If there was any doubt in Justinians mind that the gossip within the capital was wrong or that his father had been somehow bested by simple-minded beastkin, it was long gone. The beastkins were performing a controlled and meticulous advance, with scouts and skirmishers covering the main force every step of the way, as best as the high noble could tell.

Not that Justinian was planning on leaving his tall walls to assault a foe that he had no idea of the composition or abilities they possessed, but he knew they had to have the numbers on their side. Making such a decision was inflicting physical pain on himself. He was offering up the initiative to the beastkin, but he had no other choice. The mercenaries weren't exactly willing to leave the walls, but even if they were, it would only be a waste of life.

Since the first sighting, flocks of the beasts were always overhead day and night. In the first few days, when people realized there really was a threat of a beastwave, some Olimpians still arrived outside the walls, but they brought reports of attacks.

The birds were swooping down with spears in hand and striking down those fleeing. Some managed to escape the ambushes, while others watched it from afar and slipped away after everything was over. On either side of the coin you were looking at, their accounts were the same.

What sent a shiver down Justinian's spine was that if he attributed human logic to the birds, they were instilling fear into the defenders. A looming threat the Olimpians could not understand or define, so their imagination created something far worse than reality… If that was their intention, it was working. The high noble himself wasn't feeling fear so much as caution, but he could feel the growing uncertainty and trepidation in the air.

Whatever the beastkins' plan was, Justinian could not leave his fortress in force. The flying bastards could, and he suspected would, cut off any supplies or support attempting to make it to the expedition once they were out of sight of Ironhold's walls.

Worse, Justinian couldn't hope to perform an ambush that would succeed with the birds constantly overhead. And all of that assumed the beastkin would take the roads, which was not at all certain, as they were far more able to take a mountain trail impassible to legionaries, encircling the isolated force. Whether they chose to engage in battle or starve out the legionaries afterward… it didn't really matter to the end result.

This wasn't a series of groundless assumptions on his part either, as he had sent out some volunteer hunters, scouts, and even a knight, but none of them had returned. He doubted they ever would, along with his messengers carrying his calls for aid. At least not in time to matter, but he could still hope.

Just like Justinian hoped that the tribes might make an appearance, but they seemed to have retreated into their mountain valleys, burying their heads and hoping everything blew past them like it usually did. Or maybe they were all slaughtered in their homes… There simply wasn't any reliable information. Not wanting to waste his time hoping for things he didn't have, the noble quickly put his wishes aside and focused on what was actually available.

"Are you done staring at that yet?" Gilbert commented, his voice exasperated when he entered the hall.

Not turning his eyes away from the figurines, Justinian responded, "If I'm not carefully watching, I'll miss something."

"And if you continue to strain your eyes like that, you will go blind before the week is out. What use will you be then, hmm?"

"More than you are suggesting. My domain will do me far more good in a battle than my eyes." The young noble said his tone entirely serious, not a hint of jest in his voice.

"Ugh!" Groaned the knight, walking up to the table and slapping down a stack of papers harder than necessary. "Seriously, you need to take a break. Defeat from a lack of preparation might be a common mistake among young and inexperienced leaders, but the same holds true for exhaustion due to overworking. If your mind can't spot the obvious, what good are you to anyone."

"You think I am missing something obvious?" Justinian asked, partially turning so his eyes could bore into his friend.

"…Right now? No. But right now matters less than a couple of hours or days from now. Anything you alter at this point will only have a marginal effect on the coming battle."

The heir of the Fridgia Family's face twitched in annoyance, but he finally sighed in resignation. Stepping back, he collapsed into a chair that was positioned a few feet from the table and allowed his body to relax for the first time in days. Closing his eyes, he squeezed the bridge of his nose with his right thumb and forefinger, resting his elbow on the chair's armrest. "What are the papers about?" The noble asked after a few seconds, unable to stop himself.

Instead of answering, the knight called out, "Hey you! Yeah, I'm talking to you; go get the lord some tea. And something to eat!"

"…Was it really necessary to clear the room?" Justinian asked after the door shut.

"No, but I wanted something to eat, and I'm guessing that you needed it too… Not to mention trusting the servants of the keep isn't the brightest idea."

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"I disagree. I think most of them have far more reason to despise the governor than both of us combined. Before we arrived, fear was far more common within these halls than trust, and I intend to change that."

"Commendable. But the right amount of coins in a palm can twist many hearts in ways the owners thought impossible. Besides, trust takes time to build, and most will be far more concerned with the fear of what will happen to them after we leave, having refused his… suggestions."

Snorting as his eyes cracked open to look at the knight studying the table in his place, Justinian expanded his perception sphere to ensure no one was close enough to eavesdrop. Still, he wasn't going to outright say what he was intending, "I don't believe they have much to worry about on that matter."

