The water octopus dissolved and when the massive amount of water touched the ground, it formed a broad staircase that led to the top of the wall.
The Tigris commander, who had hoped on using the wall, couldn’t believe his eyes. The mage he was dealing with was definitely above the diamond grade or her elemental control would not be this fluid.
The staircase crystallized and hundreds of Ashbourne soldiers climbed it, rushing towards the Tigirs Footmen, who had prepared their shields and swords.
“Don’t let them get to you; move down!”
The Tigris commander bellowed and his men rushed out of the alure, descending towards the ascending Ashbourne soldiers.
Suddenly, a part of the staircase—the part under the Tigris Footman—became water and they fell screaming.
The water became ice again when the Ashbourne soldiers were close.
Bam!
There was a terrible collision when the two opposing forces met: man against man, shield against shield, spear against sword, brute strength against brute strength.
After the first Ashbourne company lunged forth like ravenous wolves, the others formed an orderly formation.
They marched as one. They were like a human wall on the actual wall, thrusting their spears through Tigirs Footmen.
Before long, the first company had reached the ground and opened the gates. The moment the gates opened, hundreds of Desolate Wolves marched in.
Their echo of their boots went far, striking the hearts of the civilians like a drumstick and their hearts were the drums.
The sounds of weapons clashing, screams, and hurried footsteps fell into their ears. Some courageous ones peeked through the window and saw Desolate Wolves killing Tigirs Footmen.
Their bronze armor was no match for the high-quality silver-grade armor the Desolate Wolves donned.
Neither were their skills on par with each other.
In a particular building, a man was peeking through the window while his family hid behind the bed.
His wife and two little kids were shivering while he watched the battle. Since the moment Tigris took over Hebron Town, there has been an invisible cloud of despair hovering about.
Many could not gather the courage to go to the market and those who did came back with bruises.
The man had an injury on his back and he got it when he spoke against a Tigirs Footman. At least it was better than his wife leaving the confines of the house.
His eyes shifted about as he saw Tigris Footmen retreating while a fearsome force of several hundred Desolate Wolves went after them.
A grin formed on his face as he watched their oppressors get oppressed.
“Kill them.” He muttered under his breath.
After the purge, Aquila rode her horse into the town.
“How many surrendered?”
“150.”
A captain replied.
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“So little?” Aquila raised a brow.
“Argh!”
An Ashbourne soldier screamed as the Tigris commander came out from behind a building and swung his sword.
The other Ashbourne soldier turned but the Tigris commander was faster. He slammed the man’s chest with his shoulder.
Just when he was about to cut the soldier, ice spikes suddenly appeared around him, ready to end his life in a mere instant.
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From the corner of his eyes, he saw Aquila on horseback. Her cold gaze fixed on him.
“You hung Ashbourne soldiers without honor. For that, you will also be hanged. Not on these walls but on a tree in the middle of nowhere.”
The man’s eyes shook.
“I am a commander in Lord William’s great army. You will incur his wrath and your end will be worse than mine!”
Aquila chuckled.
“The biggest mistake both you and your lord made was encroaching into the domain of the great wolf.”
After binding him, the soldiers took him away and she went back to the tent. There she received reports of the state of the town and wrote to Asher.
“How many did we lose?” She asked the Ashbourne commander, one of the three commanders under Alec.
The man stood before her with both hands clasped at his back.
“None. We only have a dozen injured but no death.”
Aquila smiled. “Good. We shall leave 50 men here and march for Silver Castle with the rest.”
The commander responded with a nod, turned, and left.
………
Three days later…
Darius sat on a throne, looking at the battered man, who had several wounds on his body. This man was the baron of this domain.
“You still won’t speak?”
Darius raised an eyebrow. He felt the death of his other personality and it made him raise his guard.
This wasteland wasn’t as simple as it looked and the Ashbournes were stronger than he imagined but what surprised him the most was Baron Flameheart’s iron will.
The baron refused to utter a word about the Ashbourne secrets even after being tortured for some days.
For a merchant, his will was impressive. It was as good as a warrior’s.
Claude looked at Darius and laughed. “Your Lord wants my doom. He won’t support me; he never had and never will. Now, you want me to betray my only ally for that same man?”
After speaking, Claude scoffed.
“Kneel.”
Darius said and Claude’s knees fell on their own accord, shocking the baron greatly.
“Count William’s strength is on par with that of a duke. What he reveals on the surface is barely a tenth of his true might. You’re a delusional man to think you ever had a chance.”
Darius rose to his feet. He picked up his sword and slowly walked toward Claude. When he had taken seven steps, the door swung open and a soldier walked in.
“Lord Darius, message from House Ashbourne.”
Darius, Claude, and other captains looked at the letter. Darius took the letter. Opening it, his eyes wandered over the short sentence.
“Darius. There is no going home.”
“Is this a joke?” Darius threw the letter into a fire, lifted his sword, and pointed it at Claude’s neck.
“Your head will be a better message than scribbling words on a piece of paper.”
Claude’s eyes narrowed. When Darius lifted up his sword, the merchant baron closed his eyes for what seemed to be the final time.