The night before (1/3)

The city was bustling with activity as everyone worked to raise the defenses. Against all odds, the wooden fence was nearly complete, standing at three meters high. No one had believed it could be finished in time. It was a crude structure, but it would serve its purpose.

This progress was only possible because the enemy had chosen patience over a quick, sudden attack. Their strategy allowed them to arrive well-prepared and rested, despite giving the city time to bolster its defenses. It had been a week since enemy troops were spotted at the borders, and in that time, neither Frederic nor anyone from his family had left the inner circle. Now, inside his office, a scout knelt before Frederic.

"Sir, our group spotted the enemy just a day's march away. They'll be here tomorrow."

"Were you able to estimate their numbers?"

"It was difficult, sir. We were chased away before we could get a good look at the entire force."

*sigh* "You can go now." After the scout left, Frederic turned to his three advisors. "How's the construction coming along?"

"We'll finish it today, sir."

"Hm." Frederic's mood was darkened by the very weapon that should have given them hope. "How? Why?! Why only three?!" he shouted in frustration. They had managed to produce only three crossbows made of metal and one wooden prototype. While the wooden body was easy to craft, the metal components proved far more challenging.

The other three in the room remained silent, their heads bowed in shared frustration.

"The blacksmiths and carpenters have been working day and night without rest, sir. This alone should earn them great merit. We couldn't have known how difficult it would be to make a single crossbow."

Frederic felt a sharp headache forming. Why? Why is this happening?

"Sir, I must deliver more bad news. Despite our blockade, we estimate that more than a hundred people have escaped today, bringing the total to nearly a thousand since the war began."

They all had the same thought: A hundred just today... and it's still noon...

The three advisors exchanged glances before one of them spoke up. "Sir, we all agree that you should take your family and flee. Seek refuge in the capital."

Frederic closed his eyes, reluctant to accept their advice. "Call that man here. I need to speak with him." One of the men stood to leave but was stopped. "Actually, tell him to meet me at the front gate."

Rafael was in a small room filled with shelves, bowls, pots, bags, and other supplies. "Okay, test number 37." He grabbed three small bowls—one filled with ground charcoal and the other two with different powders. He mixed them together, then placed a candle near the mixture to see if it would ignite.

"Fuck! Okay, test number 38." He repeated the process, changing the proportions of the compounds, but once again, it failed to ignite or explode. "Fucking shit!"

He had been experimenting since the previous day but had not yet succeeded in making gunpowder.

"Mr. Robert? Baron Frederic requests your presence," a servant called to him. Rafael sighed and followed the man. As they made their way to the front gate where Frederic was waiting, people stared at Rafael—or rather, at his clothes.

Since the other day, he had stopped wearing the brown robe of a cleric, revealing his original attire. Even Frederic had shown interest, but after Rafael explained it away as being from his days as a merchant, the baron had accepted it.

Why is he waiting for me here? Rafael wondered as he saw Frederic surrounded by guards and servants at the front gate.

"I'm here, as you requested."

"Good. Mount up; we're going for a ride." A servant brought a horse to Frederic, and he climbed onto it. Rafael awkwardly mounted another horse and clumsily followed. Shit, I need to practice this. Four soldiers rode alongside them.

"How's your... experiment going?" Frederic asked.

"Still no results, but it's fine. Something that can change the outcome of a war isn't easy to create."

I just hope I don't burn in hell for this, Frederic thought.

"I just hope you succeed."

"The enemy will arrive tomorrow, right?" Rafael asked.

"Yes, and it won't end well for us." The streets were eerily empty. At this time of day, they should have been bustling with people—children playing, merchants shouting their wares—but there was none of that.

"A thousand people have already fled. I don't blame them." They reached the outskirts of Calistoga, where a wooden fence encircled the city 30 meters ahead. They could see a considerable number of people working on various sections of the fence.

"I understand why they chose to run away... They made the right choice, and that's what my family will do too. I've already spoken with them, and everyone is leaving tonight." Frederic looked at Rafael. "You, as my daughter's husband, will go with them. The crossbows you showed me are good weapons, but we had too little time to make enough of them."

"If you've decided to leave, inform the others so they can leave too."

"No, Robert, I can't do that," Frederic shook his head. "The people cannot see us—the lords of these lands—fleeing. It would create chaos, and they would try to escape as well, but that's where the problem lies. We need a distraction for the enemy so they don't chase us down."

You fucking psychopath!

"So you're going to leave all these people behind to die?"

"Most wouldn't make it to the next city, and very few even know the way. They're already dead." Frederic ignored Rafael's look of disgust.

"As someone now in the ranks of nobility, you will come to understand and accept my choice. Also, the crossbows are going with you. Avice has already planned everything for when you—Huuh AAAhhh!"

An arrow struck Frederic in the back. It was crudely made. WTF?! Rafael turned to see a man 10 meters away, aiming another arrow.

"Protect the lord!" one of the soldiers shouted, rushing to Frederic's side. The two servants did the same, while the other two soldiers turned their horses to charge at the assassin.

The man, seeing the soldiers coming, loosed his second arrow at one of them before fleeing.

"We must get him back to the mansion! Everyone—" Another arrow, coming from another direction, whizzed past and struck Frederic in the leg. "Aaaahh!"

"Fuck! Leave the enemy; we must get him to the mansion!" Rafael grabbed the reins of Frederic's horse and pulled it along. The soldiers followed while the servants ran on foot.