I thought I had uploaded it, sorry.
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POV of Carroburg Greatsword
This baron was cut from the same cloth as his father. Both were tough bastards—huge masses of muscle who knew how to use every bit of their strength. The difference was, this baron was much more diplomatic. His father preferred to settle things with fists or brute force.
Apparently, he managed to convince the nobles that it was better for him to take temporary command while we waited for the proper Imperial chain of command to handle the corpse of our last general.
Something tells me that poor bastard must've really pissed off his men to get himself killed by such a badly aimed cannon shot. Word is, there wasn't much left to hand over to Morr.
When the baron took command, I thought it meant we'd be packing up and heading home. Because taking Monfort's walls would've been suicide, no matter how you looked at it. So many layers of walls… and with just twelve cannons, we wouldn't be able to break through even the first without the Bretonnians swarming us from every side.
But with the same stubbornness as his father, the baron decided we were going to lay siege anyway.
And I'd thought he was smart…
We made every preparation: set up camp, pitched the tents, built a palisade, and lined up the cannons facing the walls of Monfort.
The rest of the day we just rested. Everyone took the chance to relax a bit, especially after the recent victory in battle—and to squabble over the loot. Meanwhile, the baron tried—unsuccessfully—to get the Bretonnians to open the gates.
As night was falling, the baron suddenly began mobilizing everyone, ordering us to form ranks like always.
"All right, men… the Bretonnians have agreed to surrender and will open the gates. So form up, get your gear, we'll be marching through Monfort," the baron said with the smile of a man already tasting victory.
We started marching after him, still not quite understanding what was going on. As far as we knew, the Bretonnians hadn't surrendered. And as we approached the massive walls, we saw some shadows—likely guards—moving erratically. But after a few moments… they were gone. No more movement. No one watching us from the ramparts.
All the way to the walls, there wasn't a single soul in sight.
And then, just like the baron said… the gates began to open. The wooden drawbridge lowered, and the second barrier—a thick iron gate—rose into the air.
"Let's go, lads… we've got something to conquer," said the baron, grinning even wider.
The passage was completely empty. It was just the toll station. We followed the road up a staircase to a heavy iron door—it was already open, and we passed through without issue.
While we waited for everyone to ascend, I took a few men to secure the gate mechanisms so we wouldn't be trapped inside. But all we found were the guards—most of them purple in the face, with dark bruises around their necks. As if someone had strangled them with immense force.
I left some men guarding the doors and followed the baron. That's when we found the night's first enemies: a large number of Bretonnians were coming out of their homes, armed with swords and mail—but not all of them. Many didn't even have their armor on. It was strange.
We were about to charge when the baron began speaking in Bretonnian.
And just like that, they dropped their swords.
Within moments, they were throwing their armor to the ground too—right outside their homes. Then they shut their doors.
My fellow soldiers and I stood speechless. Hundreds of men had surrendered without a fight.
This happened three more times. The baron spoke, and the Bretonnians surrendered.
Some of our men gathered their swords and armor, piling them in a square.
We kept moving. The next level's gates were already open again.
On the third level, we finally met some resistance. But there were so few of them. Only one looked like a knight—the rest had only swords and cloth tunics. The fight was over in seconds. I swung my greatsword once and took off two heads. The baron drove his sword into the knight's neck, pushing it all the way in and pulling it out soaked in blood.
The rest were cut down by our men.
We continued to the fourth level, where we faced a bit more resistance—about twenty knights. But then we brought in the musketeers, and the knights were left full of holes.
Finally, we reached the fifth and highest level, where the keep tower was.
The door was open. A group of knights was trying to close it, but failing. When they saw us, they drew their swords—but once again, the musketeers made quick work of them. We entered the fortress.
The rest of the city was taken in silence. Every so often we heard the crack of a musket, but it was over in minutes.
We had taken the fortress that everyone said would take months to bring down.
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If there are spelling mistakes, please let me know.
Leave a comment; support is always appreciated.
I remind you to leave your ideas or what you would like to see.
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