Kingdom of Fire

by Nick S. Thomas

  Markus looked at his men, looking to see if they would support him if he opposed a Lord in his Hall. Markus would never choose to fight a noble of the Kingdom, but neither would he return without the army that the Count needed. Tough times required tough actions.

  Markus looked back as the guards approached them. As the spear point of the first man’s halberd closed against Markus, he reached for the head and ripped the shaft from the man’s grip, throwing it to the ground.

  All eight of the men rushed at the three armour clad-knights. A vicious fight ensued where Markus and his two friends did all that they could to not seriously harm the disillusioned guards. With their lightning fast timing, the men ducked and voided the guards’ strikes, disarming when they could and striking with punches, elbows and kicks at every opportunity.

  Within minutes, four of the guards lay unconscious on the floor, two having surrendered, and another two nursing their wounds at the sidewalls. Lord Holbein looked on in a panic. Markus stepped up to the table and grabbed him by his collar, wrenching him over the table and onto the wooden floor. He landed hard and rolled several times to a standstill.

  Getting back to his feet with a sigh of pain, the Lord drew a knife from his belt. He looked at Markus with utter spite and hatred, a true envious coward. He ran at Markus in a fit of rage, trying to strike down with a hammer grip to Markus’ collar, exposed because he was not wearing his mail coif and helmet. Markus parried with his arms crossed above him and then quickly gripping the weapon with his right hand and drove his left elbow into Holbein’s shoulder, twisting his arm in its socket and driving his face down into the floor.

  The coward’s face smashed into the floor, a feeling of pain and humility he had never known, letting out of a cry of agony as he was pinned to the ground. Markus looked up with a satisfied grin to his men, there were few things as gratifying as putting a coward and bully in his place.

  “Lord Holbein, you are a disgrace to your country and to your family before you. I cannot force you to go to war, and I would not want to stand beside you in battle!”

  “I’ll do anything, please!” he squirmed.

  “You will order a muster of your soldiers, and I shall address them personally, seeing as you cannot be trusted with the safety and order of the land. I will force no man to go to war, they can decide for themselves who will follow me at the Count’s command,” said Markus.

  With his face still wedged against the floor, he could do little more than mutter his words.

  “This is my city, you have no rule here,” cried Holbein.

  Markus released his grip from the Lord and stood back up. Holbein got to his feet, blood dripping from his nose. He was red with anger, but also utterly at Markus’ will. Markus slapped the shamed Lord about the face. He looked up in a rage.

  “How dare you!” he shouted

  Markus looked unimpressed. He slapped the Lord again, harder this time.

  “Rule is given to men who deserve it or those capable enough to take it, you are neither. You despise me because I am not of noble birth, but you are the dirt beneath my feet, I will have no more of your insults!” shouted Markus.

  “Why should I do this for you? What are you going to do if I say no?”

  Markus picked up the Lord’s dagger from the ground with his right hand. With his left, he grabbed at the doublet of Holbein and slammed him back against the table. He pushed the dagger into the man’s body, just enough to draw blood. Holbein winced at the minor wound. He was clearly a stranger to pain, never having had to fight his own battles.

  “A real Lord might treat you as your title requires, but as you have already said, I am not a real Lord, and I can treat you however I like while you are so pathetic and helpless to do anything about it. We entered this room unarmed and were set upon by your men, it would be unfortunate if you were killed in self defence, for we came meaning no harm, and on the Count’s orders.”

  Holbein looked over to one of the guards who lay against the wall, hunched over and reeling from the stomach punch he had received.

  “Do it, call our men to the yard, assemble our forces!” shouted Holbein.

  Markus released his grip on the Lord. Holbein was beaten this day, but Markus was well aware that this man would cause more trouble in the future. He had made an enemy within his own land, but he knew there was nothing left for it. Without success at Lienzberg, the Kingdom would almost certainly fall before the year was out. He looked to one of the guards who had surrendered.

  “Go and fetch our sword belts. Bull, take two of the men and escort him.”

  Horns rang out throughout the city, the call for the fighting men of the city to assemble. Markus knew he had not acted as any Lord would, but he thought more about Vesart’s assessment of the situation. Perhaps the Count did indeed send him as the blunt instrument he knew he was. He found it truly astonishing that there were men in power in Werstria with so little backbone and sense.

  He turned to Vesart who stood with a wide grin on his face, amused by the whole situation. The guards around them stumbled to their feet, still wincing in pain and bleeding from several superficial wounds.

  * * *

  The knights stood beside Lord Holbein at his balcony looking out across the three thousand men who had mustered inside the city. It was a marvel to wonder at, Markus could only hope to convince a portion of the army to follow him. The courtyard was awash with the shine of armour and the flamboyance of their colourful clothing. Most of the men carried pikes and halberds, not all ideal for the fighting they were to march to, but better to have the soldiers than not.

  Markus stared at Lord Holbein, who looked more uncomfortable than ever. He looked down to see Markus gripping the hilt of his sword, he knew he had no choice left, sweat dripped from his brow, he had the look of a defeated man.

