It took Carlo a couple of weeks of training to train the abilities he needed to infiltrate over the wall, as the powers he needed from Myrmidia seemed to be gated behind other, less applicable abilities. The starting technique he would need to get over the wall would only allow him to vault walls of sixteen feet or smaller, for instance. Castle de Estang's walls were thirty-eight feet high. However, the power that was gated off by that technique would allow him to vault up to forty feet. The same went for the stealth techniques, only even more so as the requirements he needed not only covered the introductory technique and its immediate successor, but also a technique that branched off from the successor technique. Carlo also needed to train up his athletic and stealth abilities in general, as certain prerequisites had to be met before Myrmidia deemed him competent enough to learn certain techniques.
It rather reminded him of a tree, with a central trunk of techniques and prerequisites that gated progress up the tree, as well as various branches that sprouted off from the central trunk that bore techniques that, though similar in terms of power, did different things. It all seemed a little confusing and not very straightforward for something designed to aid Myrmidia's chosen champions, but really, who can claim to know the mind of a Goddess? Priests probably, and Carlo was no priest.
Regardless, by the time the sixth week of the war had dawned, Carlo was ready to undertake his infiltration attempt. It was likely a good thing too because the sudden bogging down of his army in this siege was seemingly emboldening Khypris. He'd had a letter from Karoline Blaumann that morning stating that the Khypriots had started pressing for border revisions again where they had been silent on the issue during the rapid initial success of the first few weeks of the campaign. Carlo would need to end the campaign quickly to avoid Prince Faramond getting any ideas about simply taking the Mijndorp area by force while his army was bogged down in a siege here.
That night, Carlo prepared for his attempt to cross the siege lines, throwing a baggy surcoat and hooded robe over his armor to disguise it, and engaging his techniques before heading past the pickets. The technique he was currently under rendered regular foes unable to focus on him, similar to how someone utilizing the Gray Wind of Ulgu could remove their presence from the minds of guards and townsfolk alike. It wasn't foolproof, however, particularly strong-willed people could see past it, and it would instantaneously cease working the moment battle was joined. That was why he took the extra time to learn a second technique that would cause him to become truly invisible. That one could be fooled by touch but so long as he moved immediately after, he figured he would be all right.
Eventually, Carlo reached the dry moat, he descended down, picking his way through the forest of upraised stakes that were there to impale would-be ladder climbers the moment they fell off their siege ladders before he came to the embankment. Clambering up the embankment, he finally reached the base of the curtain wall. Some thirty-eight feet above him, a nighttime guard rotation would be walking the walls. He knew because he'd had one of his men watch the guard shifts. In a few moments, the evening shift would change over to the late-night shift, and that would be his cue to vault the wall and re-engage his stealth after he got up there. Then all that was left was to take the gatehouse and raise the portcullis keeping his forces out.
Assuming all that went as planned, he would be in control of the Castle, Grand Duke, and thus the Grande Duchy, by this time tomorrow. That ought to give the Khypriots pause enough to think twice about trying to seize the sulfur and saltpeter mines, as well as the town of Mijndorp, through force of arms. Looking up, he heard a commotion on the wall as the current siege guard shift for this section of the wall entered the gatehouse to report in for the end of their shift. A patrol of ten men-at-arms would be inside the gatehouse shucking their armor and weapons, while their relief was donning them. It was now or never. Taking a deep breath, Carlo pulled on his internal reserves of power and leaped up.
His technique bore him aloft as if on fluttering wings, like a type of bird. He cleared the embankment, then the height of the portcullis, before finally clearing the wall, just barely, scrabbling up over the top on hands and feet. With another twist of power, he engaged his ability to disillusion his presence within the minds of others, just in case anyone from any of the other patrol sections chanced to glance in his direction. He stilled himself for a few moments to steady his breathing, then nodded once it became clear that no one had raised the alarm. The wartime garrison was still mostly in their barracks and not being called out after him. Satisfied, he opened the door to the gatehouse and slipped inside.
"What was that?" Questioned one of the Men-at-arms, having already doffed his mail hauberk and gambeson and was now pulling on a normal woolen tunic.
"I don't see anything, likely just the wind." Snorted another who had laid his spear and bow aside and was cutting a hunk of tough, black, bread with his fighting dagger.
"You might've had too much of the ale, Georges. I'll gladly drink the rest of your share, for your own safety, of course." Grinned a third man at arms, who was wearing naught but breeches, boots, and kettle helm as he sat at a table with a mug, dicing with three other similarly unattired Men-at-arms.
"Piss off, Clodbert! I'm not drunk yet." Scoffed the first Man-at-arms.
"Still, draft or no, it's better than what the Serjeant and his mates are up to right now. Honestly, patrol in the Tilean Quarter's dangerous these days. The damned merchants would rather have the Ijsselmen in charge. You heard about the riots, yeah?" Questioned yet another Man-at-arms, this one having stripped down to Gambeson and having laid his axe and shield aside.
"I heard. Something about one of Sir Coulet's men knifing a Tilean Porter in the Tilean Quarter a few nights ago?" Queried the last Man-at-arms, who was leaning against the portcullis winch and had kept his reinforced leathers on and his fighting knife at his belt.
