The arrival of the Imperials
Wayrest was defended by 20,000 men. Nevertheless, the combined army of the Orcs, Necromancers and Reachmen now reached 90,000 men, a much higher proportion than the four-to-one ratio that was considered necessary in such an undertaking.
The apparatus of this army proved even more impressive. The Orcs were rightly regarded as excellent siege engineers. They had installed two parallel lines of trenches beyond the scope of the besieged city towers. The first was the contravallation which prevented the exit of the besieged, the second, the circumvallation, blocked the road to a possible army of relief. In between, the orcs had set up their camp, a hospital and storehouses. It was here, well protected from fire, that we built all the siege machines commanded by the general in chief.
Once this first network of defenses had been completed, he had conducted approach work. Sappers had dug zigzag trenches directed towards the citadel. At 600 meters from the walls, a series of craters housed siege machines. Built in an arc of a circle, these bastions were connected by interlaced ditches. A little closer to the walls of Wayrest, a second crescent of similarly connected casemates could concentrate its fire on the weak points.
For the purposes of the siege, real monsters had been created. First there were the mangonels. Catapults that were activated by ratchet gears. They were not very powerful weapons and, unlike counterweight machines, their range rarely exceeded one hundred and fifty meters for twenty kilogram projectiles.
Then came the trebuchets. A pendulum was rotating around an axis. This pivot separated the long arm supporting a sling and the short arm to which was attached a counterweight. The swing of the beam made the sling turn. When the speed was sufficient, the sling strap of the slingshot would release the projectile. The invention of the articulated counterweight had almost doubled the reach of the trips. With his long arm of fourteen meters, the largest of them was able to send a ball of a hundred kilos to one hundred and eighty meters. However, it took many men to operate it.
Beyond the artillery positions, the trenches resumed as far as a final network of bastions at the foot of the glacis. That's where the assault troops were supposed to meet before they mounted the attack.
Nevertheless, the Orcs were not in a hurry. In the early days of the siege, they had lost many people in ill-prepared assaults. However, it was said that each shot at the wall saved a life among the attackers. In fact, famine was the best ally of all besieging and more than the hunger itself, the demoralization it brought. So the Orcs simply hammered the fortifications.
The walls could not fail to inspire respect.
Wayrest surrounded itself with three walls preceded by a flooded ditch seven meters wide. The first wall was low, protecting an outdoor terrace called "boulevard" where mangonels had been installed. The second line played a prominent role in a wall eight meters high and almost as wide. It was heavily defended by large troops. Square towers flanked it regularly. This wall was not designed to withstand the fire of the war machines. It was only responsible for stopping the men. The third wall, the most impressive, was large enough to withstand the most powerful siege weapons. Towers with a seat of thirty meters in diameter and twenty high were attached. They were equipped with trebuchets that responded to enemy fire.
From one of these fortified positions, a group of senior officers had gathered to see with a glance all the investment positions occupied by the besiegers. On nearby towers, the long arms of the war machines stretched and relaxed intermittently.
A deaf roar suddenly rose, tearing the air. An instant later, a ball of stone covered with pitch crashed on the second wall. Dust and fumes rose in the air, echoing a noise of collapse.
Captain Hauteclaire lowered his spyglass and turned to the servants of the Couillard. This machine was an improved trebuchet. With two articulated counterweight, its arm had been replaced by a single pole. Despite lower performance than enemy machines, the Couillard fired four or five times faster than them and with a limited team.
- You saw where it came from, asked the captain
The officer nodded his head.
- Yes, sir.
He pointed to a tall plank tower.
- But it would be better to destroy this observation tower and blind them.
Returning to his men, the officer shouts at them. Quickly, an artilleryman shortened the sling and then placed a heavy ball in it. On the other side, his companions began to pull on the ropes connected to the bottom of the pole. The projectile slipped into the guide channel and the arm was released. Suddenly brought back forward, he rotated the slingshot which arrived at the top of his race landed to project his load.
After a perfect trajectory, the ball of stone passed through the observation tower. In an instant, the building collapsed into a pile of broken boards. Rescuers came out of nearby trenches to assist observers. From the boulevard, it was not heard that way. Crossbowmen opened fire, killing and injuring several assailants. Then, from a tower an archer, dressed in a red cape slamming into the wind, shot an arrow towards the sky... it separated into multiple projectiles that fell back on the enemy ranks.
