The sound of thunder rolled over the city, and another cloud of dust rose into the air. The ground seemed to shake slightly, as the Imperial projectile impacted — either the wall or the ground, or possibly even a house, it was hard to be certain from here.

The battle had only just started, this past hour, but the Imperial assault was fast and furious. Nothing of the slow, methodical and cautious way with which they had originally approached remained: Now, their drones and soldiers seemed set on storming the city as soon as they possibly could. And if they had to raze it to the ground first, the Empire seemed willing to do that, too.

Edgar Letermain frowned into the distance. This furious assault did not fit what he had expected after their parlay session only yesterday. It went completely against his impression of the Imperial leadership, especially Princess Janis. She truly had seemed like an honorable woman who took no joy in bloodshed, and wanted to find a peaceful solution for more reason than simply doing her due diligence.

Of course, perhaps he shouldn't be surprised. He knew the Empire's reputation; although he had always privately doubted its veracity. This brutal assault seemed to align with it, and yet, it still seemed incongruous with the princess' style, and her reputation too. He had found what information he could on her generalship, so this was not just his personal impression.

Was the Empire under some kind of time pressure he did not know about? If so, that might be a ray of hope for his people. If we have any time to capitalize on it, he considered. If this continues, they might well conquer the city before anything else.

He shook himself lightly. There was no call to be this pessimistic. As Honor and Frank would no doubt remind him, they had the favor of the gods. And there were still eight Champions here as living proof of it.

Or possibly nine. He'd long suspected Honor Sazatore was a Champion, although she had not seen fit to confirm it.

She hardly needed to. She was equally secretive about her true level, but he knew it was high, possibly the highest of anyone in this city. Coupled with her political influence, it was no surprise that even the commander of the local garrison, which had swelled beyond all reason in the leadup to this battle, listened to her more than he did to him. That is what being City Lord gets me, I suppose, he thought with an inner scoff.

At least he still had the fortress at the center of the city. It had been renovated only ten years ago under his father's reign, and the tall towers offered a commanding view of the city. A part of him itched to be closer to the actual fighting, but the vantage point it gave him was useful. He turned in a slow circle, trying to assess the damage and identify the areas where the fighting was heaviest.

The Empire was not content with a traditional siege, but they were also not solely focused on the gates. The Confederation's mages had put up shields, which the Imperials were battering down with repeated artillery barrages. Occasionally, a projectile slipped through; probably because the shield didn't offer complete coverage everywhere, and might have some weak spots. He had also heard reports of the Empire tunneling and bringing siege engines. Unfortunately, their drones seemed to have little trouble scaling the walls regardless.

A dark cloud rose over the western walls, and he paused, turning toward it. It darkened the sky, and the occasional blue sparks let off by the magic shield around the city barely lessened the impact of seeing countless flying drones descend on the city like a swarm of giant locusts. Letermain paused, despite himself, feeling a slight shiver go down his back.

As expected, the flying drones were carrying more of those damnable Imperial explosives. He saw further sparks, growing into a veritable shower of them. From here, it looked like rapidly expanding spheres of light, and they came closer. He frowned, taking a step back.

"My lord, we should seek shelter," one of his guards said.

He glanced at the man, one of his most loyal. Most of his men were fighting to protect the city, of course, but he had kept a few trusted retainers close. "I will not run and cower, Nick," he said.

"I do not trust this shield, my lord," Nick replied. "You will be no good to this city dead. With all due respect."

He frowned, looking up at the sky again. The swarm of drones approached rapidly. It spread out over the city, the individual drones seeking somewhat more distance from each other, but there was still a tight knot of them in the center. It looked like their formation flattened, spreading out vertically; likely to maximize the area they could target with what they dropped, he supposed.

Then they sped up and the rain of explosives buffeting their shield came much closer. He could see cracks starting to show in the shell. Swearing softly, he unholstered the shield he wore strapped to his back and raised it; better to be safe than sorry. He was a Level 44 Knight Defender and generally proud of his fortitude, but it didn't pay to take stupid risks.

That turned out to be a good decision. The shield was starting to show actual cracks and empty spots as the swarm of drones finally slowed over the fortress and turned. Many of the soldiers stationed here shot at them, of course, and the defensive shield let their attacks through. Some of the drones fell from the sky to join the rocks, grenades and bombs they were dropping. Ironically, it likely only stressed the shield more; the drones were not light and they had enough altitude to have gained a little speed.

Letermain activated his defensive Skill, Bastion of Home. He felt weight press on him through it, but braced himself. It almost drove him into the ground, but his shield held. A wall of noise enveloped him, leaving his ears ringing, and he'd closed his eyes tightly but still saw red spots.

