A bombardment had begun on the city, and its violence was indiscriminate. The people who had just returned to the cosiness of their homes were struck by a hellish awakening. In the seconds they were alive, their flesh was charred clean from bone. But there were no screams. Shells landed in the river and on land, and it was clear that the enemy had no specific target in mind. They were simply there to wreak havoc and cause devastation, bringing wrath upon the populace and its dense garrison. The men with their horses crawled out of the crater beside the entrance, their steeds torn and their bodies halved. In the distance, Arminius saw that the wall had already fallen and its guards had been slain, surrounded by the Rus, who raised flags and banners of a certain house that was too far to be made out. The gate had been captured, and there was an inpour of cavalry and infantry, slaughtering those in the town on the opposite bank. The garrison may have retreated to the bridge, defending the largest chokepoint in the city centre, but the people were lost. Those who remained were unlikely to flee as the horde steadily advanced to their doorsteps.
A messenger burst into the chamber, wounded from head to feet, his face in the blood of his comrades that stained the stone floor as he limped. “General!” He cried out for his immediate attention.
“What is the situation?” Florian marched around the general’s desk, crushing the shards of glass littered beneath him.
It seemed the battle had begun a while ago, judging from this soldier’s wounds, and it was just that none in the headquarters seemed to have noticed when the assault began. As Warneńczyk rose from the protection of his men, the realisation that the city was hours from falling had his officers scrambling to clear their desks.
The messenger was a testament to the truth that their army was ill-equipped to fight a battle in the streets. “The town of Sedingost has fallen, and our walls have been taken.” Julien helped him up after he dropped to his knees. “Our engineers have been slain. We are unable to destroy the bridge in time.” The loyal soldier delivered his report instead of taking the chance to flee, but the latter may have been the better choice after all.
“Without the bridge, the city…” Arnau froze, like every other soldier present who turned to the general for advice.
Shaken, Siegfried approached his sergeant. “Does that mean we have to fight them?” The boy looked up to Arminius who he trusted as much as he did Arnau.
However, Arminius remained silent. The headquarters, upon hearing of their failed defence, was in chaos. They ripped their plans apart and put their hard-produced papers to the torch with lamps and candles in buckets and bins. Pits of fire and ash raged. The scent burnt through the hall, reaching the general, who was known for often being calm rather than being flustered. But his indecision weighed him in the direction of panic. Yet, knowing that he was his men’s only sign of stability, he moulded his beret tighter on his head and turned around, seemingly with a plan. He waved the messenger away, who thanked Julien for his aid and stumbled towards the exit, alone.
A squad of corporals and sergeants rushed across the balcony, skidding across the floor when they reached the entrance. They saw their officers burning everything that they had fought for, and two outraged soldiers attempted to break into the headquarters without permission. But the guards managed to hold them back, although it was not an easy fight, as one battled them like a wild boar.
Placing a hand on Adam’s shoulder, Warneńczyk notified his adjutants, “Skowroński, Florian.” Recovered from the brief shock, he commanded them as stalwartly as ever, “Rally the men and defend the old town. The avenue must not be lost.”
The adjutants clicked their heels and made off in haste. Their wounds were showing, but it would not deter them from their task. Marching together, the colonel was quick to discuss his strategy with his junior, who did his best to listen. It took no more than a second for Florian to draft up a plan, and he seemed confident enough that he could stave off the Confederates’ advance. But there were those who remained without orders.
The general’s old eyes turned towards the sergeant, but he was hesitant as he peered down at the shards of glass on his desk, troubled by the face he saw in his. “Reichner, I would pray that you know what to do with power.” Pausing, he pressed his fists against the table and leaned forward. “However, my intuition has hardly ever been wrong.” Said Warneńczyk, making Arminius aware of the trust he had placed in him.
Arminius felt his entire body tense up before the general, who had not yet given him any orders. However, despite everything he had witnessed and the haunting face of defeat that visited him every night, his youthful spirit remained unbroken yet.
“I designate you lieutenant-elect.” Warneńczyk granted him a temporary promotion that came as a surprise even to Arminius. “Gather whatever troops and civilians you can find near the western gate and flee. You will be one of five forces I intend to evacuate.” His order had reason, but it may not be as transparent as the boys thought.
The general glanced over to the squad, barred from entry, as those restless could do no more than to stand idly by. Pacing about, they wondered what the general and their comrades were conversing about, but it was a matter they could not even dream of.
Returning to his lieutenant, Warneńczyk spoke in a grave manner, “Continue west and you will reach a crossing on the River Tschrawen.” His every word popped with severity, making sure that this words was engraved into his soldier’s head. “But, under no circumstances are you to cross it, understood?” He underlined but did not go as far as to explain why he should not do so.
Arminius locked his orders into his head, but there was another issue his commander had not addressed. “What about you, general?” He asked him.
With a chuckle like always, he alleviated some sense of dread in Arminius. “Don’t you worry.” Warneńczyk proudly assured him, rubbing his forehead’s creases of experience.
The bitterness of needing to retreat had disappeared. For everyone, they had to assume that whatever duty that befell them was for the betterment of the army as a whole. Arminius and Julien braced up, carrying this thought, and saluted. They spun around and hurried away, recalling Arnau and Siegfried to their side. As the headquarters’ guards gave way, the remainder of their comrades greeted them briefly, but their reunion had long been soured by the advent of battle. Julien explained what was to be done and the squad discovered that there was one among them who had soared above them since their last meeting. Their eyes were easily filled with envy, but as easily, they were glad for him. Like a child who could not hold back a smile whenever his friends teased him, his commandership had been confirmed, and no longer were the eleven threatened with the possibility of discord since one voice had become absolute. However, he was quiet, thinking about his orders that fell into his hands just a minute ago. Although he could discern Warneńczyk’s doing to be one of reducing problems of shared leadership, he did not understand why he was chosen.
As the squad were led away by their lieutenant, a sergeant remained by the entrance, watching his grandfather brooding alone. Lev had to drag him away. Otherwise, he would have remained frozen in fear of what the general intended to do.
Warneńczyk lifted his hands from his desk and looked over his shoulders warily. When he turned towards the window, the crisp air straightened out his mind and cooled his blood. He gazed out into the city of Seding that had been turned into a bloodbath as the sweat of soldiers condensed into a veil of mist that was set over the ringing of clashing steel. Cries rose above the fire and smoke that tore through the ravaged streets. As the enemy prepared to charge across the bridge, the defenders braced themselves.
Under his nose, Adam was arranging his troops and coordinating their defence along the riverside, providing covering fire from the bank for those retreating. Further along the river, Florian had summoned his elites, placing them at every street turning and chokepoint to ambush the foe wherever they could. It was going to be a harsh fight that was destined for ruin and defeat. However, because failure was inevitable, the general understood that his men would strive to inflict maximum chaos before their demise.
When the fog cleared for a moment, the wall came into his view. A sizable flag waved over the burning colours of the alliance and Krakau. Its coat of arms was unmistakable. There were three independent sigils of mythical creatures surrounding the centre, dominated by a curled leviathan representing its children. One was of the land, one was of the sea, and one was of the air. They were the colours of a family that had become an unstoppable blight on the continent.
Laying his hands flat along the windowsill, Warneńczyk was no stranger to their flag. “Radilov, quite the son you have.” The general scoffed for the heavens to relay his compliment. “Allow this old man to be his adjudicator.” As shells rained down around the veteran who had seen worse storms, a chilling draught charged with his enemies.323Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEKHBJTHddE
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