Bells

Kotara was grand city. Its stone towers were tall. The walls were thick and well maintained. But behind the thick walls and intimidating towers was a city of beauty.

The tenements were a least three stories tall and mostly made of bricks. Each building had the usual conical roof the Wismarines preferred but the materials and designs dabbled with influences from other cultures. The streets were clean and wide and the sewage system was functional. They say you could cook food in the cobbles and not get watery stool after. The great port housed most of the Wismarine navy and hundreds trade and transport ships. The port had seen so much coins being traded so much that one would find a coin or two in the nooks if he looked hard enough. It was a city that was trying to rival Holm.

At least that was what Timothy heard from the stories. He didn't know if there was truth in these tales. All he knew was that Kotara is the last city in the line of Asiba River. The Great River empties into the icy shores adjacent to the city. It was Wismar's center of trade and soon it would fall into the Union's hand.

"Everything is ready sire" General Marvin said.

Timothy eyed the city one last time. The defenses were tough and would stand an assault for a long time. But there were more ways to capture a city other than assaulting the walls.

"Send them" Timothy ordered.

***

John heaved the reins of the two horses pulling his cart. Grumpy and beauty, he named the two. Grumpy was a brown Tulosan stallion with thick legs and a bad attitude. John had a complicated relationship with the horse. Beauty, on the other hand, was also a Tulosan stallion despite the name. His legs were long and a match to his slender body. And unlike Grumpy, Beauty was tamed.

Stones and potholes made their ride bumpy. The cart danced to every bump. And yet the two other men riding with him were silent and stern.

"Ease, brothers" John said. "You'll give away our profession with those looks"

"Maybe they should know. Rooster's coming to peck their asses. That'll get them scrambling." Jop said.

"And then we fail" said Elisar "Good plan Jop. You just forced the Rooster a bloody wall assault."

John smiled, regarding the two with glee. The three of them were in danger and a thousand things could go wrong. But they were calm. That was good. A calm and a clear mind would go a long way.

In a moment they reached the front gate of Kotara. There were no queues like what he expected. Wars are bad for trade as they say.

The five guards by the gate waved them to halt but John didn't. It was only when the cart was directly below the gate that he pulled the reins of the two horses. The guards were not pleased.

"Name?" One of the guards asked, the senior one based on the markings on his armor.

"John Wilkin"

The guard looked up. "Castonian?"

"My name could be Tulosan, Vinti, Vanadian or Burondian and yet you accuse me of being a Castonian?"

"What then?"

"Vinti"

"And your cargo?"

"Wine. Cheap ones for brothels. Don't assume you'll get a Hadean bribe mate."

"We don't accept Hadeans anyway. Whole nation's gone to the other side." The guard then frowned. "Why is your companion holding a lantern in the middle of the day?"

It is time, John thought.

He unhooked Beauty and Grumpy, jumped off the cart and led the two horses away. Jop and Elisar also did the same amidst the confusion of the guards.

Both Elisar and Jop mounted Beauty while he rode on Grumpy.

"Oi! Where are you going?" The guard shouted.

Jop threw the lantern on the cart. The three of them galloped as fast as they could. Grumpy kicked dust.

John looked behind after a few of Grumpy's wide strides. The cart was burning. The flame was large. And soon it exploded.

***

The front gate of Kotara was wiped by the explosion. Bits of stones and rocks flung in the air. A gaping hole opened, the size of three wagons side by side. The wall was cracked and blackened.

The horn sounded. There was no need for orders. Five thousand men of the Rooster legion galloped with a few hundred desert riders. They kicked the earth behind. The hooves of the horses pounded in a deafening rumble.

They formed in a wedge with Abraham as the apex. Bear beneath roared, prepared for the inevitable onslaught. Abraham held his greataxe. Woe to the person who tries to stop him.

They burst into the city like locusts in a field. Several quick guards mounted a defense but were wiped by their charge. Some Castonians went to capture the walls. The others separated to flatten the barracks. Abraham, on the other hand, was tasked to keep those ships in the bay. There were hundreds of war galleys and also hundreds of merchant and transport ships in the port. He must prevent them from leaving.

Abraham swung his axe at a foolish opponent who thought he could defeat a giant on a bear. His axe bit the fool in the neck. Blood smeared the blade. His arms swung again in a fury. Woe to them.

Wismarines. It was them who started it all. This damn war nobody wished for.

To the front a group of Wismarines formed in a line of spears spanning the whole width of the street. Spears pointed forward, eyes prepared for death- they were a tough bunch.

Abraham stood on Bear's wide back. He leapt to the wall of spears. His full plate armor accepted several thrust but did not fail. His axe bit into the helm and skull of one of the enemies. He grabbed another by the neck, crushing the man's throat in a crunch. He was surrounded. He was insane. But he wasn't alone. Bear burst through the enemies. His spiked armor tore their bodies. Bear mauled left and right. His snout was bloody as well as Abraham's axe. They stood side by side, hammering and mauling Wismarines in a battle trance.

The other Castonians arrived on horseback. Their charge finally toppled the defense. The Wismarines were shattered. Those who stayed were slaughtered.

"To the harbor!" Abraham shouted.

Some Castonians were finishing the remaining resistance. He didn't wait for them to finish and just grabbed Bear's reins and mounted.

As he looked around it was apparent that their sudden attack succeeded. Kotara wasn't prepared. The civilians were hiding behind their doors. The city watch were routing. The wall had a huge hole. The city was theirs. Kotara was as good as captured.

He continued. The resistance was tamer now. Groups of loyal but foolish guards stood in their way and fell without doing much damage.

Abraham could smell it. The salt in the air was strong. The damp but cool breeze felt good to his grimed skin. The ocean was near. The harbor would be theirs.

Soon an open space greeted him. The harbor was wide, an extension of the icy shores. Nearly a hundred docks lined the dredged beach.

But it was empty. The harbor of the Pearl of the South which was said to have the capacity to house thousands of ships was empty. Not a boat in sight. Not even a dinghy. It was clean.

Abraham creased his brow. He was too late. They had escaped.

But no, he thought. It would take a day to empty a port as large as Kotara's. Something was wrong. Something worse than him failing.

***

Southport, Vanadis

The Centurion was trembling. Never had he been so afraid in his entire life. An armada was before them. The colors were Wismarine. The galleys numbered hundreds.

The bells were ringing without rest. The city watch were running everywhere, assembling a defense, though he could not possibly see how they could defend Southport against an armada this large.

"Omniscience. We are going to die!" mumbled a lad manning the ballista on the wall.

"We are not going to die lad" The Centurion said. "We are Vanadis. We will not die you hear me?!"

The lad nodded anxiously and he regretted snapping. They are indeed going to die. He could see Southport burning and in tatters, the Wismarine flag planted on its walls. There were only a few thousand defenders in the city and the enemies numbered to tens of thousands.

He breathed, salty air invading his lungs. Southport is lost. Southport would fall.

The first of the Wismarine ships passed them. It didn't make a turn to the city and just breezed in their front. The others followed. The enemies were ignoring them.

"What are they doing!?" Asked a curious soldier from behind. It was the question everybody wanted to ask. But the Centurion already knew the answer.

"Southport is not their target" He said. "They are attacking the Capital itself!"