Kingdom of Iron: Tyrant's Fall

It took only two days for Matt to decide that a siege was the worst way to deal with an enemy.

The fact that it wasn't some startling revelation only made things worse. He'd known that a siege was a strategy of last resort. Just about every piece of ancient wisdom recommended against it. There were a host of familiar arguments. Sieges cost time and supplies. Laying siege fixed your forces in one place and invited a counterattack, and it put your enemy into a desperate situation that might lead to unpredictable maneuvers. Siege camps were open to all kinds of dangers, from disease, to hunger, to revolts by restless troops.

Yet there was one devastating problem he hadn't expected. Sieges were boring.

The initial moves were fairly simple. He'd deployed the majority of his troops in a camp that cut off the nearest two roads into the city. Any supplies that would have reached Thronepeak by those routes were now squarely unavailable. Then he'd sent his cavalry out to patrol, making sure there weren't any secret roads or hidden forces waiting to surprise him. He didn't expect any, but it wasn't the ambushes you expected that killed you.

He had his troops dig in, forming a ring of trenches and earthen barricades. The tough mountain valley soil was softened by the summer sun, and they managed to create a fairly solid siege line in just a few hours. Matt knew better than to let them get idle, however. Creating a backup siege line, in case the enemy somehow broke the first, was a good way to keep his troops too busy to grow restless.

Unfortunately, it seemed like all of it was done by the end of the second day. The Dwarves had shown no sign of leaving their fortifications, and there hadn't been any attempts to sally out and stop the ongoing siegework. There were other things he could do, like digging trenches steadily closer to the walls, or attempting to dig under them, but something about the potential of fighting a tunnel war with Dwarves suggested he might be asking for a horrible defeat.

Yet a direct attack would have been a severe mistake. The enemy had walls to hide behind, and trying to blow through using Hill Guard was almost guaranteed to cost an awful number of casualties. Siege engines such as trebuchets might have eventually broken through, but with banners of Siegemakers on the other side it was no guarantee—and it wasn't like he had a lot of trees to work with in the mountains.

Which meant the best option for him at the moment was to sit with his army and wait for the supplies on the inside of the wall to run out. It was a process that could take months, all while his enemies both in and outside of the Kingdom would have time to recover and put their own plans into motion. The fact that his quiet little headache hadn't completely disappeared did absolutely nothing to calm his view of the situation.

He couldn't even spend his time repeating mantras all day, either. His soldiers would no doubt see it as idleness while they worked and watched, which they would use as an excuse to grow lax. All it would take was one lazy sentry at the wrong time, and he'd find half his army routed.

So instead, Matt spent half his day riding around to inspect the lines, poking his head into trenches and nodding at mounds of earth. He managed to put in a bit of weapons training as well, with the lifeguards and a few others. When he could, he slipped in some mantra training, and a bit of practice with his new spells, trying to adapt to them the way he had with his original Sources.

In the end, it took him until halfway through the third day to crack.

Matt glared at the wall. He knew the enemy was over there, watching him. He could see figures on the walls; they occasionally pointed in his direction. They stared at him, and he stared back.

The lifeguards around him were relaxed; none of them expected even a shot from the Elves or Crossguards to reach them here. There were some trenches being dug closer to the walls, zig-zagging their way to a closer distance where his troops could start exchanging fire safely. If he waited, it might only take a week or two.

A small ache went through Matt's head at the thought. He made a decision.

"Balred, do you have the wind spell ready? The one that knocks arrows aside?"

His lifeguard gave him a wary look. "Yes, my liege."

"Then come with me. Everyone else, stay back for now." Matt turned Nelson towards the walls. He started forward, but Balred leaned across his own steed to catch Matt's reins.

The Orc's expression was serious. "Sire, you can't take a city all on your own. Not now."

He looked back at Balred and nodded. "I don't have to. I'm just going to talk. That's all." Then he paused and looked back at the walls. "But be ready."

Balred watched him for another moment. Then he nodded and pulled away. Matt looked back at the wall and urged Nelson forward. The warbuck leaped the closest trench, and they set off towards the walls at a trot.

Matt kept his pace casual. He'd chosen a spot where there wasn't a gate, so hopefully that would keep anyone from trying to reach him on foot. Of course, shooting at him was still an option, but he had a plan for that.

Atop the wall, he saw figures suddenly scrambling into motion. Some of them looked like they were fleeing the wall, others he could faintly hear shouting orders, and others were already taking aim. He kept a wary eye on them as he drew closer. They had to hesitate before shooting, right? All he needed was enough time to get within earshot.

