Chapter 7: Chapter II: Tribal Champion [1]
OVER LESS THAN a hundred years ago, at the time when Flendle was but a mere hamlet, with scanty populace and less arable lands to be ploughed, the current king at the time had rewarded Sir Aldrene Walruse the lordship over Flendle Manor to oversee the hamlet and its tenants. It was the boon he had accepted of the King for fighting heroically at several instances against raiding parties of the Norsmundi tribesmen, often referred to as barbarians by the Runtallians. Not too long after Sir Aldrene accepted the post, the economy of Flendle had substantially flourished and the population became denser, and overtime expanded, becoming a large trading village. Inevitably, as the village prospered and grew its size, it became prey to goblin hordes during the summer and raiding parties at fall. Fortunately, Sir Aldrene's military background served him well during these times, and so peace was relatively kept. The impregnable walls and the wide moat that surrounded Flendle were proofs of the knight's endeavor to repel human and non-human atrocities that had befallen the town, all of it to no avail hitherto. These efforts then had contributed for Flendle becoming one of the hubs of trade in Estveine between Runtallia and Dullahar. In due course, Sir Aldrene had left the village of Flendle to reside and rule the capital city of Regalia as he was bestowed the title of duke that had been inherited by his grandson, Gaverone Walruse.
The noon sun was at its peak, casting its radiance upon the town of Flendle. Tension among the clusters of men above the walls made the malodorous smell of sweat even thicker as the sight in the far distant horizon continued to strike awe among the defenders' ranks. The daunting force of the enemy army had given a remarkably fearsome impression to the Runtallians. Among these were men of the Faith of the Holy Triumvirate, who offered prayers to Lamellia, who was the Goddess of Light. In an attempt to boost the morale, several of the soldiers swore the oath of honor in the name of the King, and through cheers revered Mirim, the deity popularly admired by soldiers of the Kingdom who occupied the second seat in the Holy Triumvirate, but they too gulped nervously in secret to quell their own agitation. Hope and prayers for the other goddess of the faith, Goddess of Love Kierra, also pervaded in the air. It was followed by whispered curses of the less bold, addressed to the Dark God of Death, Yldread, to claim the souls of their adversaries; wishing for a twisted miracle to happen. The God of Death, despite no major religion adapting its doctrines of worship, gained popularity for those who seek misfortune and vengeance upon their enemies. Defenders of the town clutched their weapons tight as they behold the fearsome display of the enemies, while coated in mixed emotions of hope, despair, and the grim anticipation of what would soon take place.
The barbarian horde had just halted their march hailing from the river where they had sojourned along the eastern border, maintaining a mile distance to the town walls of Flendle. Men scurried back and forth building an encampment in preparation for a potential prolonged siege, erecting rows of tents whilst crafting siege weaponry. They stood roughly five thousand strong, bearing tribal banners, war horns and drums.
After about an hour, the horde was organized into battle lines and the instruments were sounded abruptly, accompanied by the ear-splitting battle cries that tormented the besieged army and the bashing of wooden shields against weapon shafts. By doing so, they enacted the canticle of deliverance, a ceremonial war chant common for the diverse tribes of Norsmund. It acted as a tactic to struck terror, exploited by the Norsmundi warriors in order to dismay their foes in an upcoming battle. The tribesmen were garbed on fur and leather clothing from shoulder to toe, few heads with iron helms. Most of them were equipped with spears and axes, with a scarce number of swords that occasionally littered their battle array, crude in quality that would pale in comparison even with a local lord's troops. Even so, according to such stories made to frighten young children at night to sleep, the fearsome stout and bulky physique of a barbarian, with its inscrutable countenance that send shivers even to the bravest of soldiers, was to have the strength enough to crush a man's skull barehanded, but whether it was but exaggerated rumors, the Runtallians would witness first hand into the fray. Whilst they do lacked armor, as it was said that heavy armors were symbol of cowardice in accordance to their beliefs, the ferocious style of fighting of theirs would compensate for it, as any veteran campaigner would agree.
On the other side, the bulk of the defending forces were comprised of poorly trained and ill-equipped peasants from the militia, expeditiously organized as it was, lacked the burning will for battle that was equally as fatal as an edge of a blade, save for the rest of the men-at-arms sent from Rondelle and Falmundth, most of them eager to seek glory and prove their worth in battle, driven either by fortune from loots and status. Aside from them, a contingent of elite knights, clad in dark plate armor with silver accents, that could at any moment be deployed as both heavy infantry in close range combat or heavy cavalry upon the open field, had remained unbudging, standing their ground at the personal command of the order's commander, Lady Frenda Ferndale of House Walruse. Summing the gathered forces, the besieged army tallied to no more than nine hundred men, numerically inferior compared to the battle-hardened foreign adversaries.
