The Siege of Ultopja 8 – Thunder strikes Twice [Helena]

The ninth day of the siege and there is still no progress. The catapults still fire, now in salves to exhaust the enchantments. Helena however doubts that the power will run out anytime soon. If Anjar’s guess of three hundred mages is correct then it will likely never run dry.

Helena folds her hands behind her back and walks through the camp. Her cape sways slowly at knee height as she takes careful steps over the trampled ground. It always pains her to see what several thousand feet do to a green plain. Although it could be much worse. One of the few good things about the winter is that the ground is hard during the coldest months. There are a few fields of mud at depression of the plain but nothing a slight rearrangement of tents and routes couldn’t be avoided with.

The sun peaks through the clouds and shines down on her. “What to do, I wonder.” Helena mumbles as she walks towards the light without a clear goal. She simply wants to show herself to her soldiers and see if any of them have any problems. If she can’t progress the siege she can at least make sure they have it as comfortable as possible. She considers writing a letter to Orstead and ask for a shipment of fruits that don’t grow in Estara at this time of the year but can still be found in the warmer climates of the south. She would have to pay these from her own money but she doesn’t need much or any luxury, so she has too much anyway.

Helena has not yet reached a conclusion on the matter when the sun gets covered by a cloud again. She makes a slightly disappointed noise, seconds later she listens up. There are loud footsteps behind her. Very loud, the untrained trampling of someone storming forwards. She whirls around and the knife that aimed for her neck only scratches her cheek, just below the eye.

The man has no time to be surprised as Helena grabs his extended arm and turns as she throws the man to the ground. With a pained shout the man losses his grip on the knife. Soldiers all around only now become aware of the situation and run to her aid. “Lady Helena!” The first of one to arrives shouts. A quick look at her generals scratched face and the knife in the dirt and the expression on the soldiers face turns into pure rage. “Male scum.” She spits and draws her sword.

“Wait.” Helena commands before the soldier can do anything hasty. She turns her face to the man below her. “Why did you attack me?” “Are you not General Helena?” The man croaks. He is bald on the top, unkempt hair falling down the sides. A crooked and scared nose show that he must have been in a lot of fistfights in his life. He is in miserable condition, his clothes torn, his teeth partly missing, yet his eyes look determined and hateful. “I am.” “There you have your answer. Estarian lapdogs should all die.” He turns to the ever-growing crowd of soldiers. “All of you should die!” He shouts at them. Disgusted eyes are his answer. “Lady Helena, may I speak?” A higher rank steps forwards. From the decorations on her armour Helena can guess that she is a noble, no ordinary soldier has money for such unnecessary adornments.

If it were not for the fact that Helena herself was currently wearing the golden and ornate armour the Queen has gifted her along the title she would have condemned her. ‘I could have lived with the regular plate.’ Helena thinks. “You may.”

“This man has graced your fair skin, your face no less. I suggest we end him right here, right now.” The man chuckles, he is well aware that even if he succeeded this would have been his end. “No.” Helena says and pulls the man upwards in the stunned silence. “Did Ulal send you?” Helena asks the confused man. Her voice is warm, friendly and understanding. He spits on her face. “Like that Demon would ever accept the truth. He and his equality can fuck off as far as you can.”

The crowd is boiling with wrath as Helena wipes of the saliva of her face. She doesn’t need to ask further questions. His motives and hatred are clear. A simple man that wished for a reversal of circumstances, not to change them for the better. Helena shakes her head. “You fill me with sadness. You.” Helena points at the noblewoman that spoke earlier. “Yes, General?” “Bring this man to Brugraht and have him locked up for the crime of attempted murder.” “With all due respect, this man deserves worse.” The noblewoman disagrees. “She is right!” Shouts a soldier in the crowd and soon other voices follow the example.

Helena takes a couple of deep breaths as she waits for things to quiet down again. “Are we animals” She asks the noblewoman, “Who turn to barbaric punishment just because we feel like it?” The noblewoman looks unsure, “N-no, Lady Helena.” “Then why do you think we should enact another punishment than the one written down in our law? Because he is a man and therefore of lesser worth? It is the actions that we take that makes us better than out instincts, if we kill this man here because of anger we are no better than he would be had he succeeded.”

The crowd looks shamed, many of them staring at the ground. “Listen.” Helena says and they raise their heads again. They are met with a warm smile. “Although your wish to kill might have been wrong I am proud to command people that care for me. Thank you.” She gently pushes the confounded man to the noblewoman. “I will bring him to Brugraht.” She ensures and Helena nods.

The crowd disperses as the sun breaks through the clouds again. Helena walks back to her own tent at the centre of the camp. Inside Anjar is already waiting. “There you are, you need to see…” The brown skinned woman’s tone turns from urgent to ice cold. “What happened?” She asks. “Nothing you need to be concerned about.” Helena ensures her lover. Anjar usually is a very calm and jolly person but some things just make her very angry. Although Helena knows she would not kill the man, somebody with Anjar’s skills of Alteration could do many things that Helena doesn’t want anyone to experience.

“I will find out either way. Whatever. Come with me.” Anjar drops the topic for now and they leave the tent again. They walk towards the edge of the camp and Anjar raises a telescope to her left eyes. She searches for a bit and then gives it to Helena. “At the east side of the wall, close to the edge of the mountain.” She instructs the General.

Helena finds a group of around thirty people working on a contraption. Most of them wear simple grey and red robes, a few green ones. More prominent are the three people overlooking the process. She immediately recognizes Catherine, in her own black robe. Her sister has a plan in her hands and smiles victoriously. There is another one with straight white hair in a black dress. Her expression is blank. Lastly, there is a giant of a man in an armour of blue glass, the shaft of a similarly enormous weapon reaching over his back.

“What are they doing?” “They are building something.” Anjar says. “They have been at it for several hours now and it looks like they are almost done.” Helena shakes her head. “They are done.” The people take steps back after going over the contraption a final time. “What do you think it is? A flamethrower?” Anjar asks, “No, it is something else.” Helena says with certainty. The giant has just taken a metal disc and put it into the backside of the pipe. Now he turns it until the end of the barrel points at the camp.

Catherine gives a signal and the giant pulls a lever. Moments later Helena feels a sudden gust of wind, one of the bigger tents behind her collapses with loud noises. Wood breaks, pots and other metal rattle, people shout in confusion. Helena runs to their aid and as she pulls people out from under the cloth her eyes fall on a metal disk, half buried in the ground.

“Anjar, call all the higher ups. We need to relocate the camp further back.”