The lips of Hauteclaire pinched. Archer... despite his skills at bow, the aristocrat hated him. This less than nothing came from one knows where showed a contempt of authority and of people better born than him that a nobleman of Haute-Roche could not accept.
However, the other officers did not share his annoyance:
- Now their artillerymen are blind.
- Good work.
In fact, it was a small success. Dozens of other observations towers remained standing because not all the Couillards had such a good team of servants. Because the length of the slingshot corresponded to the shooting angle and the weight of the counterweight determined the distance the projectile crossed.
Furiously, the trebuchets of the besiegers concentrated on their positions but the shot had become imprecise. Some balls fell too short and ploughed the earth, others struck the walls randomly and inflicted only slight scratches on the titanic walls.
Wayrest, surrounded, its port blocked by a fleet of the undead, resisted for more than two months. The pirates captured by Rin Tohsaka just before her departure had been interrogated by the Guild's Magi. Through a mixture of "lying detection" and "telepathy", the spell casters forced the prisoners to reveal their accomplices. Those who were captured were in turn questioned, and so - from near to near- the whole network had been dismantled.
Without this, the traitors inside the walls would probably have succeeded in poisoning the wells, burning the reserves of food or weapons.
Hauteclaire swore to base voice when Sakura Tohsaka arrived. Rin's young sister came every day to care for the wounded. The soldiers regarded her as an angel of mercy. The Tohsaka sisters, that Artoria Pendragon, or that arrogant Archer... everyone talked about them as if the survival of the city depended on their efforts. The kingdom of Menevia had always depended on its nobility, and Captain Hauteclaire could hardly bear the lack of recognition of the commoners who were ecstatic before these newcomers.
The rising sun burned the sea off the island of Balfiera.
In the scarlet clarity, the sea seemed to be turned into blood. Was it a bad omen? Or a good one? Perhaps the simple reminder that life feeds on life and that every day, in the depths, fish and sharks fought for their sustainability.
The port was seized by the animation of great days. A veritable human ant farm loaded food and equipment on board the supply carracks. The troops occupying the square camps remained, however, safe from the palisades; the departure was not yet close. However, one could see patrolling the legionnaires of the Tamriel Empire, recognizable by their tile-shaped shield and their steel helmets with riveted neck covers and cheek guards. Their equipment varied according to the troops to which they belonged. The archers wore a chainmail; the auxiliaries had armor of leather or scales. As for the heavy foot soldiers, they maneuvered in blackened metal breastplate, decorated with two horses and a laurel wreath.
On the other hand, more than a hundred galleys had abandoned their anchorage to form a squadron. Only the admiral's galleass was resting, arranged along the harbor.
This was a magnificent ship of seventy meters long. Two masts rigged with Latin sails ensured its propulsion. Its stem was weighed down by a triangular rostrum finished with a sharp bronze yoke. Behind it was the light bow castle lightened a good part of its formwork. Above the spur, one could see a mangonel capable of pulling twenty-five pound balls. On either side, were four large ballistae capable of throwing fifteen pound strokes. Finally, three siege crossbows on a mobile pedestal had been placed on each side, along the combat corridors.
From the stern castle, we first noticed the half barrel covered gallery. Painted in red and gold, it resumed on each edge the drawing of the dragon, the wings forming a diamond, emblem of the Tamriel Empire. Three huge glass and bronze lanterns were all in the back. Below, at the same level as the rowers, a long string of pointed windows lightened the stern appearance of the rear castle, making it almost ethereal.
The fighting corridors stood on either side, above the oars. They were covered with screens where the emblem of the Tamriel Empire was taken back. Just behind, there were archers in chain mail and helmets. The galley alone was a demonstration of power and beauty. It is hard to believe that his strength came from the suffering of hundreds of gallerians and that it was built only to sow destruction.
- Are you fascinated by the galleass, General Ceberhas?
The Imperial General wore antique "gilded bronze" armor with a muscles breastplate, marked with the dragon of Tamriel. Attached to his shoulders, a long purple cape descended to his knees. However, the man was an Aldmer. In a multi-ethnic empire like that of Tamriel, though, it was not surprising that a High Elf could obtain such a position. Valendil Ceberhas struggled to tear himself away from the contemplation of the ship. Yet he turned to his second, Legate Marcus Manfredi smiled:
- The "Triumph of Talos", let us hope that his name was chosen well.
