May 19, 9 ATC

Outside the City of Egestas, Duchy of Leporin, Pollination-Crosshares Commonwealth

Jannis stood on a small hill overlooking the city, seeing if he could discern any weaknesses in the League's defenses. The city sat on the Fic River, a tributary of the Crack River, and several river vessels were docked or anchored around the city. If Faker played his part and struck at the docks, then there would be no problem. The problem was his: how would he go about a land assault? From the south, his approach was covered by the forests, but that would potentially choke his offensive abilities, especially since both Nitesco and Coronam specialized in forest combat. The east was open fields and roads. It would be an even fight there, but Jannis always sought an edge on his opponents, and he was not sure how his numbers compared. The north and east ends of the city bordered the river, denying him assault from there. Jannis stroked his chin and pondered the situation.

"Jannis!" Faker exclaimed. Jannis turned to see the Triumvir walking over to him, an eager skip in his step. "What are you doing up here? The troops are getting antsy."

"Trying to figure out how we'll be going about this," Jannis said. "The League had heavy defenses to begin with, and they received reinforcements about a week back. More emissaries from their member states have arrived today, with even more soldiers. I'm not sure we have the numbers to pull this off."

"You can always pull it off if you don't fight fair," Faker remarked. Jannis frowned.

"We have no spies or saboteurs," Jannis said. "We're on equal footing in men, if my scouts report correctly. We'll have to win this battle through tactics."

"Well, you may have no spies or saboteurs," Faker said, a sly grin appearing on his face. "But I have an agent in Contramundi's private guard that tells me the Badaz League commanders are having a meeting today, shortly after noon. Strike then, when their leaders are distracted, and you'll throw them into disarray."

Jannis stroked his chin, and the sourness disappeared from his expression. "Good to know," he said, "but there's still soldiers to deal with. There are two fronts to attack from: the open plains from the west, and the forested south. We can split our forces and attack during the disarray."

Faker nodded slowly, considering the situation. "My soldiers are more suited to open combat than the forests," he said. "We'll attack from the west. If Coronam draws his forces away from the south to bolster that, all the better. It'll leave a hole for your men to slip into."

Jannis smiled proudly. "An excellent suggestion. When the words of our Goddess are finally spread to all corners of this Subreddit, you will be rewarded with us."

"Even though I don't believe in your gods?" Faker asked. Jannis chuckled good-naturedly and patted Faker on the shoulder.

"You fight with us," Jannis said. "What you believe is irrelevant. You are our brother in blood. Your fate is tied to ours."

Faker nodded, considering Jannis' words. "Perhaps," he said. "But these musings will have to wait. The troops are waiting."

"Then let's not keep them any longer," said Jannis. They began the descent from the hill, and Jannis grinned in anticipation. "Today, we win this war."

Austin sat in the stuffy meeting room of the mayoral manor, waiting for the others to arrive. Nitesco and Coronam had summoned all of the League's commanders to a meeting, given that the war was turning steadily in their favor, to decide postwar boundaries and trade routes. Such policy bored her, but she knew it was necessary, so she sucked it up and waited, preparing herself for the onslaught of mind-numbing procedure.

"Austin," Nitesco said. He walked into the empty room and took the seat directly to Austin's left. He sighed.

"What's chewing at you?" Austin asked. Nitesco shrugged.

"Disappointment, I suppose." He paused, eyes scanning the map that sat in the middle of the table. "When Cetic's Revolt ended, I hoped that the Subreddit would never again have to see a civil war as destructive as that."

"We ended this war in only a few months," Austin said. "That must count for something."

"It's not the length of the war, it's the effects." Nitesco started tracing a circle on the map absentmindedly. "This war split the Subreddit in two. If our campaign had failed, we would've been mired in as much destruction as the Revolt. And I fear we will be divided for many decades to come as it is."

Austin was about to ask why when Gwydion entered the room with the Mask in tow. Nitesco turned to Gwydion and exchanged greetings before Gwydion sat down next to Nitesco and began talking about some recent financial development. The Mask, in turn, took the seat to Austin's right.

"Austin," he said in greeting.

"The Mask," she said. "Or is it just Mask?"

"Just Mask," the Mask said. "Don't overthink it." Though Austin couldn't see it, she could tell he was smiling.

"Alright then, Mask," Austin said, slightly amused. "What have you been up to? I haven't seen you for some time."

The Mask laughed his gravelly laugh. "The less you know about that, the better. The Arkosians are barely keeping their peace around me. The last think I want anyone here having is an excuse to arrest the Subreddit's most notorious criminal."

"I was a mercenary before," Austin said. "I've done things of… dubious legality too."

The Mask shrugged, considering her answer. "Fair enough. But you're a commander now. Nobody can touch you."

"I wouldn't have become a commander without your support," Austin said. "Speaking of, why did you nominate me for the position? I was just some nobody commoner."

"So was Gwydion. So was Nitesco. So was Quixotic." The Mask drummed his fingers on the counter. "There's something… inspiring about heroes with humble origins. Kings and lords make up most of our historical heroes, but the ones who came from nothing had to fight for what they have. They don't wage war out of entitlement. They wage war for everything they have, and they give it their all because they know what it's like to be downtrodden and beaten and hurt."

"And how do you know what I've been through?" Austin asked, out of curiosity as much as suspicion. The Mask shrugged again.

"Call it instinct," he said wryly. His tone suggested that Austin would get nothing more out of him, so she went back to quietly staring at the map.

After a few more moments, Coronam arrived with Opifexa and Cinder at his side, as usual. "Good morning, my friends," he announced, and he sat down at the table, Opifexa and Cinder on either side of him. "How are we today?"

"As good as I'll ever be," Gwydion said. "I've never had a mind for foreign policy. That was always Nitesco's thing."

"I'm in the same boat," Austin said. Gwydion cracked a smile.

