The Siege of Frostholm

[🎶 Sympathy For The Devil – The Rolling Stones.]

PALE SUNLIGHT FILTERED INTO the dungeon deep under the Emberfall Manor. They were no windows in the cavernous space and the only light came from the torches hung off the stone walls. Rafel stood in one of the hollow rooms. His eyes seemingly stared out at nothing as he breathed in the musk of damp rock and metal.

But even more permeating, that of free running blood.

Beyond the savage light of Rafel's yellow eyes, dangling a few feet away on chains before him was a Vampire. The bloodsucker hung off the rotund ceiling of the dungeon by his legs, turned upside down. His chest area was a mess of bruises and cuts, and a long bleeding gash ran down from the point of his flaccid penis above his abdomen to the drop of his un-beating heart.

The vampire was yet alive, fully nude but for the strips of his expensive scarlet doublet that marked him as a Viscount.

"P–Please, Lord BlüdThïrste...have mercy. I'm sorry." The vampire viscount begged.

Rafel looked to his side at Corazón, the only other person in the coppery smelling dungeon.

"What did he do again?"

Cora's eyes leveled on the blood-stained chains winding round the vampire's shackled body in fury. "Caught the bastard trying to steal from our Blood Bank, Your Grace," she replied.

Rafel sighed.

Gods! Seriously?

This was why she had woken him up at dawn, before even the crows on his estate's grounds cried. Dawn—when he'd been looking forward to dissolving for at least two more hours in the abundant flesh of Lilith. Rafel remembered the room smelling mildly of a Cathedral's incense, just as he pulled up his pants to answer his Chamberlain's persistent knocking.

The sun was barely up.

Fuck!

If Corazón wasn't looking so lush in her riding pants, he would strip her and punish here right here.

Her blue eyes were streaked in wispy silver of her dark magic, and Rafel knew the chained vampire had come to his Waterloo, Viscount or not. Only a crazy cunt would steal from a Hell Prince.

"Make it quick!" Rafel dismissed with a toss of his hand, already walking out the stone chamber.

"Please, please, my Lord Grace. Don't leave me with her. SHE'S FUCKING CRAZY!" The Viscount was yelling as Rafel made his exit.

Just as Rafel began to ascend up the steps that led back into the Manor, he heard a bloodcurdling wail, and then utter silence. Gone was the vampire. In a few hours time, Eldoria would be missing a particular bloodsucking Viscount. His fucking ash would fertile my orchards, mused Rafel darkly.

He didn't blame the vampire for trying. His Blood Bank was well stocked.

Multiple shelves of bottled virgin blood in his Manor's mini bar was like waving Heaven's Ambrosia in the face of Lucifer. You just had to expect a reaction.

As Rafel cleared up from the dungeon into his Landing, determined to rouse his Aunt for a sweaty early morning session as soon as he got back into his chambers, he was abruptly confronted with the sight of the Queen herself lighting up his entire foyer like the Seely Court in her dazzling fairy swagger.

"Well, shit. There goes my quickie!" Rafel complained under a breath.

Giselle Nova Imperia turned from her place beside Aya on spotting the Earl emerge just in time with the sunrise. His ruddy hair glowed in effect. The Earl's missus, the light-skinned one had been keeping her company.

"Oh, Rafel. There you are! Good morning! Your lovely confidante here said you were busy, but I'm a patient woman. Grab a coat, will you? I'm taking you out." The Queen greeted.

Rafel stomped towards the curving staircase. He disliked greatly the condition of blue balls. The Queen's outing better be good. "She's my slave," he growled offhandedly as he began his climb, making the Queen turn to glance at Aya with a brighter eye.

Giselle was surprised when the beauty nodded erratically. Then hopped after her Master.

She smiled to herself, expecting nothing less.

Aya Naamah quickly drew Rafel a warm bath, and ten minutes later, the Earl was marching down the spiral staircase again. He heard the sound of flapping wings just as Corazón, fresh from staking a vampire, pulled open the double doors of the Manor in swinging gusto. Queen Giselle stood by the tall pillars, large bird shadows cast on her petite fairy form.

"My Griffins!" Giselle introduced, petting the great birds.

'Her Griffins' had golden beaks like daggers. And were the size of three carriages stacked atop one another. Rafel nodded. And the one closest to him ruffled its gray feathers and crooned at him. Rafel had heard of Griffins in Hel, but up close, he remarked they were spectacular creatures.

It made sense that the Fey Queen's Familiar was one.

"Shall we, Your Grace?" Giselle held out her hand.

Rafel boldly mounted the seat strapped to the back of the grey Griffin, even though he had never ridden one before. But he'd ridden a Hell Dragon, so he thought, how hard could a Griffin be? Giselle was impressed and her eyes showed it as she swiftly leaped onto the back of the white one.

"Cayat!" She commanded the giant birds in Fey tongue.

