Like a charm.

Exactly three hours after the letter is sent, one of your wolves approaches you.

"Sir," he says. "Two riders have left fort Arlheim, heading west with haste. Should we pursue them?"

"No," You say, grinning. "Prepare the men, we are taking the fort."

Four hours later you have your wolves massed at the fort's gates.

You stride to the front of your modest army's ranks, resplendent in your black armor."Defenders of fort Arlheim!" you bellow, your voice booming out over all assembled. "Surrender now and you will be treated with honor. Oppose me, and I shall extend no such offer. What say you?"

Your answer comes in the form of an arrow, shot from atop the walls, bouncing off from your steel-clad head.

"So be it." You mutter to yourself. "Wolves, Shields up! Advance to the walls and hold position!"

Your wolves dutifully move to follow your orders, and you begin jogging towards the gates.

"Lysander, Siris, Kyra, take your teams and pull back, strike at my signal." You bellow as you break into a run, barreling towards the heavy portcullis in your path.

A line of Estaran soldiers has formed behind the portcullis, the heads of their spears poking through the iron bars of the contraption. Your run becomes a dead sprint, and you feel the electric sensation of your armor's enchantments flaring to life, augmenting your strength, your speed.

Just before impact, you curl your left hand into a fist, and throw all your weight into a punch against the iron portcullis. You feel spears set against you and break away beneath your savage momentum, and your fist connects, bending an iron bar enough for you to get both your hands between it and it's neighboring bar. You thrust your hands into place, and begin to pull the portcullis' bars apart from one another.

You feel spears prodding at your armor, and cry "Wolves, spears to the front, defend me!"

There is a roar behind you, and soon after your wolves are beside you, their own spears thrusting through the gaps between bars, answering every Estaran attack with one of their own.

You return your focus to the task at hand. You pull with all of your might, and you feel massive iron bolts and pegs bend and snap, popping out of their positions with heavy pinging sounds.

Soon enough, you have torn a hole wide enough for you to fit through, and, drawing your sword, you step into fort Arlheim.

You are a whirlwind, an unstoppable titan of war. Shields shatter with the strength of your blows, as do people. Soon enough, you have created a sizable breach, and, capitalizing on the situation, you raise your voice and bellow "Everyone! Storm the fort!"

You can see the lack of organization in the fort's defenders. A small group in front of the remains of the internal gate tries to rally the others, but they break when they see the swarm of Wolves following you through the breach. The defenders begin to flee, each group dashing for a different exit.

You pull aside one of your wolves. "Signal the groups I left outside. Tell them to pursue and capture those fleeing."

He rushes off to obey, and you consider the battlefield. There is no real defense left, merely a few pockets of resistance.

The fort is yours.

You chuckle to yourself.

"That was easier than I thought it would be."