"Where are the Arkosians?" Nitesco asked. "It's not like them to be late."

"They're investigating something in the forests," Opifexa said. "Zealander told me that it might've been an enemy scout."

"Zealander's paranoid," Cinder said. "We relocated the civilians of this town to the next village over. It's probably just one of them."

"We should leave nothing to chance," the Mask spoke in his gravelly voice. "Even if Inferno is gone, her lieutenants are still a threat. Not to mention the Church."

"We already encountered the Church," Coronam said, with a dismissive air. "They are not a threat."

"They are more of a threat than any nation in this Subreddit!" The Mask stood up in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. Coronam lifted his arms in a placating gesture.

"Easy, guys," Nitesco chided. "We've dealt with Inferno. Soon we will deal with her underlings and officers. There's no need to be making enemies when we're so close to peace."

Coronam and the Mask exchanged glances and sighed. "Very well," the Mask muttered. "I will hold my peace. But for how long?"

"My friends," Austin said, her voice as calm as she could will it. "Let's not get—"

A muffled bang startled the officials present, causing all of them to flinch at once and turn towards the source of the noise. Nothing happened.

Gwydion, alarmed, let his hand go to his sword's hilt. "What was—"

A cannonball flew through the side of the building, sending a spray of debris over the commanders, who desperately shielded their faces with their arms. "What the fuck?!" Cinder exclaimed.

Another cannonball splintered the ceiling above their heads, sending a wooden plank flying down. It narrowly missed Austin and shattered the table they were sitting at.

"We're under attack," the Mask said with an unusual calm about him. Opifexa shook the wood splinters off of herself.

"Maybe Zealander was right about the scouts," she suggested shakily. Nitesco drew his sword and pointed to Gwydion.

"Gwydion, go to the Arkosians and see how they fare," he commanded. "If they're attacking from the south then they'll be attacking the west too. Their barracks are closest to that front!"

"Will do, Nitesco!" Gwydion exclaimed, practically halfway out the door. Nitesco nodded and returned to the group.

"Okay, we need to rally a defense and a counterattack," Nitesco said. "Any suggestions?"

"The Renoran barracks are closest to here," Coronam said, glaive already drawn. "I can lead a counterattack on their artillery. It's probably hidden in the woods."

"Good," Nitesco said. "I can send some of my troops your way to bolster your attack. The rest will stay behind to form the defensive line."

"My soldiers are closest to the center of the city," Austin said. "We could form a defensive perimeter with my troops and have a second line of defense near the docks with what's left of Nitesco's."

"Excellent plan," Nitesco said. "If we have to make a retreat, the docks will be the only option."

"I can go get my mercenaries and tell them to prepare the ships for a retreat," the Mask suggested. "Though I'm sure the enemy has set up a naval barrier of some sort downstream."

"It'll have to wait," Austin said. "Hop to it. Nitesco and I will go get our troops." The Mask gave her a thumbs up and scrambled out of the room in the direction of the docks.

"So," Coronam said, turning to Austin and Nitesco. "Things don't look good."

"We've had worse odds and pulled through," Nitesco said. He tried to keep his expression calm, but both Coronam and Austin could see the panic in his eyes.

"And if we don't?" Coronam asked. Austin drew her sword.

"Then we don't die alone," she said. Coronam laughed a deep, foreboding laugh.

"I can get behind that," Coronam said. "Opifexa! Go with the Mask to secure the ships. Cinder! Take a few soldiers and head to the watchtower. Report to Austin or Nitesco with any important news. Got it?"

"Can do!" Cinder shouted, and he ran off to the watchtower. Opifexa lingered uneasily a few seconds more, looking like she had something to say, but instead nodded and followed Cinder out. With only the three commanders left, Nitesco raised his sword as if it were a glass of wine for a toast.

"Well, my friends," he said. "Are we ready?"

Coronam tapped the blade of his glaive to Nitesco's sword. "As I'll ever be," he said, with a sense of grim reality in his voice.

Austin lifted her sword to meet the others' weapons and nodded. "Well then," she said. "Let's get to it."

Gwydion sprinted through the streets of Egestas, breathing heavily, his middle-aged body taking him as fast as it could to the Arkosian defenses. His right leg lagged a bit, catching a rock. Gwydion stumbled a few steps forward, then stabilized himself and continued his spring.

"Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Shit." Gwydion chanted the words like a mantra, each "fuck" said aloud as his left leg made contact, each "shit" as his right came down. At last, he rounded a corner and saw the Arkosian defenses in sight.

"Finally," he said aloud. "I'm too old for this!"

Gwydion sprinted through the defensive line, trying to find either Strike or Vulpix. The defenses had been erected in the city's outermost buildings and small pastures, and despite the enemy's attempts to destroy their position with artillery, the defenses remained mostly intact.

"Gwydion! Over here!" Gwydion heard his name and looked over to see Vulpix waving him into a repurposed farmstead which was apparently their new command post. He ducked under a stray piece of shrapnel and stumbled into the farmhouse. The inside was nondescript: tables, chairs and a fireplace, like in all farmhouses. Vulpix, Strike and a few other officers bustled around, trying to find a suitable counter to the attack.

"Strike! Uh, Zealander!" Gwydion waved them over to him, and they broke away from the other officers to speak with him. "How's the battle coming along here?"

"We had a heads-up," Strike explained. "Like we told Opifexa, our men saw someone scouting us out from the trees at the edge of the field. We sent our scouts to investigate, and they came back a few minutes before they struck."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Gwydion asked, suddenly angry.

"We sent out a runner, but the enemy attacked before he could get there, apparently," Vulpix said. "We got our men mobilized and a defense readied just in time to stop a full assault."

"What now?" Gwydion asked. Vulpix and Strike exchanged somewhat hostile glares.

