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To Fly is to Fall The forces of the Covenant lined up upon their battlements, overlooking Castle Aurelian on the other side. Cannoneers manned their cannons, adjusting the aim carefully and with great precision. Others lined up to help reload, while a group of cavalry took their place to engage the enemy in small skirmishes. The siege did not last long. Castle Aurelian’s defenses were destroyed with almost immediate haste, and the forces of the Covenant gathered, waiting only for that final call: “Charge!” “Poppiya!” Enrico called, she could see him humbling as fast as he could, attempting to catch up to her. They were surrounded by the rest of the Covenant forces, rushing towards Castle Aurelian. Their commanders had spotted a breach in the castle, and now came the push to wrestle the castle from the enemy’s grasp as swiftly. Poppiya sprinted ahead, following her aunt and brother in tow. She glanced back at the call- and halted in her path. “Enrico- quickly!” she called over with her sword held high, “-to the Keep. We have to take the Keep.” She then turned back to the rushing crowd, and continued on the path towards their goal. Castle Aurelian had not lasted long under fire from the forces of the Covenant. Their cannons had drilled holes into the keep, some stray cannonballs even landing within the civilian housing of the town behind it. Smoke rose gently from the keep that was now little but ruins, and the muddied dirt around it was earlier littered with the early signs of a field battle. Enrico was covered in a light dust of gunpowder, a cannoneer by trade, his squad had managed the collapse of a tower. Poppiya, on the other hand, had been a part of the main force, tasked with reloading the various siege instruments for the soldiers. The forces of the Covenant made their way across the fields and into the breach of Castle Aurelian, their forces spread around the keep, met with little resistance except skirmishes atop the roofs of the fallen castle. “Watch out!” Enrico called, warning Poppiya of an incoming arrow from a stray Stassionite. As the arrow volleyed over the courtyard, Poppiya took cover within the armies of Balian who raised their shields above their heads protectively. The thousands of men, with a united shield of iron and wood held skyward, prepared for the potential onslaught of arrows from their foes. Though, they did not come. The stray few fizzled into nothingness, and the army dispersed to begin their attack once more. A stray horseman managed his way into the forces of the combined Balianese-Petran-Urguani force which had been tasked with occupying the courtyard, only to meet their swift end at the tip of Enrico’s pike. Then came the second charge, the forces of Stassion, Veletz, and the Orcs had clambered their way back onto the castle’s walls and roofs, a last ditch attempt to try and disperse the Covenant forces. Climbing up to meet the forces head on, Enrico and Poppiya lost sight of one another. So many people in one place, it was impossible not to. Arrows whistled, hitting flesh, wood, or dirt, while the singing of steel against steel echoed. The battle was not a contest. The tremendous power of the Covenant forces was not something that what remained of the Stassion and Veletz could muster a fight against, especially not after the initial charge. They were a scattered few, and those who were not cut down fled from atop the castle wars, either plummeting to their deaths, or being charged down by Covenant cavalry. But even in victory, there is defeat. The battle died down, the last of the enemy had been slain, the ruins of Castle Aurelian was theirs now. Enrico caught his breath, covered in blood and sweat. The corpse of one of the last soldiers laid before him, next to him a fallen horse. The haze of fighting still blurred his vision, and upon looking up he saw himself barely in the company of others. “Poppy?” He queered into the empty mountainside around him, though hearing no answer. A couple of cavalry soldiers rode up, “Prince Enrico, the battle is won! It is time to go.” He barely registered the words, but he staggering to follow the cavalryman. They arrived with the bulk of the force, they were singing songs of victory and cheers of joy, basking in the glory of yet another battle won. “Poppy?” He asked, pressing his hand to the soldier of a random soldier. It was not her. He repeated the attempt, over and over again, but he could not find her. As others took to their carriages, returning to their homelands, Enrico remained amongst the rubble of Castle Aurelian, seeking the colorful armor that she wore. A rich purple tabard, decorated in the Balian Crest with a pink sash slung across her chest. Within the field of bloodied bodies, a cloak of blue fluttered gently in the wind. Laid face down in the dirt, it appeared as non significant, ‘til its plum garment peeked through the mud. The individual had seen all hell- bloodied and beaten beyond recognition, but its Balian Emblem could not be mistaken. The head dress which usually, so elegantly decorated chestnut locks sat skewed and dirtied, bloody and torn. Laid beside the body was a rapier, a war-worn weapon of aged appearance. “Poppy?” He echoed for the last time. His heart sank, and his knees fell into the ground before him. The glow of victory shone on him, and yet he wept. He took Poppiya’s sword with him, and carried the body to the carriages. He loaded it with great care. It was one of few, he noted, perhaps that made it even more precious. The plan had succeeded, but success had proven itself to be bittersweet.