The general nodded his head, his gaze turned wide. With a deep face, he seemed as if caught by a diffuse feeling, difficult to name.
- General, would you wish me luck?
- Of course, you have my best wishes.
They shook hands, then the legate climbed the bridge:
- Goodbye, I give you my word to do my best.
General Ceberhas shook his head:
- The best? Keep the enemy away and save your skin, that's the most important thing.
- Good-bye, General.
- May the Aedras watch over you!
Valendil Ceberhas looked at the apparatus of the gigantic galley. The volunteer gallerians, a true class of sailor in Cyrodiil, gave the first impulse. Placed just behind the forecastle, they gave rhythm to the prisoners of war and to the thugs who constituted the bulk of the galley slave. Slowly, the ship gained speed. The show was magnificent… but to admire it, we should have peace of heart.
General Ceberhas felt agitated. Emperor Uriel Septim VIII had entrusted him with the task of clearing the city of Wayrest, besieged by the Orcs. The mission was nothing simple, Valendil Ceberhas had gathered together a legion strengthened by auxiliaries, transport and war ships before setting sail for the capital of the kingdom of Menevia.
However, while he was settling on the island of Balfiera to prepare the expedition, his scouts had informed him that the port of Wayrest was blocked by a fleet of... living-dead, ghost ships torn from the limbs of the ocean with skeletons and zombies as crew.
The blockade now completely cut Wayrest from all help. General Ceberhas therefore had to remove the bulk of the phantom fleet before attempting to force passage with the requisitioned merchant ships carrying his legionnaires and the supplies intended for the besieged.
The role of Legate Marcus Manfredi would be to remove the enemies... a necessary task but one which Aldmer did not envy his subordinate. Few people would have gone to face the undead with a light heart.
The basic idea of the convoy was to include merchant ships in a military wing. The fastest ships were deployed in advance. On each side, the merchants were accompanied by a small escort of war galleys. The bulk of the wing remained aft, ready to respond.
The plan seemed simple to put in place.
Indeed, on the first day, the merchant ships had kept an impeccable formation. Except that, in the night, they lost sight of each other. So that, in the morning, there were them in all directions, even on the horizon.
General Ceberhas was incarnate equanimity. Despite this, the idea that privateers could attack in the midst of such a boondoggle inspired him holy anger. Having the flagship fired, Valendil himself participated in the Stray Draft. To the bullhorn, the Elf promised to have pilots unable to follow the position lights of a ship on a clear day replaced by sailors of the navy.
The threat carried. The rivalry between the merchant navy and the military navy pushed the first to surpass themselves. From the second night, there were only two Carracks to go astray. After a week of travel, the fleet that arrived in sight of Wayrest as if it had always operated together.
The month of Heartfire was coming to an end.
The sun was fading in the sky at the beginning of autumn. Its clarity made the sea sparkle on leagues. The proximity of the earth stretched the sails of a constant breeze. The masts sang, deploying a large amount of canvas. The carracks had taken all their sails, spinning as fast as they could. The war galleys had aligned themselves with their speed.
Although one is in the narrowest arm of the Illiac Bay, the shores of Hammerfell remained invisible. The only advanced sentinel, an island of black rock emerged from the waves to starboard. A strategic point disputed for centuries. A fortress had been built there at the time of the Direnni Hegemony.
Then, it had fallen into the hands of the Bretons of Menevia
Valendil took the spyglass of one of his officers. The walls of the fort seemed intact, and a blue banner adorned with three gold roses was slamming on the highest tower.
The fort was still in the hands of the Breton garrison. Valendil passed his tongue over his lips and swept the surroundings. The fortress of Roc Noir served as an advanced position at Wayrest and in its small port, several carracks were parked.
At first considered to be of secondary interest, this fort had become the very purpose of the diversion of Legate Marcus Manfredi. The imperial admiral had advised against a direct assault on the blockade fleet in favor of an attack on the detached elements monitoring the Roc Noir.
This plan would attract as much attention from the shadow fleet but would result in fewer casualties among the Imperial. It remains to be seen if everything went as planned.
