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Chapter CXVIII – Take heed therefore that the army which is with thee be not incompetent.
🕑 Added 2024-12-21 14:57:04 +0000 UTC
16th of Autumn 5859
Imperial Highway №04-750, Aroghlie (Zon’guldac)
It was a calm morning down in the highway right outside of the dwarven city of Aroghlie. Mount Curry, the part of it that had snaked all the way over yonder, dwarfed the dwarves that were marching next to it. It was a small platoon, not because the number of men in it were small, but because the men in it were small.
A certain Captain Blackbeard, named after the fact that she had a white beard and her family loved irony, was at the head of these troops. Unlike many military officers in Gemeinplatz, she was walking on foot alongside the troops. The underground environment of Aroghlie simply didn’t provide ample space for equestrian activity, so she and her dwarven comrades had never learnt how to ride a horse. Mounts were for those knife-ears and tall-men who loved living and travelling on the surface for some odd reason. Blackbeard certainly didn’t love doing so – the sun irritated her eyes, the grass smelled funny, and it was way too cold for comfort. “Let’s just stab these knife-ears and be done with” she thought out loud.
To answer to her was an aide which had been marching right next to her “We really got the short stick by having the Council assign us here.”
Blackbeard could only let out an annoyed sigh “I had joined the election for a military office role thinking that nothing would happen as usual. What luck it is that we all got the short elven stick! I get paid way too little for this…”
The aide’s head jolted sideways in shock “You get paid?!”
“A few coins, yes.” Blackbeard turned her head around to look at the soldiers following her. They were a mess of colors and weaponry, and their marching formation resembled more a drunken snake than a military force of any repute. “What I get paid is barely enough for keeping this platoon afloat, I’m afraid.” She missed the few weeks where she had gotten to idle while she ate and drank with her stipend. Sure, she could have spent that money on arming her troops, but who could blame her for thinking that the peace preserved since time immemorial wouldn’t be broken? The foolish thing would have been to waste money worrying about what was back then the impossible prospect of war, she thought. Even now they hadn’t seen any elves. For what she knew, the whole war and proclamation were a giant Imperial prank being played on them.
“Captain, let’s turn around. I think we’re at the end of our patrol route” the aide said, arriving at an arbitrary point that seemed good enough to stop at.
“Oh? Yes, yes, turn…” Blackbeard suddenly stopped.
“Captain?” The aide followed Blackbeard’s gaze to see a big, blurry group of people in the distance. They had green banners held up high, and there were a scary number of banners being held up by a scary number of people.
“I think that’s the green elves of the elves. No self-respecting dwarf would use green.” Blackbeard was paralyzed for a few seconds. There they were: the enemy. The damnable knife-ears, those tree-huggers, they who had ne’er touched a forge in their life.
“Captain?” The aide’s helpless plea shook Blackbeard awake.
“Oh, they-” Retreat behind the walls? No, they were too far away. “The- the only choice is for us to act like dwarves. We’ll route these tree-lovers back to where they came from!” Blackbeard looked behind her. Her comrades didn’t seem all too enthused to fight “Come on, we’re going to die here!”
Dying didn’t seem all to pleasant, so the mob of militiamen behind Blackbeard broke out of their marching column to a big old mess. That big old mess eventually coalesced into something that maybe resembled a line if one was to squint enough. Whoever had gotten most unlucky had been pushed to the front with their knees shaking, and the lucky ones stayed back in hopes that the elves would give up before the dwarven frontline did.
Quickly the elves came into view. They were on horseback, as could be understood from the giant cloud of smoke that their rides were kicking up. Blackbeard, being a proficient smith like any other dwarf, could identify that most of them were wearing bronze armor. So uncivilized were the elves that they had shunned the fine sides of life such as steel. The dwarven troops looked a bit more confident as they held their steel weaponry tight. “Come on, these guys won’t be able to trample us children of the mountain,” shouted Blackbeard.
