"Where has Septimus gone? He knew about this meeting."

"He's still calculating his losses." replied Richard "So far his division is the one that has paid the highest price."

"Okay, then we'll start without him. What's the situation?"

"So far we have had nearly two hundred dead, and more than double that number injured." said Jack "Unfortunately, as we feared, the artillery is not proving to be of much help, while on the other hand the enemies have immediately learned to use the defensive systems of the fort."

"How ironic." Adrian said. "We worked so hard to make Grote Muren impregnable and now it backfires on us."

"We clearly underestimated the resolve of the enemy."

"This mess could cost us several men." Oldrick said. "If we starve them, sooner or later they will have to give in."

"We don't know how many supplies Lefde and Victor left in there. For all we know they could hold out for weeks. I'm sorry to say it, but at this point a day gained is worth much more than a few hundred casualties."

At that moment Septimus finally made his appearance.

"Finally. We've been waiting for you."

"Sorry I'm late Daemon, but the situation was more serious than I thought."

The bandage around his head made it clear that all the warnings for him to avoid putting himself in excessive danger had gone unheeded, but Daemon now seemed to have resigned himself to the matter and said nothing.

"How many casualties did you have in the end?"

"One hundred and two. And we couldn't even get a soldier to the top of the walls or the battering ram near the gates. What's the news about those new weapons you told us about?"

"They should arrive this evening, or tomorrow morning at the latest."

"At this point maybe it's best to wait until they're here." said Richard. "If what you told us is true they should be able to close the matter."

"Actually I wouldn't have wanted to use them. As I mentioned, they are very dangerous and destructive weapons. Their use could damage our image, which must be as immaculate as possible if we want the population of Eirinn not to be hostile to us."

"But if we lose too many men we might still be forced to use them later."

"I agree with Adrian." said Richard "Sometimes you have to force your hand to get a result. I'm not saying we should sweep them away, but maybe making them understand that we're not afraid to use strong methods could be enough to finally make them give up."

Daemon paced back and forth for a while, looking one now at the map, now at his advisors.

"Okay, we'll do it this way. If the convoy arrives tonight, tomorrow we will use the new weapons to clear our way until we conquer the outer wall, then we will cease the attack. If they're smart, they'll give up at that point rather than stay locked in there and get massacred."

A sudden explosion, the likes of which had never been heard, interrupted the meeting, and its shock wave was so powerful that it made the tent sway. Once outside, Daemon and the others saw a tall column of flames and smoke rising in the distance, in a separate area of the camp.

"Daemon!"

"Scalia! What happened?"

"One of the gunpowder magazines exploded. We are trying to contain the fire."

"How bad is it?"

"There are at least three dead and dozens injured. We also lost some guns."

Everyone agreed that it couldn't have been an accident, considering that everyone knew how dangerous gunpowder was and how it was absolutely forbidden to keep lit fires near the deposits.

"We have been sabotaged." said Oldrick "I'll have the camp searched immediately."

"It would be useless. They will surely have already left. Luckily the new weapons hadn't arrived yet. But increase surveillance around other warehouses and other sensitive places."

"Yes, Daemon."

"They are tenacious, we have to give them credit for that. But tomorrow we will make him understand that the time for games is over."



"I heard the bang all the way here." Abel said when his friend returned "I assume you had something to do with it, right?"

"I would have liked to do more, but they almost discovered me. I fear that at most we will achieve a reduction in the power of their guns."

"That's something."

Yvette, however, did not seem happy with the results achieved, and she remained leaning against the wall staring at the floor with a thoughtful expression.

"Is something wrong?"

"Are we really doing the right thing?"

"We are defending our homeland from an invasion. What could be more just and noble than this?"

"They wouldn't have attacked us if we hadn't done it first. Their commander doesn't seem like a bad person. He has so far always shown compassion for everyone he has met. Maybe if we had tried to talk instead of immediately resorting to weapons..."

"It's not up to us to make these decisions. We have rulers who take care of these things. As soldiers we are expected to follow their orders."

"Yet the inhabitants of this province had no doubts when they decided that whoever governed them was not worthy of the role he held. Now that they are in charge, Western Eirinn seems more prosperous and happy than ever. Then we arrived and told them that no, they have to go back to being what they were before. Is that right in your opinion?"

