Frostbound [LitRPG Apocalypse]

Victor

Lakeshore

They were coming. Deep down, Victor knew they would, but there was a small part of him that thought they might posture and demand recompense, but those stages were skipped over completely.

Nope. Straight to war.

They didn't even send a declaration or anything. They probably assume it's already been declared after the mine.

Victor was given a month to prepare, and he did everything he could feasibly do. There wasn't much left to accomplish other than wait.

The arrogance, Victor seethed.

That was the only thing it could be. He knew the man was strong, what he did to the demons proved that, but to assault his city? The city he'd spent years building up and fortifying to the extreme?

Arrogance.

The man hadn't even evolved yet! From what the advanced scouts could gather on their strength and numbers, there were 20 suspected D-ranks. They had confirmation on a few, like the Mayor and her husband, but they could only guess at the others.

Stupid [Blockers]. Stupid Scouts, actually. If they were better, it wouldn't be an issue.

Even with the most generous assessment, there were 20 D-ranks among the army of 1500. 20! While that was impressive and outnumbered how many Victor's forces had, it still wasn't enough to offset the defensive advantage.

The shadows twisted and bent in a familiar, if irritating way.

"Your back." Victor stated, "Do you have what I asked for?"

"I told you I wouldn't miss it." Maeve stepped out of the shadow and handed him a bag. Similar to the one he had handed her not that long ago, except this bag wasn't filled with coins and valuable gems.

It contained refined Demon Blood. When used as ink, the contracts signed were unbreakable. It latched onto the spirit like a parasite and made sure the contract was enforced to the letter.

Victor's entire army had signed one, and now, he had enough ink to create even more. An extra few hundred right before they were needed.

His hand felt the bag through the leather and knew that it was off. It was heavy. Too heavy. Pulling it open, he saw that the well of ink was bigger than what he had paid for.

"This is more than I thought."

Maeve smiled, "Let's just say it's a gift. He thinks doing business with the North will be... difficult if that man remains the sole power in the region. This is to help you take him down a notch or two."

Victor was glad at the additional ink, but frowned at the explanation, "If he thinks that, why didn't he send forces to help me?"

Maeve tisked, "Oh, Victor, I've told you already. You aren't worth the exposure. Sure, the Baron will make business difficult, but not difficult enough to out our Organization over. This is all the indirect help He was willing to give."

Victor didn't want to deal with the woman any longer than he had to. "I've got things to prepare, then."

"Oh, I have no doubt." Maeve waved as Victor turned and left.

Writing up the contracts would take the longest time, but the Contract Expert was getting quick with them. The receptiveness helped.

Too bad they can't be stamped.

Still, by the time the enemy army arrived, he'd have over two hundred more loyal soldiers.

Victor paced in his office, going through all the possible plans in his head over and over again. The Wards were reinforced, the Wall was ready, and everything was in place, but he couldn't help but think he was missing something.

It didn't feel like enough, even though by every metric of the imagination, it was.

It only got worse as the days ticked on. He knew the army was getting closer and closer.

The day he expected a Scout to run in reporting a successful trap going off, the opposite had happened. The marching army had noticed the arcane traps placed on their path and had set them off prematurely.

The kicker? They were noticed by wolves. Actual wolves.

Victor had been prepared for a high-level Trapper with [Trap Detection] or other similar skill, but not the nose of wolves.

Every other impediment Victor had planned was foiled in a similar fashion. The traps were found, the ambushing units were noticed, and the poison fog was rendered useless by fire.

One fire mage burned it all up! One! The poison was supposed to be resistant to fire, yet it was burned anyway!

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Failure after failure had set Victor on edge. He'd done more pacing in the last few days than he had since the Change!

"This blasted weather doesn't help!" He growled.

Every time he looked out of the window, he was reminded of what was coming. After the turn of Winter, the snow had started in earnest, and grey clouds blanketed Lakeshore through day and night, unloading inch after inch of white snow upon his City.

It felt like an omen of what was to come, even though Victor knew that was absurd. It was Winter. It snowed in Winter. It wasn't the Baron at work trying to physiologically torture him.

No matter how he tried to rationalize it, he couldn't help but grow more frustrated with every inch of it that fell.

It all came to a head a month and a day after the attack. 31 days after his decision to attack the mine and steal the crystals.

Victor had called a meeting of all his captains for one last strategy meeting before the army arrived and their city was officially under siege.

"The scouts say they will arrive tomorrow," Victor stated to the room. It held four of his strongest captains. The ones who had been with him the longest.

Wren, the Leader of the Rangers, Dez, the Leader of the Rogues, Quinten, the Leader of the Warriors, and Olivia, the Leader of the Mages.

"Wren, if you would," Victor stated.

"They number 1764. We don't know the exact breakdown by Class, but we can estimate 35% are Warriors, 30% are Rangers, 20% are Mages, and the last 10% are Healers."

"What about the other 5%?" Dez interrupted. "And what about Rogues?"

"Some of the other 5% are Rogues, but they don't employ a lot of them. Most we see are closer to Light Warriors than true Rogues." Wren said, "But most of the 5% is buffer. We don't have any exact numbers, so there is still some wiggle room. We're basing our numbers one weapons and armor type but those could be a misdirect as well."

