Here we go

Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 47

There was no hiding the approach of various forces to the city of Mistral. Their own column wasn't small by any means, and there were plenty of others who had, like them, started out small and grown larger as more and more rebel cells joined with them. The city was surrounded on all sides, essentially besieged, and it was almost entirely by accident. Without any leadership, there was still an understanding that they should stay out of range of siege weapons and arrow fire and bide their time. Camps were made, people set up to wait, and some were sent out as messengers to try and organise some semblance of a command structure.

Jaune was brought along with the various leaders of the group he'd travelled with, who still didn't know how to react around him. They'd only discovered earlier today that the actual Dark Lord was among them, and it must have confused them that he'd stayed quiet for so long. They were conflicted, their impressions torn between the anger of what his predecessor had done – or failed to do – and confused relief over the fact he was here helping and not making things worse.

There was an agreement made to meet at the tallest hill to talk and combine intelligence. It was a recognisable enough landmark, and no one had gone and "claimed" overall leadership, which was probably a good thing. Jaune walked alongside Nora and Ren, but also with Whitley Schnee, still cowled and concealed because there was no telling what anyone's immediate reactions would be to seeing a Schnee in their midst. It surprised Jaune how calm the boy was being, but it was a calmness that reeked of acceptance. As if he'd gone through fear and doubt and just accepted that his life was forfeit anyway, so he might as well stop worrying about it.

No tent was set up but a large bonfire was lit, and food was brought and shared as various people organised how they would talk. It ended up being a set of logs arranged in a rough circle so that they could all in some way be considered equals. As everyone sat, the large man who had led their own procession stood.

"Forgive me for speaking first but we have information we believe must be shared with all. It will shape any plans going forward." He waited until nods around the circle prompted him to continue. "Thank you. The news I bring pertains to Mistral and comes from the lips of one who escaped the city as the lockdown was called. As you all know, every town has been emptied and villages have been culled." There were angry murmurs. "It gets worse I'm afraid. Willow Schnee has gone mad and has turned not only on her own people, but also on the Church of Salem, the Chosen, and even her own family. The madwoman intends to kill one thousand of our people every hour that we do not surrender as soon as the battle begins."

Jaune expected the ruckus but was no less forced to sit through it. People cried out, others argued, and everyone spoke on top of one another. Some argued they had to back off immediately lest they cause the deaths of their people, and others argued that they should retreat entirely, that if she'd truly betrayed the Goddess and the church then they would come and remove her for them. Others wanted an immediate and all-out attack to save as many as they could, arguing that some would die but more would die by inaction if they did nothing.

"How do we know any of this is true?" demanded another. "Who is your source? Where are they?"

Whitley stood. Jaune stood with him, close enough to act in his defence if needs be. He stepped forward, reached to his hood, and drew it down, and in that moment sent the meeting into complete and utter disarray. He didn't have a chance to say a word before one woman leapt up and charged with a bloodthirsty roar. Jaune answered it with a blast of wind, throwing her to the floor and silencing the hilltop once more. The gust from the explosion had thrown his own hood back, and while blonde hair was not proof enough of who he was, the fact a man had just used magic certainly was.

"Enough." said Jaune, into the quiet. "Whitley Schnee has come here to risk his life in delivering us news of his mother's insanity. You will respect that."

"Y-You…"

"The Dark Lord…"

Jaune closed his eyes. He could have denied it, could have told them he was in control, but what was the point? Even if they believed it, it would only make things more complicated. It was better to get this over with.

"Yes. I am. I'm here to rectify the mistake I made in the past. I let Mistral down once, but I did not forget my promise and I've come back to make things right." If the wind alone wasn't proof enough, he let a small orb of fire appear and flicker in the palm of his hand. It illuminated his face. "I have no interest in leadership over any of you. Experience has shown that way lays disaster. Instead, I ask you all to work together for the betterment of your country, and to tell me where I am best needed." He closed his fingers and snuffed the flame out. "This time, the Dark Lord shall follow your orders. I hope that is acceptable."

Silence. Confused, tense, but also hopeful silence. There were looks shared, but while there certainly was fear and shock there was also some marked relief. Some of these people were old enough, most likely, to remember the last Dark Lord. Maybe they'd even fought with him. Like An Ren, they wouldn't feel comfortable with him being in command, and to be honest he wasn't comfortable with that either. He intended to leave Mistral after this, and the one to command should be someone who planned to stay and put things back together again afterwards.

