23 Fallibility (2/2)
Low on men, low on morale, low on ammo. Meanwhile, the sun had been up for the past few days, busily drying the enemy ammunition. It wouldn't be long before the cannon fire picked up again. At the same time, Corco had observed Bornish reinforcements close in from the south and meet up with the main army. He hadn't even needed a telescope for that one. Duke Herak had made sure that every man inside Etra could see their enemies get stronger, while they could feel their own strength drain from their bodies. Whatever the prince could think up, it might not be enough to guarantee them victory, or even just to save their lives. No matter how hard he thought, no matter how much he knew, he couldn't find a way out. Not this time.
With a heavy sigh, Corco moved his telescoped view closer to home, atop the walls, where his own soldiers slumped against the crenelations, too tired to even stand. Without warning, Fadelio dragged Corco to the side, before a whizzing sound brushed over the crown prince's head and crashed into the ceiling above. Terrified, the prince ducked out of view, back behind the safety of the stone walls.
Corco didn't even have to check to know who had attacked him. All he would find above his head would be another one of Duke Herak's arrows. Over the course of the siege, the man's favorite past time had been to take out his enormous longbow and take aim at Corco, to snipe the enemy commander off of the battlements.
So far, the duke had always missed his mark, but not for a lack of skill. More than once, it had been Fadelio, at the last second, who had saved the prince's life. It was then that the warrior had received his own injury.
Even still, he had continued his duties, unperturbed by his own aching body or the commands of his own master. No matter how much Corco insisted, the warrior wouldn't listen. Instead, he ignored his own safety in favor of his friend's. In that regard, servant and master were one and the same.
”The city isn't safe,” Fadelio started again, like so many times before. ”We need leave Etra, now. If you still cannot see that the city is a lost cause, then I have to assume you to have lost your mind.”
Corco could see the warrior tense his body, as he braced himself for another heated argument. They had gone through this play before. Fadelio would suggest retreat, worried for Corco's safety, while the prince would insist on standing his ground as he explained his plans one more time. However, this time, Corco didn't react. Instead, he just lay there beneath the window, while his eyes went up to the ceiling. Up, where the heavy arrow of Duke Herak had lodged itself into the stone, where it swung like the Sword of Damocles.
”I've made a mistake.” At last, with a shaking voice, Corco admitted to himself what he had known for a long time. They wouldn't win.
Rather than answer, rather than say 'I told you so', Fadelio just stood there, with a worried frown, and looked down onto his master. The prince understood his attendant's feelings well. Since he had been gifted these memories, this knowledge, Corco had always been certain of his actions. With absolute surety, the prince had used his new talents to steer their group from success to success. Seeing that perfect facade collapse must have been a shock even to the stoic warrior. Still, it was time to face the facts.
”I though I was right, you know? Thought I had it all figured out. We'd hold out with our new weapons and new tactics, catch the Bornish off guard. In the meantime, the cities and countries around Borna would observe our war. As the siege went on, they should have seen Borna's determination for conquest, should have understood the true ambition of the Bornish. At the same time, they should have seen just how much trouble Borna had with the tiny, demilitarized Etra. They would seem greedy, overambitious, and vulnerable. Ideal conditions for someone else to take a bite out of their country under the guise of benevolence. The plan was perfect... what happened?”
Fadelio opened his mouth, but soon closed it again without a word. There were no good answers to his master's question. The plan itself had been solid. Still, there had been a fatal flaw within: With their own weakness exposed in front of an entire country's might, their little group was far too reliant on the decisions of others. For Corco's plans to work, the neighbors of Borna had to act in the way he had predicted: Logical, calculated and with forward vision. However, people weren't so easy to understand.
”I... shouldn't have been so sure of myself. No matter how much I know, I'll never know the future. We should prepa-” As Corco was about to admit his defeat, admit his fallibility and call for retreat, a resounding tone from beyond the window interrupted him. What laid its presence all over the battlefield was a military bugle, but not the Bornish one they had all become so familiar with over the month. Someone else had announced their arrival on the battlefield. While the stunned Corco was still lying on the ground, Fadelio peeked out of the window, careful to stay in cover. His tired face decorated by a wide grin, the servant turned to face his master.
”It's the Free Alliance of Southern Cities,” he said with glee. ”You were right again, Boss, exactly like you predicted. The war is over. It's our win.”