And they leaped up, wings spreading in a grand bow, climbing hundreds of feet into the air in speed and splendor that marveled Rafel, threatening to untangle his red mane. When he peered down, the greatness of Emberfall was no more than a stretch that fitted his open palm.

They were thousands of feet in the sky.

Flying through the clouds, Rafel closed his eyes and enjoyed the earthly golden sun.

"Where are we going?" He yelled to be heard above the sound of the rushing wind to Giselle, who was in the lead.

"It's a surprise!" She called back, laughing in the wind, her blonde hair whipping into the sun's slow ascent. She was in her element. Skyward. Fey. Free.

Rafel noticed the air grew colder as they flew across stretches of field. And soon green plantations gave way to idle white lands of snow.

Before long, the Griffins swept down the expansive nimbus they were flying above, ducking below the clouds to clear into the view of a city. The closer they got, the more Rafel noticed the little defects invisible thousands of feet in the sky.

First, this city's skyline was like a post-apocalytic world's.

Burned brick buildings.

Misshapen Brownstones.

Perpetual dusty atmosphere.

Where the hell were they?

Giselle's silver Griffin took the lead, landing at the helm of a proud stretch of armies flanking the city's walls. The host were completely encompassed roundabout the poor state. No way in. No way out. A siege, perfectly executed.

Rafel noticed the trimmed lines of the infantry as his gray Griffin also landed close to Giselle's.

The host was thousands of thousands, sweeping out as far as the eye could see. Eldorian banners breezing with the wind every partitioned century. A General of the army swiftly marched close at their smooth landing, and bowed to both Giselle and Rafel. He addressed the Queen.

"Your Majesty, welcome. They refuse to surrender. Our cannons are prepared. We are ready to tread them to dust. The city is ripe for the taking, at your order."

Giselle Nova Imperia caught Rafel's open staring and began her explanation.

"Welcome to Frostholm, Your Grace. The northernmost lands of Eldoria. And as you can see, it's a fucking mess of a rebellion. My great-grandfather as a gift to his best friend offered him the lands of the North. But now, apparently, its current Lord refuses to pay the tribute owed to a 'puny Fey'.

The independence of Frostholm, I can deal with. Not paying taxes, alright! Who fucking cares? I'm rich already. But this treachery has also inspired one of the western states, Rocasus, to want to secede. That, I will not tolerate.

So here we are...war. Messy as always. The Lord of Frostholm is an egotistical prick and will not surrender. Because of this, I will bring him and his sanctimonious city to their knees, in blood and in fire.

I am not my great-grandfather. I made no pact. I owe no debt..."

Rafel regarded the speaking Queen in new light.

Giselle was your typical Yandere.

Rafel could sense her madness. Beyond her innumerable armies, the city of Frostholm was already withered. By the northern cold and by the months of long battle. The siege hadn't helped. Faces of hungry citizens stared out through cracks in the high walls. A moat with frigid water surrounded the city, and Rafel could see that for a while it had helped to keep back the encroaching fright of Eldorian military.

But now, the bridge was fallen and a clear path to the city's gates open wide.

The last line of Frostholm's defense shivered behind those gates.

"...considering your bloodthirsty inclinations, I thought you'd want to be here for this." Giselle finished.

"You thought right," said Rafel. "I might invite a friend though."

"Bring all chaos hither," Giselle replied. "Fuck this cold fucking city."

At Giselle's blatant fury, Rafel didn't mention the loan that the Legatus of Rocasus had asked him to fund his own approaching war with the Queen.

Are those fucking elephants?

He blinked, forgetting his train of thought when the mammoths trumpeted amongst Giselle's army, already ready to stomp into violence and death. With a great feminine scream that reminded Rafel of the wailing of Banshees in Hel, Fey Queen Giselle Nova Imperia gave the battle cry.

"ONWARD TO FROSTHOLM!!!"

Rafel felt the knowing thunder of war in his bones, drumming in tune with the crash of horses hooves as the thousands of Eldorian knights rushed out onto the bridge. With a single wave of hand, Giselle blasted the gates to smithereens. She didn't even need to whisper a word of sorcery.

With wide frightful eyes, the watchguards of Frostholm's towers met their end as the ricochet from Giselle's spell casting blasted across the walls roundabout the city, cutting with a fearsome wind that ripped bricks right out of each other.

The walls fell, and her armies fell upon Frostholm with deadly wrath.

Those not crushed to pulps by the demolished walls were swiftly decapitated by lashing swords. Heads rolled. Limbs flew. Women screamed.

It was utter chaos.

A horrorful pillage.

And the moat fringing Frostholm soon ran red with the blood spilling down the city's edge.

Rafel watched a minute of the ravaging battle in utter voyeuristic delight before leaping high into the air himself. Though he only jumped with a simple force as any other man, the push of his [Mutant Kangaroo] ability carried him the seventy meters across the bridge.

It seemed like he was flying.

In the air, Rafel roared to his system.

"Equip Sphinx armor!"

[Ding!]