"Aye, stabbed the poor bastard thirteen times in exchange for the single blow he gave that Porter. Sir Coulet was livid, went in with a couple of his mates, and demanded to know who was responsible. The damn Tileans ignored him, so he had his mates round up one of their merchants and beat the ever-loving shite out of him. That started a riot that took most of the day to quell, and the Grande Duc had to get involved and dispense justice himself to do it." Explained one of the Shirtless Gamblers.
Just then, the ten-man relief patrol had finished donning their armor and weapons and came tromping up the stairs on their hobnailed boots, led by a Man-at-arms whose livery was that of the Duc de Bouellia himself. His gear was of a higher quality than the munitions-grade gear of the other men. He was even wearing a breastplate over his mail instead of leathers. It seemed that the Duc tried not to skimp on his personal retinue of Men-at-arms if he could help it.
"All right, we're going on our patrol. I doubt anything will happen. The damned Ijsselmen have done nothing but cut off our supply and take the occasional potshot with their archers. His Lordship's convinced they mean to starve us out. Still, better to do the double patrols, aye?" Intoned the Serjeant in the Duc's Livery.
"Aye, you're welcome the patrol. Windy as the frozen north out there. The breeze even blew open the door and scared poor Georges." Laughed one of the shirtless Men-at-arms.
The Serjeant nodded, opened the door, and led his patrol out onto the walls. That was Carlo's cue to go to work. As the other Men-at-arms turned back to their conversation, ale, or dice game, Carlo placed the locking crossbar into position on the door to the walls. Then, at that moment, he crept up behind the Man-at-arms who was cutting hunks of bread, doffed his robe and surcoat, drew his blade, and ran the Man-at-arms through from behind.
Instantly his stealth ability ceased to function, but it didn't much matter. The other guard rotation was now locked out of the Gatehouse and wouldn't know about what was going on until it was too late even if they hadn't been. Against nine, half-drunk, disarmed, Brettonian Men-at-arms? He couldn't possibly fail in his goal. He laid about with his blade, cutting down hapless foe after hapless foe. The one Man-at-arms who had kept his equipment on him drew his fighting dagger and attempted to buy time for the remaining few Men-at-arms to get weapons, but even with the equipment, he didn't cross blades more than twice with Carlo before a whirling moulinette cut took off the Man-at-arms's dagger-hand at the wrist. A follow-up cut severed his head and Carlo was soon cutting down the others.
Only two of them managed to get to weapons before Carlo reached them. One had a falchion and the other a hatchet. They attacked with teamwork and forced Carlo to dodge to the side of a combined attack from both of them. For a moment, they tried pressing their attack. One struck out with the falchion at the joint between the vambrace and rearbrace on Carlo's armor while the other went straight for Carlo's neck with the hatchet, aiming between where the gorget ended and the helm began. Unfortunately, Carlo rallied, parrying the Falchion with his own blade and ducking the hatchet. His riposte was powered by his Myrmidia-given ability and sheared through weapon and neck alike, the poor quality steel of a Brettonian Peasant Falchion not able to stand up the Dwarf-made blade powered by the divine energy of Myrmidia. The last Man-at-arms offered to surrender, which Carlo took.
A few moments later, he was raising the portcullis. A few moments after that, his army was streaming through the gates, sweeping all resistance aside. A squad of his First Guardsmen Company moved to garrison the Gatehouse and prevent attempts by the Duc's men to retake it. It hadn't mattered though. The Majority of what remained of Bouellia's army had been caught sleeping. Literally, they had been in their barracks or quarters asleep. Of the five-hundred-sixty-two troops remaining to the Duc, Carlo captured four-hundred-fifty-three of them with his surprise assault. That included the Baroness de Estang and most remaining Men-at-arms and Yeoman Longbowmen, even several remaining Knights offered to surrender once Carlo's men breached the Castle's oaken gates. It did not include Duc Ferrenc de Savoie of Bouellia.
The Duc would attempt to flee from the doomed war on his fastest horse through a Postern gate north to Castelle Bouellia, only to be struck by an errant Longbow Arrow by the gate guard who had been spooked by his sudden appearance. The Arrow would pierce the mail of his surcoat, the only armor he had time to don in his hasty retreat, and strike him in the lung. Where he fell off his horse and dashed his skull open on the cobblestones of the gate plaza.
Duc Ferenc would die without heirs, allowing Carlo to assume control of the Grande Duchy without fear of rival claimants. After a brief two months of campaigning, victory belonged to Issjel. The news would wind up spooking Prince Faramond of Khypris into searching for potential allies to check Ijsselman expansion. They would eventually find them in Mont Blanc and Vloeden. The triple alliance needed time to prepare for battle, however.
Once they were prepared, war would come once more to Ijssel. . .
XXXX
AN: Yeah, so Carlo winds up gobbling up both Quaterain and Bouellia in one campaign.
That alarms some of his neighbors, which in turn allows a coalition to form to check his expansion. This sort of thing happens in the Border Principalities from time to time. It's one of the reasons nobody has ever succeeded in unifying them.
Now, however, they know they can't just attack willy-nilly, with troops that aren't the best they can be. Bouellia tried that and got trounced. No, the Triple Alliance is going to take the time to prepare their forces, hire mercenaries, and drill the crap out of their troops.
They want to be ready for war. That'll give Carlo time to build his own forces back up. And of course, they may get some help from an unlikely source.
After all, if Myrmidia can exalt champions, why not other entities? I'm keeping who exactly and just what they make a secret for now, though.
At any rate, next, we'll be back in Ijssel. Stay tuned