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Pflugzeit -27-28-2493

Waiting atop my griffon, I watched as a delegation carrying flags of truce slowly approached, their banners fluttering in the wind. Meanwhile, my men continued the preparations for the siege. Akendorf, the largest city in the region, would not surrender easily: its population was far too numerous, which meant a wide militia surely ready to fight. I was convinced this would be neither quick nor simple. I might even have to resort to my Chamon sorcery to ensure a crushing victory before time turned against my army.

The envoys soon drew near, though their horses grew restless under the presence of my griffon, which snorted deeply and beat its wings with impatience.

"Greetings, noble of the Empire. Our prince asks what business brings you into his lands," said the emissary in a conciliatory tone, trying to sound firm despite the tension in his voice.

"The Empire seeks to secure trade routes with our dawi allies, and you are in the way. Akendorf must swear fealty to the Emperor and open its gates so this city may become the base of operations for the Imperial army in this region," I answered firmly, making it clear this was not a request but a command.

"Akendorf is a sovereign state, general. We have resisted many conquerors and will not yield our independence. The confederation of northern princes will not tolerate an Imperial intrusion here, so I advise you to withdraw at once," the emissary replied, attempting to sound defiant.

"And will that confederation arrive before my cannons smash your walls to rubble and my army slaughters your entire population?" I asked, raising my arm to point at the artillery being positioned in front of the gates.

"Well… if the walls hold, our people will remain loyal to their prince," the emissary responded, though the tremor in his words betrayed him.

"These walls were not built to withstand cannon fire. They will collapse within hours. Tell your prince I am willing to spare his life if he surrenders immediately. But if he refuses, and I capture him alive, he will regret every cursed second of his resistance. You have until the cannons are ready to give me your answer," I said, letting my voice echo against the battlements.

The emissary shook his head, turned his horse, and returned toward the city gates, which slammed shut with a metallic crash. More defenders appeared atop the walls: soldiers, militiamen, even peasants armed with spears, all taking their positions. This was to be a true battle. I estimated their numbers easily surpassed ten thousand, ready to fight to the last breath.

I knew, however, that Akendorf was technologically backward. The Empire did not sell cannons to the Border Princes, and what little they had were smuggled pieces or rusted antiques. At best, they possessed a handful of arquebuses scattered along the walls. Nothing comparable to a modern Imperial army.

I watched as my engineers deployed the artillery. Eighty cannons were aligned and aimed at three separate sections of the walls. Their iron mouths, like hungry beasts, awaited the order to fire. The city that had stood proud for centuries was about to feel the weight of Imperial blackpowder.

The absence of a reply from the prince, and the swelling number of defenders on the walls, confirmed the obvious: they planned to resist to the end.

"Commence the bombardment," I finally ordered.

The roar was deafening. The earth shook as the first salvo struck Akendorf's walls. I myself guided the projectiles with the lore of Chamon, focusing the impacts on precise spots to hasten the collapse. Stones splintered, entire blocks broke loose, and defenders fled from the battered sections to avoid being buried.

Akendorf could not return fire. They could only watch helplessly as wave after wave of projectiles shattered their battlements, abandoning the most devastated sections to avoid being crushed beneath their own defenses.

Meanwhile, my men sealed every gate of the city. Palisades were raised, trenches dug, and a sea of tents unfurled around the fortress-city. Akendorf was completely surrounded.

As the relentless pounding continued, the first cracks began to spread like black veins across the stonework. The echo of each shot thundered through the nearby valleys, and a cloud of dust rose like a gray fog above Akendorf.

For several hours, the cannons roared without pause. Each salvo was concentrated on specific points, and with every impact the fractures spread wider, weakening the masonry. For now, the city itself remained intact: all the artillery's fury was focused on the outer defenses.

At last, a section of wall gave way. With a thunderous crash, massive blocks of stone tumbled down like miniature hills, crushing defenders who had failed to retreat in time. The wall collapsed before the helpless eyes of its guardians, opening the first breach.

At the signal, I sent several thousand musketeers forward, covered by massive portable barricades of reinforced timber. These mobile shields were planted firmly in the ground before the breach, advancing step by step under a rain of arrows and bolts from the walls. Men sheltered behind oak planks, opening slits and gaps from which to fire.

Soon, the air filled with the acrid stench of gunpowder, and the sound of musketry became a constant thunder. Lead shot found its mark: defenders toppled from the battlements with torn bodies, rolling among the rubble. The defense from within the city was fierce, but it grew ever costlier for them.

Then another section of the walls gave way. The bombardment had done its work, and an entire stretch collapsed violently, raising a dust cloud so thick it hid both sides from sight for a few moments. When it cleared, a mountain of rubble marked the new entrance into the city.

