Episode 3 The Day Of The Semites - Part 6

 As soon as he had counted, he turned his back on the battle and set about unlocking the inner door, which he had been defending to the death. Immediately, the Shem army tried to attack it. The Golar soldiers ran to prevent it. Oro of Torrath was a great user. His sword was immediately splashed with the blood of the Shemites, but the Shemites could not approach the open inner door because of the dance of his sword.

 The captain ran into the dark and silent building. When the door was violently shut behind him, the Gora soldiers fought again against the door. Like the giant Nosferus, who was said to have a thousand heads, and who sprouted no matter how many times he was cut down, the number of the barbarians did not diminish, and the Gora soldiers, little by little, were reduced in number by arrows and axes, but they continued to fight desperately. It was as if they were trying to proudly defend the valor of the Gora soldiers, the greatest power that had made the mighty nation of Gora from a remote vassal state to the point where it could finally overthrow the city of Paro, the pride of the Middle Plains, and conquer the Middle Plains, even in this desperate battle. It was.

 One after another, Shem's arrows were shot out, and the corpses fell into the bonfire, sending up beautiful golden sparks of fire in the night sky. Shouts and yells, sword fights and flames - the fire blazed brightly and scorched the heavens, and the barbarians, illuminated by it, came flying in like demons. The whole castle of Staphorus was now clearly outlined in a strange and fantastic orange and gold flame, which looked like a huge fortress writhing and screaming in despair.

"Aye, ea, aye!"

 The chiefs of Shem raised their hands to give the signal. The archers of Shem lined up in a line and shot their arrows in unison, and they went over the walls in tails of fire, and many of them fell against the stone walls, but still a good many of them began to crackle and burn against the wooden doors. Again the chief raised his hand, and again, and again, the flaming arrows turned into a small meteor shower and ravaged the castle.

 By now the whole of Staphorus was lit up by flames that threatened to spread beyond the bonfire. It gave disadvantage to those who tried to defend the castle and advantage to those who lurked in the darkness and shot arrows at the attackers. The Gora soldiers fell one by one under Shem's arrows.

"They're breaking through the main gate!"

 There was a cry of grief, and the men turned to go, but they were already surrounded by small barbarians, and they were forced to fight to the death to protect themselves rather than their allies. The grim faces of the Gora soldiers showed their fatigue, and as soon as they staggered to their knees in their heavy armour, the Semites, like ants to an elephant, swarmed over them and shot their lances down into their throats.

"The sun will be up soon!"

 Oro of Torus, who had guarded the last line of defense in the Inner Garden with his life, was still alive. Wounded and staggering, he saw the eastern sky begin to sober, and a beautiful light of roses and violets shine through. He stood with his staff and raised his voice to exhort the soldiers.

"We must hold out a little longer! When the sun rises, the darkness will pass in favor of the Semites. We are the proud knights of Mongol!"

 Oro said that never before had the Shemites attacked a frontier stronghold with such fury and such a large force, and that now that they were inside the castle, the Gora soldiers would only be defeated one by one. --Even if our brothers in the nearest fortress of Arvon recognized the burning castle of Staphoros and immediately sent troops to rescue us, it would still be a distance of three days by horse from Arvon to Staphoros. These were all desperate thoughts that flashed through his mind. But Oro shook his head, and as he turned his eyes to the sight of another Black Knight sinking to the ground with his head split open, he cried out once more in a loud voice.

"We will soon have reinforcements from Alvon Castle! The sun will rise and we will be saved. Hold on and fight, brave men of Mongol!"

 In the meantime, his sword struck Shem in the neck and dispelled the poisoned arrow. But where is the lord of the castle being attacked, and what is he doing about it? If only the lord of the castle were here--if only the lord were in command!

 But that momentary thought distracted Oro, and a moment later, Shem's stone axe struck the back of his head, wrapped in a black helmet.

 Oro's eyes were enveloped in a meteor-colored darkness. Slowly, Oro plopped down on the cobblestones of the courtyard, and Danpei fell from his hand without effort. The battle continued fiercely between the Gora and the Semites who had overcome Oro's body, but soon most of the Gora guarding the inner courtyard door fell dead or incapacitated and succumbed under the Semites' blades.

 A strange cry of triumph erupted from Shem's throat. The barbarians surmounted the swaying corpses of the Gora soldiers, leapt over them, stomped on them, and rushed to the inner door. A huge mallet was brought out, and the door flew open with a cracking sound.

"Ee, ee, ee!"

"Eeee!"

 One by one, the hairy little bodies of the barbarians plunged into the dark, chilly castle with a monkey-like scream. Oro's body lay motionless among the corpses of his brethren and the barbarians.

 At that moment, there was a loud shout at the Otemon Gate. At the same time, the stone fell with a tremendous sound. At last, the gate was breached. The stone crushed many Semites who were crowded underneath it, but the barbarians were not daunted by this, but instead they clambered up the pile of stones, shouting and screaming, and rushed into the castle, trampling the corpses of their comrades.

 The coughing died down. In no time at all, Castle Staphorus was filled with running, squeaking, foul-smelling little figures. The Semites rushed through the corridors shouting and cutting down the Gora soldiers. By now more than half the castle was ablaze with flames, and all that was not was buried by the Semites. The shouts and orders of the Gora soldiers ceased, and all that came out were screams of despair and the faint moans of the wounded. The fire was crackling and spreading, and the two towers that stood in the centre of the castle, the Black Tower and the White Tower, were licking their tongues greedily in an attempt to spread their tongues of flame.

