Achaes, at night

Phillipe Gaston did what he had been doing the last couple of nights, he cased the joint. He was not stupid enough to use the same place as last night, that mistake had earned him a branding, a couple of nasty scars on his back and bad memories once. Instead he used another roof today. He had shimmied up a drain pipe after sunset and had made less noise than the mouse he was nicknamed for. Like many roofs in this area of Achaes it was flat, had a low wall around it and was used to dry clothing and fish. None of that was done at night, so he should have the space for himself. The racks for drying also made a good cover for the head that he lifted above the wall every so often.

A quarter Mannslieb combined its light with the eerie illumination provided by Morrslieb. Both shone on an assortment of warehouses at the other side of the plaza, the one that bordered the waterfront. One of the buildings stood out, being in far worse repair than its surroundings. It was old as dirt and once must have been a temple of sorts. Most of the pillars that kept up the roof were still standing, but their decorations had disappeared long ago. Cracks ran through the walls and the travertine that had once clad them was long gone. There was a handwritten sign above it that Phillipe knew said "School of Philosophers" from his daylight visit. The mouse was used to long and boring observations, this one was taking the cake. He had no idea why his new patron wanted him to have an eye on this hovel. He still mused why the old doters who worked in that school left it long after midnight.

He went from his post when the false dawn colored the sky, the last thing he saw was the drunk which took his post in the entrance to an abandoned building.

Soreil, Bretonia

The Provisional Government had consciously not chosen Soreil`s castle as seat of the government, they needed to make the statement that these were the new times. The guild`s hall was appropriated instead. And while the statement was made that also meant that the rooms had a much lower ceiling, that there was less decoration and more space for desks. Somebody had found a suitably round table for the government that currently represented the diverse interest groups represented. They were a very mixed bunch, wearing a mix of gambeson armor, guild robes and German clothes. There were three non-humans at the table, a dwarf, a representative of Soreil`s Asurian community and a demigod, Leah. At the moment one of the modern-clad man and one of the guild-robed ones had an argument.

"Sorry Marcel, this is not a useless project. You have been putting you night soil to the fields ever since there is a Bretonia. And ever since then it makes people sick as the bacteria that come from your bowels are not meant for your mouths. We cannot make synthetic fertilizer and whatever we buy is used by Pierre`s lovely lunatics for things that go boom. So we need to use it as fertilizer, yes, but we need to treat it before that. And when we do that we gain biogas as well, which is a good thing by itself."

"Pierre, I am not saying you are wrong. But have you looked at your own figures for this project, both in terms of francs and manpower? We can do this after the war, now there are more pressing problems."
"The diseases that are associated with such infections mainly kill your children for god`s sake. What could be more pressing then saving children?"
"Keeping the bloody Royals away should be our first priority."

Leah had rediscovered the joys of a monarchy during the last months. Looking after this bunch was straining even the goddess` temper quite a bit. The problem was not that they were imbeciles, that they were greedy or malignant. Actually, all of the men and women around the table were the best of their respective groups and all genuinely wanted to further the Rebel`s cause. It was just that they had so different backgrounds which meant they had different aims and ideas.

There were the nobles that were leaving what they saw as a perversion of the chivalric code. There were the former serfs on whose backs Bretonia had largely rested. There were the traders and the artisan guilds. There were the Sisterhood of Shallya, her own Damsels and the French. All of them had to learn how to cope with a responsibility far exceeding their former stations in life. The Earthers had lots of ideas, the trick was to see which ones were actually applicable. That the former French had a tendency to see the Bretons as ignorant barbarians and the Bretons considered the French as arrogant and rude at times did not help any. On top of that even the French were not a monolithic block, there were Socialists and Gaulists. When Leah tried to learn about their differences even her mind had to stretch.

Fortunately, she had some options that other rulers had not. While she was not much taller than a human her presence filled the room, even when she was quietly observing. She decided that the argument before her had entered the stage where progress was unlikely on its own and intervention was required. Leah raised her left eyebrow minutely.

The conversation before her stopped immediately, so she looked at both with a friendly "get on with it" face which got results.

