The city finally fell , 8,000 men had been assaulting it for a week and in the end the invevitable happened.
Every night, the prince,as usual made his somber rounds through the encampments.He found, much to his dismay, himself drawn to the medical tents, where the cries of the wounded pierced the silence of the night like mournful wails. The sight of broken bodies and anguished faces were the cost of his ambition, each groan and whimper carving a deep, searing ache in his soul.
'I must see the result of my choices ' he had told Uther the giant as he made his way there .It was horrible to say the least, but he needed to see it .
And so, when news of the city's fall finally reached his ears, it was met with a bittersweet mixture of relief and sorrow.
As the gates crumbled beneath the relentless onslaught of the northern invaders, sending splinters of wood scattering across the ground, the prince could feel the weight of his campaign moving forward. Thelogontia, the coveted jewel of the campaign , laid within reach, a prize won through bloodshed and sacrifice. The rest of the province could now be taken much more easily, and if they managed to give one or two defeats to the major lords , the rest would easily bend the knee.
For every inch of ground gained though , there lay a sea of graves, each one leaving a story no one will hear.
As the surrounding lands fell under the relentless advance of the northern army, the once fertile fields lay barren and pillaged, their bountiful harvests plundered and stockpiled in the warehouses of the conquerors. The gains for which the prince had marshaled his forces and rallied his lords now lay within grasp, yet they knew all too well that the true prize lay behind the walls of Thelogontia.
With each conquered city and sacked village, the prince had dispatched envoys to the lord of Thelogontia, hoping to broker a peaceful surrender and avoid further bloodshed. Yet time and again, the messengers returned empty-handed, their pleas for reason falling on deaf ears.
It seemed Lord Carxio remained steadfast in his defiance, perhaps clinging to the hope that his liege lord would rally the forces of the realm to his aid. And indeed, High Marshal Conte had mustered his fief's armies, intent on breaking the siege and relieving the beleaguered city. But the wheels of war turned slowly, and the relief force moved at a pace too measured to stave off the inevitable.
As the city walls crumbled and the garrison fell, the conquerors surged forth, their victory heralding a wave of pillage and plunder as it was due for a defeated city. Prince Maesinius rode at the head of his army, a force of 600 Huscarls flanking him on either side.
These elite infantrymen were the pride of the north, their strength legendary, adept to cold and hunger, their axes said to cleave through boulders with ease.
Arrayed in the pelts of beasts they had personally hunted and slain, the Huscarls presented a fearsome sight as they marched forward.
Each warrior bore the trophy of their conquest proudly atop their heads, the pelts of wolves, bears, and elks adorning their shoulders. For those less fortunate, the spoils of their hunts included sheep and foxes, yet even these trophies were worn with a fierce sense of pride.
Their war cries echoing off the surrounding hills as they swept through the streets of the conquered city.
Wherever the prince's gaze fell, scenes of chaos and cruelty unfolded to his eyes. Women cried out in terror as they fled from his soldiers, their pleas for mercy drowned out by the clamor of the conquering army. Amidst the chaos, soldiers indulged in sickening games, hunting down the vulnerable and defenseless like wild animals.
Meanwhile, other soldiers poured into houses like ravenous wolves, looting everything of value and leaving destruction in their wake. The cries of the innocent mingled with the sounds of breaking doors and splintering wood as homes were ransacked and plundered. Those who dared to resist were met with brutal violence, the sharp crack of an axe splitting a skull echoing through the streets at each turn as the city descended into madness.
Amidst the turmoil, women were subjected to unspeakable horrors, their cries of anguish falling on deaf ears as they became prey to the soldiers' darkest desires. Their pleas for mercy went unanswered as they were taken hold of, their dignity stripped away in the ensuing moments.
"Look ahead, prince," Svenn urged as he rode beside him. During the siege, command of the huscarls had fallen to him, and now he fulfilled that duty, leading the hardened guard toward the keep. "You gave them every chance to surrender. They refused. Now they pay the price."
The prince's eyes flicked toward him, shadowed with unease. "I know. But these are still my people. Or they're supposed to be." His gaze drifted back to the keep, hardening. "All the same… let's end this."
"As you command, your grace," Svenn replied. With a curt nod, he spurred forward with a dozen men to scout the road and the fortress ahead.
The prince lingered instead, his eyes falling unwillingly upon the small, twisted body of a child among the slain.
He forced himself to look away, though the image clawed at his mind. Conte is mustering an army… this province is one of the weakest in the east, its numbers already thinned. The fortresses here were built to hold back the Azanians, not defend against us. All that separates the north from destruction is this single army. If we win, the north may yet survive. If we lose… tens of thousands will die, and worse,the blame will be mine. For once… gods, for once, I wish I was more like him.
His father's shadow loomed in his thoughts. A poor excuse for a father… but at least he knew how to stand on a battlefield.
"You're brooding so loud I can hear it from across the street." Elenoir's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and amused. She rode up beside him, her blonde hair whipping behind her as she studied his face. "What is it now?"
He hesitated. "Nothing. Just… thinking." The lie was thin, the weight in his voice betraying him.
She leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. "Still dwelling on them?"
"They'll soon be our people too," he admitted, his words edged with remorse. "Of course it weighs on me."
Elenoir snorted. "You knew what we were getting into when we planned this. You can't fall to pieces every time you see a corpse. Dead birds don't weep, neither should you."
He turned his head, irritation flickering. "And what, then, am I supposed to worry about?"
"What comes after all this," she said, gesturing broadly toward the smoldering city and the horizon beyond.
He frowned, caught off guard by the gravity in her voice. "After this?"
She nodded. "I'm not the scholar—you are. But even I can tell why the north fell. Too many lords, too many voices, no one strong enough to bind them together. Divided, the south broke us one piece at a time. Unless we learn from that mistake, history will repeat itself."
The prince studied her warily. "Are you suggesting something?"
"Maybe." Her eyes gleamed with determination. "The lords are stirred up. They like what you've given them, and they're enjoying the warmth of the south more than snow and hunger in the north. If you've ever had a chance to ride the wave, this is it. But you sit there, brooding, while it threatens to pass you by."
He said nothing.
"I'm talking about becoming king " Elenoir declared bluntly. "The north needs a crown, and you're the only one who can claim it. If you succeed s, you'll have the victories to prove it. And with your bloodline, you'll have the legitimacy to calm the nobles once we subdue them. Don't you want that? To be more than just a prince of ashes?"
"If I wanted it, we'd already be marching south toward the capital," the prince answered, his tone firm but shadowed with doubt. "I have no reason to chase a crown. Not now. Not here. And tell me, what's in it for you? Why are you pressing this?"
Elenoir's jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with something unreadable. Then her lips curved into a smile "Because if I'm to be married, and gods know how much I despise the thought, I'll aim as high as I can. Becoming queen would sweeten the bargain. So tell me… do you have reason enough to care now?"
The prince's expression softened despite himself. By the gods, she had given him one