Whereupon Yvette moved a lock of her long brown hair, revealing slightly pointed ears covered in a thin layer of soft fur.

"My great-great-grandmother was a half-breed, and my ancestors came from Basterwick. If they had remained here when this province was handed over to the Empire, perhaps I would have been a slave too. Can I really say that if that were the case I wouldn't be among them now?"

At that point Abel also lowered his gaze, torn between what he felt intimately and what his pride as a soldier was telling him.

"Only two more days. I promised the General that we would hold out for five days. After that, if he guarantees me not to harm civilians, we will surrender."

Yvette welcomed the news almost with relief.

"Then let's try to give the best of ourselves these last two days."



The next day, however, the attack did not seem to arrive, despite the enemy having taken up positions as usual not far from the fort ready to fight.

Abel, Yvette and all the other defenders gathered on the walls didn't know what to think, at least until they saw the rebels bring eight strange cannons to the front line, small in size but much larger than the ones they usually used.

They brought them close, much closer than they usually did - so much so that with just a few more meters they would have ended up within range of the archers - aiming them not against the fort but upwards.

"I've never seen anything like it." Abel said

"It must be the new weapons they were talking about."

The bullets certainly had to be heavier than normal, so much so that they had to be carried and inserted inside by two soldiers at the same time using a chain equipped with pincers.

When they were all loaded, a kind of L-shaped wooden rod with a weight in the center was placed inside each cannon by some workers, who made signs to the crew to raise their aim even further. Then, after they were finished, the wooden rod was removed and two fuses were lit, one for the cannon and one for the projectile.

"Watch out, they're going to shoot!"

The explosion was more similar to a firework than a cannon shot, producing flaming columns which rose into the sky and fell in a parabolic shot onto the galleries of the walls.

But the most frightening thing was that the moment they hit the ground the bullets produced real explosions, shooting lethal volleys of small bullets, flames and debris in all directions that left dozens dead.

"Quickly, everyone take cover!" Abel shouted, sending everyone towards the pillboxes

Well protected by the barrage of their cannons, the rebel troops quickly advanced towards the fort carrying ladders, grappling hooks and even a battering ram.

The fire was so intense that the besieged remained literally trapped in shelters until the cannons had to cease fire to avoid hitting their allies; and by that point, the rebels were practically at the foot of the walls.

"Let's push them back! Everyone in position, shoot every last arrow!"

The rebels however had clearly underestimated the willpower of their enemies; their resistance was brutal and to the death, without giving a single step, with the result that the attackers were unable to open their way, suffering so many losses during the first wave that their assault ended up losing momentum.

It almost seemed that Abel and his men could really make it once again, at least until the young enemy general, seeing his men one-step away from rout, decided to take the field himself to encourage them.

"Don't give in!" he shouted running to personally take the ram "Keep attacking! We're almost there!"

Spurred by his example and enlivened by the incessant charge played by the trumpeters, the rebels reacted, regaining their courage and resuming the assault in a more cohesive manner.

"The ram is down here! They'll soon break down the door!"

"There is no other solution... retreat, retreat! Fold back into the inner walls!"

The rebels, however, were now possessed, and when it became clear that the door would not resist for long, the retreat turned into a desperate flight towards safety.

Abel and Yvette tried to maintain order, but even they briefly panicked when the rebels finally broke in from everywhere while the evacuation to the inner fort was still underway, continually spurred on by their leader who led the assault.

At that point, Yvette did the first thing she could think of to demoralize the enemy.

"Give me that weapon!" she screamed as she snatched the crossbow from a fleeing comrade.

She aimed as best she could and fired.

Not even Ivanon, the legendary archer of the Holy Wars, could have done better; her bolt hit right in the center of the chest, piercing the armor, and the enemy commander fell to the ground with his eyes wide open, almost without realizing what had happened.

"General Septimus has been wounded!"

At that point, there were only two possibilities: either his men would panic and flee or they would go on a rampage to avenge him.

For Abel, Yvette and their men's good luck, the first option occurred; the rebel soldiers used the little self-control left to them to erect a shield wall around their commander, and as soon as he was taken away, they began to fall back until they retreated completely.

This, however, did not improve the general situation; the external wall was now lost, and with the losses suffered during that attack it was unthinkable to hope to be able to retake it.