Looking around, Valendil Ceberhas saw only a few sails that were moving away. At his side, a prefect stretched out an arm to designate these fleeting ships:
- General, these ships must be sunk before they warn the bulk of the enemy fleet.
- Let the galleass protect the merchants. Transmit to the light galleys to catch them.
The bosco whistle rang in the air. Sailors began to run in the corridors. The wind forced them as they approached the coast. The ship leaped forward. As Roc Noir receded, a light shone on top of its high tower.
The garrison hailed them with a mirror. "Enemy ships approaching to the southeast." The commander, put his finger down to feel the breeze. "They are moving against the wind." Not an immediate danger, then. Slipping behind the officer in charge of the transmissions, Valendil touched his shoulder. "How many sails, quickly!" The mirror signals relayed the message to the rock. The response came in fast flash followed by pauses: long, short, long, short…
«Forty-five sails have already been counted, others are approaching.» «All hands on deck » Valendil was surprised for a moment. The crew belonged to the elite of Tamriel's fleet. The general knew that these sailors never did anything for nothing. Despite this, these few words had as much effect as a kick in an anthill. Incredible agitation reigned. Everyone was running. Weapons were distributed; soldiers of the Maritime Guard joined the combat corridors or climbed to the masts. Others pulled the ropes to slow the ship down or activated around war machines. Marine carpenters pressed around the hatches while crew members pulled buckets to prevent fires.
An hour went by.
Wayrest began to grow and the eyes of the sailors saw the details emerge. The lighthouse, towers and columns of smoke that climbed from the combat zones. Anchored offshore, the ghost ships were shooting at their chains. Few of them were travelling. It was a violent shock to General Ceberhas.
After all, he sent Marcus Manfredi to keep this fleet away...
- Magnus! But what does that mean? With his mouth dry and his heart too fast, Valendil was anxious. "There are two fleets? "
The sound of projectiles falling into the water made him turn his head. Pointing his spyglass, the general saw sails in the distance. The fast galleys had engaged the fight against the enemy scouts. Despite the promising turn taken by the skirmish, his anxiety did not subside. He returned to contemplation of the distant sails doubling the black rock. «What is this second fleet? » The worst that could happen would be that the fleet sent to pursue the legate's galleys is already back… or that it has triumphed!
- Don't worry," said an officer. "They're heading in the wrong direction for intercepting Admiral Manfredi."
- Yes, you… you must be right.
In his spyglass, the ghost ships began to grow and then stabilized. The prefect unfolded his own approach telescope :"Their admiral is smart, as he got closer to the island, he took advantage of the breeze that blows from the shore. However, given our relative speeds, his wing will still arrive after the start of the engagement."
For their part, the ships of the blockade force had finally perceived the danger. The sails were established, but with this wind coming from the sea, they would not serve much.
Suddenly returned to more peace of mind, Valendil was cogitating at full speed. He felt like he was playing a complicated chess game with the opponent. It was necessary to maneuver subtly before the engagement, under penalty of granting the advantage to the enemy. The heliographers were sending messages from one ship to another. A screen of ships remained on the stern to stand between the second fleet and the merchants. The carracks should remain grouped, framed by two galleass wings. On the front, the light galleys had put up all their canvas to carry themselves in front of the first fleet, after having gotten rid of the enemy scouts.
For their part, the undead had finally reacted. About ten rotting ships with torn sails advanced towards them to cut them off. A second group tried to double their flank. This dangerous maneuver threatened to cut them off from the merchant ships.
Again, the mirrors transmit orders and information. The formation of carracks crept, while the galleys were bending their way to prevent infiltration. Valendil thought for a moment to bypass the enemy. Unfortunately, the merchants were much faster by downwind. The second ghost fleet was not an immediate danger. However, it was not necessary to take needless risks.
Like a maelstrom, the light galleys passed through the undead squadron. Various projectiles encased the fast couriers of the seas which escaped any damage. A flock of flaming projectiles rose in response, cutting the way of wrecks animated by necromancy, turning windward side to bring them back to the bulk of his squadron.
- 90° port helm.
- Helm to port 90°, confirmed.
Gaining speed, the other ships framed the galley. In a few moments, the distance between the two wings was reduced to nothing. One of the galleass reeled, touched by two balls sent by catapults.
A group response was not long in coming.