"What would happen if we put it in a trench, add some quicklime and let it stew for a couple of days? Then we`d would not need to build this fermentation plant."
"Would be much better than nothing, that`s for sure. So how about the wells close to the river?"
"You really sure it will be better water?"
"Much better, the sand will filter it. But before you go and look for workers I will ask somebody I know at the GTZ, maybe we can get them to drill for us."
"Qui."
"That seems settled then, you have my blessings. Leon?"

"The donations from Germany have leveled off Mylady. We are still much better than three months ago, but there is no new increase. We really have to counter la deconne, this is really hitting us hard. I suggest we contact Sleeneck of the Skaven and all Tancred castle survivors we can lay out hands on. Also, we should see that we identify who was on TV, maybe there is an angle. That said the donations continue to change. There is fewer clothing and food, things shift towards money. Our "friends" network in Germany is going strong, but we really have to be careful with the recruitment among the refugees. Currently the biggest network project is refurbishing old trucks from Germany. Now that our operations shift away from Soreil we need to improve our transport capabilities. That also means we need more fuel and…

Tavern Limnos, Achaes

Sergeant Grisos was covered by mail and leather armor, he had a sturdy sword at his hip and a small troop of Achaes` Vigiles at his back. The man he was sent to check out, if indeed he was a man, was sitting on a bunk behind a table. Whatever weapons he wore were unseen, and the stranger had not made a threatening move at all. Indeed, he had been very polite in an old fashioned way. Sergeant Grisos had to work hard to keep quivers of fear from his voice.

"I do not plan anything in your fair town Sergeant, I am passing through. My servants need rest and we have to acquire more supplies and a fresh pack horse. Once this is done we will go our way."
"That is a bit hard to take from you Sir."
"Why is that so Sergeant? Did I commit any crime in your ward?"
"No Sir, not that I know of, no. It is just that your kind…"
"Sergeant Grisos, my kind, as you so politely put it, lives for the challenge. If somebody openly challenges me I will offer honorable combat. I will defend me or mine if attacked. That is my code and I live by it. Are you challenging me Sergeant?"
"No Sir, I do not."
"Well then, I believe this conversation has run its course, don`t you think?"
"Err, yes Sir."
"Good night Sergeant."

Sergeant Grisos made an effort leaving the Tavern with most of his dignity intact. Nobody ever asked him why he had not pushed harder on the stranger. You do not do that with Blood Knights.

Close to Castle Artois

Andy Thrope checked his lines again, this time on his trusty Siemens pad. The Rebel army currently had three balloons aloft and he received pictures and video from all of them. His fortifications resembled a deformed triangle as he had to protect the approaches to his supply road, his main camp and the works erected to take down Castle Artois. The Royal army occupied a camp on the far side of the field, next to the roads that led to Couronne. The Royal general, one Huebald de Carcassone, had invited him to a battle between their camps yesterday.

Andy had told he liked the view from where he was and if he wanted a battle he should come over and get one. By the look of things, the good Huebald wanted to take him up on that offer today. The Royal army had marched from their camp since the early morning, they had assembled into many colorful blocks. They proudly displayed their ladders, the siege tower and the Trebuchets. Thrope wondered what the Knights thought about the cannon the Tilean mercenaries brought with them. The flag of Remas hung listlessly above them. Looked like one of the Triumvirs of Remas needed a change of scenery and had brought the rest of his army with him.

Bretonia had more than its fair share of castles, so siege warfare was not unknown. Andy was interested how they would attack a fortification which was not from their playbook. Time to find out.

"Color Party on me, we go to the eastern tower. I will command from there."

The view did not improve from the walls. The Royals had brought an awful lot of people to the party and they wanted to have it here and now. Andy also had a look at his fortifications. A few weeks before they had been simple palisades. Then his eager beavers had time to work on them and they were convinced they might save their very hides. They had been very busy beavers indeed and so the palisade now rested on a substantial earthen berm. Stakes were driven into the slope leading to the palisade, a single strand of barbed wire gleamed at its base and there were other surprises. He had allowed his people a good breakfast before getting them to their action stations. There was no need for the lads to get nervous watching the enemy march and march. Now the steps of the walls closest to the enemies were lines with crossbow shooters and archers, regiments of pikemen waited patiently below. A glance to his rear allowed him to see his reserves that were forming up deep inside the Rebels camp. So far, so good, the ball was on the Royal side now.