"That's where we disagree," Vulpix said. "Colonel Strike wants to be a hero and charge the enemy."

"We have to!" Strike exclaimed indignantly. "If we hole up here, then the enemy could go around or launch an assault. We can't beat them back if we're sitting on our hands!"

"We're not trying to beat them back!" Vulpix said. "We're entrenching. If they wanted to charge us, they would've done it by now. Our job is to keep these forces occupied until our allies can rout their friends at the south."

"Coronam's launched a counterattack near the south side," Gwydion informed them. "But he might not have the manpower to do it."

"All the more reason to attack!" Strike exclaimed. "We should break their assault so we can send our forces to Coronam!"

"If it fails, they break through and we're flanked," Vulpix retorted. "The risk is not worth the reward. The best thing we can do for Coronam is prevent him from being surrounded."

"Enough!" Gwydion shouted. By some miracle, he was able to command the attention of both Vulpix and Strike. They stared at him tensely, wondering which of them he would back.

"Look," Gwydion said, "we don't have the advantage here. We're pinned down in the city and they have both higher terrain and the element of surprise. Any attack we make right now would be doomed from the start."

"Not if we went over the ridge," Strike said. "There's a small cluster of hills to the southwest that we could flank them through."

"They could see it coming," Vulpix said. Gwydion saw something in Vulpix's eyes: a steely glare of stubbornness and command, a look he had not seen in Vulpix's eyes since they met during Celtic's Revolt. It sent a shiver down his spine.

"It's a risk we need to take!" Strike retorted. His hands twitched rapidly; he was eager for a fight. Gwydion sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder to calm him.

"Look, son," Gwydion said. "It's better to keep the battle on our turf. If they attack, we have the advantage. Unless there's no other way, we-"

A cannonball suddenly burst through the wall, peppering the officers with mortar and shrapnel. Strike, in a split-second decision, grabbed Gwydion and dragged him to the ground with him, taking a few shards of shrapnel as they both collapsed to the ground.

"Fuck!" Someone was yelling, but Gwydion could barely understand it. He tried to sit up, but he was struck by a wave of throbbing pain and collapsed back into the rubble.

"Gwydion!" The voice shocked him, snapping him back to reality. Gwydion groaned and sat up to see Strike, dirtied and bleeding but still alive. He was crouching next to Gwydion, examining the damage done.

"Gwydion," he said, calmer this time. "Are you okay?"

Gwydion grunted but extended his hand. "Bruised and bleeding," he grumbled, "but nothing I'm unaccustomed to. Help me up?"

Strike grabbed his hand and yanked Gwydion up from the rubble. Gwydion stumbled up and steadied himself on Strike's shoulder. As he shakily let go of Strike, he took a moment to observe the destruction. The house itself was completely reduced to rubble, the air still thick with dust from the impact. A few of the officers were clearly dead, but most were still alive.

"Zealander," Strike whispered to himself, just loud enough for Gwydion to hear, and Gwydion realized that he hadn't seen Vulpix anywhere. Strike stepped over the dead body of another officer looked around frantically. "Zealander!" he yelled.

A faint grunt on the other side of a rubble pile drew Gwydion's attention. He patted Strike on the shoulder and pointed to the pile. They circled around the debris and found Vulpix lying in his side under a few bricks, bleeding but breathing. Gwydion cleared the mess off of him and Strike knelt down by his side.

"Sir!" he said, trying to prop Vulpix upright. "Are you alright?"

Vulpix nodded and groaned. "I'm alright," he grunted, and he steadied himself against a fallen plank to stand up. "Hurt, but I'll live."

"They're charging!" A voice cried out. Gwydion and Strike both looked up from Vulpix to see several thousand Enablerese troops charging in formation toward them, bellowing the Enablerese war chant.

Gwydion and Strike swallowed nervously and turned to Vulpix to measure his reaction. To their surprise, Vulpix did not seem angry or distressed. Instead, a cold look of duty appeared on his face, and in lieu of words, he climbed atop the pile of rubble and drew his sword.

The Arkosians' reaction was swift and wild: as soon as they saw one of their commanders standing defiantly against what was certainly an overwhelming force, they joined him. The soldiers raised their spears and swords to the sky and howled a war cry in response.

As the Enablerese barrelled toward the defenses, Vulpix let his sword lower a bit and he turned to Gwydion and Strike. A grim look appeared on his face.

"Ready to die, boys?" he asked. Gwydion drew his sword and thrust it in the air.

"Always!" He and Strike spoke in unison, and the Enablerese smashed into the defenses.

Blood was everywhere. Gwydion swung wildly against the advancing soldiers, staining their gold uniforms with red. Despite the defenders' best efforts, more and more enemies flooded over the edge of the barricade, forcing Gwydion back. He ducked under an incoming sword swing and, after dispatching the attacker, looked up to see what the situation was.

He, Strike and Vulpix had been cornered with a few other soldiers in the ruins of the farmstead, and the Arkosians were desperately fending off the soldiers that tried to climb into it. They had the defensive advantage, Gwydion observed, but that alone would not save them from the onslaught.

"Back! Back, you beasts!" Vulpix was still visibly bleeding, but a fiery vigor had overcome him. He swung, stabbed, and kicked at each of the soldiers that came his way, desperately attacking them with whatever he had. "Hold strong, men!" he bellowed, and he kicked an Enablerese spearman through the broken doorframe.

Strike fought just as ferociously, but not as wildly. With his sword already bloody, he stabbed and swung at the advancing Enablerese. He let out a war cry as he skewered a wounded skirmisher. "For the glory of Arkos!" Strike shouted, fending off a particularly aggressive knight.

As a quartet of heavy foot soldiers charged in through a hole in the wall, Gwydion leapt into action, whacking the first one in several times on the shoulder and letting him collapse to bleed out. As the second and third managed to force their way in, a few of the unoccupied Arkosians in the farmstead with him charged them, forcing them back and dispatching one of them. As the men filled the gaps in the farmstead's defenses, Vulpix and Strike ducked back with Gwydion into the part of the building that was still intact.