As it turned out, none of the archers or crossbowmen apparently had itchy trigger fingers, or whatever the medieval equivalent was. He reached the point where the shouting was more or less intelligible and stopped, figuring that he could at least yell. Looking up at the wall, he raised his voice as loud as he could.

"Soldiers of the Alliance! I am King Matthew, the Destroyer of Greyhenge. I am the Tyrant of Iron!"

The words rang out, and the commotion on the wall top abruptly ceased. He saw Elves and Dwarves and Knights peering at him, many of them apparently bracing themselves for whatever he had planned. A few looked like they were shaking. At least that was reassuring.

"I have come here to end this war, one way or another. Your leaders have sworn Oaths to destroy me and my Kingdom. I have sworn an Oath to protect it." He raised his voice a little louder, feeling the words scratch at his own throat. "Yet you do not need to die for our quarrel! If the leaders of your city wish me dead, I welcome their attempt to prove their valor. Rulers of the Alliance, I challenge you to fight me personally, between the lines, where we can settle this dispute face to face. Show your people that you would spare them the horrors a siege would bring, and fight for them! Or prove yourselves cowards unworthy of a crown!"

Balred leaned forward, his voice urgent. "Sire, we need to go. They are organizing a salvo."

Matt nodded. He reached through the connection that connected him to his lifeguard and began a spell. "Start your spell, Balred." Then he looked back up at the wall, where the enemy was quickly gathering what had to be two or three banners of archers and crossbowmen. He raised his voice one more time. "You have until this time tomorrow! You have been warned!"

With the message delivered, Matt turned Nelson and began to trot back towards his lines. It was important that he didn't show any concern for the shower of projectiles that were going to come for him. He felt Balred's spell stir the air around him, churning it into a dome of wind that could deflect the incoming arrows and bolts. The technique had already saved Matt's life plenty of times, but had limited range and power. Against a handful of arrows, he'd have been safe. Against hundreds, there was no hope of escape.

Unless Balred received a bit of a boost.

Crossbows slapped behind him; bowstrings sang. Matt resisted the urge to look behind him as dozens and dozens of projectiles whistled into the air, all aimed at his back. Instead, he reached for his Source, and tipped that pulsing, gathered power into a specially prepared formation, which raced along the connection between him and Balred.

For a sudden, burning instant, Balred's spell was the full recipient of Gran's Gift.

The wind brushing past him suddenly strengthened to a brutal howl. Nelson paused for a moment, startled, and Balred's shocked yell was swallowed as a whirlwind seemed to take shape around them. Soldiers who were watching him from the trenches, some fifty meters away, stumbled back with wide eyes and fluttering hair.

A moment later, arrows and bolts began to rain down. They pattered into the dust all around him and Balred, striking the soil in a lethal rain. Some stuck upright, as if the earth had sprouted some strange new flower; others bounced from an unseen stone or hardpacked soil before laying flat. Most importantly, not a single one came within a dozen strides of him or Balred. As the wind faded back to a subtle brush across his face, the fallen projectiles formed a ring around them, like a pile of discarded toys.

Matt looked back, then, and he saw a wall top full of enemy soldiers, every single one of whom was staring at him in silent, horrified shock. He waved at them casually before turning back to his ride. There wasn't a single sound until he led Nelson over the nearest trench and rejoined the rest of his lifeguards.

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Balred rode alongside him, his eyes wide and his hands clenched tight around his reins. Matt turned to clap him on the shoulder now that they were back within safety. "Well done, Balred."

"I—I didn't—"

He leaned in closer and gave Balred a firm look. "Of course you did. Who else would it have been?"

The question appeared to surprise Balred enough that the lifeguard's eyes focused on him again. A sudden burst of suspicion appeared in the Orc's gaze, and he opened his mouth to ask a question.

Then he paused and shook his head as if to clear it. Balred straightened up in his saddle and nodded. "Thank you, my liege. I am glad to have served you well."

Matt gave him a grin and turned Nelson to continue along the lines. The soldiers in the trenches watched him as he passed, and murmured excitedly in his wake. In the distance, the ones on the walls just continued to stare.

Perhaps a siege didn't have to be so bad after all.

That night, he was poring over his exhaustive map of the city—the soldiers had gathered enough information to make it excruciatingly detailed—when he heard someone clear her throat. Matt looked up to find Lucy waiting for him to notice her. "Mind if I join you?"

Matt gestured for her to take a seat. The only seat, in fact; his tent was occupied with a bedroll, his writing table, and a single chair for him to use. Being King didn't give him an unlimited supply of furniture on campaign, after all. "Sure. I'm just looking for a secret passage that we could use to get inside."

She blinked and leaned over to look at the map. "A secret passage? Where?"

