Knightly Vigil
The night had passed without the goblins renewing the assault. Unloading the ships rescued from the privateers' attack, finding shelter for the two hundred soldiers who had just reinforced the garrison, had caused many problems that had to be solved. The light of the torches had never ceased to shine in the streets of the port.
At dawn, Artoria, Shiro, Estienne de Vignonne, and Mordane Hawkstone met again after a few short hours of sleep. The Baron of Koeglin had proposed to the three newcomers to accompany him on an inspection tour.
In his company, the trio discovered Koeglin. The port had a mediocre reputation. Too close to Wayrest to emerge from its shadow, it attracted few commercial vessels and survived mainly by fishing and transporting passengers to the islands that were part of the Alcaire kingdom. The facilities consisted of four floating docks, two warehouses, a lighthouse and a drydock just large enough to simultaneously build two twenty-meters-long ships.
With the war, most of the houses in the harbor were abandoned, either the inhabitants fled... or they were killed in the previous day's fighting.
The city itself was at the top of a cliff. You had to climb a long staircase cut into the rock to reach it. The houses were tighter, with some large buildings, including the inn of Sleepy Sailor, Eliaranna's store (a High Elf as stingy as Rin and who seemed to hate Mordane... which the latter reciprocated) as well as, of course, the baron's mansion.
On the main square, a tent had been set up. It served as a field hospital in Koeglin. The monks and priests of Mara, Auriel, and Talos helped the many wounded caused by the fighting of the day before. Unfortunately, they were clearly overwhelmed... and there were not enough beds to accommodate all the victims.
Despite years spent on Tamriel, Shiro left with a strong urge to vomit. He was not accustomed to the hardness of the world in which he now lived. Even in times of "peace" life was already hard between the attacks of wandering monsters, brigands, or necromancers. But the current conflict seemed to drag High-Rock into a self-destructive spiral that only benefited Angra Mainyu. Dozens of cities had already been ravaged and there had probably been more than fifty thousand dead and at least as many refugees, not to mention the fields ravaged by the passage of the armies, abandoned by the peasants on the run, or the villages burned.
An apocalyptic tableau... it would take decades to erase the damage caused by what was already called the Great Invasion.
Immersed in his thoughts, Shiro no longer listened to Baron Mordane. However, sensing a shadow hiding the sun from him, he looked mechanically above him... to stop with his mouth open, blinking... living image of stupefaction.
Saber smiled at his surprise. Unlike her lover, she had listened to Mordane Hawkstone's explanations:
"No... you're not dreaming. This is indeed an airship."
Indeed, the small square where the Baron of Koeglin had taken them served as an anchor for a vehicle that was not expected to be found in a medieval world. A long tethered dominated the roofs of the nearby houses. Made in brown leather, he wore inscriptions in a language that Shiro did not speak but recognized, it was Bosmeri... the language of the Wood Elves. Below, connected to the zeppelin by numerous cables, he saw a boat-like basket. The rear was occupied by a dwemer metal steam engine and consisted of two large propellers for the time at rest.
The vision of dwemer machines revived his childhood memories... of his second childhood... in Morrowind:
- A flying dwemer ship!
Dwemer, or Deep Elves, were more frequently referred to as Dwarves. This popular name was, in fact, a mistake that was due to the pseudo-scientific ramblings of Marobar Sul, an author of the Second Era. Of course, they were really called so... but by the Giants, because, in fact, they were at least as tall as the Nords of Skyrim.
Although gifted in the art of magic, the Dwemer had developed an advanced science based on the use of steam. Their most famous creation, the steam automata, was still incomprehensible to the magi who studied them.
Unfortunately, we could no longer ask their creators. They had disappeared thousands of years ago. According to legends, within a single day... because they had angered the gods, are we talking about.
The airships were one of their greatest achievements. Some had been painfully refurbished and flown in the skies of Tamriel. We sometimes met some above Morrowind or Hammerfell.
- Allow me to introduce Orthelon Oakthorn.
The baron pointed to a little man dressed in a brown quilted doublet and green slippers. On top, he wore a leather apron with multiple pockets loaded with vials filled with colored liquids. Clothing and apron were stained with a rainbow of various products, as well as various burns produced by flames or acids. He also wore a shapely bonnet from which came out tufts of hair as tangled as sheep's wool. His long triangular ears identified him as an elf, probably a Bosmer. To add to his laughable appearance, he had thick glasses on his pointed nose that magnified blinking and dreamy eyes.
