V1 C13 - The Destruction of Black Port

“Goodnight, everyone!” Nate happily called as he saw off the last of his regular patrons for the night. Then, once he’d locked the doors, he turned back to his wife and the guests who hadn’t retired to their rooms. “How’s everyone doing? Anyone need anything else?”

Everyone shook their heads or said that they were fine.

“In that case, I’m going to head off to bed. If anyone needs me or my wife, our room’s down here and-”

The ground started shaking.

Everyone went silent.

“What’s going on?”

The ground kept shaking and shaking, so much so that it felt as if the ground was erupting beneath their feet.

“Dear!”

“Stay here, I’ll see what’s going on!”

Nate hastily unlocked the door to see if it was an earthquake.

Much to his horror, it was worse.

Hundreds of skeletons were running past right through the main village street, screeching as they ran.

Nate threw the door closed and tried to lock it, but his hands were shaking too much.

“Dear-!”

“Bar the doors and windows, now! All of you! Now!”

The guests, sensing the desperation in Nate’s voice, quickly did as he said as Nate finished locking the door. Once he did, three burly men came over to him with a bench and planted it before the door. Then, Nate ran upstairs to one of the windows and looked out at the undead horde trampling through their village.

Nate had been terrified that the undead army was going to attack Cliff’s Edge and he had thought that today would be his last day.

However, to his surprise, the undead didn’t seem at all interested in the village or its people.

From his window, Nate could see several soldiers and adventurers, weapons drawn, watching on confused as the horde left the village. They were so stunned that they didn’t even try attacking the skeletons for fear of drawing their wrath.

Just as Nate was about to sigh in relief, he saw two flying undead mages in the air, speaking in some ancient language, urging the horde onwards.

What in the name of Themis is going on?

As the shaking grew less and less intense, Nate and the other guests unbarricaded the door and stepped outside, watching as the last of the undead passed out of sight to an unknown destination.

“We have to warn the empire!”

More than a hundred adventurers and soldiers had gathered in the streets, all geared up and ready to take action.

“Get the men geared up and get the horses ready. I want everyone ready to ride within an hour.”

“Wait!” Nate shouted, pushing through the crowd. “We shouldn’t send everyone out.”

“Why not?”

“If that horde came from the Shadow Tombs, then that means that there might be more where they came from,” an adventurer answered for Nate. “It might be worth checking it out.”

“Better to fortify the entrance to be safe,” a soldier said. “If tens of thousands of undead just came marching out of there, there could be even more of them up there. Or maybe even something far worse up.”

“…Good point. Wright, Edgar, James; get your squads together and ride north. Head to the capital and every single castle in Silverten. Get every lord and lady to send whatever men they can to Cliff’s Edge at once. Until then.” The captain’s expression darkened as he gazed up at the vicious storm clouds circling the tombs. “We’ll try our best to hold on.”

***

Located in the far south-east of the Holy Empire of Themis, the trade city of Black Port was home to more than one hundred thousand people. It was often called the City of Commerce due to how many trade goods passed through its gates on a daily basis.

Out of the five cities in the empire, Black Port was one of only two port cities which made it invaluable for the empire to trade with the rest of Aangapea.

Because of its value, there were five thousand members of its city watch and three thousand soldiers from the Holy Legion stationed at the city, though the latter were permanently docked in their war ships, ready to protect the city from pirates.

In the early hours of the morning, as the city of Black Port slept, the undead horde swarmed towards them under the cover of darkness.

With very little light beyond the walls of the city, the exhausted sentries couldn’t see very far and were on the brink of falling asleep.

Until they heard the rumbling of thirty thousand skeletons.

“Seal the gates, quickly!” Captain Olaf yelled at his men as they struggled to push the heavy wooden gates closed.

The rest of the guards in the barracks were wide awake now, some half-dressed and others only brought their weapons.

The defenders of Black Port scrambled onto the walls and shivered when they saw what was approaching them.

Thirty thousand running, growling and screaming skeletons, flesh hanging from their jaws and fingers, and the twenty liches hovering above them besieged the city.

Arrows were loosed but three of the liches created a magical barrier over the skeletons, blocking the arrows and knocking them onto the dirt.