He snorted. "If you can find it, let me know." Matt straightened up from the table and massaged the back of his neck with one hand. "In stories, there's always some secret way in, isn't there? That way, the heroes don't end up sitting in a tent for three months waiting for people to starve long enough to give up."

Lucy cocked an eyebrow at him. "We're heroes now, are we?"

He gave her a look. "At least we're trying to be." Then he grinned. "Of course, I doubt the Dwarves would have been foolish enough to leave something like that open, so we're just going to have to make one."

She blinked. "Is that your plan? I heard that you did something a little crazy today."

"Just a bit of psychological warfare." Matt waved his hand dismissively as he stared down at the map again. There had to be an ideal spot for the mines to go. "Something to keep them on their toes and distract them."

Lucy clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward to catch his eyes again. "Is that so? Because I heard you let them shoot a thousand arrows at you, and you used your magic to wave them all aside."

Matt blinked. He straightened up. "It wasn't a thousand. Just a couple hundred, probably."

"A couple hundred." Lucy stared at him. "You know, Tanya warned me about this."

He tilted his head back and groaned. "Oh please. Are you really going to lecture me about being reckless?"

Lucy laughed. "I can't help it! That's how bad you are, honey. If it's me telling you, then you know it's true."

Despite himself, Matt liked the sound of that nickname. He grinned. "Well, it worked. I think I rattled them a bit."

"I'm sure." She folded her arms in front of her. "Though it does make me wonder about a few things. I thought your wind magic was broken. Riley was pretty sure about it, at least."

Matt hesitated. He'd need to have another talk with Riley about state secrets. "It is. And I never had that spell, anyway."

Lucy's eyes narrowed. "So, how did you manage that trick, then?"

He studied her for a moment. Then he gave her a crooked grin. "Fine, I'll tell you." Her eyes started to spark with victory. "When you go for a ride with me on Nelson."

She gave him a look of such exasperation that he had to suppress a snort of laughter. "Oh, come on."

"Fair is fair, Lady Adams. You know it isn't such a terrible price to pay."

Lucy pouted, which was an expression that he never would have anticipated coming from her. "You wouldn't demand something like that from a friend, would you?"

Matt smirked. "A friend? Is that what we are, friends?"

The question seemed to hit a nerve. She bit the corner of her lip for a moment and looked away. When she looked back at him, she leaned in a little closer. "Maybe. What would you say?"

His nostrils filled with the scent of her; her eyes, full of mischief and something more, seemed so close. It sent a shiver straight down his spine. The power of his one remaining Source pulsed frantically in time with his own heartbeat.

He smiled. "I'd say you're being pretty brave for someone without a bodyguard for a chaperone, Maiden of Victory."

A flicker of surprise went through her expression, and a small, half-hidden smile twisted her lips. She wet her lips with her tongue… and then straightened back up and stretched. "I suppose they figure we can be trusted to behave ourselves when we're allies now. The peace treaty and everything."

"That, and they're probably eavesdropping outside at the moment." Matt pitched his voice just loud enough that he could see shapes shifting outside the tent. He mouthed the words 'nosy gossips' to her, and Lucy started giggling behind her hand.

When she managed to regain her composure, she gave him an amused shake of the head. "You know I'm going to get that secret out of you eventually, Iron King."

Matt raised an eyebrow. "Nelson and I are looking forward to it."

With another snort of laughter, she waved to him and left. He settled back down to study the map one more time. If he was going to dig his way into Thronepeak, he needed the perfect spot to put the exit.

Yet even as he studied, the memory of Lucy kept intruding on his thoughts, making the whole process a lot more complicated.

It made getting to sleep that night even harder.

Hours later, with the sun still not risen, Matt woke to someone shaking him. For a fleeting moment, he half-hoped it was Lucy. His fragile dreams were shattered when he heard Tiridine speak in a hoarse whisper. "Sire, wake up."

He came awake instantly, his hand darting to his mace. "Tiridine? What is it?"

She nodded. "Someone you need to see, sire. Immediately."

A part of him wanted to demand an explanation, but Tiridine had served as his lifeguard for months, now. His life had been in her hands repeatedly. If he couldn't trust her at least enough to know what was urgent, then he was dead already, and didn't know it yet.

Instead, he levered himself up out of his bed and reached for his shirt. "Who is it?"

"Someone from the city. They don't have much time."

Matt paused just long enough for the last vestiges of sleepiness to vanish. He pulled his tunic over his head and reached for his boots. "Bring them here. Now."

He had just enough time to pull himself mostly together before the visitor arrived, guarded by four of the lifeguards. Two others, including Tiridine, waited outside.

His mysterious guest was a Dwarf; he could tell that much from the person's stature alone. They were wearing dark brown clothing that seemed like it had seen better days. He glanced at Mulwan, who was standing near the stranger. She shook her head; the man hadn't been armed.