  “Men of Ambstern, I give you Lord Markus Handel, representative of Count Klaus Kohler!”

  “The city of Lienzberg fell to the forces of Karsia just before winter fell on Werstria. Count Kohler is amassing an army to re-take the city. With their foothold over the Ensee, I can guarantee you that the war will come to this city within the year!” shouted Markus.

  He could already hear mutterings below from the troops. It was clear that Holbein had not explained the full facts of the situation to his people, choosing to ignore the impending threat and simply hope for the best.

  “I have seen the Karsian barbarians with my own eyes. I fought them and I have killed them. But I have also seen the destruction they leave in their path. My brother was killed by them my father too. This pain and suffering will be at your doorsteps if you do not fight back now!”

  Further chatter broke out among the men, as worried as they were unsure of what to think or do. Markus looked over to Holbein who had a disgusting grin upon his face, revelling in the lack of enthusiasm for Markus’ cause.

  “I cannot promise that you will survive if you follow me but I can promise that you will have the opportunity to fight like men! To the west, your brothers in arms fight for the freedom of your families, would you have them risk everything alone? You have until first light to make your decision. Those who wish to follow me, be before the gates of the city at dawn, and be equipped for a siege!”

  “It is a foolish request, these men will not follow you because you asked them to,” Holbein laughed.

  “We’ll see. We stay the night. I expect my men to be billeted and well fed. Should any harm come to us in the night, it will be returned threefold on yourself and your family.”

  * * *

  It was an uneasy night for the Salbein Knights, not knowing whether to expect retaliation from the Lord or not, or when it might come. Markus had two guards posted at all times through the night, and he got little sleep himself. This had been a riskier mission than any of them could have anticipated, expecting nothing more than to deliver a message and consult the Lord. Markus could only wonder if the Count would approve of his actions, but he knew it didn’t matter now
. All that Kohler would care about was men willing to fight.

  The knights were up and before the gates of the city before dawn, when the first rays of light began to pierce the forests in the distance. They waited uneasily for the response of the men of Ambstern, praying they would find at least some support.

  They stared intently at the open gates. Finally, a man stepped through, a halberd on his shoulder and helmet dangling from it. A few moments later, there was another, and another. Within minutes soldiers were flooding down the ramp towards the knights, an awe-inspiring sight. The men fell into columns, an ever-growing army.

  Within twenty minutes the forces had assembled. Vesart estimated that they had just over a thousand men at their command, a far cry from the capable fighters within the city, but a substantial improvement on what they did have at the siege.

  Most of the men were equipped with halberds or other pole weapons, partisans and billhooks. They wore coats of plates and a mixture of plate armour. A number had large two-handed swords, not unlike those that Bull and Markus carried themselves. Like most of the Werstrian soldiers, colour puff sleeves stuck out from their armour, a marvel of colour. Several horse carts assembled behind them loaded with supplies. A soldier among them with finer armour than the rest stepped forward to approach Markus.

  “Lord Handel. I am Captain Durer. You have eleven hundred and five men at your command. Few of our officers have taken up arms, and the Lord Holbein will not allow us to carry the banners of the city. We have no desire to leave our homes and families, but we have faith in the Count, and little in the Lord Holbein. We have received hardly any news of the war, a deliberate attempt I suspect by Holbein to keep us in the dark. These men are at your command, my Lord.”

  “Thank you, Captain. We have no time to waste, for the siege awaits us. Move out!”

  The knights turned to lead the column as Durer shouted out his commands, relayed on by sergeants along the lines. They set to the road, a full day’s march.

  Chapter 10

  It was a quiet dark night when Markus’ column reached the camp. They assembled their tents under torchlight and got what little sleep they could throughout the night. Waking up to another pleasantly warm morning, Markus vacated his tent and looked out towards city. The Werstrians had already erected thick wooden walls to house the cannons they had drawn up. He could just make out the shape of Count Kohler stood upon the siege works, looking out to the walls of Lienzberg.

  Strapping on his sword belt, Markus strolled over to the works to greet the Count. All around the camp men were preparing for the day to come, having their first meal of the day and preparing their equipment. The Count stood alone at the middle of the gun wall, only a handful of men working along it.

  “Count Kohler, Sir,” said Markus.

  He turned to see who approached him, and smiled at seeing Markus.

  “I am told you brought over a thousand men from Ambstern, but without their leader.”

  “He refused to come to the calling of the King, Sir.”

  “And yet you brought a sizeable number of his men, I cannot believe for a moment that Holbein would have given them freely.”

  “No, he needed some persuasion.”

  The Count smiled, he was both impressed at what Markus had achieved, but also glad of his judge of character.

  “Well done. In an ideal world we needed Holbein’s assistance, but if he will do nothing but hide behind his walls, then it is left to better men to fight this battle.”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “I have already told you, my dear boy, you are a Lord by right now. I will not have you call me Sir, you may call me Klaus, or Count Kohler in more formal settings.”

  “How are the preparations?”

