Chapter 207: Under Siege
“Stack the logs against the wall there!” Kartania shouted. She took a moment to look down at her list and checked another item off, then shouted to anyone within earshot, “Do we have the final word from the nomad camp? Brazz will need to know ASAP.”
Castle Astrye’s courtyard was abuzz with activity—and with people. At first, Kartania hadn’t thought they’d be able to fit the entire town inside, but that hadn’t been an issue. She clenched the slim board behind the list so hard it cracked. If only she’d not been dumb enough to think she could change the Church.
“That’s the last of the logs. Enough for temporary shelters and fire for two weeks,” Gareth said, jogging over. “I can help with bark stripping; we’ll keep what we can for kindling.”
“Sure,” Kartania said absentmindedly. Her thoughts were a mess.
She was the marchioness’ sister, and with Brazz and Nelys’ acknowledgement had become, in effect, acting marchioness. It was all too sudden.
“You alright?”
She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked over to see Gareth worrying behind a bark-strewn mustache.
The sight made her snort. Then again, not everyone in the Church was a bastard. “Check your beard.”
The other former paladin’s brow furrowed and he wiped at the hairs with the back of a gauntleted hand. “Better?”
It wasn’t. “Not really.”
Gareth shrugged. “Look, I know you don’t like compliments, but you’re doing a good job.”
Kartania looked down at her half-completed list, then up at the gaping hole in the wall where fill was being dumped in as fast as mortared stone could be laid. “Not good enough.”
Gareth sighed. “I’ll get to stripping logs then.”
By the time Kartania had thought to thank him, he was out of earshot and the next two problems were shouting at her. At least Brazz was handling affairs inside, organizing supplies and sleeping arrangements while Kartania figured out how the hell a down-on-food town of five-hundred or so people was going to hold out against an assault.
She’d found what might’ve been shielding runes on the walls, but they’d been overloaded and were nothing more than pockmarked stone. Kartania almost wished Renna had been more subtle; but if she had, there might not be a town to save.
Couldn’t she have just punched the shield itself?
Within the hour, a messenger came back from the nomad camp. The reply was courteous, but boiled down to “no our problem.” Which was good, because it wasn’t. Fewer defenders, but food was going to be the real issue. Like any good castle, Castle Astrye had a well and it was full of clean water from the rock it abutted.
So if they did come under siege, and the wall fooled the attackers long enough for the mortar to harden, they had a chance of holding out until Zarenna came back. It was a little sliver of hope that pierced when grabbed.
Work continued through the night, and by morning Kartania had hardly slept. Neither had Brazz, if the bags under her eyes were any indication. Today, thanks to demonic labor, the wall was topped off. It looked like shit and was held together with ice magic on the outside and wooden scaffold on the inside, but it would look whole from a distance.
The few who could were drilling with what weapons they had under Keran and Gareth’s command. Joisse who could scale the wall and Shyll who could fly over were out hunting and foraging while A-frames of shelters and storage structures were going up in a courtyard burned free of snow.
Given another week, and they might have a shot of mounting a defense. At most, however, they had two days.
Shyll returned around noon to dispel them of even that comfort.
“Surely they’ll rest for the night?” Kartania asked, hopeful.
She, Shyll, and Brazz were seated in Renna and Seyari’s room, now covered in documents and crates of valuable supplies. The bed had been flipped up against a wall, sheets and blankets folded and ready to be torn for bandages if need be.
The short, capricious, demon responded with an unusually serious shake of her head. “The good news is that the useless bookworm Oszandius got here on time. From what he’s heard, your king didn’t approve this demon hunt, so there might be a war or something.”
Kartania flinched, a flash of cold running all the way from neck to tailbone.
“War?” Brazz asked. “There’s a peace treaty right now, isn’t there? Between the Empire and Edath… and how does the Church factor into that anyway?”
“The Treaty of Gedon considers Church aggression into Edath equal to Ordian aggression,” Kartania said through tight lips. “Unless there’s a clear and present cause to defend the populace and Edath’s government is compliant or has been rendered unilaterally incapable.”
Shyll stifled a laugh; Kartania punched her.