An elderly man rose on a wooden cane. "Will you lose yourself to madness again, Dark Lord?"

"Salem will not be there. I'll be fine."

"And what of your plans after?"

"I intend to leave Mistral. The Goddess knows I am here and will surely come looking for me once Willow is dealt with. I wouldn't be safe here, and you wouldn't be safe harbouring me." He cracked a wry smile and added, "I won't be asking Mistral to submit or become the seat of some dark kingdom. You don't have to worry about that."

Not everyone believed him. He supposed that was to be expected, and it wasn't like he had a lot of proof to offer. Fortunately, there were enough that could at least look past the uncertainty of his long-term plans to the far more immediate problem of Willow Schnee and the people trapped within Mistral. There were arguments, some heated, but soon they decided to shelve the matter and focus on the real problem.

"Speak to us then, Schnee," said the old man. "Tell us what is happening."

Whitley repeated his story from before, answering questions as he could on how the Chosen had been arrested or executed, and how his own sister was among those captured. Even the clergy had been arrested, branded heretical traitors by Willow. Many had died resisting her. The longer the story went the worse a picture was painted. The Deterrence Corps were stuck between a madwoman and an army that wanted their blood, and though few of them wanted to fight they would fight and die before being captured. Their only hope of survival was to do as Willow asked and hope she was replaced later. The citizens were browbeaten and afraid, locking themselves inside and keeping their voices down.

The ones brought in as effective hostages and sacrifices were ignorant and unawares, struggling to survive on meagre food rations, and being housed closer to the walls so that even if they were breached, the attacking army would run into terrified and confused innocents.

"Willow is aware that, as the last real user of aura within Mistral, she's going to be pitted against the Dark Lord's magic," said Whitley. "She's under no illusions she can beat him in terms of power, but she thinks she can trick him into going mad. It's expected he'll be used to breach the wall, and since the masonry would fall inward she's made sure the rubble would fall onto the frightened civilians inside, at which point she can claim – quite believably – that the Dark Lord has come to kill them, and that they should fight for their faith and survival."

"The monster intends to set our own people on us!?" cried one man."

"It's entirely feasible," said a woman. "They will be terrified and confused, told nothing, and the first thing they will see is a howling army rushing the walls as magic casts it down on their heads. If she weaves some story about the Goddess coming to rescue them, and how they just need to buy time, then who are they to disbelieve her? What mother or father wouldn't take up arms and risk their lives to protect their children?"

"Mine," quipped Whitley, and a few of the rebel leaders chuckled at that.

"Yes, well, what sane parents wouldn't," smiled the woman, grimly. "The fact remains the plan is a good one on her part. I'm sure I wasn't the only one here thinking we could use the Dark Lord's magic to blow a hole in the wall, or even bring them all down. We would have walked into her trap, and even if we won it would be over the bodies of tens of thousands of our people."

"Can you destroy the walls outward?" asked the old man from before. "Is that possible with your magic?"

"Yes…" Jaune answered slowly, listening to Ozma as he went through the theory in their head. "It would be much harder, and I'd need to focus on one bit of wall. Knocking it inward is as easy as throwing a whole lot of force at it, but to do this I'd need to pull it out. Think throwing ropes and hooks over the top and pulling it down, except a lot more complicated. It would take at least twenty minutes for me to be sure no rubble would fall inside. I'd be right in front of the walls too, a target for everyone."

"Only arrow fire," said Whitley. "Mother is praying in the palace, so sure in her devotion that the Goddess herself will come and reward her, and there are no other Chosen left free to challenge you."

"We can cover you from mundane fire," said the old man. "We will focus our own archers to clear the walls, and have a retinue with shields to protect you."

"That won't make the people inside any less likely to panic when the walls come down. We need some way of explaining to them quickly and safely what's going on – and that isn't going to be easy when they're howling and charging us down!"

"That is a matter for us to solve," said the old man. His eyes were fixed on Jaune as he said it. "If the Dark Lord truly wishes to distance himself from rulership of Mistral, perhaps it would be best he remain distant from leadership now."

It was a challenge as much as a message.

Jaune bowed his head. "If that's what you wish. I'll go prepare myself for bringing the wall down. I'll be taking Whitley with me, however. No offence, but I don't trust Mistral's forgiveness enough to risk a Schnee with you."