"This doesn't look good for us," Strike said. Vulpix rubbed his temples and tried to think.

"Alright," he said. "We're surrounded and we're about to be overrun." Strike and Gwydion leaned in, interested in what Vulpix had to say next, but he just looked at them questioningly. "What?" he asked. "Did you think there was more to it?"

"You're the commander here," Gwydion reminded him. Even Strike nodded deferentially in agreement. Vulpix twisted at the frayed ends of his uniform and chewed his nails.

"Well," he said. "We aren't going to turn this in our favor. Our only hope is retreat. If we went north—"

"Look!" An Arkosian soldier yelled, and he pointed into the distance. "Reinforcements!"

The trio scrambled over to the open half of the farmstead, which seemed to be no longer under attack. A sizeable force of soldiers, many Gunnian, was bolstering the sagging Arkosian lines. At the moment, the Enablerese were being pushed back enough to guarantee a safe escape for Gwydion, Strike and Vulpix.

As a platoon of Bumblebeeans marched near the farmstead, Gwydion vaulted over a collapsed wall and grabbed one of them. "Soldier," he said, "who sent you?"

"Commander Austin," the soldier responded. "She heard from your runners that you flank was about to be overwhelmed. We were sent to relieve you while you made your retreat."

Vulpix and Strike walked up to the conversation, still covered in bits of shrapnel. "Retreat to where?" Vulpix asked.

"The docks," the soldier answered stoically. "The city is under attack from all sides. Nitesco's holding strong there, but if you want to make it, you have to retreat now."

"Retreat?" Strike asked, incredulous. "We can't retreat! This is our stronghold in Heroa!"

"Our stronghold is lost," Vulpix said, and a stark glumness set on him. "There's no need to die along with it. I'll gather as many men as I can. Strike, Gwydion, meet me outside the docks."

Gwydion and Strike nodded and began heading toward the docks. "Zealander!" Gwydion exclaimed, drawing his attention. He paused. "Come back in one piece," he added.

Vulpix nodded in response. "I'll do my best," he said, and he began yelling orders to the closest men.

"Come on, Gwydion!" Strike exclaimed. Gwydion paused for a moment, taking in the sight of his first major defeat in a long time: the stark bloodshed, the mountains of bodies friend and foe, the debris streaked over the field, all illuminated by the light of the evening sun. He tarried for only a second more, before turning around to make his way to the docks.

Coronam arrived at the south gate, glaive in hand, ready to fight. His soldiers, which he had rounded up and sent there already, were there to meet him, their quiet expressions masking an almost zealous resolve. Coronam marched through the gaps in the lines and took his place at the front, lifting his glaive high in the air.

"Men!" His voice rippled through the crowd like it was water. "You are soldiers of Renora! Yours is a proud heritage!" The soldiers bellowed back in affirmation. Coronam smiled.

"For generations, we have fought any and all who might encroach upon our lands! We have destroyed invaders, pillagers, and tyrants. We marched into the halls of Inferno's power and hung her from the wall!"

Another war cry, more bloodthirsty than the last, met him in response. Coronam's expression hardened into one of quiet resolve.

"And now a new enemy attacks from the shadows, like cowards, seeking to destroy us, the vanguard of justice! But we will not give up! We will not give in!"

Coronam turned to the forests just outside the south gate. He could see the enemy soldiers moving and dodging through the trees, preparing to swarm them. He leveled his glaive at the advancing forces.

"We are Renorans!" he screamed. "We do not yield!"

The soldiers' response was quick, a single cry of proud affirmation. As they dug into the makeshift defenses they set up within the city walls, Coronam squinted at the trees to see who the enemy was.

A wave of crimson-armored soldiers emerged from the forests, a simplified sigil of a thorny white rose on their flags and painted on their armor. Suddenly, Coronam recognized it.

The Church of Thorns.

"Rally up!" he ordered. Coronam turned around and leaped over a makeshift barricade, taking his place behind it. He turned around and saw that the Church Crusaders were getting ever closer, and he prepared himself for a fight.

A loud explosion rattled Coronam and the rest of his ranks, temporarily distracting him from the incoming threat. As he turned, he saw a row of Church artillery set up in the trees, and he saw what it was for. A gaping hole had been blown in the side of the city wall, and Church soldiers were beginning to pass through it.

"There's a breach there!" Coronam cried. "First, fourth and eighth brigades! Go to—"

He was cut off by another loud explosion. Coronam turned and, to his horror, another hole had been blown in the walls to the opposite side, allowing the Church three entrances.

"Third, seventh, tenth! To the other breach!" Coronam hollered, and his men flooded away to protect the breach. He turned back to the central gate and saw legions of Church Crusaders bearing down on his severely weakened forces.

"Hold strong, men!" Coronam yelled, but his words went unheard as the Crusaders met the barricades. The sounds of clanging swords and dying men filled the air in a brutal cacaphony, and Coronam was forced back by the sheer number of the soldiers before him. A knight swung at him with his shield, but Coronam backpedaled and rammed his guisarme into the man's stomach before turning around.

Another explosion rattled his men, but this time, the source was closer: a watchtower on the south gate exploded in a brilliant shower of bricks, raining onto both the Crusaders and his men. A thick cloud of smoke enveloped the combatants, but the Church did not let up.

"Retreat to the watchtower square!" Coronam bellowed. His soldiers shifted into a turtle formation, shields up and spears out, trying to weather the relentless assault of the Church as they inched their way back into the city.

At last, the soldiers reached the watchtower square, ducking behind the barricades Nitesco's soldiers had set up. As soon as the Renorans had manned the defenses, the Church soldiers slammed into the barricades like a tidal wave and poured through.