Matt looked back at the Dwarf and studied him for a moment. He seemed nervous, but not completely terrified. At least, if he was paralyzed with fear, he was hiding it well.

Deciding he'd waited long enough, Matt spoke up. "Who are you?"

The Dwarf shivered slightly. Then he raised his chin and looked Matt straight in the eye. "My name is Vel'morg. I—I'm a free Dwarf!"

Matt blinked at the declaration. It had been delivered with the kind of fervor that he had been more used to hearing from Lucy's revolutionaries than from one of the Alliance's servants. He repressed a frown. Was this a sign of how much the Pridelands were influencing their neighbors? "What can I do for you, Vel'morg?" The Dwarf stared at him in surprise for a moment, and Matt gave him a crooked smile. "I trust you didn't wake all of us up for nothing?"

Vel'morg shook himself. "I want you to promise to leave the city alone!"

He tilted his head slightly. "I'm afraid I can't promise that, Vel'morg. Not as long as the Alliance holds it."

The Dwarf shook his head. "I mean, if I let you into the city. If we let you in, you can go after the soldiers and the nobles, but not the rest of us. Not the people."

Understanding dawned. "You can open the gates."

Vel'morg nodded. "We can. But only if you give your word."

Matt's eyes narrowed. A conspiracy inside the city to open the gates was a very good way to gain access, especially if he could manage to pull it off during the night. All the risk and effort of bulldozing a tunnel under the walls would be unnecessary, and if they pushed fast enough, they could reach the second wall before that gate could close. Half the city could be under his control before the Alliance even realized what was going on.

At the same time, it was also an opportunity to run face first into a disaster. The enemy could discover the whole plot and leave your soldiers to rush the walls for no reason. They could even turn it into an ambush, letting some of his troops in just to be attacked and destroyed while the gates closed behind them. There were so many risks to take in order to get access to the gates that the assurances of some Low Folk Dwarf seemed very suspicious.

He nodded slowly. "I have no quarrel with the Low Folk of the city—or anywhere, really. The only reason I'm here is because the Alliance continues to refuse to make peace and leave our lands to ourselves. I promise that if you open the gates for me, I will not harm anyone who stays in their homes and doesn't interfere with my soldiers."

The Dwarf sagged slightly in relief. "That's—that's all we want."

Matt leaned forward slightly. "You know you can trust my word. Now, why should I trust you?"

Vel'morg straightened up again. A spark of defiance entered his eyes. "I'm not the only one. There are more of us than the Chiefs think. We're tired of it. Tired of dying in their wars, tired of being drafted to serve in their halls. Their greed brought this war to us, and now their cowardice continues it."

He blinked. "I'm assuming that means your Chiefs won't meet me tomorrow."

The Dwarf gave a quiet laugh. There was no true humor in it; the scorn was all Matt heard. "No. For all their Oaths and promises, they are too afraid to do such a thing. Not without sacrificing hundreds of Low Folk serfs to weaken you before they lift a hand. Yet they will not surrender either. They'd rather our mountain crumble around us first."

Matt studied him a moment longer. The bitterness and contempt was too raw in the Dwarf's voice to be fake. It didn't seem like he was a lure for Matt to accept. "How many of you are there?"

For a moment, Vel'morg hesitated. "A dozen of us."

A low enough number that it hopefully wouldn't have reached the Chiefs' attention yet. Still, it seemed like a small group to be able to open the city gates. "How will you do it?"

Vel'morg leaned forward. "We'll wait until the guards are distracted, and then attack the guardhouse for the eastern gate. One of us knows magic; she can break the mechanisms and force the gate open. From there, the city would be yours."

Matt tilted his head. "How many guards would there be?"

"Never more than six in the guardhouse. More on the walls, but they will be elsewhere when we make our move." The confidence in Vel'morg's voice was probably meant to be comforting, but it rang a little hollow. A dozen serfs against professional soldiers was likely not a sure thing, especially if reinforcements arrived quickly.

Still, it was a better bet than sitting outside the city for a month. Matt nodded. "It will be tomorrow night. This same time." Vel'morg started to protest, and Matt held up a hand. "We'll provide the distraction. You open the gates—and if you do not, I will remember you, Vel'morg, free Dwarf."

The Dwarf took a step back, his face pale. Matt didn't give him the chance to respond. He turned to Mulwan. "Get him back to the wall unseen and give him a signal that he can use to reach us." She nodded, and the lifeguards retreated from his tent.

He spent a few moments trying to judge whether he could rest a little more before the sun rose. Then he gave up and lit a candle. If he was awake, at least he could work on his mantras.