"Ohh, on that note." The knight scoffed, flicking his wrist at the stack of papers he brought in dismissively. "One of the local merchants came to me with those documents. He is apparently not in favor with the governor, and they have butted heads quite often over the years. He has documented illegal mining, the sale of the legion weapons, and corruption… though the last one isn't something we could remove him from his office for."

"Really?" Justinian asked, perking up, "The merchant had all that information? What was he sitting on it for?"

"The man didn't outright say it, but I got the feeling the two had come to an understanding. The merchant wouldn't attempt to elevate the matter to higher authorities, and the governor wouldn't kill him or run him out of business. And don't worry, I made sure he wouldn't be touched."

"Couldn't he have just moved away and started a new life?"

"Yes, but his shop had remained within his family since the founding of the city. He would rather die than see it willingly handed over to another… Kind of reminds me of someone." The knight commented, his voice neutral, but Justinian knew precisely what he was doing.

"I am not reconsidering standing down the militia or allowing the women and children to flee in preparation for abandoning Ironhold." The high noble snapped.

"Wow, no need to bite my head off, I didn't say anything about that. But it is curious how your mind goes right to it."

"Yeah, curious how my mind went to that after a long detour of a conversation that related to my situation," Justinian said dryly, though his irritation was stifled by the entrance of the servant carrying a tray with her.

"Funny how the fickle winds of fate blow us mere mortals around the world. You can never be too sure what is coincidence or planned." The two fell silent as Justinian sipped on the refreshing and relaxing tea, not that he was going to tell the already too arrogant knight. After a while, Gilbert spoke again. "Are you sure this is how you wanna play it? Once it is set up, we have to follow through. Nobody will be willing to live in Irontown with the knowledge rotting in the back of their minds. Rebuilding afterwards will… Shit. I don't even want to imagine the number of carts filled with gold it will take."

Sighing, Justinian rubbed his head. "What would you have me do? If I had a whole active legion and the same number of militia we have now, I wouldn't feel confident in a defense. There is simply too much undefendable wall."

"Do we really care about all of the walls? The valley floor section is over two hundred feet tall, and that alone should make a competent force hesitate no matter the number of defenders. It only gets worse on the mountain slopes as they were smoothed out to prevent anything from climbing them. I would be surprised if they could mount a serious assault in more than one place." The knight said, though his voice held little confidence in his words. This topic was ground they had covered before at length, and it showed just how nervous he was about everything to bring it up again.

Not that Justinian was anyone to talk. Every time he was given a chance recently, he would reexplain his grand strategy. Not only to soothe the emotions of the one asking but more because he was trying to convince himself. It wasn't working nearly as much as he had hoped, but one more shot was still worth the effort, right?

"The stories of the abilities of the beastkins are as varied as they are incredulous, but the fact is I myself experienced them. To assume their castings are so limited that they cannot scale the cliffs given time is foolish. The same applies to their ability to breach the walls. We have to assume they are going to get past the outer walls and prepare our defense accordingly." Justinian said, his voice heavy with a mixture of determination and regret. "We will place most of the mercenaries on the flanks to act as archers and prevent any breaches, as they will be able to hold against far greater threats than the militia. A cohort of the Ironhold militia will be positioned along the valley floor's northern wall with a core of mercenaries. If anything is going to be broken through, it will be there… And once the beastkins have pushed into the town, the confined streets will allow the knights to supply unimaginable death. The losses should give the beastkin pause and buy us time to reevaluate our defenses deeper in the town."

"You are putting a lot of faith in an untested militia to perform a controlled retreat." Knight Gilbert said.

"Yes… and no. If the worst comes to worse, the more chaotic they are, the better it will appear. A few hundred dead is more than worth the survival of the town and the greater realm."

"Do you think that if you say it enough, you will actually start to believe it?" The knight asked, no judgment in his voice.

"I do believe it," Justinian admitted, feeling guilt as he did so. "And that's the problem. I am proposing what I believe— No. What I know is the best strategy. And I know hundreds of citizens will die because of it."

Turning, the knight said, "I thought so. You need to get the fuck over it and act like an adult." Mouth dropping open, Justinian didn't know what to say as his oldest friend spoke to him harshly. "If you weren't here, this town would fall, and far more would have died. That is all but set in stone. You have done everything that can be expected. Now, you must bear the weight of your station. If you live, and given your character — it would be a tragedy if you didn't — this will be far from the last time you have to make such decisions. And next time, it could easily be far worse. Don't torment yourself for choices anyone competent would make."

"You telling me to man up."

"Essentially."

"You think that's going to help?"

Smirking sardonically, the knight responded, "Best case, yes. Worst, well, nothing anyone could say will help you then. The middle-of-the-road response will at least distract you."

After a few seconds, Justinian gave a dry chuckle and shook his head. "Hmm… I could go for some wine while we wait for our inconsiderate guests. You want some?"

"Only if I can light my pipe."

"Yeah, sure. You can think of it like a last rite." The two shared a chuckle with each other, but lurking behind their eyes and forced smiles was a dark shadow.

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