Unfortunately, the tower he was standing on fared much worse. He could feel it trembling, and it almost seemed like the stone was sliding under his feet. The air around him seemed chocked. Nick stumbled into him, grasping his arm tightly; as if he'd wanted to shield him, but he was now precariously listing to the side, himself.

And overhead, a group of drones turned for another pass.

"Gods' curse," he swore, then let the force pressing on him do as it pleased and shifted to the side. The crenelations on the wall here were gone, leaving the barrier half-undone. Letermain glanced at the ground, at the dark shapes descending on the tower, and made his choice. This is going to hurt, he thought grimly.

Tightening his grip on Nick, he threw both of them over the edge of the ruined battlements off the tower. The stone shook behind him and dust rained down on them.

He resisted the urge to close his eyes or look down, instead angling his shield below them. He'd triggered another Skill, Adjustment, which allowed him to modify the effective weight of parts of his body, so as to add more force to a strike. Unfortunately, it wasn't designed for something like this and with Nick's added weight, they plummeted downward.

That is, until they fell into a bubble of water that hadn't been there before. He sputtered, almost inhaling water by reflex. He thrashed wildly for a moment before stilling.

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Then, a second later, the world asserted itself and he fell out of the water onto the hard ground below. The edge of his shield clanged against his helmet. He blinked up at the sky, or rather the water; it was an odd sight to see a large bubble of water, almost a column, simply hanging in midair. At least it had slowed his fall down quite a lot, so he was only winded and not heavily injured.

A groan from beside him alerted Letermain that his man had also survived, but he was more focused on the dark shape currently stepping into view. Blinking again resolved it into a familiar man, who quickly reach out a hand to pull him up. He kept glancing at the even more familiar woman standing a step away, though.

"Careful, Letermain," Honor Sazatore said. "You're still useful to this city, try not to die yet."

"Truly, it was hardly intentional," he said drily, shaking his head. "Is this your work?"

As if on cue, whatever magic held the water dissipated, and it crashed down. It was enough water to drench him immediately, even more thoroughly, and the force of it almost brought him to his knees. Nick sputtered but picked himself up. The entire street was flooded now. Of course, it was rather deserted right now, except for them, and the occasional piece of rubble from the fortress.

"Let's go," Alvin said, tugging on his armor. Letermain glanced around and realized he would rather not be this close to the fighting, so he followed quickly.

"Not me, Alvin did the honors," Sazatore explained once they'd found some shelter in a side alley. "It's a rather cute spell, isn't it?"

Letermain bowed to Alvin. "Thank you."

Surreptitiously checking his System notification, he saw his Class was Arcane Blade (though he couldn't see the Level), so Alvin was clearly not entirely limited to magic. It suited the armor and sword he wore.

The younger man waved his hand. "Don't mention it," he said. "But the defense of Pesiten needs you, City Lord."

Letermain straightened up and nodded, glancing at the sky. Here, at least, the flying drones seemed to have passed by, for now. More than likely, they would be back sooner or later. He doubted there were any areas of the city they would not venture to. Hopefully, at least the quarters that were purely residential, with the inhabitants cowering in their homes, would be spared the explosives.

"Our strength is needed in the west, at the Old Gate," Sazatore said. "Let's go. And try not to be too noticeable."

He nodded and fell into step with the others, sparing a glance at Nick. The other man gave him a playful salute and nodded back.

Then they marched. He was glad to be traveling with Sazatore and Alvin, although it would have been better if they'd managed to rally more soldiers. Unfortunately, there were still patrols of flying drones overhead, and he understood her reasoning — visibly gathering a force out in the open would just make them a target for more of those drones.

"Shouldn't you be reinforcing the shield or coordinating the mages?" he asked after a moment, as they turned off a broad street onto a narrower alley. Even with the destruction it had already undergone, he knew the city well enough to tell this was the shortest route. Assuming they were heading to the defensive outpost close to the western inner gate, which, it seemed from here, hadn't fallen yet. The Empire must have focused on the castle. In hindsight, it was an obvious target, even if thinking of his fortress falling so easily sent shivers down his spine.

"There's little point," Sazatore said dismissively. "We couldn't hold for long. The Empire is putting its all into this attack. They must be running their own mages ragged. We won't be able to match them, not along with their other tricks. Those bombs are no joke."

"I told you the city needed more cannons," Alvin muttered.

"It's a city, defending it with cannons isn't as easy as all that," she said in a tone of tried patience.

Letermain shook his head. He knew Sazatore had a point, but this was just intensifying his feeling of unease. "Do you know why they are so aggressive?" he asked. "It's working out well for them, for now, but it doesn't fit their previous strategy and it's not a risk I thought the princess would take."