The diminutive demon glowered at her. “What? Don’t you see the loophole?”
“I see someone in dire need of an etiquette lesson.” Fist forward, Kartania left no room for interpretation of that said “lesson” would entail.
“Don’t start this,” Brazz warned. “We need both of you. So… I’m no politician. Well, I am, but not by choice. Point is, the only way they get away with this is if Edath approves or if Edath can’t disapprove, right? What’s to stop them claiming some bullshit reason and just stomping in?”
Kartania hissed. “Supposedly, morality. There’s more to the wording, but they should have needed to prove King Carvalon was under demonic influence and the threat to the populace is beyond what Edath’s own forces could handle. Which in turn should have taken weeks of bureaucracy to clear.”
Razz growled. “Bullshit. Edath isn’t in that kind of danger! If anything, we are, and we’re defending against it already.”
“Right, unless Envy’s ramped up their attacks in Edath.”
Raz’s eyes went wide. “Wait… there’s no way—”
“No.” Kartania thumped her fist on the table. “The Church is corrupt, dogmatic, and condescending, but they would never work so openly with a demon. Mordwell would have had backing outside the inquisition had that been the case, and I spent a decade searching for that link.”
“They’re just using them!” Shyll squeaked. “Wow, mortals are idiots!”
“You wanna amend that?” Brazz asked, half teasing and half a threat.
“Nah. But you folks are alright anyway.”
The lupael rolled her eyes. “Gee, thanks. So Envy’s targeting us, and this violence gives enough cause to pull this stunt?”
Kartania placed an elbow on the table and rested her chin in one hand. “Maybe. It’s convenient, but it’s not going to be enough. King Carvalon’s a bastard, but he hates the Church. He’ll argue this, and it’s going to drag my sister right into the thick of it.”
“So war.”
“Probably.”
Brazz’s ears flattened against her head. “Any chance we could just close the pass once the aid gets here and ignore it? I was here during the last civil war and aside from one draft, we weren’t affected at all.”
“You weren’t the target before,” Kartania countered, frowning. “But there’s no use worrying over that now. My sister’s the one who answers to the king, so she’ll have the final say.”
“You think she’s going to agree to join if it comes to war.”
“I do. She’s too much of a bleeding heart. And what’s worse is that this’ll be a war on the back of a broken truce. Even at the worst of the civil war, there were rules. Who knows what will happen if neither side thinks they could trust the other’s word?”
Brazz swore. “Well if this is the fucking good news, what’s the bad news, Shyll?”
“Army’s set to enter the town before sunset.”
Kartania wanted to hit her again. “Fuck. How much time?”
Shyll shrugged. “Three hours tops.”
“Then we can’t sit around and talk.” Kartania stood up, fast enough for her chair to clatter to the ground behind her. “We need to make sure the gate’s secure, check the wall repairs, and get everyone into position.”
Brazz stood up after her and offered a handshake. “Let’s do our best, then. We’ll hold out until Renna and Seyari get here.”
“You think she can stop an army?” Shyll sounded incredulous. “She’s a lot weaker than my Sovereign, and Lillith wouldn’t take this fight.”
Kartania chuckled darkly. “I have no idea. But I do know that we’re going to find out.”
***
Kartania stood with Brazz atop the castle wall as the Church forces approached, and her heart sank. This wasn’t just a punitive expedition, this was an army, hundreds strong. Behind the church, another, smaller group marched, holding the crest of the Duchy of Norgath on two tall banners.
They sent scouts through the city, but skirted the edge, heading straight for the castle. At the conglomerate’s head, on a well-armored horse, was a high priest she recognized, a woman by the name of Sylvia.
Sylvia was one of the Church’s strongest, and was a damn sight more vicious than Grants had been. For all the late high priest was a blind zealot, he also fancied himself a good man, and he’d even held some amount of compassion for demon-blooded. Sylvia? She’d see them all burned at the stake if the other high priests didn’t hold her in check.
Out of all the people who could have been leading, she was the worst to negotiate with. Because she absolutely wouldn’t.
“Recognize her?” Brazz whispered.