  “We have been bombarding the walls for two days, it could be several more before we can breach them.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Wait, be ready, and be vigilant. I meet with the Lords at my tent at midday, be there.”

  Markus looked out at the massive fortress. The thousands of men who had assembled to take it were dwarfed by its presence. He wondered how many men defended it, but nobody had any real insight into those figures. He knew it would be a bloody affair taking back the city, but nothing had weighed so heavily on his mind since his brother’s death.

  Markus and his men sat out for the morning, a welcome rest after their continuous state of travelling over recent times. Markus and some of the knights sat beside a fire, one of the men prepared breakfast on it for them.

  “The Karsians will never give up the city,” said Bull.

  “I think the Count is well aware of that, he has not paused to negotiate, nor considered waiting them out,” said Markus.

  “Just as well, as they would rather starve than give up the city. We would be waiting here for months, and who knows what other armies they could amass in that time,” said Vesart.

  “Do you believe we can take the city, Vesart?” asked Markus.

  “We must succeed, any alternative will be a disaster for the Kingdom.”

  “We’ll take it,” said Bull.

  The cannon crews arrived to man the guns and began their routine of bombarding the walls. Markus and his men simply sat and watched the display as the guns roared all morning. They were mesmerised by the continuous barrage, but also amazed at what little damage it did to the mighty walls. It would be another day or two at least before they could breach the walls.

  At midday, Markus made his way to Kohler’s tent as the Count had requested. He was restless and eager for action. Despite his successes, Markus felt as though he was yet to prove himself to the Count and Lords of the army. He arrived to find the men already talking intently over a map laid out across the Count’s table.

  “Markus! Welcome. Some new information has come to light which is both highly concerning, but also a great opportunity. We knew Lienzberg fell within a day to the Karsian forces, but nobody knew quite how. As you have seen here, the time and resources needed to breach the walls are substantial,” said Kohler.

  “So how did they manage it?” Markus asked him.

  “With a single cannon, larger than anything we have seen before. It fires shells as large as a cart. The few that escaped the city brought news to us when they could. Initially we thought they had exaggerated, being a little crazy from the traumatic loss.”

  “I have never heard of such a monster.”

  “No, none of us have. They rebuilt the walls that they flattened over the winter, hence us having no idea what had happened. It is known as The Beast. We have a number of concerns about this new threat. First, Wolfdenberg could likely be its next target. But secondly, with such a weapon they would not have to breach a city, they could simply destroy everything within it.”

  “What can we do?” asked Markus.

  “We have reports that this Beast is in Ternen. It is lightly guarded, as with the capture of Lienzberg they do not expect our forces to move further west. We cannot spare a major force to siege the town, nor give them any indication that we know of its presence there. However, a small force travelling lightly through the night might stand a chance of being able to sabotage it.”

  The men went silent, each considering carefully the information they had been given. All were eager to fight but in a stand up battle, not a night raid far into enemy territory. Markus knew it was a highly dangerous mission, and without the glory of the siege. He also knew it was his opportunity to prove his mettle.

  “I’ll do it,” said Markus.

  The Lords looked at each other and to the Count, unsure of how to respond.

  “Do you not think we should send someone more experienced?” asked Lord Cranach.

  The Count looked at the map, deep in thought. He was hoping for a more positive response from the leaders, more of them volunteering to assist.

  “First you make the boy a Lord and now you will task him with such a vital mission?” asked Lord Neumann.

  “The boy has more
than proven himself in this war, a damn sight more than the rest of you gentleman have. Not only that, he is the only one among you who volunteers to risk his life in the service of the Empire. I rather suggest you look to your responsibilities, before criticising the actions of others who have already fought bloody battles in our name!” shouted Kohler.

  Lord Neumann looked sheepish, but the Count could still feel the disdain the man had for both Markus and himself. The hatred and competition between the Lords was forever a thorn in the Empire’s side, conflicting with each other whenever there was not an enemy to fight.

  “Markus, I commend you on your bravery, and accept your offer. I can guarantee you that this will be a dangerous mission, and you can only take the bare essentials of men and equipment. I suggest six men, hand weapons only, no heavy armour.”

  “I can do that, but how do we destroy The Beast?”

  “Lord Cranach, please explain.”

  “We do not know much about The Beast, other than its size, and that it seems to use some form of explosive ball as ammunition. You will be able to do little to damage it with anything you can take with you. The key to destroying it will be to use the weapon’s own powder and charges to destroy itself. These explosive shells, they must be lit before being pushed down the barrel. I suggest you pack five times the powder down the barrel, as much as you can find, then role one of those giant rounds down the barrel on a long fuse.”

  “You think that will do it?” asked Markus.

  “Yes, as far as any of us can tell. The pressure build up in the barrel will be immense, and it should shatter the gun into a thousand pieces. All I can say is, once you throw that lit charge down the barrel, you need to run for your lives,” said Kohler.

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  “But no less dangerous, I wish you every luck.” said Cranach.

  “Gentleman, I leave matters in your hands, I must have further words with Markus.”