The archers and skeletons sent arrows at one another, though only the undead ones soared through the liches’ barriers. Once the horde was within twenty metres of the walls, two of the liches launched fireballs from their palms at the gates.

Under the pressure of the massive explosion, the gates shook and cracked, creating a gap large enough for a man to squeeze through.

Then, each lich launched another fireball, breaking the gates open even more.

Now, there was a gap large enough for five men to fit through at once.

“Brace the gate!”

The soldiers quickly went to work forming a shield wall in the gateway with a line of spearmen behind them.

The undead charged through the breach and smashed into the defenders, many of them breaking upon impact, but the force of their sacrifice was enough to create gaps in the line big enough for their companions to reach through and stab the defenders with their razor-sharp fingers.

When one gap formed, another soon followed.

Soon, the formation collapsed and the skeletons pushed further into the city.

Brutal fighting started to spread throughout the city like an uncontrollable flood.

“Hold them back! Hold them!”

Captain Olaf watched on in horror as more of his men fell to the horde.

“…We can’t hold them.” With a heavy heart, Olaf turned to his men and roared, “Signal the evacuation. Tell everyone you can to flee. The city is lost.”

“Captain-”

“I’ll buy you some time. Just.” He smiled pitifully and drew his sword. “Save as many people as you can. This is your final order from your captain.”

Olaf, not waiting for his men's response, leapt down the stairs into the fray.

The archers on the wall did as he commanded.

They dropped their bows and ran along the walls, screaming at the residents as loudly as they could to evacuate the city and to spread the word that all was lost.

The sleepy residents of Black Port quickly awoke and, upon hearing the bells, the soldier’s shouts and the sounds of battle, started to panic and flee.

Some rushed to the gates, others took their valuables from their homes, but most ran towards the only way out of the city that had a real chance of success: the docks.

***

There were thirty merchant ships and fourteen military vessels in Black Port, with more than enough room to evacuate thousands of people in the city.

However, not all of the ships docked were willing to wait when they heard the alarm bells.

Six merchant ships had departed immediately and were halfway out of the bay.

The docks were overflowing with terrified civilians, with many trying to push each other out of the way and clamber onto the boats. Many fell into the waters and struggled against the cold, dark waves around them.

The soldiers on the military vessels had tried to descend their ships to help protect the city, but they were stuck as the crowds tried to force their way on board.

“Let us through!” Their commander roared. “We have to-”

Someone threw a rock at him.

The soldiers drew their swords and raised their shields. Some even pushed a few members of the crowd onto the ground.

“Let us on already!”

“Hurry up, before we’re killed!”

“Take my baby, at least! Please!”

“Good people, we will but first you must-”

The commander spotted a cloaked figure floating above the city. The figure unleashed a fireball into the back of the crowd, setting many ablaze who desperately dove into the sea.

“Raise the anchors! Archers, take down that mage! The rest of you! Get as many of these people on board as possible! We depart in three minutes!”

***

At the gates, Olaf and a hundred of the city watch were fighting a losing battle.

Despite their best efforts and valour, they weren’t strong enough to endure the undead who swept through them into the city. The skeletons that got through broke into people’s homes and cut down everyone they saw, whether they were man, woman or child.

Olaf struggled to stay standing.

The long night shift, the constant fighting, the bleeding lacerations across his arms and chest.

He almost dropped to his knees five separate times, but he steadied himself on the nearby buildings, slowing taking in everything around him.

The fleeting battle.

The screams of those trying to flee.

The piercing sound of iron cutting flesh.

Is this…the Great Disaster? He ground his teeth together as he cut another skeleton in two. What can…men do…against…this?

Two skeletons leapt at him. He parried the first blow, but the second landed.

A blade stabbed into his stomach as another slit his throat.

As Olaf fell flat on the ground, the last thing he saw was the undead horde massacring the men he’d called brothers.

***

Only three ships remained docked at Black Port.

Thousands had escaped on the boats, but tens of thousands had been left behind.

Those still in the city tried to climb onto the remaining vessels, but those were promptly sunk by a barrage of fireballs.

Most of those left on the docks leapt into the sea, trying to swim away, but the skeleton archers hunted them with ease.

