Chapter 2: Gatecrashing

The year was 428. It had been six years since they plucked him from the wilds. Six years since he had been brought before the Adjudicator, the Archon of Justice Tunon. Four years since he had learned the way of letters and words. Three since learning to hone his craft with the bow, and realized he even had ability with lightning magic. Finally, a year and a half ago he had completed his tutelage in the Overlord's world, Their military, and Their law.

Now, Fatebinder Rollin stood on the edge of another sheer cliff, overlooking a land far south from where he once tread. Beside him knelt two members of the Scarlet Chorus' horde, peasants taken from a farming village along the march. These two were at least making the best of their unenviable situation, taking to their new soldiering life well enough.

"Kyros' name… So… That's them, huh? That gate?"

"The Gates of Judgement. Don't waste your breath in awe." Rollin had seen the Disfavored scouts' advance reports, but now that the main army approached, he had wanted to see it for himself. He was almost disappointed. Sure enough, they shone bright in the afternoon sun, light making the white stone and the glint of bronze quite visible from this distance. But Rollin could already see that several spots of bronze were unmoving, false sentinels meant to visually bolster their ranks. The soldiers Rollin could see were hardly professional. They lacked the uniformity of a proper army, while also being without the numbers of a proper horde. This was the force the Bastard Tier was going to try and repel the Overlord with.

How he'd enjoy driving that notion from their heads.

Night was almost falling by the time the armies approached. The Scarlet Chorus had splintered, taking paths further to the west and east, planning to make battle at several small fortresses the scouts had mapped out. Rollin would be joining the forces of Graven Ashe, the legions of the Disfavored. Iron boots stomped along the dirt, iron weapons glinting in the waning light. Rollin himself had begun to make use of iron arrows. All that stood between them was a gate in the middle of nowhere and a host of bronze wielding Tiersmen. A gate that was now opening.

From it, in what seemed almost a mockery of the Disfavored's own approach, marched a loosely ranked force of the Tiersmen. They were even trying to properly organize, with a line of spears before their swordsmen.

When the defenders halted and parted, allowing two commanders forward, Rollin was pleased to see the Disfavored halt as well. The enemy leader's escort carried a plain blue standard.

Rollin made his way forward, accompanied by a Stone Shield. The commander at least seemed more put together than his troop. She saluted him as he approached. "I'm glad to see we can seek discourse. So do you speak for this army?"

He returned her salute with a slight bow. "I speak as a Fatebinder, agent of the Court and voice of the Overlord's law. You have come with the blue, yet your army readies for battle."

"I am Visellia, appointed commander of this army. I bring word directly from the Bastard City. You will find the Tiers unyielding, their gates closed to you. We beseech you. End this before it begins, Fatebinder. Has your Overlord not taken enough to sate their bloodlust?"

Rollin's face was as best a mask as he could muster. He often envied his Archon, having a real mask would make dealing with others easier. It would more easily hide his disdain for this woman. "Do not speak as if you know my Overlord's will. I would worry more about the Scarlet Chorus, and what blood they lust for. Kyros' order has been given, and the Tiers shall be Theirs. I will gladly offer you the chance to surrender, if you truly wish to spare your people unnecessary loss."

She sighed deeply, and shook her head. "You speak so much of law and peace, and yet there is no path you people see beyond conquest. Very well. The Gates of Judgement will remain barred to you, so long as true Tiersmen draw breath."

With that, she and her bodyguard made their way back through the ranks. Rollin returned to his position. Only a moment left then, before the chaos.

Sure enough, as soon as the two were past the closing gates, and the blue banner was out of sight, the Bastard City's ragtag army charged forward. A meager rain of arrows fell from the heights of the Gates. The Disfavored do as they always do. The stone shields formed a phalanx, and slowly marched to meet the enemy advance. Crescent runners stood behind this main line of spear and shield, hurling javelins and shooting arrows. Archers were rarer among Graven Ashe's legion, most of his skirmishers using the javelins.

Throughout the battle, as foolhardy mercs found themselves stuck upon Disfavored spears, Rollin sent arrows over soldiers' shoulders, claiming a fair number for himself. When those ran out, he walked among the skirmishers, lending his magic lightning to their javelins.

The battle lasted hardly an hour, the mercenaries pinned between the crushing advance and the sealed Gates of Judgement. Rollin was quite pleased to find that there was a small number of unharmed surrenderers. They were quickly shackled or put to work for the legion.

While detachments of the army did go around the Gates, Rollin agreed when Ashe insisted on ramming the Gates open. It was more of a symbolic gesture than important moment, the Disfavored marching through the shattered Gates of Judgement. But Rollin agreed that scouts bringing back reports of this would help demoralize the Bastard City. The Scarlet Chorus joined with them a few days later. Their victories had been similarly easy. The Voices did seem to take some issue with Graven Ashe being the one to claim the Gates. But they soon enough agreed that it didn't matter. The true prize of the Bastard Tier sat only a few hundred miles south.

…

Rollin was growing impatient. The two armies had made camp after moving through the Gates of Judgement. After that, discounting a few minor skirmishes, no progress had been made in days. Already, he could see why Tunon had sent a Fatebinder this early in the campaign. The Archons of War and Secrets had been debating tirelessly as to what would become of the prisoners. Graven Ashe demanded they be joined with the slave forces of the Disfavored. The Voices insisted that these new prisoners be given to the vanguard of their force. While this was the tradition, and more men would certainly help in the conquest, the Chorus was still at near full strength.

Finally, it seemed like the two of them had grown tired of arguing with one another. On the night of the sixth day both a crescent runner and a scarlet fury came to his tent.