- Orthelon is a mage of the Guide, an alchemist to be precise. He is responsible for the reconstruction of this ship.
The Bosmer turned his short-sighted gaze on Mordane:
- What ship are you talking about?
The baron sighed, displaying a resigned face that showed that problems of communication with the elf mage were not to be rare. He pointed to the balloon:
- I'm talking about that ship, your ship rebuilt with dwemer machines...
Orthelon seemed to think for a few moments and then his face lit up:
- Oh, you mean that ship! Why didn't you say so? I told you how I found and repaired it?
- At least thirty times!
But Orthelon wasn't listening anymore. He embarked on a long narrative full of digressions - in particular a story of black cats and kittens which knew itself several digressions- where there was talk of an imperial expedition to the dwemer ruins of Martenfell. All told with many incongruous details.
Shiro began to worry about the health of the Bosmer Mage when he saw that Mordane was staring at the elf's neck by opening and spasmodically closing his hands... probably dreaming of strangling him to make him FINALLY silence.
Fortunately, a female voice fell from the airship:
- Uncle Orthelon, can't you see that you are tiring our guests?
Shiro lifted her eyes, to discover an elusive form, running on one of the mooring ropes. She jumped to the ground, three meters lower. The red hair young elf was dressed in light leather armor and a coat of green feathers. The outfit left her arms bares and allowed to discover tattoos of the same red as her hair. However, Shiro noticed mostly the short crows horns on her forehead (1).
As the young woman patted on Mordane's shoulder, he sighed and shook his head... She then turned to the other people present:
- I am Cirthile, Orthelon's niece, and associate. My uncle is a genius but... let's just say that someone has to make sure that he wearies his shoes, doesn't skip his meals... and doesn't blow up the airship.
Saber, Shiro, and Estienne de Vignonne presented themselves. The young elf offered them a radiant smile:
- Oh, so I have to thank you for being alive this morning? Well, thank you...
Artoria bowed slightly:
- We are happy to have arrived in time to save Koeglin.
- Not as much as I do, believe me.
Cirthile stared at the baron with a questioning glimmer in her eyes:
- My lord, do you want me to show them the maps?
- Exactly.
Mordane turned to Artoria, Shiro and Estienne:
- Cirthile and Orthelon were stuck here at the time of the invasion. They rendered invaluable services. First, Orthelon is an alchemist. His potions have helped us well... and above all, there is the airship.
The young Bosmer vigorously acquiesced:
- Despite appearances, our flying ship is very quiet. It can even fly at night. Over the last few months, we've done a lot of reconnaissance. I doubt anyone knows more about enemy targets than my uncle and me.
In the warm lounge that occupied the front of the strange flying ship, Cirthile had unrolled a map of the region. There were different symbols that the young elf explained. Artoria listened, the face impassive, nodding at times as she memorized the positions of goblin and orc troops.
Cirthile then laid her finger on a bridge west of Koeglin:
- This is the first obstacle for the relief army. If you want to lift the siege of the city, you will have to cross the river and the orcs have set up a camp on the east bank. The bridge itself is blocked by a barricade. The worst is that the orcs have gathered many barrels of what I suppose to be tar. Since the bridge is made of wood, they probably plan to burn it rather than allow it to be captured.
The mouth of Artoria folded in a sign of contrariety. Instinctively, her eyes had followed the course of the river upstream, in search of a ford. She noted a thick black line scribbled with coal and an inscription. The king of the British's island put a finger on the short text:
- Miss Cirthile, what is this?
The Bosmer sighed:
- A dam...
Shiro scratched his cheek, surprised...
- Sorry?
- Water retention. Upstream of the valley, there is a ford easy to borrow in winter. However, the orcs drowned the valley which is now occupied by an artificial lake.
"So for the army to cross the river, we either have to take the bridge before it is destroyed, or we have to destroy the dam," said Saber. She addressed Cirthile, who nodded with a sinister face. The Bosmer put her finger on a black square, also near the river:
- There is a fort watching over the dam. It won't be easy... really not.
Artoria showed nothing, but Shiro knew her well enough to note that this lack of emotion showed her self-control. And she was as careful not to show her emotions as to hide anger... or worry.
Saber had good reason to be alarmed. Orcs were not only more numerous than the Bretons. They were also taller, stronger, and trained in combat since childhood. Finally, their weapons and armor of orichalcum gave them a real advantage over those, made of steel, of the humans.