“Yes,” Kartania answered. “She’s bad news for negotiating.”
“How bad?”
“If she had her way, demon blooded children wouldn’t even get a chance to grow up.”
Brazz’s ears went flat against her head and she growled. “At least I won’t feel bad killing her. If we even can. Do we still try to negotiate?”
Kartania nodded. “They’ll see through a bluff that Renna’s here but not willing to talk, but we should make it anyway, stall for time. Deflect if we can.”
Next to her, Brazz took a deep breath, in and out. Behind the pair, one of the few who’d stayed from the nomads, a wind mage of middling power, set up magic to project their voices.
“State your business!” Kartania shouted.
Sylvia looked up. Magic from an aide swirled, and her voice sailed up on the wind, full of condescension. “By order of the Church of Dhias, you are to be freed from the demon’s yoke.”
Next to Kartania, Brazz muttered words under her breath, then said in a practiced cadence. “By the King’s word, and by the Treaty of Gedon, you have no grounds to issue such an order!”
“A demon has wormed its way into the nobility of Edath, one who apparently requires minions to do her bidding. The kingdom’s will is forfeit.”
“Send a messenger with orders showing the Empress’s seal,” Kartania fired back. “Else this is a breach of the treaty, and an act of war!” She held her hands against her sides to keep from shaking. Could they hit her with magic at this distance? She’d have time to stop it, right.
Surprisingly, Sylvia responded with words rather than violence. “To wait for the Empress’s orders would be to squander lives. Open the gates, and we will grant a swift death to those who consorted with the demon.”
Brazz took a deep breath and held her shaking chin up. “As acting Mayor of Astrye, appointed by Marchioness Zarenna Miller and confirmed by the people, we do not recognize your authority without such proof as asked. The gates will not open until you comply!”
“The ‘marchioness’ no longer holds authority,” came the swift reply.
A rider from under the duke’s banner came forward, reading off a scroll. “Under order from Duke Ludwig Reynard, the March of Astrye is hereby annexed into the Duchy of Norgath, pursuant to the ineligibility of the false marchioness’s title and the prior cessation of ownership by the good King Carvalon. Glory to Edath!”
Sylvia visibly bristled at the messenger’s last words, then looked up with a sneer. “Your so-called marchioness holds no title. She is a demon and an enemy of humanity. You are outnumbered and overpowered. Open. The. Gate.”
Brazz looked at Kartania for help and mouthed “sorry.”
“King Carvalon has not revoked the marchioness’s title!” Kartania shouted. “Under no law of the Kingdom of Edath can Duke Ludwig claim possession over Astrye. If you do not wish to break the Empire’s treaty, or endanger your liege’s title, leave now.”
“You will regret those words!” Sylvia shouted as the magic cut and she motioned toward the army.
“May winter’s chill freeze your bones!” Brazz shouted back even as their own magic cut.
The pair of them stayed on the wall, watching as the army split and made camp. After all, there was little daylight left and a night assault would only favor those whose bodies would not be reflected by moonlight against pale snow. The Church’s caution in the face of the unknown, and their certainty of victory, would be the only things keeping Castle Astrye standing for one more night.
Some of the Church and duke’s forces headed into the town. Even with the food moved to the castle’s storage, the small city of Astrye would offer the attackers shelter and wood. As did the forest, but any who dared would find themselves picked off by Shyll.
“They’ll build a battering ram tonight,” Kartania said. “That they don’t have any siege equipment is proof that this action is not sanctioned by the Empire.”
“You actually think they can take the gates down?” Brazz asked.
“If they can get their mages close enough, they won’t even need a ram.” She didn’t mention the unfinished wall repair; it’d only invite disaster. “The only thing that kept them from charging was the early sunset of Astryan winter.”
Already, the mountain’s shadow was creeping across the city and plunging it into darkness. Kartania strode down from the wall and started barking orders. “Have those who can see in the dark post watch tonight. They’ll try to fly assassins over the wall.”
She looked up and saw Brazz staring out over the empty snowfield, still an unbroken sheet ahead of where the Church forces had stopped. Please get here soon, Sister.