"We outnumber them. Why don't we just go out and crush them where they stand?" Quinten huffed, both his bloodlust and hot-headedness showing. A flaw Victor hated, for it was idiotic, and loved, for it made him easy to manipulate.

"Sure, if you think you can beat them in the open. Go right ahead, muscle head." Olivia teased. "Not only would that be giving up our greatest advantage for nothing, but they also have cavalry. Heavy cavalry at that. Who thinks to domesticate Bison?" She mumbled.

"Come on, Q, just because you're a Berserker doesn't mean you can't use your head," Dez piled on.

"Shut up." Victor commanded, "Now is not the time for silliness. If it wasn't already clear, an army arrives at our gates tomorrow. Cut this bullshit and let's get serious."

After there was sufficient time for his words to sink in, he nodded for Wren to continue.

"Our preemptive attempts to thin their numbers failed. They detected the traps and ambushes, and the ones that did go off failed to cause more than minor injuries. From this, we can figure that any force we try to sneak around or keep outside the walls to attack the rear will be found in a similar manner."

"What was the detection method? Was it the smell of something physical, like the people who placed the traps' scent, or something magical, like sniffing out the literal mana in the trap?" Olivia asked.

"We don't know." Wren answered, "Only a few of the wolves were D-rank, but even the lower-level ones could find some of the traps."

"It doesn't matter at this point." Dez pointed at the map in front of them, "They're already here."

"It matters because if it were only physical, we could work around that with magic," Olivia articulated.

"We'll test it tonight." Victor said before allowing a smile to form, "Dez, send some of your best to give the Baron a visit. At least one who uses magic for stealth and one who relies on skill."

Dez, the sadist he was, matched his smile, "My pleasure."

"If it succeeds, great. If it doesn't, we get to see how they are detected." Victor stated.

"While that may change things depending on the result, the majority of the plan still stands," Wren resumed, "The Wards only reinforce and strengthen the Walls, so any ranged attack can still make it over them, but that's if they're willing to bombard the city.

"We aren't sure if this is something they're willing to do or not, with the city being full of people. The Baron could be ruthless and do it anyway, but maybe he won't. Trying to get a read on him and his specific code of honor is tricky. He's charitable and defends the weak on one hand and then kills people and sentences them to hard labor with the other."

Dez snorted at what his perceived hypocrisy, but Wren ignored it.

"We haven't seen any siege weapons among the army, but that doesn't mean they won't build them. If they do build them, and decide to use them, the plan is to target the projectiles with either magic or arrows to shoot them down before trying to destroy the siege weapons themselves."

"You're going to shoot down boulders with arrows?" Dez quipped.

"Yes, with specific arrows and Skills designed to empower the arrow and make it explode on contact, that will then break the boulder apart," Wren explained.

"This is all well and good," Quinten said, "But what will I be doing?"

"You," Wren turned to him, "Will be holding the Walls. Your job is to fight anyone who climbs, jumps, or otherwise scales the walls."

Quinten nodded, but didn't seem enthused about it.

"And, on the off chance they breach the Gates, you are to defend them."

That got the Berserker more excited. The thought of bloody battle always did.

"Why off chance? Do you think them uncapable?" Olivia questioned.

Wren pointed at the more detailed map that only showed the city and its immediate surroundings. It showed all of the catapults along the wall and had markings for where the archers would stand. It also marked the quite ridiculous ranges of both respectively.

"To breach the walls, they'll first have to reach them. That means traveling hundreds of yards under the fire of dozens of catapults and over a thousand archers and mages. Even if they fight through that, regardless of the losses, the Gate is a totally different problem.

"It's made from D-rank wood from the store, carved by a Journeyman woodworker with skills focused on durability, not to mention the enchantments placed on it. It has the Defensive Ward that runs through the entire wall, along with other, specific enchantments to increase its durability.

"Quinten, in his full rage and bloodlust, couldn't break through it, and he has 1500 Strength. With his full boosts, that's closer to 2500."

Olivia nodded, "Okay, it's durable, but can it be sustained? The Wards aren't cheap once they're activated."

Victor fielded this one, "We have enough mana crystals to keep the Wards active for days. The raid was more lucrative than we assumed it would be."

It also finally allowed his Dungeon to reach D-rank, but only just. They couldn't afford to dump crystals into it with an army on the way.

Oliva was satisfied, and Wren was given back the floor.

"The most likely outcome is they try to use hooks or ladders to scale them, rather than go through them, but even if they, for whatever reason, decide to go through them, it would take a battering ram and mountains of time. Time that we would use to destroy it." Wren said.

"It would be a sitting duck for siege spells. It would be impossible to miss." Oliva said.

"Right, that or bombs we can drop on them. It is highly unlikely they will choose to do so." Wren detailed, "Now, back to the more likely case, scaling the walls. We'll have the Warriors spread out and ready to repel them, but should they manage to create a foothold, we can use those same bombs to dig them out along with concentrated fire."

Victor listened to the rest of Wren's speech but kept some of the details to himself, rather than share them. Sure, bombs would work to dig out anyone who made it atop the walls, but so too would a catapult.

Wren was worried about friendly fire, while Victor didn't give a shit. If it won the battle, he'd kill hundreds of his own men to make it happen.

Tomorrow would be a day of triumph. One way or another.