The impact of the Hell-Hounds hitting the defensive line sounded less like a battle and more like a landslide. Kael took the brunt of the charge as his shield groaned under the weight of a smoking, muscular beast that snapped its jaws inches from his face. The heat radiating from the creature was intense enough to singe his golden fur, but the Tiger held his ground. He planted his feet in the frozen mud and roared, shoving the beast back with a surge of hydraulic strength that buckled the earth beneath his boots.
Behind him, Thorne and the liberated slaves were fighting for their lives. They lacked armor and proper weapons, wielding only mining picks and chains, yet they fought with the desperation of men who refused to be caged again. Thorne swung a heavy iron chain with frantic strength, catching a hound across the snout. The beast yelped and shook its head, scattering sparks of liquid fire onto the snow like spilled magma.
"Hold them back!" Valeria screamed from the wall as she reloaded the ballista with shaking hands. "Ignis, the mines!"
Ignis stood beside her, his face pale as he looked down at the chaotic melee. "They are too close to our own men. If I detonate the perimeter charges now, I will kill the Bears along with the dogs."
"Then use the manual triggers," Valeria ordered, her eyes locked on the Alpha beast ravaging the center line. "Wait for separation. We cannot sacrifice our own."
Down in the yard, the battle was descending into absolute chaos. The Hell-Hounds were not just strong creatures; they were intelligent pack hunters. They sensed the weakness in the defensive line immediately. While three kept Kael and the heavy infantry occupied, two of them broke away from the main engagement. They flanked the line with terrifying speed, leaping over the heads of the Bears to target the Duke's carriage which sat exposed in the center of the yard.
"Caspian!" Valeria shouted, pointing at the breach. "Protect the carriage!"
The Shark beastman erupted from the water trough like a missile. He was in his element, his skin slick and glistening with the moisture he needed to survive on land. He didn't use a weapon, for his body had become one. He opened his mouth and unleashed a high-pressure stream of water from his throat, a new ability evolved from the aquifer's mana. The jet of water hit the flanking hound in the chest with the force of a firehose. Steam exploded instantly as the water met the beast's superheated skin, creating a blinding white cloud. The hound shrieked as its internal fire was dampened, and it skidded across the ice, slamming into the stone foundation of the house.
Inside the carriage, the iron door flew open with a violent clang. The Duke of Ironclad stepped out. He was bleeding from a nasty cut on his forehead, and his fine velvet coat was torn, but he held a massive warhammer in his hands. He didn't look like a victim seeking sanctuary. He looked like an executioner who had run out of patience.
"You want my head?" the Duke roared at the blinded hound that was struggling to stand. "Come and take it!"
He swung the hammer. It was a heavy, two-handed strike that connected with the hound's skull with a sickening crunch. The beast collapsed instantly, its limbs twitching as the fire in its eyes died out.
However, the threat was far from over. The Alpha of the pack was still wrestling with Kael near the gate. It was larger than the rest, with a collar of spiked iron fused into its neck. It opened its jaws, and a torrent of liquid fire poured over Kael's shield. The wood of the shield, reinforced with the magical Iron-Bark, began to smoke and crack under the thermal assault.
"Kael!" Valeria gasped. She could see the metal of his skin glowing cherry-red from the heat. Even a Hybrid had limits.
She looked at her inventory. She had the Corpse-Flower Mist she had brewed to hide their scent. It wasn't a weapon in the traditional sense, but it was volatile, and biological senses were a two-way street.
"Lucian!" she called to the sky.
The Phoenix swooped down, hovering near the wall, his velvet wings buffeting the smoke.
"Catch!" Valeria tossed the glass jar of foul brown liquid into the air.
Lucian caught it mid-air with practiced ease.
"Drop it on the Alpha," Valeria commanded. "Right on its nose. Don't miss."
Lucian banked hard, dodging a snap of jaws from a hound below, and flew directly over the struggling Tiger. He released the jar with the precision of a hawk dropping a tortoise.
The glass shattered on the Alpha hound's snout. The stench was immediate and horrific. It smelled of concentrated rot and decay, a sensory assault so potent that the hound gagged audibly. Its sensitive nose, tuned to track souls across miles, was suddenly overwhelmed by a chemical wall of death. The beast sneezed violently, shaking its head as its fire breath sputtered out into harmless smoke.
Kael seized the moment. He dropped his burning shield into the snow. He grabbed the disoriented hound by its throat with both hands, his bronze claws digging deep into the thick hide. With a roar that echoed off the valley walls and shook the snow from the eaves, he twisted.
The snap was loud enough to be heard over the wind.
The Alpha went limp in his grasp.
Seeing their leader dead and the others wounded by water and hammers, the remaining two hounds broke. Their morale shattered, they turned tail and scrambled back out of the gate, disappearing into the dark tree line.
"Let them go!" Valeria shouted as Thorne raised his chain to pursue. "Do not break formation. We do not know what else is out there."
Silence fell over the yard. The only sounds were the heavy breathing of the fighters, the crackle of the burning shield in the snow, and the low groans of the wounded.
Valeria ran down the stairs, skipping steps. She ignored the Duke for a moment and went straight to Kael. The Tiger was on his knees, panting, steam rising from his metallic fur.
"Are you burned?" she asked, checking his arms. His fur was singed, and the bronze skin beneath was red and radiating heat like a stove, but he was whole.