The light that was born on the ships' decks blinded the galleys. Rapidly concentrated, they turned into unbearable and burning rays. The beams, which were thrown on the sails of the ghost ships, soon gave birth to smoking holes. Consumed by a fire that spread to the superstructures, several ships began to drift. Implacable, the Imperials continued to bombard them with sunlight amplified by converging magnifying systems (1).
The survivors retreated. The undead did not feel fear, but the enemy admiral had probably found that the losses were not worth it.
Meanwhile, a new wave of ghost ships had moved closer to the galleys' range.
Here, too, it went wrong for the undead. With calm, the Imperials had waited for the last to name to turn windward side simultaneously, as in the parade. Three galleys opened fire. On the other side, it was like a cataclysm. Splintered woods and ropes flew in all directions. Broken masts, open hulls in multiple locations, ghost ships were sinking rapidly.
The last seven ships handled by skeletons and zombies were moving as fast as they could. Nevertheless, the galleys had already recharged and methodically crushed their enemies. Some ships sank, others retreated.
Now the naval battle had really begun. On all sides, geysers were rising where shots were falling into the water. The imperial fleet had broken down enemy lines. Everywhere, ships of the undead drifted prey to the flames or disarticulated by the projectiles.
However, the surprise had stopped playing. Ahead, a dozen large ships had regrouped to intercept them. At the increasing crash of artillery, the general guessed that other enemy ships were counterattacking on the wings.
Valendil turned to his captain and went to speak when a hum was heard. Surprised, he raised his head to see a shredded hole, mark of the passage of a ball through the sail.
-Prefect, sends orders to the galleys to assemble and move forward. We need to break through now before the second fleet finishes circling us.
- At your command, General.
The galleass veered from edge and passed at spelling rate. Mangonel and ballistae exchanged their projectiles first. Then, at reduced range, the burning rays of the mirrors began to devour the sails of several ghost ships. Distraught, three of them hurried to cut the ropes before the fire reached their hull.
The others were getting closer.
For the first time, Valendil's flagship was wounded. A necrotic ship had just touched him with four ball right on his bow. Cries and groans rose in the rain of cordage and broken wood chips. Breaking its course, the ghost ship tried to approach. But on the passageway, the archers of the Maritime Guard fired a volley of flaming arrows after another. The powerful bows completely depopulated the forecastle castle and mowed down many of the undead gathered on deck. Deprived of coordination, massacred, the crew could no longer maneuver. As a formidable hurrah shook the galley, the ghost ship hit the reinforced hull softly and drifted aft. Its sails, crossed by arrows, began to burn.
One after the other, the galleys emerged from the smoke. Some were damaged, but half of the enemy ships sank, the rest fled.
Less than half a mile away, the walls and the lighthouse of Refuge dominated the sea. From one of the towers, a heliographer hailed them. "Greetings from His Majesty King Eadwyre, congratulations on your victory."
- Answer that we are bringing reinforcements, supplies and ammunition.
After a transmission break, the unknown operator thanked and announced that the chain of the port would be lifted to let them in. Valendil approved and directed his spyglass to the rear. The last galleys appeared in turn, coming out of the clouds of fires that hovered over the carcasses of enemy ships. The carracks followed. Relaying a message from the rear guard, one of the captains transmitted a situation report. The first flotilla of necromancers had suffered heavy losses but continued to attack on the flanks. The second flotilla had reached contact.
- Let the merchants set course for Wayrest! Send the rear guard to withdraw. As for us, let's deploy around the channel to avoid a last-minute attack.
- At your command, General.
Despite a certain anguish that continued to hold him, Valendil Ceberhas began to relax. He still did not know whether Admiral Manfredi's distraction had cost him all his ships. Nevertheless, he had succeeded in his foolish bet. Despite the blockade of a much larger fleet than his, the merchant ships (overflowing with supplies and legionnaires) had entered the besieged city without being shot.
Through the port gate, the cohorts of the Legio XX Valeria Vitrix entered. At their head, General Ceberhas advanced on horseback. He preceded by a few lengths the five tribunes that formed his staff. These senior officers wore a black steel breastplate on a red tunic. On their wrist guards, one could discern the emblem of the empire, a dragon whose wings formed a diamond. They also had a helmet with a metal crest.
They were ahead of a compact block formed by military music, with mouths, trumpets and drums. Only the latter played, giving the pace of the seven thousand soldiers who rang on the pavement.