On Earth, Shiro had taken her on a date. They had seen an American film where the heroes were fighting with lightsabers against robots (2). The villains were numerous and well-armed... but stupid and the good guys beat their immense army because of a laughable mistake.
It was unfair that in reality, the leaders of huge, well-equipped, and trained armies were not as dumb as in Hollywood movies.
whoever commanded the orcs in the area, he was a brilliant tactician. On the offensive, he had shown that he could mount an attack requiring planning and coordination. Worse, he had perfectly understood the strategic stakes of the confrontation, choosing to adopt a defensive position against the relief army. For this, he had strengthened an excellent natural position... Even if the Bretons triumphed, they would be bled dry and unable to continue towards Wayrest.
Everything now rested on her and her friends' hands, they were on the other side of the obstacle... but surrounded by another enemy army that had to be defeated first.
Artoria could not remember being in a worse position. No... she was wrong. Her eyes narrowed...
- Our only chance of winning is if the enemy continues to attack Koeglin and we inflict a crushing defeat on him.
Despite his superiority, the enemy could be defeated... but only if he continued to attack Koeglin.
Yesterday's attack was brilliant, but it remained a strategic mistake... The enemy leader did not need to take Koeglin to win. Surrounded, the port was useless and it would be a real suicide for the garrison to go out against the goblins in a row battle. It was enough for the Orc chief to sit idly by and wait for the Bretons to lose. Yet he had attacked...
The orcs were powerful, the goblins numerous... but the two peoples were unruly. In addition, Malacath's code governed the life of Orcs. These divine laws required that the chief be the strongest and bravest individual in the tribe.
Yes, the enemy leader was obliged to attack Koeglin, because if he remained passive, there would be revolts and desertions in his camp. While young hotheads would challenge him to a duel because they thought he was fading.
Artoria Pendragon smiles, with her hand on her hip.
Who would have thought that the warrior culture of the Orcs could be a weakness to exploit?
The town of Koeglin was surrounded by dry stone walls, assembled without mortar. It was not a wall, but a Barrière d'Octroi pierced by a single door that a militiaman kept. As the baron approached, the man hastened to raise the bar which blocked the two leaves.
While he was operating, Mordane turned to his guests:
- Four months ago, when the first goblins started harassing my city, I commenced a fortification project. The fence around Koeglin was designed only to stop thieves and smugglers. So it was in front of this wall that I built my masterpiece...
The baron's voice vibrated with pride. When the doors turned on their hinges, Artoria, Shiro, and Estienne understood why.
In front of them was a palisade, but it was not mainline of defense of the city. Beyond, there were watchtowers. On the right, a large house had been transformed into a fort. Militiamen in armors practiced exercises under the guidance of a drill sergeant. Further on, we could hear the impact of hammers on the anvil, the cries of the sentinels. Guard patrols passed between the tents of a large camp, preceded by chevaux de frise and wooden obstacles.
The eyes of Artoria narrowed:
- The wharf guards had talked about the fence... I expected something much less impressive.
- I take that as a compliment, Lady Pendragon. Follow me.
As they skirted a camp area, the baron showed the tents:
- Mercenaries and militiamen are based here. Behind you can see the forges; they produce and repair our weapons as well as the nails and fittings needed to maintain the city's defenses.
A little further, they passed a mangonel surrounded by its gunners.
- Our artillery is limited to two pieces, for now... a third catapult is under construction.
As they skirted a palisade supported by numerous buttresses, Shiro was astonished by its shape:
- Why is this wall concave?
Mordane laughs:
- Good question, this is a trap. There are two series of palisades of this type placed in staggered between the outer wall and the gate. They all have the shape of a cup... In your opinion, Shiro Emiya what do goblins do when they manage to pierce the outer rampart?
- Uh... are they spreading in the camp?
The baron agreed:
- Right, heading straight through the first clear space.
As they reached the end of the palisade, where the arch of the circle was closest to the outer rampart, Mordane Hawkstone showed the two imposing tree-trunk stacks blocking most of the space. Their tops had been arranged in firing positions accessible by ladders on their side, but on the other - towards the inside of the cutter- their sides were covered with staves.