 Then the dawn broke.

 The huge crimson disk, the divine Son of Janus, lit up the bloody castle as if it were a fire from the earth in the sky. The dying castle of Staphorus stood in the midst of the black forest, and black smoke rose from every part of it, and screams and moans filled the inner court of the acid nose. In the morning light, only the triumphant demon cries of the Semites and the roar of the crumbling stone walls somewhere break the peaceful morning appearance of the birds singing, as Janus indicates, and the ever-present hand of fire becomes a finger of flame announcing the fate of the fortress as it burns in the fires of hell. In the violet sky were drawn the letters of the revelation of Mene Mene Tekel Uparsin.

 The bells have ceased to ring, and the belfry is in flames. The castle of Staphorus would fall soon. Between the black smoke, the corpses, and the broken swords and arrows, Oro Torus, who had fallen, regained consciousness at the sight of the drops of blood on his face, and looked about him dazed and confused. The inner court was silent. All the Semites had run into the building.

 Oro stood up with a groan, and, using his sword as a staff, staggered forward. As far as the eye could see, the corpses of his allies and the barbarians lay scattered about, and, as the raging flames must have called, the wind gradually came up and began to flap the cloaks of the dead. It was the ruins of Staphorus Castle, the pride of the Kingdom of Gora, the cornerstone of the frontier defense, which had turned into a living hell overnight. Oro walked on, sobbing, and poked at the Shemites who struggled to get up. The helmet fell off, revealing Oro's still young, bloodied face and bloodshot blue eyes. Still groaning, Oro the Torus walked towards the white tower, and gradually regained his strength and ran. At that moment, there were signs of a fierce battle in the tower, but by then the fire had already spread from the main tower to the towers on both sides.

 Before that...

 The third captain, who had run to the Honmaru to report Shem's attack, ran like a madman through the dark stone corridor.

 It was a dark, cool, and silent place that made me think that the screaming and shouting outside was just a nightmare or a misunderstanding. Because of the fear of the Black Death, few people ever came to this side of the castle, where the Count of Vernon lived, except at the appointed hour of each day, so there were no knights, no apprentices, not even a shadow of a living being in the corridors. As he ran down the long corridor, the captain was filled with anxiety, as if he had arrived on a deserted planet.

 However, if you listen closely, you can hear a faint murmur outside: shouts and screams, the crack of sword fights, the sound of urgent bells and the anxious whinnies of horses.

 The third captain finally made his way through the chilly, dark corridor and reached the bottom of the black tower. There, a heavy black sealed door stood in the way of the captain.

 The captain hesitated. Even the most obnoxious of servants would rather die than venture beyond. Because behind that door was the private chambers of the Count of Vernon, the Black Count of Mongol, who spent most of his days in solitude, with only death and foul smells as his friends. The soldiers of the castle whispered to each other that the decay of the Black Death was slowly but surely making its horrible progress, and they cursed their fate that they had been forced to offer their swords to such a lord, punished by the god Janus, of all the fortresses on the frontier.

 But--

 The third captain flung back his cheeks, pulled his resolute face into determination, pulled out a heavy cane, and opened the black door of death. The indescribably horrible smell of living, dying flesh choked him, but the captain ignored it,

"Count! My Lord!"

 I screamed at the top of my lungs.

"Count!"

"What?"

 The reply came from so close that the captain jumped back and turned his eyes. Inside the door was a pitch black darkness, and he could not see anything inside.

 Even the courageous captain of the Black Knights of Gora could not bring himself to step into the darkness where the sick nobleman lurked. So he stood there and called out to him again.

"Count-- The Semites have taken the fort."

"I know."

 The answer that came back angered the captain. Meanwhile, in the foreground, his men were being cut down or hit by poisoned arrows.

"The Semites have struck back. Our fortress will not fare well this night."

 He repeated what he had said, trying to restrain himself from saying it, considering that the other man was a sick man.

"The Third Order is nearly wiped out and the Fifth is down. The Sixth is holding them off, but if we add new men, they'll break through the gate. Please give the order."

"What if it rips?"

 The voice from the darkness had a clear tone of mockery in it.

"It's none of my business if the great gate is breached. You can give this one fort to the monkeys."

"Hak!"

 The third captain was furious. He believed the Count had gone mad.

"Do you wonder why the Semites have attacked the fort in such great numbers! Though they are vicious, since the Year of the Serpent we have had a silent pact and a little peace, but it is your order that has angered them so much! To take the Semites alive and bring them home. It was the repeated abductions of their comrades that brought about this day when the Shemites realized what the disaster was. They want to rescue their friends. Count, it was you who locked up their people in the tower. Why have they disappeared, one by one? The men of the fortress are talking. What fate has befallen them?"

"I'll tell you."

 A voice whispered calmly, but with a horrible malice in it. The captain stepped back a little.

"Captain Third, you are a loyal and valiant knight of Gora. Leave the fort's fate to the spinning of the yarn. I have my work cut out for me."

"Count--?"

 The captain's voice rose, and he fell further and further back. Little by little the darkness took hold of him, slowly revealing before him the full extent of what he had been hiding.

 As the Black Count of Mongol - or whatever the creature was called - slowly, slowly appeared in the doorway, the faint cry of the captain, frozen in fear, called out the name of the dark god Dole. Immediately it ceased.

 And after that, only a sticky, foul-smelling darkness lingered again.