The fortification was aided by a wide moat surrounding the whole town, and the only means of entrance for the besieging barbarians was crossing upon the two hundred meter long stone bridge channeling the town's main gate located on the east to outside, where the heat of battle would take its place. Originally, Flendle had a wooden drawbridge that may be lowered to allow people to cross the moat from the outside to the gatehouse and be lifted to prevent passage to an enemy army, but an incident happened that led to the construction of a new stone bridge to replace the old drawbridge. Apparently, as Flendle was one of the towns in the region that benefitted the most in the trade route that connected trade between Estveine and the Elven Principality of Dullahar, merchant caravans would always flock into the town in large numbers, thus at one point, it became apparent that the wooden drawbridge was not sufficient to endure the strain of heavy wagons and carts of goods the merchants and tradesmen were bringing towards the town. As a result, a few years ago, the town mayor had decided to construct a wider and stronger bridge to accommodate the traffic of merchant vehicles. This, however, became a flaw in the town's defense, as the moat surrounding Flendle cannot achieve its fullest potential as a defensive structure.
As the deafening noise of bellicose warriors sounded along with the reverberation of tribal instruments across the zone of battle, the inexperienced militia of Flendle were rapidly demoralized, the weaker minded ones almost loosing grip of their weapons in an attempt to cover their ears. The psychological impact of the tumultuous, taunting noise that enveloped the field of battle had taken its toll. Upon seeing the disheartened faces upon his people, Velmund began to emerge into deep thinking in an attempt to weigh his options. There was the choice of surrendering without hostile resistance to avoid bloodshed. As he was aware that his father half expected him to eventually fail, Velmund was almost enticed by the idea. However, gifting the town to the savages would dishonor House Walruse, a fate worse than death, utterly unbearable for him to even imagine, as he thought of his brothers, then of his father and the entire household. Furthermore, chances for negotiations were bleaker than mud, for the tribesmen can hardly be reasoned with save the warrior's way through spilling of blood, that not even the shrewdest diplomats of the Duke's court could make them heed words of diplomacy. Pondering these, Velmund reminisced at one time when his father conducted a war speech that emboldened his men before battle, but with all the noise around, his thoughts soon drowned, having the notion slip upon his grasp. Alternatively, it was worth considering to turn the siege into a battle of attrition, withstanding the attacking army long enough until they ran out of supply, and with any stoke of luck, some reinforcements might even arrive to his peril.
Amidst the ruckus, the barbarian chief-thane ordered his warriors to haul the battering ram they had built minutes ago, directing it at the stone bridge. When the cacophony of war horns and drums ceased, the chief-thane incited the charge among his men. A detachment of half a thousand Norsmundi warriors flooded the field and hastened upon the bridge, which oddly enough, had abandoned their shields to favor mobility over protection. The reflected light on the surging blades of tribesmen who braved to climb through the lofty walls of the town glimmered in the noon sun. The enemies' vanguard moved in brisk, determined to breach the gate ahead of them. Settling his nerves and assuming his calmest demeanor, Velmund nodded to a knight standing erect beside of him, issuing his first order.
"Archers, nock and draw!" the knight had shouted, relaying the orders he received to the soldierly. Forthwith, a man-at-arms had sounded a single horn blow. Archers behind the battlements of the wall had drawn arrows out of quivers, with some of the less disciplined militiamen seconds delayed at following the order, either due to the lack of training or building fear. Momentarily, noticing that the enemies were within bow's range, the knight captain gave the signal to shoot, "Loose!" Then he added, "Concentrate the fire around the battering ram." Soon, flurry of arrows started to rain down upon the charging barbarians, killing and injuring dozens of besiegers during the initial volley. Then, another round of arrows had gone plummeting down upon the aggressors, continuously, as they traverse close to the gate and wall. The first ounces of blood had tainted the soil. The defenders had been partially successful on exploiting the lack of armor among the opponents to their advantage and were commanded, at Velmund's behest, to fire at will. Upon the slight triumph of ranged weapons, the demoralized troops slightly recovered courage to take up arms.
The battering ram was abandoned in the middle of the bridge during the initial wave of arrows, but was recovered again and again in an attempt to hammer it against the entrance gate at the end of the bridge. A score of barbarians with siege ladders reached the wall beside the gate, setting ladders upon the turf beneath. The men-at-arms stationed upon the ramparts swooped to the archers' support, steering their efforts upon the enemies scaling the wall, hacking and stabbing with long pole arms to those who managed to climbed through. Thus, the disarray of battle commenced.
The battle ensued for no more than ten minutes. Most of the ladders were promptly dislodged the moment they hit a battlement since the space in the vicinity of the gate only allowed a pair of ladders at most, and the gate itself was to be hammered down by the battering ram. The barbarians had started to make a temporary yet coordinated retreat upon the realization that their first attempt to prick through the town defenses had proven to be quite ineffective, and so took a considerable amount of casualties for the failure. A couple of hundred warriors lay lifeless across the field, whereas the archers who took their lives remained unscathed. Seeing this small victory boosted the morale of the defenders significantly. Heedlessly blinded by the trifling achievement, the defenders uttered cheers and boasts, yet Velmund was conspicuously aware that the horde was purely conducting an assessment about their strengths. In other words, launching a probing attack in their position to potentially find a fault upon their defenses, prompting him to give an order to the troops to maintain their vigilance.
Gifts
-- Gift
received Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone