The outriders of watch captain Gaius Borgia arrived in Sintra with minor casualties and even lesser fanfare, finding a half dozen militia and their royal overseer at the southern gate. Alongside the most terrifying woman they’d ever seen tail of. Though she busied herself by sunning yellow scales atop the Sintran palisades. A respite that was nearly longer than six cavaliers. Though they recieved no time to process the strangeness, as they were divided into two groups. Forty of them would travel south with empty wagons, purchasing any and all excess food they could obtain with wealth acquired from Sintra’s dead mayor. The rest would journey north, attempting to rendezvous with Lord Liam and the army he was assembling at Mont St Michel.


    Several days of hard riding brought them into contact with Liam’s rearguard, who’d been moved to tears at the sight of nearly sixty royal outriders. Completely in awe of their clean uniforms and heavy pistols. Soon thereafter the outriders became part of Liam’s vanguard, clearing the road of monsters all the way to the walls of Mont St Michel.


    Only the boldest and stupidest creatures dared attack. Centipedes the length of a gorgon, rabbits the size of dogs with horns, though these were quite delicious when simmered with parsley making them no great affront. While the occassional creature Lord Liam called a ''dinner sour'' was swiftly dispatched by the outrider''s wheellock pistols, hastening their journey across Greenwood with roaring smokescreens. Phaedra was particularly interested in the pistols, since they provided greater penetration than her longbow. Although she soon found the pistol’s penetration insufficient for armored targets such as the insectoid hulks and giant scorpions they encountered at odd intervals. The latter often lay in ambush only to be discovered and destroyed by Phaedra''s keen senses or lethal gaze.


    Thus the Baron of Greenwood traveled from Sintra in the south, to Greenhaven, and further still into the Barony''s northern reaches of Mont St Michel, pondering important mysteries along the way.


    Cavalry pistoliers… Thought Liam, that’s life on easy mode! Well, until you run out of bullets and powder. Or you miss… Each outrider only carries a few pounds of powder, and a handful of balls. Hmm, what is the correct plural of balls? A scrotum of balls? Bah, who cares.


    They aren’t even pointed! Just round lead balls, easy enough to source and too heavy to carry more than a few shots. Lead is relatively common, since it can be melted and worked cold. So they can resupply in most cities. Nifty, but more of a nuisance clearer rather than dragon slayers. Ha, ole Quetz wouldn’t even notice if we shot him. Probably bounce right off his golden feathers… Like a red ryder bb gun. Good for the occasional blood drinking squirrel, but useless for much else. Very unlike these walls…


    Liam stared at the first real obstacle on his journey to Blackwood Castle, the obsidian walls of Mont St Michel. While viewing the city from beneath a yellowing oak tree. Leaves were beginning to fall, advertising winter’s ingress. His view of the city brought concern into his heart, when its closed gates and sporadic wall-top patrols of footmen should have brought peace to his soul.


    Mont St Michel’s famous chapel was only matched by its infamous walls. Impossibly large blocks of Obsidian formed a perfect circle around the city, never varying in height or curvature. Even the gates were curved, somehow crafted to open and close despite their constant curvature. Yet seamless, perfectly monolithic, as if the obsidian had formed in one cataclysmic eruption. Similar to Greenwood Keep, but larger, reminding Liam of the great pyramids of Egypt. How the civilizations before humanity had built them was beyond human comprehension and the church’s official stance was that they had been forged from Pandora’s bones when Therun Perun Taloc slew the vile deity.


    Can you even slay a god? By definition a god is permanent, you can’t kill one unless their divinity is a lie… But the Fulimonimbus’ bishops attacked me, someone they supposedly owe total fealty to. What else are they lying about? Ah, I wish that golden codex Nyota borrowed would let me read it. Listening to her read it is fascinating, but she reads wayyyy too slowly! I know it’s impressive for maids to read here, and she is self-taught, but I can read that whole book in the time it takes her to finish a chapter! Ugh. Whatever. If Taloc didn’t forge Pandora’s spine into this circle, how did they even get this much obsidian? I guess magic would help, and in theory you could probably fuse a bunch of small blocks of it together, but this… Is hard to even imagine. The sheer volume makes my head spin. I guess me and those creatures have that in common.


    Dozens of monsters were visible at the base of the obsidian walls, hellhounds licked the stones and rubbed flaming shoulders against them. Whilst several of the insectoid hulks lumbered into the walls, pushing against them with all their strength. All predators, including some kind of venus fly trap with six legs and a human looking tongue.


    “What could possess monsters to act in this manner?” Asked Liam.


    “Father Matimeo could have used some manner of holy magic to confound their senses.” Offered Arlet.