Those who had been too scared to swim were brutally slaughtered.

With every death, the city grew ever quiet until, at last, there were no humans left alive.

Then, the dead simply stopped moving and stared at the fleeing ships.

The liches landed and did the same.

They didn’t attack, nor scream or move even slightly.

They just stared until the last ship was out of sight.

Once it had vanished, the Lich King David had appointed started resurrecting the corpses in Black Port.

The rest of the liches joined in and in just a few hours the undead army had grown to seventy-thousand strong.

***

By the time news reached Themis and the rest of the city, Black Port was no more.

Within a week, there wasn’t a single person in thew Holy Empire who didn’t know of the horrors of the attack.

***

“Thirty thousand, you say? You’re certain?”

In the Azurite Palace in the capital, Emperor Hector Gaius the 4th and his two eldest sons were receiving a report from a rider from Cliff’s Edge.

Emperor Hector was in his early fifties, his blonde hair had started turning grey; his once vibrant, ambitious blue eyes had lost most of their spark and seemed weary with the world.

His sons, Julius and Augustus, looked exactly like how he did when he was in his early twenties except Augustus, the second prince, wore glasses and the first prince Julius’s hair was cut very short.

Prince Julius was an experienced general in the Holy Legion of the Empire and Prince Augustus was the head of the Advisory Council that was made up of lords and ladies he’d handpicked from across the empire.

“Yes, your majesty. While I had to count them from far away on horseback, I believe that this estimate is accurate.”

“I see. Good work. Guards, see to it that this man is fed and looked after, and pay him generously for his service.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” The man bowed deeply before he was escorted out of the room.

Once the doors closed, the emperor’s expression darkened.

“How did this happen? How could an undead horde appear out of nowhere and slaughter so many of our people without us knowing sooner than this?”

“I’m unsure, father,” Augustus answered. “I hadn’t received any word about this attack, or that there was anything out of the ordinary at the Shadow Tombs.”

“I thought your information network was the greatest in the empire,” Julius said.

“It is. Between my council members, we have over a thousand spies and informants across the empire alone.”

“In that case, if you didn’t hear of this until now, is there a possibility of someone on the council being involved in the attack on Black Port that tried to cover it up?”

“Who on the council could possibly benefit from destroying one of our key port cities?” The emperor asked.

“A traitor who has sold us out?”

“To whom?” Augustus folded his arms. “We have an alliance with our neighbours in the west and the nations to our north wouldn’t risk something so foolish as to try and wage war against us.”

“Augustus, your opinion is that this is a natural disaster and not a scheme from an enemy nation?” Emperor Hector checked.

“It is, father.”

Emperor Hector nodded. “If your brother says as much, then we will treat this situation as such.”

“As you say, father. Then, speed is absolutely paramount in this matter.”

“Agreed. The longer we take to deal with this crisis, the more our people will suffer and die. Julius, how soon could you mobilize a taskforce to handle this?”

“If I set off now, I could get my men ready to march come sunrise tomorrow.”

“How many men do you have here?” Augustus asked.

“Twenty thousand. I could send out riders to gather reinforcements from the local lords and from the Paladins. With your blessing, father, I will use my imperial authority to have them march all eight thousand members to assist us.”

“I permit it,” Emperor Hector said. “Send out the call to arms for every lord and fortress in the Gold Lands and Silverten to join your army ten miles from Black Port. Make camp, organise your forces and retake the south-east. Do not expect the undead horde to remain in Black Port forever. They will likely attack other locations in the south before moving north.”

“What of the Shadow Tombs, father?” Augustus inquired. “Shouldn’t we send a team to investigate the ruins to see if they can be destroyed once and for all?”

“That is what your mission shall be, Augustus,” Emperor Hector answered. “Send word to all the adventurer guild branches in the empire to dispatch all C-ranked or higher adventurers to your brother at his camp. Julius, once there, I will leave it to you to allocate your forces to handle this crisis before it spreads any further.”

“Of course, father.”

“Excellent. I want this crisis resolved as soon as possible, but do not rush this. The last thing I want is more of our people dying to this plague than needs be. Handle this safely and efficiently. Augustus, see what you and the council members can do to support them. Supplies, information, tents, medicines, potions and whatever else you can think of. If it can help them, give it to them.”

