Chapter 203: The Prince Arrives (1/2)

Hubert Lothrain, heir to the House of Lothrain and Count in all but name, collapsed against the wall of the muddy and blood-spattered gatehouse, no longer able to stand. He numbly took stock of his injuries, paying special attention to the cut across his right thigh, which seemed to be oozing blood at an alarming rate. This was probably what was causing his sudden loss of balance, although he couldn't remember when he'd received the injury.

Fighting had been going on around the gate for close to ten minutes, and he'd already lost count of the number of times the desperate Almiran defenders had barely managed to throw back the Tenundian attackers, buying a little bit of breathing room before the next assault. Thankfully, a few members of the Royal Guard, which had appeared almost simultaneously with the invaders, had kept the strongest members of the strike force busy. If not for them, Hubert's force would have been crushed a long time ago.

As it was, they've barely hung onto the gate itself thanks to a makeshift barricade composed of a few overturned wagons, bits of rubble, and some tables scavenged from the guardhouse nearby. The men and women under his command had fought valiantly, but the defense had taken its toll. Of the roughly 200 hundred strong company he'd started with, scarcely 50 remained standing, and not a single one of them was uninjured.

Victor kneeled down beside Hubert, and started wrapping his leg with a bandage. His dark hair was matted with blood on one side where he'd received a glancing blow from an Tenundian sword. ”I'm afraid we've run out of recovery items, my lord. I-I'll check around again, but I think it's a long shot.” He spoke in a quivering voice, clearly on the verge of despair.

The young lord simply nodded, knowing that nothing he could say would serve to improve his follower's mood. It was unfortunate that they had been separated from Leroy in the confusion following the fall of the 2nd Division headquarters, since the brash young warrior would have been in his element during the conflict. Hubert had to make do with what he had available.

[I sincerely regret whatever temporary insanity led me to accept a commission with the University Army. If I had known it would lead to this, I would have joined the rest of the high nobles as they fled the city.]

”They're coming again!” One of the other Martial Arts Students yelled as he took up a position at the barricade. Judging from the sounds of booted feet running on pavement, the Tenundians were pushing forward in earnest this time.

Hubert summoned his last remaining dregs of strength and leveraged himself up, hand fumbling with the hilt of his ornate sword. After waiting for a wave of vertigo to pass, he started stumbling towards his place at the center, grateful for the shoulder Victor offered when it seemed like he wouldn't be able to make it on his own.

He looked over at his longtime follower, ”Well, it looks like this is it.”

There was a moment of silence before Victor finally replied in a quiet voice, ”That is does, my lord.”

”I suppose the least we can do is face it with courage.”

The other man didn't reply, instead focusing on the incoming horde of Tenundians, which must have numbered a few hundred at the least. It seemed that someone leading the strike force had decided to take the gate once and for all.

A few remaining archers launched a meager volley, doing little to halt the enemy's charge. As the thundering grew closer, Hubert took a deep breath and prepared himself for death. However, he was caught by surprise by what happened next.

A beastman dropped from the roof of a nearby building, landing in front of the barricade with an audible thud. Straightening, he rested a large, two-handed sword made of a dull, grey metal across his shoulders. He was dressed in simple peasant clothes, and if it were not for weapon he was carrying, he could easily have been mistaken for a simple craftsman or merchant.

Yet, despite all that, the man's aura was intimidating. Hubert wasn't sure what it must be like for the Tenundians, but simply staring at his back was already giving the noble heir chills.

”Oi!” The beastman called without glancing back. ”I'm going to take care of this, so you just stay back there and out of my way. Got it?”

Before anyone had a chance to give a reply, he started walking forward calmly. After a few steps, he broke into a run, charging the Tenundian line all by himself. It looked suicidal, at least until the man started to attack.

Moving almost too fast to see, the beastman swung his sword in a horizontal arc, bisecting the first three enemy soldiers he came across. In less than a heartbeat, he was inside the enemy formation, laying about with his massive sword to the accompaniment of screams and sprays of blood.

”High Tier Warrior!” Someone yelled from the milling soldiers, whose charge had faltered in the face of the sudden assault. They seemed to be well trained, since they responded to the call almost immediately.

”Fall back and regroup!” A Tenundian officer managed to shout before falling victim to the terrifying warrior.

Almost as if that had been a signal he was waiting for, the beastman raised a hand to the sky, ”Now!”

Suddenly, the rooftops on both sides of the street were lined with figures dressed in dark leathers, and used variety of ranged weapons to begin raining death onto the retreating soldiers. At the same time, another group of them blocked off the other end of the road.

What followed was a mix of pitched battle and absolute slaughter, as the Tenundian detachment proved unable to break through their encirclement. Attempts to move into the nearby buildings, or escape down the side streets resulted in horrifying deaths, as more of the shadowy fighters unleashed shots from blunderbusses at close range, forcing the Tenundians into a constricted group.

With nowhere to go, and little hope of escape, they had no choice but to wait for their demise.