Coronam barely had time to turn around when the first soldier lunged at him. She was woefully inexperienced, and Coronam slit her throat without much difficulty. The second and third were both Church knights, their shields decorated with the Church sigil. Coronam smirked.

"You guys have an afterlife?" he asked wryly. The two knights glared at him humorlessly. Coronam huffed.

"So much for battle banter," he muttered, and he charged the one on the left. The knight raised his shield to defend himself, but Coronam yanked it from the man's hand with the guisarme of his glaive. The second knight swung at him, narrowly missing Coronam's ankle as he dodged out of the way. The knight continued in his attacks, and his shieldless ally joined him, putting Coronam on the defensive.

Coronam deflected and parried as best he could, but the two of them were aggressive and well-coordinated. As the shieldless one swiped at his face, the second knight swept Coronam's foot as he deflected the first strike, sending him to the ground. The king landed hard on his back while the two knights approached him, leering over him like vultures.

"Any last words, heretic?" The one with a shield jeered at him. Coronam grit his teeth in pain and smirked.

"That was a good trick," he admitted. "Let's see if it works twice."

Coronam jammed his foot into the second knight's ankle, causing him to cry out and fall to the ground. With his glaive, he swung at the first knight. He habitually raised his shield arm to deflect, but found he had no shield, and the glaive embedded itself in his abdomen.

As the first knight collapsed, the second one scrambled up from his prone position and grabbed his sword. Coronam prepared to counterattack, but before he could, a knife flew through the air and into the knight's head, killing him instantly. The knight collapsed, and Coronam turned around to see who his savior was.

"My lord," Cinder said. His cloak and tunic were stained with blood, and the sword he held had several scuff marks. Though Cinder looked uneasy, he smiled at Coronam.

"Cinder!" Coronam exclaimed. "I forgot you were in the watchtower. How does it look?"

"Not good," Cinder said, his expression hardening into one of defeat. "The Church has broken our lines near the breaches, and the Arkosians are under heavy assault on their front. The soldiers are retreating this way, but the enemy is not far behind."

Coronam sighed and placed his hands on his hips. "Okay," he said. "Okay. Where can we go to retreat?"

"Nitesco has set up a perimeter around the docks district," Cinder said. "It will hold long enough for us to evacuate, but we must go now."

Coronam grit his teeth. If he retreated, then their foothold in Heroa was lost to the Church, for whatever their insidious aims were. If they stayed, the prospect of total annihilation was not unlikely.

"Run forward," he ordered Cinder. "Tell Nitesco we're coming. And tell him to shore up his defenses, because he's going to have a lot of company." Cinder nodded obediently and began sprinting toward the docks. Coronam turned to the Renorans still with him and the soldiers that began flooding into the square from other parts of the city.

"Men!" he bellowed. "We must retreat! To the docks district, now!"

The soldiers reluctantly but obediently turned away from the battle and began their retreat toward the docks.

Nitesco paced the docks, wringing his hands as tight as rope as he tried not to give in to panic. It had been two hours since he sent out what forces he could spare to bring back Coronam and Vulpix, and though the city was large, that alone could not account for the amount of time it was taking them. That, compounded with the almost outlandish reports his scouts had given him about the enemy's ferocity, had pushed him to the brink of panic.

"Opifexa! Mask!" he shouted. The pair were busy setting up the boats for a retreat, making sure they were all properly manned and prepared to receive soldiers. Opifexa looked up, while the Mask continued prowling about the deck. "How are we doing on setup?" Nitesco asked.

Opifexa did a quick once-over of the boat and frowned. "The boats themselves are ready to sail," she said. "But I'm more concerned about loading the soldiers into the boat. The gangplanks are narrow, and the enemy is biting at our heels."

"There was enough space when we brought our soldiers over the inlet," Nitesco said, irritated.

"It's not a matter of space," the Mask interjected. He leaned on the edge of the boat and twiddled his thumbs. "It's a matter of time. We'll need at least an hour to load all the men on the boats, less if some stay behind. I don't think that's time we have, though."

"Damn," Nitesco said. "See what you can do. I want as many people on as possible, you hear?"

"I'll do what I can," Opifexa said, "but I make no promises." Nitesco grumbled and returned to his worried pacing.

"Nitesco!" Though he wasn't looking at her, Austin's voice rang clear in his ears, helping to ground him. Nitesco turned around and unclasped his hands.

"Any news?" he asked. Austin nodded.

"One of our scouts saw the Arkosians retreating this way. Our forces are holding the Enablerese off, but they won't hold them forever." She sighed wearily. "There's no sign of Coronam or his forces, though. None of the scouts I sent that way have returned."

Nitesco shook his head and put his hands on his hips. "Damn!" he cried. "Losing Coronam would've been bad enough. But his forces too?" He wiped some sweat from his brow. "If the scouts are right, then we have half an hour to escape the city. That's not nearly enough time to load our troops and get away!"

Nitesco stared down at the deck and resumed pacing, feeling more frantic the more he thought about the situation. He finally raised his head up, but instead of looking straight at Austin, he looked over her shoulder, and his expression turned to one of surprise. Austin, curious, turned around to see what he was looking at.

"Cinder?" Austin asked incredulously. Cinder was sprinting down the docks toward them, out of breath but still with a skip in his step. He sat down on a crate to catch his breath and waved the two of them over.

"Cinder!" Nitesco exclaimed, his hopeful nature returning to him. "What's the news? Where are Coronam and Zealander?"

"Coronam sent me ahead," Cinder explained between breaths. "He's making a retreat to this area. The Arkosians aren't far behind."

"He's alive," Austin and Nitesco said simultaneously. "Excellent news," Nitesco added. "They can bolster our defenses while we evacuate. How far away are they?"

