The horns of war echoed through the valley as the Baron's forces emerged from the morning mist. The earth trembled beneath the weight of hundreds of marching boots, their banners swaying ominously in the cold wind. The time had come.
Alexander stood atop the main watchtower, his grip firm around his spear as he scanned the advancing army. The Baron had brought everything—siege ladders, rams, and a force more disciplined than ever before. This wasn't just a punitive strike. This was an all-out war.
Gareth exhaled sharply beside him. "Looks like he means to end this."
"We knew this day would come," Alexander replied, his voice steady. He turned to the defenders waiting below, their faces tense but resolute. "Hold the walls. We've bled them before, and we'll bleed them again."
The soldiers of Emberhold, now nearly eighty strong, readied their weapons. They had spent weeks preparing for this moment, knowing that if they failed, there would be no second chance.
The Baron's army slowed as they approached the first line of defenses—the outer wall of wooden barricades, reinforced with sharpened stakes and trenches. Their commander barked orders, and within moments, their siege weapons were positioned.
The battle for Emberhold had begun.
The Dual Layers of Defense
What had once been a simple settlement had become a fortress of survival. The first wall, built from thick wooden logs and reinforced with scavenged metal plates, stretched around the outer perimeter. This outer ring was meant to slow the enemy down, forcing them into kill zones. Watchtowers had been positioned to allow archers clear sightlines, ensuring any attackers would be met with a rain of arrows before they reached the gates.
Beyond the first barricade lay the second defensive line, a fallback position built within the heart of Emberhold. This inner wall was shorter but sturdier, designed to provide a final stronghold should the outer defenses fall. Narrow entryways and choke points had been carved into the layout, forcing attackers to funnel into tight spaces where they would be overwhelmed.
Every trap, every barricade, every sharpened stake was placed with one purpose—to make every inch of Emberhold costly for the enemy to take.
Tyrell, standing near one of the watchtowers, smirked as he surveyed their handiwork. "Let's see them march through that."
Alexander remained focused on the battlefield. "They'll try. And we'll break them."
The Baron's First Assault
With a sharp signal from the Baron's warhorn, the first wave surged forward.
Siege ladders were hoisted, and the Baron's infantry charged, shields raised to protect them from the arrows raining down. Emberhold's archers, positioned at key vantage points, loosed their shafts, cutting men down before they even reached the walls.
A thunderous crash echoed as a battering ram slammed against the outer gate.
Gareth barked orders to reinforce the main barricade, his hammer slamming against the wood as defenders braced against the next impact. "Hold the gate!"
From the left flank, Elias and his fighters repelled the first ladders, shoving them back before the enemy could climb over the walls. But the Baron's forces were relentless—each fallen soldier was replaced by another, and more ladders kept coming.
Silas, watching the battle unfold from a vantage point, frowned. "They're testing us. This isn't their real push."
Alexander's eyes narrowed. He could see it too—the Baron was probing their defenses, wearing them down before delivering a crushing blow.
"Get ready," Alexander warned. "The real fight hasn't even started yet."
The Baron's War Tent
From a ridge overlooking the battlefield, Baron Lucius Valtor sat upon his warhorse, watching the assault unfold with a calculating gaze.
Darius, his second-in-command, stood beside him. "They're holding."
The Baron smirked. "For now."
He turned his attention to his reserve forces—the real weapon of his army. His siege engines were in position, his heavy cavalry waiting for the moment to strike.
With a wave of his hand, he issued the next command.
"Unleash hell."
The Battle Escalates
From behind the Baron's front lines, catapults launched flaming projectiles. The first struck near the eastern side of the wall, sending splinters flying as a section of the barricade was engulfed in fire.
Alexander's heart pounded as he shouted, "Extinguish those flames! Do not let them breach the walls!"
Tyrell cursed under his breath as he and several men rushed with buckets, working quickly to prevent the fire from spreading.
Then came the second wave.
The Baron's elite soldiers, clad in heavier armor, charged forward under the cover of the siege weapons, their shields raised against incoming arrows. They moved with precision, heading straight for the weakened section of the barricade.
Elias, catching sight of the shift, turned to Alexander. "They're coming hard on the left! If they break through—"
"They won't," Alexander cut in, eyes burning with resolve. "We hold. No matter what."
With that, he grabbed his spear and charged toward the thick of the battle, where Emberhold's fate would be decided.