Their advance was not too impressive given that they tried to keep pace with the cannons and the Trebuchets. None of these were not going to break speed records. This was so unlike the knightly charges that Andy grinned. He was the first to admit not being the world`s most experienced General. This Huebald probably had 30 years of command under his belt. Just that the battle was so much not what he was used to that Thrope hoped he would be out of his depth as much as he felt himself to be.

The first round of combat was held between the mages. Black lightning crackled across the Rebel camp, things could be seen in the corners of the eye and shapes formed for a moment before going away. This was bad, his army still had far less mages than the other side. He watched his staff at work, they got some approximate directions from two Damsels. A bit of talking to the balloons and a few hastily snapped pictures later confirmed several locations where mages might be. They also showed the ring of knights that surrounded them. So much for the Green Knight, there had to be another solution.

It took a minute during which two of the precious Rolls of Warding were burned and then the loudest fart in the world could be heard from the inside of the camp. Seconds later a poplar-shaped cloud rose, disappointingly far from the first group of mages. Flag signals from the Balloons to the gun crews provided correction and the next fart brought the explosion closer to the intended target. The third one did the job and 20 kilograms of dynamite and several more of notched wire made for a massacre. The dynamite gun went for the other mages after a second hit.

By that time the first line of Royals had reached some 300 meters from the Rebel emplacements the mercenary artillery started to dismount. Andy did not like this a little bit, this was beyond what the crossbow shooters and his own catapults could do. The Trebuchets were laboriously pulled forward. Each of them held six tons of associated rocks in its counterweights, its projectiles weighted at 180 kilograms and while their frames were massive they did not like being jostled too hard. They would take time to reach effective firing range.

"Comms, first and second Catapults to fire on the Trebuchets as soon as in range, rest waits for the assault."
"Yes Sir."
"Boom"

The first of the cannons had fired a round. At this range, there was no question of missing the wall. A few weeks ago, it would have gone through the palisade with no problem, now the round buried itself in the berm. There was a low rumble a second later and smoke came from the hole made by the cannonball. Now that was not so good, Andy had not expected explosive rounds to be used. So, what to do about this?

He noted that the mercenaries had neglected to dig themselves in properly. Either they were too used to being out of range or the Royals had pushed them into that. So, how to punish them for that?

"Comms, get the First Rifle Platoon up there, target is the artillery."

Around 130 riflemen should make the life of the artillerymen interesting. Looking through his binox again he found something hard to believe.

"You stupid bleeders cannot be that dumb, can`t you?"

He did not even think about the bad example he gave, his hands moved by their own. The G3 rifle that was never far from him was in his hands only seconds later and he rested it on the towers wall. The scope mounted on it took away his view of the battlefield and reduced it to a single target. He no longer did his job as an army commander, having swapped that for the job of rifleman. The next minutes would show if that was worth it. The shot he wanted to take were not difficult at all. At 300 meters each of his rifleman using iron sights should hit a man-sized target repeatedly, let along through a scope. He got his range from measuring the height of a mercenary`s upper body with the lines in his scope and elevated accordingly. Exhaling a third of the way and then stopping to breathe steadied the slight wobbling and the shot boke cleanly. The target swallowed it without any result. The same happened with the second shot and he slightly adjusted for the third. When he pulled the trigger this time all hell broke lose.

The mercenaries had placed a lot of cloth bags close to the guns. They were partly masked by the guns and their crew but enough were visible. The third shot hit with so much energy that the black powder propellant charge went up. Cordite would have burned, black powder exploded violently. The bags closest to it were exited enough by this to join the party and a sizable explosion threw the cannon before it into the air, depositing it 20 meters closer to the Rebel lines. The cannon closest to it looked mostly intact, the same could not be said about its crew. By that time the riflemen had done a very good job at decimating the mercenaries, a job they took a break from now due to cheering.