- However, as soon as the goblins spread over a section of the walkway, the defenders leave for the next, removing behind them the boards that form a bridge between the two sections. The goblins are therefore forced to lower the ladders. There, they find a clear space in front of them, flanked on both sides by a duo of shooting platforms. The space separating each pair of stands being occupied by Chevaux de frises placed there by the retreating defenders. Choosing what seems the easiest way, the goblins continue straight ahead...
Crossing the narrow space between the platforms of fire (barricaded in case of intrusion in the area), Mordane and his guests arrived at the place where the goblins had pierced. Many bodies of entangled humanoids littered the ground... charred bodies.
- ... where they bump into the cup-shaped palisade. They turn around. Except that other goblins keep coming behind them. The goblins that have crawled into the dead-end and the newcomers get in each other's way and huddle in the middle of a vast free space just between shooting platforms. As I said to you earlier, Orthelon is not only the owner of a flying vessel; he is mostly an alchemist. He provided us with many vials of intense fire oil. Yesterday, when the goblins crossed the outer wall we threw a few of them into the mass of the fighters... they roasted alive.
Shiro swallowed by imagining goblins trapped in the cup and sprayed with burning oil. The war was already a dreadful thing... but the trap set by Mordane had a ruthless and cruel side that the young man could not accept. The manipulative mind of the head of the city, a man able to anticipate the movements of his enemies and then to use this knowledge with terrifying efficiency, testified to a form of genius. The young Japanese was divided between disgust and fascination for the creator of this trap.
The baron shrugged his shoulders, seeming to understand what Shiro was feeling:
- My friend, we do not make war with good feelings. I did not start this conflict. I am not the aggressor and I defend this city and the civilians who inhabit it with next to no means. So I have no qualms about making up for my numerical inferiority through these kinds of schemes.
Artoria, who knew her lover well, did not let him argue with Mordane, choosing to take the floor to monopolize the baron's attention:
- Could you show us the outer wall, my lord?
- With joy. Let's head towards the gap created by the goblins, you can get an idea of its construction.
Saber was very intrigued by Koeglin's first line of defense. The wall was not a simple right palisade... but a thick wall with a complicated layout.
- The rampart is what is called a wooden wall.
Mordane pointed to the breach. Between the broken wooden trunks one could see the flow of the earth:
- These are two palisades holding a blockage in sandwich. The flexible wood frame and earth absorb the vibrations. This makes it a very resistant obstacle to siege weapons such as catapults and rams. At first, I had covered the outside with wet mud to prevent the enemy from burning the rampart. But with the cold that set in, I simply poured water. By freezing it covered the palisade with a layer of ice. The wall is erected on a mound where sharp stakes are planted, all preceded by a ditch.
- Why is the drawn so strange, Baron?
- In fact, U-shaped ramparts alternate with inverted V-shaped sections. This has two advantages: first, the enemy has only short straight sections facing him that they can aim with their catapults. Then, wherever they attack, they are subjected to the crossfire of our archers.
Artoria shook his head, impressed by the defensive structure erected by the baron. The orcs had made an irreparable mistake by delaying any serious attack on Koeglin for so long. Mordane Hawkstone now had an almost unbridled position.
It was already past noon - according to the thunder who roared in Saber's stomach- when they returned to the port.
The inspection of Koeglin had been fertile in discoveries that required a little time to be assimilated. The small port city had been transformed by the vagaries of fate into a strategic position. Its fate would greatly influence the course of the war.
Unlike Saber, Shiro had more down-to-earth thoughts. As soon as he entered the house requisitioned to serve as their home, he had begun to work at the stoves. Under normal circumstances, the King of Knights would no longer have stood in impatience. Nevertheless, even if the meals prepared by the young Japanese remained far superior to the ordinary soldiers, he was limited by the supply.
The army's quartermaster provided only legumes such as lentils or split peas, biscuits, black bread, dried fruit, cheese, dry sausages, and soup. Even for a talented cook like Shiro, with such little variety of food, it was difficult to make a feast... even counting on his personal reserve of spices.
Making tea, thanks to the kettle left warm on the stove, Artoria joined Rin and Merlin. Unlike Gonderic de Bel-Amant, who had remained in port to direct the soldiers in their absence, the two casters had no responsibility in the army of Verandia.
They must have spent the whole morning together and Artoria admitted to being curious to know what they had done.
As she brought tea, Saber took the opportunity to look at her mentor. He did not appear to have been seriously injured. As for her friend, she was not turned into a toad... the worst had been avoided.
"So, Rin, did you have a pleasant morning?"