In front of the troupe, the aqualiferi raised the Legion's ensign, a golden dragon clutching lightning between its talons. The veteran who performed this sacred task wrapped himself in the remains of a panther. The head of the animal covered his helmet, and the skin of his paws was knotted on the throat of the soldier.
Finally, the legionnaires themselves appeared. The First Cohort - under the orders of the primipile centurion- advanced in the lead. Three officers: the steward, the mouth-ringer, the signiferi (sign-bearer) preceded the men on the march.
Each centuria formed a rectangle of four men on nineteen rows. The legionnaires in steel breastplate held a large tile-shaped shield on their left arm. In maple wood, this scutum shield was reinforced by an umbo (a metal bowl in the centre) and was decorated with a laurel wreath. In each cohort the armament was homogeneous. The First fought with a long sword of Spatha's type.
The centurions walked beside the 76 men they had charge of, hounding the stragglers, without hesitating to use the knotty stick they held in hand. They made an iron discipline rule in the Legion.
It was a spectacle that caught the heart. Most of the inhabitants of Wayrest rushed to look at it. So the townspeople gathered in the nearby alleys or on the doorstep. There were even women to throw flowers at them.
On the rampart, a sixteen-year-old girl was watching the show. Her eyes were purple like her long hair adorned with a ribbon on the side. She was really a very beautiful girl dressed in a long pink dress adorned with lace. She was recognized for her kindness and character, but she attracted a great deal of attention from men... let's say she had been generously endowed by nature, especially considering that she was reincarnated Japanese.
Sakura Tohsaka... who - in another life- had been Sakura Matou, the real Rider Master turned to her neighbor:
- Neesan is right... they look very much like ancient Romans.
The man was slumped among the crates and the stacked barrels to form a kind of throne. With his legs crossed, he seemed perfectly relaxed. The warrior dressed in black leather armor leaving his arms bare and wrapped himself in a torn red cape, his face was almost invisible in the penumbra of the hood. But the skin of his arms was as if tanned by the sun. The man's silver eyes looked for a moment at the imperial parade. Sakura didn't know, but the man had fought the Romans of the imperial era... Alaya had sent Counter Guardian Emiya to eliminate those responsible for the Rome fire in 79 of the Common Era.
Archer had an ironic face:
- Let's say a Roman legion reviewed by Hollywood...
The former Servant appointed the next cohort, an independent unit composed of auxiliaries. Men adopted the same training as their predecessors. However, only officers, centurions and Signiferi had armor of steel. The others had to settle for leather armor or quilted.
Then came imperial knights. They wore armor of iron plates with helmets resembling the Corinthian helmets of Greek antiquity, surmounted by a crest of horsehair finished making them impressive.
Sakura clapped her hands with exultation and Archer smiled...
At least her reincarnation had allowed the young Tohsaka to find her smile again. In her previous life, she had appeared so... empty. Rin had explained to his former Servant the wish of Emiya Shiro... The Heroic Spirit reincarnated sighed... quite the kind of thing that this idiot could want: "everyone must have a second chance". And now this earthworm of Shinji raised armies of the undead to besiege Wayrest and Angra Mainyu, the king of demons, threatened to rise to the rank of god of evil and destroy the world of Nirn. Well done, Shiro!
As every time Archer resurfaced his old anger at his younger, much more naive and immensely stupid version, he felt his stomach contract and a taste of steel invade his mouth. God... if only he could have killed him!
Alaya's old dog forced himself to open his clenched fists and had a mocking smile. What was done was done, nothing could be changed. Moreover, as an individual, Archer had no reason to complain. He had finally managed to escape the chains of eternal servitude...
Of course, he was no longer the Counter Guardian Emiya. However, centuries to fight those who threatened to destroy humanity had indelibly marked Archer. Even on another world, he could not run away from a fight of this kind. His skill "Clairvoyance" rank C had led him to Rin. His former Master was to play a crucial role in the coming events... and this had been verified. After all, she had brought him here and if Wayrest fell, the orcs could no longer be arrested... which would cause enough suffering for Angra Mainyu to reincarnate as the Supreme Principle of Evil.
Again, it was up to Archer to fix his younger, stupider self, nonsense's.
(1) They are mirrors of Archimedes, an effective weapon that concentrates the sunlight to ignite the sails.