"Good Binder, apologies for the intrusion. My lord the Archon of War, as you know, has been occupied with the Archon of Secrets recently. He had decided that since the Voices cannot be persuaded by reason alone, that the words of a Fatebinder are needed. If you could order the release of the captives to the Disfavored, we could more quickly begin our march again. Think on it, is all the lord asks."

"Hey, Binder. I know, I know, it's late. I figured you'd be up doing whatever it is you do anyway. Look, I know you're a northman too, sorta… Kinda… But listen, you have to see the point the Chorus has here, yeah? More swords is always good. Besides, it's always hard on the enemy to fight their countrymen turned traitors. Just consider it, yeah? The Voices think you'll get it."

Technically, they both had a point. The psychological effects on the enemy and the bolstering of ranks was important, no question. But Rollin knew that wars were won through logistics as well. Slaves were needed, to move the caravans, build the palisades, dig the trenches, provide the soldiers… Stress relief.

Ultimately, both Archons had left the decision to him. Rollin wrote up his official decision that same night, and slept better knowing the campaign would resume soon.

"The question of what to do with the surviving enemies from the Gates of Judgement has brought our advance to a stop. At the request of both Archon of War, Graven Ashe, and Archon of Secrets, The Voices of Nerat, the final decision has fallen to myself. Due to the prisoners resulting from the battle at the Gates, and considering that the Scarlet Chorus' manpower was largely untouched by the initial battles, the captives will be given to the Disfavored for enslavement. Thus is my decision, and is therefore Tunon's word.

Rollin, Fatebinder of Tunon the Adjudicator"

Rollin found the camps quieter, the arguments largely quelled. Sure enough, he received some dirty looks from Choirmen higher up, but there were far more enthusiastic salutes from Ashe's men. It didn't matter to him, either way. What pleased him was that two days later, the camps had been broken down, the slaves hauled the equipment, and the armies began the march to the Bastard City.

…

The night was hardly quiet. It had been raining for several hours, and low grumblings of lightning echoed in the distance. The lightning strikes helped cover up the sounds of the grappling hooks latching onto the crenellations of the Bastard City's walls. The army had made camp hours from here, and had focused for the last few days on capturing and looting small villages and farmsteads. Slaves and food were captured, new bodies added to the Chorus, and the armies seemed content.

No doubt the Bastard City and their nobles believed the armies were setting up for a lengthy siege. Sure enough, the Disfavored and the Chorus could easily wait for the city to starve and surrender. But that wouldn't please Kyros. The Overlord expected a quick victory, and demanded efficiency and haste from Their minions. Rollin intended to show that efficiency tonight. The Choirmen and Disfavored forces lay in wait at the tree line, awaiting the signal. Meanwhile, both Choirmen and iron walkers made their way up the walls, clambering the ropes.

The sentinels patrolling this segment quickly found their mouths covered and their throats slit. Scarlet furies led the rest of the Choirmen, the rest of them the horde. Rollin nodded to them.

With a hollar, the Choirmen leapt to the rooftops below them. The townsmen and guards would suddenly have the sudden Scarlet Chorus raid to deal with. But now the armies had heard the cries, and were no doubt advancing. Rollin took the lead of the Disfavored as they ran along the walls, killing the sentinels they found and disabling some of the defensive machinery.

"What was that? Did you hear that? Hey, hold on… Are those torche-" SLAM Rollin kicked in the door to the main gatehouse, and put an arrow through the neck of the chatty guardsman. His comrade, falling from his chair and spilling his drink on the floor, a crescent runner rammed a dagger through his head.

Rollin looked out over the city. The Scarlet Chorus was bringing panic and confusion to the City, the armies of Kyros were approaching, and the main gate was open. By tomorrow, the Bastard Tier would belong to the Overlord.

It had taken much effort to convince the Archons to work together. But the overarching goal of taking the city was more important than any disagreements between the two of them. Rollin joined the forces marching through the gates, hearing the sounds of scattered battle and screaming citizens. The Disfavored phalanx marched down the main road, skewering the guards who hadn't yet gone after the initial Chorus raiders. Choirmen poured around them, down side streets and into houses and buildings. He had ordered the forces to be somewhat civil, to target only the armed and resisting populace. No doubt he'd still have to order some repercussions to the hordes over the coming weeks.

The nobles of the Bastard City attempted to hold out, giving it all they could. Once the initial confusion had worn down, line after line of mercenaries sat between the phalanx and the city center. Thankfully, the scarlet furies he had sent into town had done their work, disabling several defensive machines. Had the catapults or ballistae been fired on the phalanx, taking the city might have been a challenge. Instead, it was a simple march to victory.

The nobles only properly surrendered when Rollin put an arrow through the face of one who had come out to challenge him. The fool had forgotten to bring the blue. He was tired of humoring them. It was time to instill Kyros' rule.

…

The set up for the occupation was going smoothly. Rollin had concluded the last of the trials regarding the Choirmen going too far, and had dealt with establishing the division of property and loot. It seemed like the Bastard City was finally submitting.

Though perhaps that had been more a result of the Fallowing than anything Rollin had done. The Archon of Stone, Cairn, had carried out a ritual of some kind with his disciples. Unfortunately, Rollin hadn't been notified of this before the magic took hold. Now, the lands that had belonged to the lands of the Bastard Tier's nobles were made lifeless and sick, overcome with blight and rot. While this might displease the Overlord, Rollin supposed the Archons were right in saying that it had quelled the rebellions in Their new territory.

Finally, the armies were discussing their next move. After all, the Tiers still had lands left to conquer. He looked again, out over the fields beyond the Bastard City's walls, to the massive structure of the Oldwalls in the distance. Lethian's Crossing...