"Not far," Cinder said. "It should only be five or ten minutes, at the most." Austin nodded and took a seat next to Cinder while they waited for their allies to arrive.

At last, the Renorans and Arkosians began to stream into the docks area, while the sounds of distant fighting got closer and closer. Coronam was the first to walk over, bruised and cut up, but still in fighting shape. Gwydion, Vulpix and Strike were less so: they were all soaked in blood, much of it theirs, and Vulpix took every step with a pronounced limp. The four of them saw Nitesco and began walking over.

"Gwydion!" Nitesco exclaimed. He breathed a sigh of relief as Gwydion walked over to them. "I was worried I'd sent you to your death."

"You'll have to try harder next time," Gwydion joked, but there was a sense of grim reality in his voice that made Nitesco uncomfortable.

"Colonel Strike. General Zealander. Coronam," Austin said, relief in her tone. "Thank God you're all alive. We were worried sick."

"There was no need," Strike said, somewhat prideful, somewhat sarcastic. "We're alive now, and that's what matters."

"We won't be for much longer if we stay here," Coronam interjected. He turned to the boats and saw Opifexa and the Mask coming down the gangplank. "Are we ready to evacuate?" he asked.

Opifexa rocked back on her heels uncomfortably. "Yes," she said quietly. "But there's a problem." Opifexa paused sheepishly, causing Vulpix to groan.

"Don't keep me in suspense," he bluntly interjected. Opifexa sighed, but the Mask stepped in front of her to deliver the news himself.

"There's not enough time." He spoke frankly. "We're about to be overrun, and we have several thousand troops to load up. Even if we were working at maximum capacity, we probaly won't make it. Our defenses here are solid, but they won't last forever."

"It's true," Vulpix said. "On the west front, the Enablerese overran us. If we hadn't gotten reinforcements in time, we would've died."

"The Enablerese have numbers and experience," Coronam said. "But our foes were something else. Zealous, ferocious, totally willing to die if it meant taking one of us with them."

"Who did you fight?" Austin asked. Coronam's eyes betrayed fear as he looked back at her.

"The Church of Thorns."

Coronam went silent, letting the name sink in. After a few seconds of terse silence, the present commanders erupted in conversation.

"The Church of Thorns has a military?" Nitesco wondered aloud.

"Of course it does," the Mask mumbled.

"We should've destroyed them when we had the chance!" Vulpix declared.

"What do we do now?" Gwydion asked. Austin stood up on a crate and raised her hands in a calming gesture. The commanders slowly stopped their panicked chatter and turned to face her.

"These questions will have to wait," she announced. "I know we're tired. I know we're confused and hurt and defeated. But we can't give up yet. We still need to get out of here, so we can fight another day. Tell your men to begin evacuating, because we have to leave now if we're going to survive."

"Commander Nitesco! Commander Nitesco!" The cries of a worried scout interrupted Austin's speech, and the commanders turned their attention to the young man running toward them. He collapsed to his knees and began coughing violently.

"What happened, soldier?" Nitesco asked. The boy held up a finger and coughed some more, but tried to report in between gasps.

"The Church!" he rasped. "They've broken through the first line of defenses! They're engaging the second, but we don't have much time until they break through that line too!"

"Fuck," the Mask muttered. "Alright, I'll go around and make sure all the boats are ready. Let's get as many as we can." As he sprinted off, the remaining officers cast glances at each other.

"How are we going to do this?" Strike asked. "Like the Mask said, we don't have that much time. Should we make a stand?"

"We'll die if we do that," Gwydion stated. "We need to leave. Get as many men as we can and go."

"But who will be left behind?" Nitesco asked. "We can't take everyone, after all."

"We could reinforce the defenses," Austin suggested. "Send some men to keep the soldiers busy while the rest load up and get away. But who will do it?"

"I will," Coronam suddenly spoke up. Every head turned his way, each person in varying stages of surprise.

"Coronam!" Opifexa exclaimed, breaking etiquette. She gawked unintelligibly, a flurry of emotions trying to escape all at once. "You can't!" she finally stammered.

"If I hold our defenses long enough," he responded calmly, "we can all make it. I'll gather the men and tell them to man the barricades. They're eager for a chance to hit the Church back anyways."

"Are you sure about this?" Vulpix asked. "If you go, there's a good chance you die here."

"I'm prepared for that," Coronam said as nonchalantly as he could. "But we've faced worse odds and pulled through. Go. Gather your men and start loading up. I'll gather mine and get them to form another defensive line."

"Sounds like a plan," Austin said hopefully. The commanders nodded and ran off to their lines, barking orders to their men to begin loading the transports. Only Cinder and Opifexa remained.

"Well, don't just stand here and dawdle," he admonished them, putting on as confident a smile as he could muster. "Get on the transports." In response, Cinder drew his sword and stood up, thrusting his blade in the air.

"I stand with you, my lord!" he shouted. Opifexa drew her diplomat's dagger and thrust it in the air with Cinder. "I stand with you, Coronam," she echoed, though more quietly. Coronam smiled sadly and put his hand on her shoulder.

"I can't let you do that, my friends," he said. "Renora needs you more than I do."

"With all due respect, my lord," Cinder said. "I am a soldier to your uncle before I am a soldier of the League. I swore to protect his bloodline until my death. I will not go."

"Even if it means dying?" Coronam questioned him. Cinder sighed and nodded.

"Even if it means dying. I stand by my word."

"There is nothing I can say to dissuade you?" Coronam asked, but it was for show, and they both knew that.

"Nothing, my lord," Cinder said, his voice unwavering. Coronam nodded sadly.

"And what about you, Opifexa?" Coronam turned back to her. "What have you to say?"

"I stand with you," she echoed again, but the words were fearful. Coronam shook his head.

"You don't have to do that," he said. "Go with the League. You can do more good there than here."