No one argued, and Whitley donned his hood once more as Nora and Ren stood. The four of them walked down the hill's slope as the various elders and leaders up top continued their planning long into the night.

/-/

"It's stupid that they want your help but also want to keep you out of the way," said Ruby. They had just finished explaining what happened to the others, and Ruby was bristling with indignation. "If they want your power, they should accept your opinions too."

"Menagerie is more than prepared to do that," said Blake.

"Mistral has good reason to not want to work with me," said Jaune, ignoring the White Fang issue for now. He was sure they would do whatever they had to in order to win him, and the relic, over, and they didn't need to. He had already committed it to them. "It doesn't bother me. I'm not sticking around, so it's better this way."

"Any losses or failures caused by this will fall on their heads," agreed Taiyang. "And they won't be able to blame us for it. It's going to get worse after. They're all united now, but I guarantee it'll be a race to see who takes power after."

"Maybe they can make a council," offered Nora.

"Not with however many there are currently," disagreed Ren. "Too many cooks spoil the broth, and too many rebel cells were run by charismatic leaders who are fine when all you need to do is unite everyone against an oppressive regime, but who wouldn't have any idea what to do to fix a broken-down country."

They were interrupted by cries rising from the main army. Confused at first, drawing attention to something, and then horrified, angry, and then filled with grief. Moments later, they were angry again, screaming and shouting. At their campfire, Whitley Schnee tugged his hood down over his face and hunched up just a little.

"It's started," said Ren. "Go. Go see what's happened. I'll wait here."

The dawn sun had just begun to rise behind them, casting its light westward and toward the city, over the vast plains of executed people hung up to die. The bright light reached the walls, where Jaune could just make out shapes dropping. The citizens were still being pushed from the walls to their deaths. One thousand in total, if they were really counting with such care. One thousand people being killed before their very eyes.

Rebels picked up weapons and shouted to one another. Some urged everyone to charge, others shouted for calm. There was a ruckus on the hill Jaune had left an hour prior as the commanders found themselves forced to make a decision now. On the hour, every hour, another thousand would be killed, but Jaune didn't doubt that timetable would be brought forward if they assaulted the city. On the other hand, to not assault it was to condemn them all anyway. It really was a scenario with no good answer, which was another reason he was more than happy to surrender himself of any responsibility with regard to it.

"This will not end well," said Ozma, his tone filled with warning. "Just because you refuse to take control does not mean they shall. They have dithered too long. Mad as she may allegedly be, Willow has achieved one thing with this."

"What's that?" asked Jaune.

The answer came not from Ozma but from the army. Shouts of warning, then rage – not like before, impotent and despairing, but battle cries as men and women raced out the camp and began the assault on the city without any plan or leadership. It started small, only a few hundred people, but like water overflowing a river's banks it grew, by tens, hundreds, and then by more. Until no less tha six thousand were assaulting the walls – at which point those freshly roused, who had no idea what was going on, saw the assault and assumed it was beginning. They, too, picked up weapons and marched forward, and more and more and more until the attack had begun proper.

"There is no discipline here," despaired Ozma. "They are no more an army than a ship full of refugees is an invasion. All it takes is a single spark to decide things for them, and no amount of shouting from their leaders will stop them now."

It was true. The various commanders were doing their best to shout them back; drums were banged, horns blown, and voices raised, but all it did was confuse matters further. More charged, more grasped weapons, and some of the commanders who had wanted to push the matter decided this was their chance. They roared their approval and joined the throng.

"There's no stopping them now!" said Ruby. "What do we do? Do we get involved?"

"You don't do anything at all," said Taiyang. "This is a war. You're staying out of this with me."

Jaune nodded to the man even as Ruby pouted. She was definitely capable of helping out here and there but she wasn't ready for this. Neither was he, but then all he needed to do was bring the walls down and let the Mistralians handle their own business.

"Adam and Blake, can you help cover me? Just stop anyone rushing out to get me. I'm supposed to have a retinue of people with shields, but it looks like that's not going to happen now."

"It's just from arrows?" asked Blake. "We can grab some shields. How obvious do you need to be?"

"Not very. If Whitley is right, there won't be any Chosen on the walls capable of detecting my magic until it's too late."

/-/

The battle was a maddened mess of a thing. Jaune wasn't sure what he expected, having experienced one small assault himself and seen more in his visions of Ozma's past. The land outside the walls had come a muddy slurry from all the boots working and scraping through it, and arrows buzzed down like hornets from above. More hit the ground than not, but enough pinged off his shield held upward and plenty found bodies – some still living, some dead. Wood creaked as ladders made of hefty sticks lashed together with twine were pushed up against the walls.