When he had eyes for the bigger battlefield again he found that things had changed, even during the short time he had been occupied otherwise. The Trebuchets had entered the zone where his catapults could reach. They had paid for that. His own catapults might look puny compared to the huge siege weapons. But they could "fire" ten times faster and were much more flexible. The pottery containers used by them trailed a bit of smoke from their slowmatches and when they hit the ground puddles of flame rose. The flames clung to anything they touched and used the cloth, rope, wood and flesh they hit as fuel for further destruction. All Trebuchets were surrounded by burning corpses, they themselves were covered in flames. Most simply succumbed, one showed that the enemy got a vote too. Instead of throwing a heavy stone a burning mass clawed for the sky and fell directly on a piece of Rebel wall a hundred meters from Andy.

People screamed, sections of wooden palisade came crashing down and a chink opened in the Rebel defenses.

"Commo, get the rifle platoon to shift targets to the enemy archers, now. Get Jean`s Terico behind that breach stat and some more medics there."

By that time a great cheer came from the Royals, it hit Andy like a surf of sound. After enduring so much hurt from the Rebels here was a chance of payback. Thrope would have wagered even money that the Royal general called for the charge or that it started all by its own. So many Royals ran forward, it was like a wave of armor, flesh and steel that was to plow the Rebels under by their sheer mass. Just 300 meters separated them from the Rebel fortifications. A distance they could easily cross in a minute or so while their archers would do their best to keep his troops suppressed. They would have to climb the berm and scale the palisades, none of which was impossible. And having a mass of dismounted knights inside the compound would be bad, as in major league disaster bad.

This suppression thing was not working really well from the start. It started impressive enough, with huge clouds of arrows that rose from their ranks which descended upon Thrope`s troops. The Royal archers had closed to a range where his riflemen could hardly miss, and they were suffering badly. The Rebels were behind cover and wore Gambeson armor, the Royals in the open and had frayed cloth to protect them. Less than a minute into this uneven duel a group of catapults started to drop incendiaries into them. That was when the archers started to run and Andy could hardly blame them.

He watched them only briefly as the main charge had come into range as well. He would have given his right nut for more of the Druchii rifles and enough ammo, they would have ended that nonsense right here. As nobody wanted in on that trade he watched the next best thing. His crossbow shooters started their bloody work when the enemy passed a number of innocent-looking stakes. The effect was horrible, it was as if an invisible wire had tripped a big of the front ranks. Some might have gotten up again if they had not been trampled by those who followed them. Every single Royal knew he would be at risk, no matter how good he was, as long as he was before the walls. They ran forward for all they were worth while the Rebels urgently cranked their weapons and placed new bolts in the grooves.

Thrope briefly wondered what had happened to the blessing of their Lady, they were taking more losses than he had anticipated. Maybe it was gone with the Damsels that his overgrown potato guns had gotten? No matter, the assault came uncomfortably close now. He saw individual faces, saw the hate and the fear. No longer an amorphous mass streaming forward there were men who wanted nothing more than to kill him. A disconcerting feeling, and they came closer by the second. The second salvo got even more Royals but felt less effective as the shots were spaced out now. His people were good, but if the enemy kept it up he would get to the breech. And that was when the Royals started to stumble and fall. No shot hit them, nothing could be seen and still many fell and were trampled. Even more dropped or slowed to make a mess of things. Spacing between knights vanished and the Men-at-Arms converged into a human traffic jam. The Royals had found the caltrops hidden under a very thin layer of soil. Made from stiff wire or nails they featured four tips and one of them was always pointing up. When the full weight of a man rested on them they pierced nearly any footwear and made running impossible.

"Commo, tell the catapults to..belay that order."

No battery commander could refuse such a target, a nearly unmoving mass of infantry in the open. Dozens of catapults started to drop two-kilograms pots of gelled fuels on the enemy and the results were past horrible. Andy Thrope involuntarily stepped back from his post when the first whiff of roasted flesh hit him. Barbeque would lose his appeal to him on this day. The Royal attack faltered before him and the survivors streamed back to their lines.

They would not try again on that day.