"But what about you?" she asked. Opifexa, though she was not the type to cry, was struggling to control her emotions. Coronam smiled again and patted her on the head.

"I'll be fine," he said. "Now, go. I'll see you back at Renora."

Opifexa smiled sadly and nodded, turned around and, after giving one final wave to Cinder and Coronam, disappeared into the boat. As Cinder wandered away to gather the Renorans, Coronam stood where he was, observing the city. In the distance, large towers of fire sparked upwards into the evening sky. He steeled himself and tightened his grip on his glaive.

The Renoran soldiers began massing around him, directed by Cinder, waiting for orders. Coronam looked into the crowd, seeing that each man wore a face of acceptance: they knew many, if not all of them would not make it back, and yet despite this, stood brave in the face of their fate. It made Coronam a little less afraid.

"Alright men," he bellowed. "The Church is knocking on our doors. They think that they can destroy us in one fell swoop? They're wrong!"

The soldiers erupted in cheers and hollers, which quickly died down at Coronam's glare. He continued: "Our brothers are preparing to retreat, so they can stand to fight these men another day. It's up to us to buy them time, to keep them safe so that the Church does not snuff us out. We will defend them to our dying breaths, and we will live on as heroes!"

The soldiers cheered uproariously, waving their swords and spears in the air. Coronam pointed at the barricades, and the soldiers eagerly broke off to go man them. It made him smile.

"Come on, men," he shouted as he went with them. "Let's give them a fight they'll never forget!"

The Renoran soldiers waited with anticipation as the Church forces closed in. A sea of red suits of armor marked with the symbol of the white rose approached, marching at a steady pace. The Renorans steeled themselves. With no archers among them, all they could do was wait for their foes to engage them in melee. Coronam and Cinder stood alongside the soldiers holding the barricade, glaive and sword at the ready. After some minutes had passed, the church army charged. They crashed into the Renoran wall at full force.

The fighting was fierce. Each Renoran met their foes with no intention of retreating; they would all fight to the bitter end. With this determination they held the line, only being pushed back for brief moments at a time by the sheer force of the Church's push and their numbers slowly dwindling as they were cut down one by one. Their king fought with equal tenacity, taking down one Church soldier after another, doing what he could to keep his troops alive and continue the defense.

As Coronam cleaved another Church soldier, he saw something moving out of the corner of his eye. Thinking it was reinforcements, he let his guard down momentarily, only to receive a horrible surprise when he saw who they were.

A steady stream of Enablerese soldiers was flowing through the streets next to him. They swung their swords wildly and bellowed war cries and curses before colliding with the already damaged Renoran barricades, destroying most of them entirely. Coronam recoiled and stepped back, unsure of what to do. His lines would be decimated, and the docks would be overrun.

Coronam realized what he had to do. There was no time to evacuate his soldiers. Austin and Nitesco needed to leave now.

"Men!" he shouted to the ever-thinning number of Renoran soldiers. "Fall back to the docks! We make our stand there!"

As his men fell in behind him, sprinting to the docks, Coronam hoped that what he was about to do would pay off in the end.

After Coronam had run off to engage the invading forces, Austin had spent the next half an hour flitting about the docks, ensuring that all the soldiers were getting onto the boats as quickly as they could. Every available dock was filled, and every boat's gangplank was flooded with soldiers clamoring to get on. They were moving faster than she'd anticipated, but she could hear the din of battle moving ever closer.

"Nitesco!" she shouted to her fellow commander. Nitesco was on another boat, but he was able to hear her, and he came to the edge. "How are we doing with people?"

"We're almost there," Nitesco said. "Just a few more companies, and we'll have the full load. We can even get a few of Coronam's if they're fast enough."

"I hope so," Austin replied. As the final few soldiers made their way onto the gangplanks, a large explosion rattled everyone, and both Nitesco and Austin turned to see what made the sound. Through the smoke and dust, Austin saw Coronam sprinting into the dockyard, covered in blood from the battle.

"Go!" he shouted, waving his glaive in the air. "There's too many of them! Go!"

"What about you?" Austin yelled back.

"It doesn't matter!" Coronam replied. "I'll be fine. But you must leave now!"

Austin exchanged a conflicted glance with Nitesco, who said nothing but gave a reluctant nod. Austin sighed and turned back to Coronam.

"Godspeed, Coronam," she shouted. "Men! Get these ships ready to sail! We need to leave now!"

The ship underneath her feet lurched suddenly, beginning its escape downriver. As it pulled away, she gazed sorrowfully back at the docks, where Coronam stood, before he sank out of sight.

As Coronam watched the boats sail away, he felt some form of vindication. If he died here, he thought, he would be remembered as a hero. He would be remembered as a good king and a good commander. And there was nothing the Church could do to take that away from him.

Then, an arrow missed his head by barely an inch, reminding him that the Church wasn't quite done with him yet.

Coronam turned around and surveyed the docks: his men had suffered severe casualties, leaving him about a company's worth of men, all of whom were tired and bloodied from earlier fighting. As the final transports pulled away from the docks, the legions of Church Crusaders, Crossharish and Enablerese soldiers they had been fighting flooded into the open area, chanting and cheering for Renoran blood. As Coronam walked to the front of his men, the Church commander emerged from his lines, dressed in brilliant crimson armor with the white rose of the Church blazoned on his chest and his shield. The commander removed his helm and watched patiently as Coronam emerged from the group of Renorans.

"Greetings," he said with offputting friendliness. "I am Champion Jannis, and I represent the Church of Thorns. Are you King Coronam?"

"I am," Coronam wheezed, ignoring the pain in his chest. "What do you want with us? Haven't you taken enough?"

"It seems your fellow commanders have taken more than I have," Jannis said, smug. "They abandoned you to your fate. But you don't have to die here."

"Are you going to demand my surrender?" Coronam asked, impatient and indignant. Jannis frowned.

