Hooves pounded along the southward road to Ostia Anir.
The Messenger and the Guardsmen surrounding him were all pushing their steeds to near total exhaustion, pushing
themselves to near total exhaustion. All through the night had they ridden, so close were they now to their destination. The Messenger, his armored escort, all of them knew the importance of the orders they carried. Councilor Berenger, Lord Neil Pirian, and several other members of Parliament had all impressed this import upon them with great severity and solemnity.
The first hints of dawn were banishing the dark of night, and in the rising dimness of the morning did they press on.
It was just a little bit further. If all went well, they could have the orders delivered into Commander Vogel's hands before the sun fully revealed itself above the horizon.
Yet, to a man, they all silently worried that it could be too late.
* * * * *
Commander Vogel sat atop his horse, observing as his siege towers docked against Ostia Anir's walls. Artillery barrages from within Ostia Anir were returning indirect fire: most of it struck
empty field; one shot toppled a siege tower and killed the men preparing the disembark from the ramp; another shot hit squarely in a formation of men rushing toward one of the many erected ladders.
Vogel, however, was more concerned about his own artillery. The Republic had granted him the best Dreadlord for the job: Caern Reedus. Not only were his gifts perfectly suited for it, but he was an excellent engineer. Caern was a man who used both the magical and the mundane in concert to his advantage.
Presently, Caern was touching the ground, his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. "Direct hits upon the Banick Estate, Commander Vogel."
Vogel smiled smugly and his shoulders shivered with excitement. "Good...good. Maybe the snake is now without its head." Even better if the bombardment killed some of Walter's
Dreadlords. And even better than that if the bombardment killed that insufferable Krixus boy and the Pirian harlot.
Caern stood, and his eyes returned to normal. He summoned another boulder into a readied catapult beside him with his geomancy and gave the nod to the crew operating it. Then he said to Vogel, "If not, the chaos will be just the opportunity your agents need."
Vogel's smile broke open into a vainglorious grin. "Yes. Hmm...the Republic
will see a sound victory here today."
And for himself? The rank he had coveted and been denied for so long.
* * * * *
Kristen clutched eagerly to Alistair as he pulled her up. She crawled away from the edge of the hole once she could, not wishing to tempt fate by lingering too close for too long.
"With haste!" she said, pushing herself up to her feet.
There was only a momentary thought spared for her armor, her
weapon. But there was
no time. They couldn't afford to stay here while terrifyingly accurate artillery fire was raining down on their heads. She would just have to find a better solution to her armor and weapon woes later. For now, it was all she could do to simply run in her simple nightgown and bare feet.
Out of the room, jumping over the hole that had once been her door. Down the hall. All the way and while, the Estate shook again and again. It seemed like they were less inside of a noble manor and more inside of a cavern ready to collapse in on itself.
On the balcony walkway above the grand foyer,
both sets of stairs had been destroyed. The balcony itself was creaking and groaning, only just holding its structual integrity.
"Blessed Aionus!" Kristen said. She looked to Alistair. It wasn't a terribly long drop, no, easily could they do it without hardly a risk. But the floor of the foyer was littered with so much jagged debris that Kristen's feet would be cut to ribbons if she tried to run through it.
There
were options. But they needed to pick fast.
Alistair Krixus
