CHAPTER 1: Stealth
"The pack is hungry" he said. "The ideal time has arrived. The silence of the night shall wake up to screams; screams, these fertile lands would never forget!"
The minister calmly listened to the Ruler. Yes, the time had come. The blood thirst seemed to pour out of His Majesty's eyes. The minister bowed and nodded to the General. The troops, ready, as they always were at this hour of the night, just needed a faint signal.
500 foot soldiers, 50 cavalry men carried between themselves bows, swords, spears and their new toy, the fireball. Spies had mentioned about the weaponery
on the other side. The fireball eradicated any question of an even fight, many thought. But the General was a cautious man. Knowledge of one's own lands was not to be disregarded. The fireball, should be used as the last resort. The enemy needs to be locked for the weapon to be effective. North and east were to be the directions of attack. The river lay to the west. Any last minute bravery could be easily put to rest using the fireball. But to drive the enemy to the river, the attack had to be swift, merciless, relentless.
It was decided that 400 men with 20 cavalry archers would take the northern front. The eastern brigade would wait for the enemy. But only a northern massacre would lead to the eastern end. The strategy would fail if the first line of attack failed. The chances needed to be optimized. There was no question of a day-time battle. Stealth was necessary tonight to write the glorious history of tomorrow.
The Ruler needed this city. Barbarian, he was called by this ego-maniac King. "Barbarians belong to deserts, not fertile plains!" He would make sure that this land remained fertile forever. He would bathe it in an eternal river of blood.
The order was given. No sound was made, no torches were put off at the camp. The Army, as it would be called in centuries to come, was in motion.
CHAPTER 2: The Night
The city boasted of a fine military comprising of archers, swordsmen and foot soldiers. Invaders had attempted multiple times to breach the gates only to be dealt with effectively. These lands were open. None of the altitude war-fare schemes of the tribes had any significance here. The only battle, if any, would always be a frontal one. No matter what the physical capabilities of the armies are, fate of battles rely on supplies and sooner than later, supplies dry out. With no place to return as the defeated, the tribes are left for the mercy of the merciless. The King, himself, was the Leader of his army, a post his father had created and occupied before starting his dynasty. When it came to war-time intelligence, though, he deeply relied on the Commander.
The guards were posted outside the gates. The war camps were set, ready to either launch or defend an attack. No fight had yet reached to the gates.
This young Barbarian was different, the King knew. Unlike other tribes, this group had brought with it strange men. There were reports of medics being on the battlefields to treat the wounded. Medics! What sort of idiot expects a merciful fight? Surely, he was no idiot. This scum had plans for a siege. His wounded would not die. There would be waves of attack, he calculated.
But for the siege to be a reality, they would have to live. What would these ignorant pigs amount to in front of the trained warriors of the city? But something bothered the King. His troops outnumbered them in the ratio 2 to 1. But for a tribe to come to war with 600 men surely meant that it was not a single tribe. The Barbarian was a conquerer. A chill ran down his spine. The young filth was no fool, hence. Why would he risk everything for a lost cause? In battles, numbers mattered.
CHAPTER 3: Clash
The General signaled to his men as the city guards were in sight. 20 archers moved into a semi circle, pulled back their loaded bow and waited. The Ruler stepped ahead. He pulled his bowstring as it reached his chest. The arrow flew southwards piercing the skull of a city guard who stood directly facing the arrow. Even before the other northern guards could realize what had just happened, arrows rained on them in succession. BY the time the alarm was sounded, the Army was on them. The King accompanied by his Commander swiftly moved into the city walls. The north by now was lost. On the fields, the Army was on a hunt. The city guards were yet to receive orders from the Commander about any new strategy. Their training was the only hope.
"We need to drive them west!The guards need to be mobilised without delay. We need to corner them and let the archers take control from the walls," The Commander said.
"They must know that we would take east. What is their strength?" The King asked.
"About 100 foot soldiers and 20-30 cavalry men. They have unleashed their full force on one side. They hoped to take us out on shock."
"Why don't we attack from the west?"
"My King!" The Commander seemed lost to such a naive suggestion by the Leader at this hour. Surely the King had lost his mind.
"They must have something up their sleeves in the east. They want to corner us by the west."
"The east is the only way, my King. Just a hundred odd men..."
"Leave the north, it's gone. Get the archers on anyone coming from the north. Divide the army for west and east. We need a two-way siege. I believe we have enough men to take the east."
The Commander had seen the soldiers fight. He knew that the guards were shaken. No number was enough. The more, the better. But he could see that the King had made up his mind. He asked, "Where do we go first?"
"West."
The Ruler saw the incoming wave of guards on the western front. He looked at the General. Change of plans was in order.
to be continued ...