“By your command!” The emperor’s sons answered.

***

In Stonefall, riots had broken out with thousands taking to the streets.

“The Archbishop was right! Darkness has descended on the empire!”

“What's the legion going to do about this?”

“Fool! They can’t do anything about it.”

“Themis has decreed our destruction! We have failed her.”

“What happens if the undead horde moves north? If Black Port fell, doesn’t that mean we could be next?!”

“Remember the words, everyone! Death Stalks All!” A crier yelled.

A few people in the crowd repeated those words as the guards grew ever more tense.

One slight push would be enough for the situation to escalate and get truly violent and uncontrollable.

Mania and Mímir watched on from the roof of the cathedral, hidden from prying eyes by the spymaster’s magic; she was sat on the edge whilst he stood behind her

“Should we give them one more push?” Mania licked her lips as she kicked her feet eagerly.

“A tempting idea, but now is not the time. When the Demon Emperor is ready to rise, then we can push Stonefall to its demise.”

Mania pouted a little, but quickly smiled once more as she laughed at the terrified crowd.

Mania dug her nails into the stone roof in an effort to contain herself, but it didn’t calm her down.

I really want to see them suffer more. Hmm, I want to do it just a little bit, but-

“I have some prisoners for you to play with at the castle,” Mímir sighed. “Simply be patient and satisfy yourself with them.”

Mania beamed, but she quickly scowled and said, “If you’re trying to woo me, I’m afraid that my heart belongs to-”

“Only his majesty could love a woman like you. I’m sure he’s eagerly waiting for you at the castle.”

“…Hey, Mímir.”

“What?”

“Don’t you think we should rename Castle Kelsey? To something more befitting the Demon Emperor?”

“I’ve had the same idea, but his majesty is a busy man and I have not found an opportunity to do so. Do you have a name you want to suggest?”

Mania giggled and shrugged her shoulders. “I imagine Master has a name he wishes to use over ours.”

“Then, if you had the chance, what would you name the castle?”

Mania looked down at the crowd again and purred.

“How does the Dread Keep sound?”

***

With a distraught shout, Sylvan knocked almost everything off of his desk, before slamming his fist onto the table.

“How did this happen?! How are they all dead?”

Ever since the meeting with the leaders of the Sons of Tartarus, Sylvan had lost almost all of his spies and agents trying to investigate Castle Kelsey.

The first group had been found brutally murdered the morning after they’d received their orders.

Sylvan sent men to investigate their deaths, but they were never heard from again.

So, Sylvan changed his strategy. He sent men to Cliff’s Edge to investigate Lord Anthony Kelsey’s trip he’d taken with his daughter, but they vanished without a trace.

Within just a few weeks, more than half of Sylvan’s men were dead or missing.

Worse, he hadn’t learnt a thing about their enemy.

Frustrated, Sylvan collapsed onto his chair and put his hand to his face.

How did they find out who my men were and their plans?

How’d they know exactly when and where they were leaving from, their objectives or even their connection to us?! All of them are upstanding citizens in Stonefall with no visible links to us, and yet…Does someone have a greater intelligence network than us in the city, or do we have a mole?

Sylvan shook his head. That’s impossible. I vetted every single one of them myself and kept tabs on them since they joined. Taking all that into consideration, it seems more likely that the enemy has a greater intelligence network than us and they’ve outplayed us completely.

Sylvan laughed bitterly.

He stood, removed his sword from his belt, straightened his suit and walked out of his home.

“If they’re being backed by Anthony Kelsey, then it’s possible.”

For years, Anthony had been one of the biggest investors of the Sons of Tartarus, and other underworld organisations like the Night’s Eye, but it now appeared like one of their biggest benefactors had abandoned them.

Sylvan took one last, deep breath before walking deeper into the night-time streets of Stonefall.

Intentionally, he stuck to the backstreets where there was little light from the torches and magic stone lamps, until, finally, a shadowy figure appeared before him.

It had a raven’s hood helmet and a dagger in its hand.

Before the figure cut his throat, Sylvan threw up his arms and dropped to his knees, bowing his head to the figure.

“I wish to defect from the Sons of Tartarus.”