    “I sense no magic on them, nor does my appraisal skill. Let me hone my lightning on these beasts my lord.” Said Rhendal.


    “No, You remember my first attempts at lightning! I trust your expertise, but those obsidian walls give me the willies.” Said Liam.


    Rhendal and Arlet exchanged a glance and Nyota giggled. Mockingly repeating the alien word back to Liam. “Willies.”


    Philistines. Thought Liam, knowing that was another reference that would be lost on them.


    “They make me uncomfortable! Like someone stuck something wet and swampy down my trousers, or like someone is standing around a corner of a building holding a brick. You know they are up to no good, but have no idea who they are waiting for. Tis unpleasantness carried forward to the next degree, all while you know something bad is going to happen regardless of your intervention or lack thereof. Mont St Michel is dangerous, but if it’s dangerous to us, or the monsters, is the question.” Said Liam.


    “Both.” Said Nyota and Rhendal in sync.


    “At least we can agree on that. Eugh, the walls feel enchanted, I see no possible benefit to hitting them with lightning and I fear their enchantment may react… Poorly. It could trigger an ancient defensive ward or something similar.” Said Liam.


    “Let my daughters turn them to stone.” Offered Phaedra.


    “There are guards on the wall, they may mistake you for an enemy.” Countered Arlet.


    “You worry too much Arlet, my boys and I will be right next to our girls. Aint gonna let some landlocked shoemakers poke ‘em.”


    “Ass if an arrow would harm uss.” Laughed Phaedra.


    “Well then you can keep me safe from their hurtful words.” Said Jenkins with a wink.


    “Very well, Jenkins, take the gorgons and clear the city wall. Carry a white flag with you, I do not want any casualties. Oh, and don’t use panties.” Said Liam, adding the last addendum when he saw a sparkle in Jenkin’s eye. The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    “Haha! Outwitted again!” Cried Jenkins, taking Phaedra by the hand and departing.


    “What are pantiesss?” Asked Phaedra.


    Jenkins chuckled uncomfortably, no doubt contemplating how to best answer her question. Five gorgons and thirty Sintran militia followed the pair, creating a crescent formation with the gorgons at the center and the men guarding the flanks and rear. As formidable as the six female gorgons were, it took time for the daughters to use their gaze. They could be overwhelmed if an attack came swiftly enough or in sufficient numbers to overwhelm their eyes.


    A fact that had been an unwelcome surprise along the road to Mont St Michel when a pack of eight hellhounds had managed to ambush the gorgon vanguard, wounding Theia, the green gorgon with red eyes. Since then Jenkins began drilling select members of his company to fight alongside the gorgons, using spears and shields as well as helmets to shore up their weaknesses.


    Liam watched them go, nodding with approval as Soren and two of the royal magicians accompanied them without prompting.


    We are really shaping up into a coherent fighting force. None of the commanders need to be ordered to do their duties, they just see a problem and invent solutions. I really hope Blackwood’s commander rolls over and lets us take the slaves without a fight. A protracted siege would be… well, how would Jenkin’s put it? A frostbitten forty year old virgin alone in the middle of winter? Every wrong kind of hard.


    Bah, how much of an army do we have right now?


    Six gorgons, although Phaedra is probably half their strength, the daughters are more like children than warriors.


    Sixty or so Militia from Sintra, most of that is Jenkin’s eighth company and freshly unemployed farmers.


    Arlet and a dozen knights, our only heavy cavalry.


    Sixty royal outriders, with their artisanal wheel-locks and spears. I still can’t believe pistols are a thing here, no matter how crude or heavy I could never have guessed gunpowder would become a thing when magic exists.


    And finally, about forty Greenhaven militia brings the count of soldiers past a hundred and forty if I count myself and Nyota with them. Tis a crying shame we don’t have any other healers but Rhendal and the seven royal magicians should be enough magic to round out the army.


    Baron Green would have rolled over if half this many warriors showed up, but I can’t count on Blackwood’s knight commander to play ball. He was already dragging his feet when Soren delivered the King’s letter. Dammit all, I can’t electrocute a wall. If this turns into a siege we will start off overextended and exposed. Not to mention all these random farmer''s we''ve saved on the way north. Over a hundred souls, timid as they may be.


    “Arlet, I need your inner strategist. What can we do if Blackwood’s watch captain does not surrender Nyota’s children?” Asked Liam.


    Arlet did not answer for several long moments. His eyes lost their sharp focus for a few seconds and he stroked his stubbly chin, staring at fluffy white clouds or rapidly hardening hellhounds.