But in reality what robbed Abel and Yvette of every drop of optimism was the feeling of having just done something they would soon regret.



When Daemon entered the hospital tent he had a look that no one remembered ever seeing on him, and which became, if possible, even darker the moment he reached Septimus's bed.

The surgeon had extracted the arrow and applied the medicines, giving way to Sylvie and her magical arts when he understood that conventional medicine could do nothing else.

"How's he?"

"He was very, very lucky." said Oldrick "If it hadn't been for the spider armor the arrow would have pierced his chest."

"Lady Sylvie, tell me he will be fine."

"It's too soon to say, unfortunately. His lung is punctured, and his heart barely beats. I can only infuse my magic into him while I try to heal the wound, but it will all depend on his willpower."

At that moment the boy weakly opened his eyes, immediately meeting those of his best friend.

"Daemon..." he said, holding out his trembling hand towards him

"I'm here, Septimus. Don't move. You are seriously injured."

"I... I'm sorry. I... I couldn't resist... I did it my way again..."

"I've always told you that you're very stubborn. But it's thanks to you that we took the outer wall. So now rest. You've done your part. Now let us take care of it."

Septimus sketched a smile before his tiredness and above all his pain, unbearable despite the anesthetics, made him faint.

"Oldrick."

"Yes?"

"Call everyone."



Word of what happened to Septimus spread through the camp before the War Council meeting was even called.

The news was uncontrolled and contradictory, also because access to his room was forbidden to anyone; the only known thing was that as long as Lady Valera remained in the tent it meant that Septimus was still alive.

Anger and frustration were in the air, as well as a general sense of revenge, and not only because deliberately targeting the officers had always been considered a vile and dishonorable action: Septimus was a good General, a brave soldier, but above all a drinking companion and a reliable friend.

And among all of them, no one seemed more eager to mete out just revenge for what had happened than Daemon, whose eyes for the first time shone not with the light of guidance, but with the inexhaustible fire of anger.

Yet no one, not even those who knew him best, could have ever imagined what he had decided to do to put an end to the siege once and for all.

After he finished speaking, it almost seemed as if a cold wind had swept through the inside of the tent, freezing everything.

"And that's all. I hope you will all agree with me."

Paradoxically, Scalia was the most shocked of all: "Daemon, I... I understand perfectly how you feel. We too are angry and want to avenge Septimus. But what you're proposing is... I can't find another term, Daemon, it's ruthless."

"For once, I think the same as her." Adrian said.

"Whoever commits such an action must be ready to pay the consequences."

"Exacting necessary revenge is understandable, but some might think this is too much. And honestly, I wouldn't feel like blaming them."

"You have always acted sensibly and with reason, Daemon." Jack said. "Don't stop now. In all choices, judgment is needed, as you often say."

"To hell with the judgment. Sometimes you need to send signals."

"Septimus is also our friend." Oldrick said. "And we also want our enemies to pay for what they did to him, but..."

Daemon rose from his chair so violently that he nearly tipped the table over.

"I'm not going to lose one more soldier in this damned valley! I tried to be reasonable! I have offered them an honorable surrender on multiple occasions and they have refused! Enough now!"

Some of those present almost didn't believe this was the same Daemon they had always known.

It's difficult to say because at that point no one else raised a word of protest, nor made any further attempts to oppose his decision.

One thing however was certain; that was the first time that everyone, without exception, were afraid of him.



That night, a message that left no room for interpretation boomed like thunder throughout the valley.

The final assault would begin at six o'clock, and would continue until the enemy was completely obliterated, or until the flag of Eirinn flying atop the fort was lowered.

Needless to say, that night was very long and dramatic for the besieged.

The soldiers were divided; some wanted to give up, believing that they had already done more than anyone could have expected from them, while others – the majority – wanted to continue fighting.

They discussed, argued, almost started brawling; Yvette knew she was responsible for the sudden change in attitude of the rebels, but her proposal to offer herself as a sacrificial victim to appease the anger of the enemy in exchange for a surrender without further bloodshed met with everyone's opposition.

After all, everyone said, she had done the only thing she could to save the lives of her men, and honor was secondary when survival was at stake.