"I am," he admitted. "This doesn't have to end in unpleasantness. Most of your men have already died. There's no need to waste more."

Coronam sighed, deciding to hear Jannis out, if only to rally his men against it. "What do you want?" he asked.

"All I want is your peaceful surrender," Jannis said. His voice was rough, but sincere. "If you put down your arms and let us take you, we will let you leave this place alive. All we want is information on the League."

"And you'll just let us leave? With no harm to us?" Coronam asked. Jannis nodded.

"And all we'd have to do is betray our fellow soldiers?" Cinder spoke up, appearing at Coronam's side. He, too, was wounded, bleeding heavily from his right leg, but he stood proud and tall nonetheless. It made Coronam smile.

"Well," Jannis said, unsure of how to respond. "When you put it like that…"

"He's right," Coronam said. "We would have to betray our fellows. But a Renoran's vow is unbreakable, and we have sworn ourselves to the League." He turned to his soldiers and raised his glaive in the air.

"We are not oathbreakers! We are Renorans! And we will fight to the end!" Coronam's words, though few, were enough to rouse his soldiers into a reckless fury. All of them cheered and hooted together, fully aware of their impending deaths, and yet, unafraid. He turned back to Jannis, who was shaking his head disappointedly.

"A pity," he said. "But it must be done. Men," Jannis said, and squinted at Coronam. "Kill them. But leave the king for me."

"I will not be some trophy!" Coronam exclaimed, and he pointed at the Crusaders. "Men! Attack!"

The Renorans rushed forward, meeting their enemies with fearless determination. Coronam swung wildly and ferociously at the Crusaders, uncaring for his own safety. As he brought his glaive down into a Crossharish swordsman, he noticed a charging Church spearman, and narrowly dodge the incoming spear thrust.

Instead of following up, Coronam backed away as more soldiers fell upon him, trying desperately to avoid being surrounded. He viciously swung and spun his glaive at the advancing soldiers as he backpedaled, but no matter how many soldiers he cut down, more kept coming. An unarmed skirmisher swept Coronam's legs, and he stumbled backwards into somebody.

"Weak knees, my liege?" Cinder asked, and he yanked Coronam back up to his feet. Coronam staggered up and nodded to Cinder. They were both at the end of their rope: blood was running down their limbs, their armor and weapons were beginning to crack, and both of them were clearly exhausted. Still, Cinder smiled.

Coronam nodded wordlessly at him and turned his attention to the ongoing fight. The Church had eliminated most of their men, leaving only Coronam, Cinder and a handful of others alive. As Jannis emerged from the crowd, bloody greatsword in hand, Coronam readied his glaive and turned to Cinder.

"Ready to die, Cinder?' he asked raspily. Cinder nodded, his smile morphing into an expression of grim acceptance.

"Always, my lord," he responded. Jannis looked on, silently pointing his sword at the remaining Renorans before charging at Coronam himself.

Coronam met Jannis' sword with his glaive, but was quickly forced onto the defensive as Jannis swung at him repeatedly with surprising speed. Coronam attempted to stab him with his guisarme, but Jannis knocked it away with his shield.

"This was unnecessary," Jannis mused. He swung broadly at Coronam, setting him back a few feet. "You should've given in when you had the chance."

"You attacked us first!" Coronam exclaimed. He twirled his glaive at Jannis and prepared to strike, but Jannis attacked first, splitting the shaft of the glaive and leaving Coronam the blade.

"Not so," Jannis said. Another overhand swing twisted Coronam's wrist as he tried to deflect with his newly shortened weapon. "You attacked first, at Enabler. You had the opportunity to peacefully accept the shift of power, and you refused."

"It was not right!" Coronam exclaimed. "She was your puppet!" He slashed at Jannis defiantly, but Jannis merely dodged Cornam's reckless attacks and knocked the blade from his hand.

"That matters little," Jannis said, growing more and more angry. "You didn't defy us out of any moral quandary, or any love of democracy. It wasn't about principle. It was about your own wayward ambition!" Coronam attacked him, in a last show of defiance, with his fists, but Jannis struck him in the head with his shield and sent Coronam, half-unconscious, to the ground.

Coronam hit the ground hard, his head spinning and his entire body aching with the pain of exhaustion. Jannis grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head upward, so he could see the carnage left on the docks.

"And look at what it got you," Jannis chided, the disgust in his voice apparent. "Nothing. Nothing but death and destruction."

Jannis let go of Coronam's hair and walked into the field of bodies. As Coronam surveyed the battlefield, he realized that he was the only one left alive, and that he and Jannis were being watched by all the present soldiers. Jannis stood next to one of the face-down corpses and shook his head.

"I bet you don't even know their names," he chided. He grabbed the corpse by the scruff of its neck and hauled it upward, exposing its face. Cinder's lifeless eyes stared back at Coronam, his face covered in his own blood, and a gaping wound in his head exposed his brain.

"Cinder," Coronam whispered. He became aware of the tears falling down his cheeks. "His name was Cinder."

Jannis looked at the corpse and let it fall limply back to the ground. "Not anymore," he sneered.

"This is your fault," Jannis lectured him as he paced around the bodies. "All of this. If you had just accepted the natural shift of power, none of this would've happened. Your kingdom would be left intact. Your soldiers would have lived long and fruitful lives. And your friends," he said, gesturing back to Cinder, "wouldn't have had to die." Jannis kneeled in front of Coronam, meeting his steely, hateful glare. "Now," Jannis taunted, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Go to hell," Coronam spat. Jannis glared at him.

"You first," he replied, and the last thing Coronam saw was Jannis' fist headed towards his face before he sank into a deep, defeated slumber.

I'll keep this quick: the Meta-Fic will be going into a temporary hiatus after this chapter. I'll be back soon, I promise, but I need a short break from this.