    “We cannot sustain a siege, though I doubt he has any magi capable of defending against Soren’s lot. Present company excluded Lord, they are the finest band of magi I have ever seen. It might take a week or so, but you could use their earth magicks to tear a hole in the wall and compel negotiations. Or we could hold the town hostage. Blackwood castle is surrounded by expansive suburbs without walls or fortifications. If he harms your adopted family, then I know of a practice where you nail a prisoner to a cross of wood. We could trade ten of his subjects for one of yours… I doubt he could stomach watching his kindred suffer just to spite us.” Offered Arlet with a straight face.


    Crucifixion? Of civilians? Thought Liam, remind me not to run afoul of you Arlet.


    “That’s too far, and doesn’t bring anyone back from the dead. If they kill the slaves then nothing we do will be a victory.” Countered Liam, appalled that Arlet has so casually suggested crucifying innocent townsfolk.


    It should have been unconscionable, but this world lacked any of the Abrahamic religions. Forgiveness was a weakness, if you won a war, you killed everyone. Genocide was the globally accepted standard, leading to fortified cities and kingdoms that kept each other at arms length.


    “Then you must enter the keep undetected and free the slaves. Portal into one of the storerooms with a strike force of magi and cut throats until the slaves are freed, assuming they still live. Ah, except I don’t recall Blackwood keeping his slaves within the Keep. During our visit I saw a few of them restrained inside the pig pens. Oh what I would give for a few of Persephone''s ilk. Her assassins were always good in a night battle. Never got to fight alongside them though, only against.” Answered Arlet.


    I know he’s only a level two strategist, but this is logically ruthless. It’s like his whole personality and all emotion disappears… Did he suggest crucifixion first to get me on board with an assassination squad? Wondered Liam, recalling the guild of Persephone. A band of assassins who served the highest bidder, during Aldric''s reign they recieved some official recognition and at least three Baronies were ruled by them. Though their leaders and names never seemed to spread far. Green only knew of them because he had once been hunted by them. Until Arlet had killed the hiring noble, without the prospect of reward the hit was called off, and policies were changed to demand payment up front.


    “I am no match for your strategic mind. Your plan is as brutal as it is clever.” Said Liam, watching the Phaedra petrify a bear the size of an elephant.


    Phaedra’s… incredibly powerful. Thank Taloc no one told her about the medusa jerky. Ah, if we’d talked to the Gorgons back in Petra, we could have saved hundreds of people. Liam swallowed, trying to contain his tears. They’d acted swiftly and decisively, but he had done evil, and that would haunt him long past his last day on this world.


    “Bah, you worry too much, Renosipe assured me that the slaves would be treated fairly. He''s visited the keep himself and delivered the news that Blackwood Castle would act as a future hub for delivering slaves. He''s gathering them from across the county. I know patience isn’t a virtue you are acquainted with, but have some faith in us old magi.” Added Rhendal.


    “I trust you with my life Rhendal, but that man, Renosipe… feels like a snake, and not one of our lovely gorgon allies.” Began Liam.


    “Ha! Neither do I! A grandmaster attains their station through plots and cunning, not through magical might. You can only trust him as far as his goals align with your own.” Interrupted Rhendal.


    “Are we a good match then?” Asked Liam, his brow furrowing.


    Rhendal was silent for several long moments. “Renosipe always says he is loyal to a single person in this world… With all the long years I''ve known him, he''s revealed that single person is not himself nor Taloc. So who knows? Ha. But if he meant to move against us he could have done so at court, for example, he knows the lightning affinity specializes in piercing defenses and killing swiftly. Yet he sent a battle mage who, while gifted offensively, specialized in defense. Normally a sound choice, but a more cunning option would have been to send a battle mage who focused on speed or deflection, especially after seeing the archbishop’s failures.”


    “Do you think he sacrificed his man deliberately? Why- ” Asked Liam.


    “It is a possibility. Orion was present at court, he is our wind battle mage, capable of countering your lightning, though he is the only wind battlemage at the college. Renosipe would not have sacrificed such a skilled battle mage without an equally worthy reward waiting for him no matter the outcome. Which is why I think he means to aid us, a Lightning Lord is a herald of change, and a man like Renosipe plans to be on the winning side, along with his master, whomever that is.” Said Rhendal.


    “So he is playing both sides…” Grumbled Liam.


    “Indubitably. Playing his cards close too, I am certain he is operating with more information than we are. Ah, here comes Jenkins.” Finished Rhendal.


    Sure enough, the gorgons and their escort were coming around the far side of the city.


    “Something is off, I see none of the city watch with them. Mont St Michel could not have endured without armed men on their wall.” Said Arlet with a frown.


    “It troubles me as well, Jenkins should have encountered the city guard. Arlet, can you get the gates open?” Asked Liam.


    “Can I get the gates open? Ha, as if I don’t know how to bypass every gate and wall in the barony! Yes m’lord!” Said Arlet, setting off at a jog.