Then the horses of the elves got closer, and closer, until the dwarves were face-to-face with animals who were thrice as tall as them, with no spears and pikes to defend against the raging beasts. Blackbeard saw a fellow child of the mountain get trampled right next to her, and another horse almost kicked her in the face before she managed to slash at its ankle with her sword. The elven cavalry hit the dwarven line like a brick tossed at a window, shattering them completely. Steel armaments turned out to be quite useless against a horse – a dwarf died the same when a horse trampled them right on the chest whether they wore a cuirass or not. Bronze still tore through skin the same.
Captain Blackbeard had no chance to call for a retreat as all the dwarves dispersed to save their own skin, though that proved futile as the cavalry followed to cut down anyone retreating. The elves would only need to spend a few more minutes riding forward to reach Aroghlie itself.
17th of Autumn 5859
Right outside the walls of Aroghlie, Aroghlie (Zon’guldac)
Supreme Chieftainess and Marchioness Tinatin Leafblower took a deep breath and looked outside the entrance of her tent. Around her were countless elves, from what were once feuding clans, united in sieging down the damnable dwarven city. All under one green banner – her banner. All those archers, the cavalrymen, the infantry… it was all hers. The glory of taking the city too would be hers. So would the name of the city’s conqueror be hers. Her eyes followed up and up, to the top of the dwarven walls towering over them. Certainly, these walls looked intimidating, but they’d do nothing when the dwarves were starving and they came begging to her for mercy. Even then that wasn’t enough. Just waiting around for a siege, doing nothing, what was she waiting for? That’d just invite someone nosy to come in and lift the siege. Leafblower had a little something, a little glint of bronze that she saw in the distance of her vision, though she was distracted by someone before she could behold her future.
“Madame.” A man in black uniform and steel helmet approached her. He gave an odd salute, one where he raised his arms straight up with all his fingers stretched out, which prompted Leafblower to look at him as if he came from an alien planet.
“What sort of greeting is that? Are you making fun of me?”
“No, madame, this is the new Imperial Salute that His Imperial Majesty has ordered all Imperial troops to use. Our Chancellor gave us from the Protection Squadron to be extra diligent with the salutes.” The PS trooper took out a sealed letter and handed it to Leafblower “This is a signed decree confirming your appointment as Marchioness under the new Imperial order. Just some standard protocol, nothing to worry about.”
“I wasn’t asking your opinion on whether I had anything to worry about.” Leafblower took the letter into her hands and promptly handed it to a servant passing by to stash somewhere. “How are things in the capital?”
“A few troubles here and there, but the Protection Squadron has been working tirelessly to arrest those scheming against His Imperial Majesty and Our Chancellor. The biggest problem has been taking slaves all over the Empire and concentrating them. You know those darkskins, they can get quite uppity.”
“I don’t know about darkskins much, but I do know about the dark elves. If they’re similar, you’re better off getting rid of them entirely” advised Leafblower without a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
“I- I think that’d be quite bloody and unnecessary, no?” Leafblower didn’t answer the trooper’s question. He felt a chill run down his spine, which was enough for him to give a bow and bid farewell. “S-see… uhm… Have a nice siege, madame!”
“You too” replied Leafblower. She paused, realized her mistake, and then proceeded not to care as she ventured out of her tent to inspect her fine pieces of work: a dozen cannons, cast from fine elven bronze, lined up facing the walls of Aroghlie. Under the gaze of the morning sun their surfaces shone a fine brown. She stopped a newly-promoted cannoneer elf making rounds around one cannon “How long until you’re ready to fire?”
The cannoneer froze in shock and gave a salute “Oh, madame! We’ve just received the shipment of gunpowder from the Imperials. We’ll be ready to fire later today.”
“Good, excellent. These old walls won’t stand up to elven bronze.” Leafblower patted one cannon affectionately. Soon the walls of Casamonu would be no more.