In the end everyone decided to hold out until midnight, until the fifth day expired; at that point, they could have surrendered and left the fort with their heads held high, knowing that they had done their duty to the last.

They expected a more violent attack than usual, driven by exasperation and the desire to take revenge; but they could never have imagined what the enemy commander had prepared for them.

The next morning the valley was dominated by a leaden sky that announced rain, and an unusual cold wind coming from the north made the air humid and heavy.

The new cannons had been brought closer until they almost touched the outer walls of the fort; behind them the entire rebel army watched almost in parade formation, like spectators about to witness the most frightening of shows.

Daemon, who hadn't slept a wink all night, paced back and forth in front of everyone, keeping his arms crossed behind his back and constantly checking his watch.

From Scalia to Oldrick to Jack, even Adrian seemed to be hoping with all their might that the flag would finally be lowered. But that didn't happen; and at the fatal stroke of the sixth hour, the darkest dejection appeared in everyone's eyes.

But not in Daemon's.

"Fire."

There is only one word that can describe what began to rain on the heads of Eirinn's soldiers under his command; hell.

It was as if the gates of Belion had opened above Grote Muren, raining down upon it an avalanche of metal, fire, blood... and death.

One explosion followed another, then another, at an incessant and almost inconceivable pace; the cannons did not fire in unison, and this, in addition to making it impossible to predict the arrival of the grenades, resulted in a continuous succession of shots.

Even the shelters on the walls could not resist for long against such a bombardment, so the only thing to do was to retreat inside the central tower.

Abel and the others expected that at that point the rebels would exploit the moment to advance quickly, take control of the outer wall as well and then launch the final assault.

But no.

They kept on shooting.

Again, again, and again.

For minutes, hours. It looked like they had decided to burn the place to the ground with everything that was inside.

"There is no hope! – Let's give up! – If we stay here they will bury us all! – I don't want to die!"

"Don't give in, soldiers! We must resist! Think of your homeland! Think of your families! We can't let this happen to them!"

"Abel, watch out!"

Abel didn't notice anything until he felt himself being violently pushed away, just before seeing her best friend disappear behind an entire portion of the building which collapsed on her, filling everything with noise, dust and debris.

"Yvette!"

"Captain, give us some orders! – Captain! - What are you doing? – It's useless Captain, she's dead! - What are we going to do? – Captain, watch out!"



The central tower of the fort was robust, perhaps the best fortified and most resistant part of the entire building.

But the new weapons, the mortars as Daemon had called them, were so powerful and destructive that a few shots were enough for it to begin to collapse in on itself.

According to Daemon, damaging the internal wall or the tower itself was an easily repairable collateral damage, especially given that the external walls had remained almost intact.

However, this doesn't mean that soon more than one person began to wonder whether all that ferocity was really necessary.

Sapi looked like she was about to cry.

Scalia was so nervous that she couldn't sit still.

Oldrick, Jack and Richard were speechless.

Adrian and Natuli observed the scene with enviable indifference.

Some thought that all this was wrong, some that it was inevitable, some that this too meant waging war.

But no one disobeyed.

The order was clear, and before retreating to his tent Daemon was keen to reiterate it: let the cannons thunder until the flag was lowered.

And so the attack continued.

Ruthlessly.

Wildly.

Little by little, many soldiers returned to the camps, some out of boredom, some because they were simply unable to bear such a thing.

By sunset, only the servants and a few diehards remained.

The flag was still there, now reduced to a burnt rag attached to the pole by only one corner, but it was still flying.

A shot hit what remained of the roof of the tower, and the sight of that blue and white piece of canvas thrown into the sky by the explosion led some to believe that this was too much.

"Daemon." Adrian said, almost fearfully moving the tent flaps aside.

He didn't even turn to look at him, remaining hunched over the table studying his maps. "What's up?"

"I think that's enough."

A very long silence followed, broken by the incessant booming of the cannons.

"All right. Stop it. I want a damage estimate by tomorrow. If you find any survivors, treat them."

"It will be done. Oh, by the way."

"Yes?"

"Septimus is safe. I have just spoken with Lady Valera."

"... I understand. You can go..."

Adrian only had time to take a few steps before a sudden din began to come from inside the tent, similar to that of a tavern brawl, drowned out by sobs and angry screams.