"I am fine," Kael rasped, spitting a glob of blood onto the snow. "Just hot. It takes more than a dog to cook me."
She turned to the Bears. The battle had been short but brutal. Three of them were down, bleeding from nasty bite wounds that cauterized as they cut. Silas was already moving among them. The Wolf Prince was licking the wounds of a young Badger to staunch the bleeding with his healing saliva, his movements gentle and precise.
"Get them to the infirmary," Valeria ordered the uninjured who stood watching in shock. "Use the burn salve from the green jar on the second shelf. Thorne, organize a perimeter watch. I want eyes on that tree line."
Only then did she turn to the Duke.
The Lord of Ironclad was leaning on his hammer, catching his breath. He looked at the dead Hell-Hounds, then at the ragtag army of beastmen who were efficiently clearing the battlefield, and finally at Valeria.
"You keep interesting company, Madame V," the Duke said, wiping blood from his eye with a silk handkerchief that was already ruined.
"And you bring interesting guests," Valeria retorted, crossing her arms to hide the fact that her hands were trembling. "You led Varg's pack right to my doorstep."
"They ambushed me at the crossroads," the Duke admitted, his voice grim. "My knights fell holding the rear. I had nowhere else to go. The city gate is sealed by the Guild, and the roads are watched. I saw your smoke."
He looked around at the fortifications. He took in the smoking ballistae on the walls, the organized triage happening in the barn, and the sheer discipline of the beastmen.
"I thought you were a merchant hiding in a ruin," the Duke said quietly. "But this is not a hideout. This is a garrison."
"Necessity is the mother of invention," Valeria said. "And the Guild is a very demanding mother."
Ignis limped over, looking at the dead Alpha hound. He poked it with his cane, inspecting the collar.
"This is Varg's favorite," Ignis noted, his face serious. "He will not be happy. He is likely watching from the ridge right now. A Houndmaster does not let his pack hunt without supervision."
"Let him watch," the Duke growled, spitting on the carcass. "Let him see that his pets are dead."
He turned to Valeria. "I owe you my life. Again. That is twice in one week. My debt to you is growing uncomfortably large, and I am a man who dislikes debt."
"Then pay it," Valeria said sharply. "The tribunal. Make it happen. Destroy the Guild's legal standing in this region."
"I cannot convene the tribunal if I am dead," the Duke pointed out. "Varg is out there. And he won't stop with dogs. He will bring the Guild's heavy infantry next. I cannot return to the city alone, and my personal guard is decimated."
Valeria looked at the darkening sky. She looked at her exhausted husbands and the wounded refugees. They needed time to heal. They needed resources. The food situation was already critical, and a siege would starve them out in a week.
But having a Grand Duke trapped in her base was both a terrible risk and a golden opportunity.
"You stay here," Valeria decided. "We have a guest room. It is small, and the roof leaks, but it is behind a wall and guarded by a Tiger."
The Duke laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "I have slept in worse places. But be warned, my presence here makes this a siege. The Guild knows I am here. They will bring everything they have to kill me before I can testify."
"They were going to bring it anyway," Valeria said, looking at the liberated slaves. "We just gave them a bigger target."
She turned to Kael. "Close the gate. Bar it with the iron beams. I want that entrance sealed tight enough to hold back a battering ram."
"Ignis," she continued. "I want double watches. Use the Goggles. If a snowflake moves in the wrong direction, I want to know about it."
As the camp settled into a tense, fortified night, the adrenaline began to fade, replaced by a cold dread. Valeria walked to the greenhouse. She needed to think, and the humid air of the Sanctuary was the only place she could hear herself think. She stood before the glowing World Tree sapling. The leaf she had traded to Renard had already grown back, shinier than before.
The mana here was strong. It was keeping them alive, accelerating their healing and growth. But it was also a beacon.
"Varg is a tracker," Valeria whispered to the tree. "He smells souls."
She looked at her hands. Her own soul wasn't from this world. Did she smell different to him? Did she smell like foreign spices and ink?
A thought occurred to her. A dangerous, wicked thought that made her pulse race.
If Varg tracked souls, could she lure him? Not to the fort, but away from it?
She pulled out her map of the valley. There was a box canyon three miles east. It was a geological cul-de-sac, a dead end with high, unstable walls.
"Renard sold us the Shroud," she mused. "But he also sold us the Iron-Bark seed."
She smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was the smile of the Villainess she was supposed to be.
"Duke," she called out, turning back to the yard where the nobleman was inspecting the damage to the ballista.
The Duke looked up. "Yes?"
"You said Varg is out there," Valeria said, walking towards him. "And you said he won't stop."
"He won't. He is a bloodhound in human form."
"Then we don't wait for the siege," Valeria said. "We go hunting."
The Duke raised an eyebrow. "Hunting the Hunter? That is bold. And usually fatal."
"Not if the bait is irresistible," Valeria said. "Tomorrow, you and I are going for a ride. We are going to leave a trail so fresh, so tempting, that Varg won't be able to help himself."
"And where are we leading him?"
"To the kill box," Valeria said.
She walked past him, heading for the workshop. She had ten more mines to build, and she needed to figure out how to make a bomb out of shark water and dragon fire. If Varg wanted a war, she would give him one, but she would choose the battlefield.
The Winter Fort arc was over. The Merchant of Death had made an appearance. The Siege was beginning. And Valeria intended to fire the first shot.