It seemed impossible that those wouldn't just be pushed down, but they must have been heavier than they looked, especially once people were climbing. Instead, men leaned out from the walls above with bows and shot into the climbing rebels, who had little more than wood or wicket shields and leather armour to protect themselves.

"Leave them to it," suggested Ozma. "If you use magic to clear the walls and buy them time then you only announce your presence, and then every bow in the city will be directed at you."

Adam, Blake and Taiyang were with him, each wielding large round wooden shields and doing their best to cover his weak points. Jaune took to a point some twenty metres out from the walls and knelt to make their job easier. Taiyang stood before him while Blake and Adam formed a shield wall of sorts to his left and right. If anything, the fact they were stationary was enough to make the archers on the walls ignore them. They were men terrified of being killed for joining the Corps, and they by far focused on the people actually scaling the walls and trying to get to them.

He didn't know what wall the commanders would want but this one would have to do. Jaune breathed out and imagined the battlefield without combatants and without all the distractions. He listened to Ozma's voice as he instructed him.

"Think not of brute force like at the harbour before. Think of seeping your magic like water into the cracks formed between the stone. Be gentle, be subtle, and work with the natural contours of the masonry."

The sensation was unlike anything he was used to. It was intensive, more so than he realised, because he had to keep his magic – and thus his aura – outside his body for longer. Normally, it was fire and forget, but he had to sustain it here. Visible light shimmered up and down the vertical parts of the wall, but only those outside and far inside would notice. Those on top wouldn't see any difference, and the noise was loud enough that any warnings went unheeded.

"Suffuse the wall. Be in every crack, every crevice, and hold it there. Now, slowly, pump more aura into it. Imagine an intestine filled with sausage meat. Keep pushing as the sausage expands and bursts."

Forcing meat into animal intestine was much easier than forcing his aura into unyielding stone. It didn't fight back, but it didn't yield. As he pushed, his aura wanted to spill out like water overflowing a pewter mug, but Ozma bade him force it back in. Expand, push, and feed. A groaning crack echoed in his ears and pebbles rained from the wall where dried mortar began to splinter and peel away. In a sense, it was like a river cutting its way through a rock, except tens of years in the space of seconds. As the first crack formed, he found it easier to feed his aura in, more room forming, and then that created a reaction that led to more and more.

"It's coming," said Jaune, in warning. "It's going to come down. Get our people back."

"We can't," said Adam. "It's a mad frenzy out here."

"Just bring it down," said Taiyang. "They will see and react in time, or they won't. We can't afford to worry every detail right now."

It was cruel, he supposed, but no less cruel than the fate those atop the walls would face, and no less cruel than they had dished out in the past. Jaune closed his eyes and flexed his aura, then, on Ozma's command, he pulled outward. The walls had already been weakened, with cracks forming, but it could have collapsed inward as easily as out until that moment. The final tug, a direction to the collapse, caused the huge rocks to splinter and bulge outward. Cries rose on the walls and below as everyone finally noticed. There was a mad rush to get away, and he was relieved to see most did indeed manage to escape. Most. Those wounded, dying or too slow had no chance.

Krak-Crkkk!

The wall split. It came out in two parts, like a plank of wood splintering vertically when a foot was driven into it. Huge parts of it fell, but it was not as devastating as he imagined. The collapsed segment of wall formed a V-shape with more missing from the top than the bottom. Corps scrambled and pulled one another up to safe segments of the parapet while rebels below stared in shock and awe. Further afield, the reality of the breach wasn't even known and the battle raged on, but here they stopped to stare.

This is the end for Willow, isn't it? If she left some Chosen then they could have tried to stop me, but now the rebels can get inside the walls.

"You've kept your end of our bargain marvellously," said Ozma. "And I will keep mine. But do not think it over yet. Many a war have I seen lost because someone counted their chickens before they had hatched. The Schnee matriarch remains, and you agreed to try and save the younger one on behalf of her brother."

He had, and he would. Jaune sighed and nodded to Adam, Taiyang and Blake as they lowered their shields. Already, the Mistral forces had begun to cry out in victory, and many were streaming to the opening. He hoped they had some idea of what awaited them inside, because their so-called leaders were nowhere to be seen.

Next Chapter: 15th January

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