In a surprising way Rin blushed and looked away. Artoria played it discreetly. The "Red Devil" was surprising without malice. If anything embarrassed her, she couldn't hide it.
Merlin on the contrary...
"We spent the morning talking about you. I told Tohsaka everything I could remember about your were so adorable when you were telling Ertor that one day you were holding the greatest knight. What were you... six? You were chasing pigs with a wooden sword. You have no idea how strong a character it took me not to tell all these stories to the Knights of the Round. Well, that would have caused the end of Camelot because no one would have taken King Arthur seriously... so I held on. Luckily, I finally met someone I could tell everything about."
Translation: all the most embarrassing moments of her life...
- Merlin?
- Yes, my king?
- I have wanted to tell you this for years.
- Yes, my king?
- I hate you.
- I love you too, Artoria.
Saber forced herself not to look towards Rin. But she must have been red as a tomato. Let's change the subject...
- I would like to know what you are doing here? The last time I checked, Viviane imprisoned you in an Avalon tower.
The Wizard of Flowers rubbed his chin:
- Oh, the answer is simple.
Artoria waited... again... then sighed:
- Okay, you want me to ask you the question... well... if the answer is simple would you please and if you don't mind, please answer the question.
Rin looked at Saber with surprise as the magician bowed a little too deeply:
- Your Majesty so politely asks, how can I refuse? Well, as I said, the answer is simple... I'm not here.
There was a blank in the conversation Rin and Artoria looked at Merlin as if he had suddenly pushed a second nose.
- You are not there? Says Saber and Tohsaka simultaneously.
The Wizard of Flowers approved with a vigorous chin movement:
- Yes, yes, I'm not here. You see, a spell as simple as it is elegant holds me prisoner: "Only an individual with a pure heart can leave the Garden of Avalon". What can you do against such a spell when you are half-incubus? The answer is... nothing. So I'm still a prisoner in the Avalon and I could never escape.
Rin Tohsaka shook her head whispering something incomprehensible. Then she glanced at Artoria with pity:
- How did you not go crazy after years with him? I met him yesterday and I already want to kill him...
- This is probably the most shared feeling in Britain. However, if Merlin says that he is not before us, it is probably the truth. He is not the type to lie openly.
The King of the Knights considered his former mentor for a few seconds and nodded:
- So how do you appear to be before us, Merlin? You are a Servant. I have participated in two Grail Wars; I recognize this feeling of being in front of someone whose body is made of prana. Except you're alive... and from what you just said, still prisoner of the Garden of Avalon.
Rin startled and rubbed her chin, with a dreamy air:
- I can't believe I missed it. Merlin's body is still prisoner of Avalon... but he managed to free his soul and create a Servant's body to house it.
Artoria smiled:
- A usual Merlin effect, he irritates people so much that even the most intelligent can no longer think properly. Unlike you, I have a long habit, and I'm not so touched anymore.
King Arthur's advisor looked at Artoria and Rin before smiling:
- Let me congratulate you, you have summed up the situation perfectly. I've been trying for centuries to find a way out of the Garden of Avalon. Fortunately, I had all the time in the world to think about this problem. I quickly discovered that my prison did not prevent me from using my ability to enter the dreams of others. So my mind could come out. So I studied a skill normally available to the Beasts of the Apocalypse... Independent Manifestation. This is a more powerful version of the skill Independent Action of the Archer class servants. It allows a being to manifest independently, without needing a Master or even spending energy to materialize. As I master it at rank A, it allows this manifested form to be immune to temporal magic and all the spells that cause sudden death... after all, I'm not really there so you can't really affect me that way.
Like a bad tragedian, Merlin carried his hand to his forehead in an affected manner:
"And if ever poor Merlin... by some terrible trick of fate... should die, well..."He stuck out his tongue: "I would wake up in my tower. I may need a few days or months to come forward again... but I will come back."
Rin had become pale. With her arms crossed, she thought furiously:
- Not only is his humor unbearable, but I cannot even commit murder to silence him. It is terrible... A real horror movie screenplay! The kind where heroin is chased by a horrible monster that comes back every time you think you got rid of it.
Merlin seemed slightly disturbed by Tohsaka's aggressiveness...
(1) The Wood Elves (Bosmer) of Tamriel sometimes have deer antlers.
(2) Yes Shiro took Saber to see "Star War Episode 1: The Phantom Menace"...