surged forward.
Then Alexander grabbed a fallen torch.
With a single motion, he hurled it into the trenches.
Fire erupted, engulfing the battlefield in a raging inferno. The Baron's warriors, caught in the trap, screamed as flames consumed them. Those at the front tried to retreat, only to be cut down by the settlers who had maneuvered behind them.
Panic spread through the enemy ranks. The Baron's disciplined warriors had turned into a disorganized mob, desperate to escape the flames.
The tide had turned.
The Retreat of the Baron's Forces
As the fire raged, the remaining enemy soldiers fled. The Baron's elite forces had been decimated, their assault shattered.
From his vantage point in the distance, the Baron watched with a cold expression.
Darius, his second-in-command, clenched his fists. "They anticipated us again."
The Baron exhaled slowly. "They fight like cornered beasts. But beasts can only fight for so long."
Darius hesitated. "Should we regroup?"
The Baron's gaze hardened. "No. We pull back… for now."
With a final glance at the settlement, he turned his horse away. The battle was over—but the war had only begun.
Aftermath
The flames smoldered in the night as the last remnants of the Baron's forces disappeared into the darkness.
The settlement stood victorious—but barely.
Alexander surveyed the damage. Bodies lay scattered across the ground—both enemy and their own. Their barricades were broken, their supplies nearly exhausted, and their people weary beyond measure.
Gareth sat on a fallen log, blood seeping from a wound on his arm. "That was too damn close."
Elias, wiping blood from his blade, chuckled bitterly. "We nearly lost everything."
Tyrell rolled his shoulder, wincing. "But we didn't."
Silas approached Alexander. "This wasn't a victory."
Alexander turned to him. "No. It was survival."
Silas nodded grimly. "And the Baron will return."
Alexander clenched his fists. "Next time, we'll be ready."
But deep down, he knew—the next battle wouldn't be won with traps and luck.
They needed to grow stronger.
They needed to strike first.
The war wasn't over. It had only just begun.