[Sphinx armor equipped!

Level: Epic.]

When he crashed back to earth, he created a massive crater in the city that sent shockwaves in all directions. When the smoke and dust cleared, Rafel stood in a gleaming golden armor. The helmet was the shape of a bird that glinted in the dusky sunlight. He stood eight feet tall, made bigger and stronger by the lion magic inherent in the Sphinx armor.

This was the friend he had promised the Queen.

The first fool to attack had his skull crushed to a bloody splatter as Rafel held his head at armslength, grasping, and squishing like a lemon.

The brainy bits of blood dripped down his fingers, which were now more of talons.

Rafel, lifting his demigod helmet, beheld a priest kneeling on the altar in a church half blasted by the cannons. It was one of the few buildings in Frostholm not grounded. Rafel mocked the Priest's mumblings.

"Your God can't save you."

With [Dragon breath], he sent a flash of plutonic hellfire to the church. The decimation happened in a split second. It was so quick that the ash following still took the shape of the standing church and kneeling priest. Until the north wind turned, dispersing the remnants of a man who was dead before he could even know it.

Rafel proceeded to swim in more mortal blood. To Lord BlüdThïrste, crimson just was never enough.

Giselle herself walked in the charred ruins of Frostholm, smiling to herself when she spied a woman being forcefully spitroasted by a bunch of her soldiers. The men had only their fleshy cocks ripped out in haste from their armor. The act of rape itself was in tandem with all the chaos going on about.

Giselle lifted not a single finger to help the screaming, thrashing lass.

At least she'll get some before her eventual death.

She soon came upon the spot where her General had lined up the royal house of Frostholm in a single line.

Mother, Father, children, all on their knees in the bombarded ash of their city.

"You've got some fucking balls, I'll give you that!" Giselle mocked the Lord of Frostholm.

When the greying man looked at her some sort of way, like she was nothing more than a petulant child with an Archmage's wand, she hurled and spat in his face.

Beside him, the Lord's wife sobbed. The chubby Lady of Frostholm closed her eyes not to see as monks of her city were dragged to stakes and used for javelin practice by laughing soldiers before set ablaze in putrid fumes. She would close the eyes of her children too but her hands had being tied behind her back.

"Oh, poor, poor Lady. Are you crying? Aww! I'm sorry," Giselle jested. "Did I just kill every one in your fucking city? Yes, I did, you hag! And I'm just about to do the same to you! You should have cried and sucked your husband's cock to take my offer at integration. Now look what you've done!"

The Queen spread her arms out at the rising smoke winding up from the city, black like fingers in the sky.

Looking up to Giselle, the Lord of Frostholm stammered through bleeding lips. "May God have mercy on you. Because the devil won't!"

Giselle laughed maniacally. "Oh I know the devil. I fuck him every single day."

Then she turned to her guards, giving her order for execution. "Drown them all, in their fucking moat."

The battle—if it could be called that—lasted eight hours. It was mostly the Eldorian host shitting and pissing in the Frostholm scums mouths. Some times literally. The drowning of the entire royal bloodline of the city brought it to its end.

Giselle was dishing out final commands to her War General when the flapping of wings above her signaled Rafel's arrival. She kept talking as he landed, his golden Sphinx wings perching at his back.

"—keep the survivors marching in the snow. I don't care if it's fucking winter here. Also, get Carmelegno down here. Fly him on one of the Griffins if you have to! I want an oil painting of this view, devastating ruins and all, in my Throne room within a fortnight. It will serve as example to future traitors."

The War General bowed reverentially to her and moved off to attend her commands. Giselle turned with a smile to the giant demigod beside her.

"I rather like your friend, Your Grace! Or, what should I call you now, Bird man?"

She knew it was Rafel under the epic armor. His red hair fell down his back out the eagle-head helmet.

"Thank you for coming." She added. "It was nice to have someone to annihilate a dynasty with. I really have to know now if you fuck as hard as you fight."

When Rafel caught sight of her quivering lips, he too smiled. "I guess we'll see about that, Your Majesty. Now, can we leave? I need fucking wine."

"Sure!"

The Queen whistled, and her Griffins came tumbling down the ashy sky.

As Rafel rode back to his Manor on sweeping gray wings, he peeped the long line of the survivors from the end of Frostholm; the wounded and dying, all in chains, kin to kin, marching straight for the gates of Eldoria.

It was early evening by the time he hopped off the Griffin's back on the grounds of Emberfall. The animal nudged him with its beak and Queen Giselle laughed, waving goodbye to the Earl who now seemed best friends with her Familiars.

Rafel was so grateful to find his Aunt still present. Lilith was semi-nude, on her back, sunbathing in front of the Manor.

"Auntie...I need you!" Rafel called just as his system shot up a message.

[Ding!]

[Upgrades identified!]

[ARCANE RUNE: 2 000 055

RANK: EARL (WARLOCK).]

Rafel smiled grimly.

He had just murdered 500 000 people.