At once I sent more companies to occupy the breach, dividing the defenders' attention. Some of the cannons, no longer having clear targets, were redirected toward the battlements. Their shots tore away parapets, lesser towers, and men alike—though it was clear that every projectile striking high could slaughter combatants and civilians without distinction.

Slowly, yet steadily, the fighting dragged on until the sun began to sink. I did not wish to overstrain my recruits; many still lacked the experience to endure a prolonged siege. Once the final skirmishes subsided, I ordered all forces back to camp. It was time to rest, reorganize the ranks, and tend to the wounded.

Fortune was on our side: we had abundant potions from the Cult of Shallya, allowing most minor wounds to be treated swiftly. The majority were cuts or impacts to arms and legs, the areas most exposed when firing from behind the mobile palisades we used in the assault.

The night passed with relative calm. Thanks to my ring, I had little need of sleep, so I spent most of the hours watching the walls of Akendorf. By torchlight I saw the defenders at work, hastily raising an improvised wall where their stone ramparts had collapsed earlier that day. Their obstinacy was admirable, but also desperate.

What did trouble me was what I saw in the nearby forest: a large host of goblins moving in our rear. They had taken advantage of the noise and chaos of the fighting to creep close without detection. Their numbers seemed considerable, enough to put me in a dilemma: turn back and secure the rear, or launch a full assault on the city, using the lore of Chamon to carve a path through before we were trapped between two enemies.

With the first light of morning, as the troops were already preparing to resume the attack, one of my guards rushed to me.

"My lord, the envoy from the city of Akendorf requests an audience with you," he said, containing his surprise.

"So at last they've come to beg?" I replied, rising from the chair where I had passed the night, and headed to the camp's entrance. There a group of riders awaited, the emissary at their head. This time I approached without my griffon, though I remained wary.

"What is it? Have they surrendered already?" I asked, studying them closely.

"May I know your name, good sir?" said the envoy, holding something hidden beneath cloth.

"Albrecht von Reinsfeld," I answered coldly, my eyes fixed on what he carried. It seemed to be an object of gold, some ceremonial ornament.

"My lord," the emissary continued, dismounting and unveiling what he bore, "the electoral council of Akendorf offers you the crown of the city and recognizes your right to become our new lord." He bowed deeply, extending the golden crown as a symbol of submission.

"What in Sigmar's name…? Have you murdered your prince?" I asked, half incredulous, half angered.

"No… we would never do such a thing," he replied solemnly. "Our lord, Lord Rillian, suffered a mishap during supper. Something in the food disagreed with him, and he died during the night. No one could save him."

I took the crown in one hand, though I did not place it upon my head. I held it for a moment, weighing the farce being played before me.

"Then I accept the city's submission. Let all defenders come out and cast down their arms, and I will show mercy to those who until yesterday fought against us," I declared firmly.

The riders nodded, turned their horses, and galloped back toward the city.

"Damn it… did you see that?" I muttered to my guards. "Not even a day has passed, and they've slain their own lord to save themselves. Perhaps it isn't such a good idea to bring these people back to the Westerlands, as I had planned. Who knows what they would do in my lands, if this is how they treat their prince?"

My men gave no reply. Yet their faces showed the same mixture of surprise and distrust that gnawed at me.

"I think they're going to be trouble, my lord. At least the Bretonnians are loyal… but this rabble… I wouldn't trust them with anything," said one of my men-at-arms, spitting to the side with contempt.

"Yes… nor would I. Better not. Send a rider to the forces in Averland and have them bring back all the captives. If we are to use them at all, it will be to squeeze their labor here in this region, but nothing more. Too risky to give them access to my farms. Still… send a message to the Emperor as well: I want all the peasants of Parravon delivered at once. If the harvest is good, we'll have abundant food in the Empire and will be able to sustain a much larger group of peasants," I answered calmly, my words met with nods of agreement.

"Yes, my lord," two of my guards replied in unison before spurring their horses northward to halt the caravans of prisoners.

"What shall we do with the city now, my lord?" one of my captains asked, approaching with a grave look.

"We'll spare the lower classes," I replied without hesitation. "The nobles, however, will be charged with regicide and executed for it. I cannot overlook what they've done: to abandon or betray their lord is something that corrodes the foundations of any realm. Had I more time, I would have rejected their surrender outright… but we are pressed now. So this once we will act swiftly and take the city."

Upon returning to camp, I tossed the golden crown onto the mound of hides where my griffon lay. She lifted her head from the pile, loosed a low growl, and the moment she saw the glittering object, snapped it up in her beak. With a sharp crack she began shaking it from side to side, as if it were no more than a toy.

"Well, at least the Princess is pleased with her new plaything," I muttered, watching the beast toy with Akendorf's symbol of power as though it were nothing but a piece of shiny scrap.

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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.

Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.

I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.

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