Presently, he thought he finally saw a flicker of something besides coldness in her eyes, although he could not tell what it was. "They're Imperial invaders. Who knows why they do anything? We have more productive things to consider, such as our defense."

Letermain frowned. "You do," he pointed out. "Or at least, you like to say so, Lady Sazatore. You are a psychic. Is your ability failing you now?"

"Be careful of your words, Adanite," she warned him, her voice lower. "I do not appreciate your implication. Be careful you do not make enemies, we all know your political patrons are losing power."

He swallowed back another comment and raised a hand in half-apology. He was about to verbally back down and steer the conversation another way, but Alvin snorted.

"Isn't it rather obvious?" he said. "I don't know why you are starting a fight about it. Of course they're feeling angry. Honestly, I would in their place, but them's the breaks, right?"

"… And why would you feel provoked?" Letermain asked. "Because of our visit to negotiate?"

"Come on —" Alvin started, then paused. He turned to glance at Sazatore. "I thought everyone knew. You didn't tell them?"

"Everyone who needed to know did. It's done now, anyway."

That did not sound good at all. He would have asked further, but they arrived at a defensive checkpoint right then, distracting everyone. Letermain accepted the salutes from the gate captain and hurried through, following Sazatore.

"They are sending more War Drones up the wall, milords," the captain said. "The commanders at the wall are going to fall back here. If they can. It's better to stay here."

He grimaced. "I must go and see, at least a little farther, but thank you."

Sazatore had barely bothered to acknowledge them at all and was already moving. Letermain glanced at her, then turned to Alvin. The other man was also quickening his step, but he paused when the city lord grabbed the edge of his sleeve.

"What exactly did they do?" he asked quietly. "I need to know these things if I'm to defend the city."

Alvin sighed. For the first time, Letermain considered why this man was loyal to the psychic. He looked tired for a moment, before his expression was replaced with determination. "You know they are heretics. A truce of parley is sanctified by the gods and our mortal codes of honor. But the Empire has no honor and despises the gods themselves. Judge us if you wish, but — If it can save lives, it is not unjustified."

It felt like something was curling in his belly, hot and heavy, as he stared at the man. "What did you do? What did Sazatore do?"

"She didn't do anything," Alvin admitted. "Well, technically. I think she might have intensified it? But it was my ability that cursed the Princess. Unless the Empire's healers are better than we thought, she should be dead by this time tomorrow. Even if not, she won't be in any condition to take command of the battle or inspire her troops."

Letermain stopped walking. "You — you —" He groped for words. "Have you any idea what you've done, you imbecile? This was a formal negotiation! We gave each other guarantees of safe conduct! Cursing someone at a diplomatic meeting — and a princess at that! — do you realize how that will make us look? Just look at what the Empire did to the gnomes. Or to Prekan. Do you want us to join them? And worse, this will mean they'll never trust us again."

"They wouldn't trust us anyway," Alvin interjected, although he looked a little more abashed.

"That's as may be, but they were still willing to have this talk! Now they certainly won't be, whatever happens. Even if we win every battle from now on, how will we even get their surrender if they won't accept any diplomatic envoys?"

"They'll find a way regardless," Alvin shrugged. "I understand your point, but look at the big picture! Honor has a point about cutting off the head of the snake. This is the Imperial crown princess, and everyone knows she's half the reason the Cernlian queen puts up with losing her authority in her own kingdom. Without her, the monsterblood empress only has her monsterblood children, and none of them can have heirs of their own. Plus, they'd probably start fighting amongst each other over the throne; it is not like there is any clear or established precedence. She already put a younger son ahead of an older one, right? Will that prince let it go now? Or the remaining nobles?"

Letermain blinked. Those sounded like Sazatore's arguments. "Have you heard anything to support the idea of such discord? The Hive is famed for their loyalty to their Queen, everyone knows that too. It is wildly optimistic to assume they'll break. And does it look like the Empress is close to death?" He shook his head. "From my point of view, this was barely a step above rank idiocy. And my city is paying the price."

"I'm a Champion of Etainas, you can't talk to me like that," Alvin muttered, sounding like a sulky child.

Letermain didn't respond. There was nothing further to say. Instead, he was frantically trying to think of who he could talk to who could mitigate this diplomatic crisis, or at least the damage to their Confederation's reputation. Forget the Imperials, there was going to be talk among the princes and lords about this, too, he was sure. His own name would be associated with it, which would make it harder to try any kind of damage control. It didn't look good.

Despite himself, he hoped that Alvin was right and the curse at least worked as intended. Taking the Imperial heir and one of their best commanders out might be a benefit they would have to gamble on.

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