Siege of Bilgaragz, Part 1

Two children run across a vast field in a small forest. In the distance, shadows resemble houses, but they are not ordinary dwellings; they are homes built and maintained atop massive magical trees. None of them compare to Íbris, but this region holds an air of majesty.

The forest the children walk through is the closest thing to pristine in this area. Perhaps the presence of the inhabitants has shaped the surroundings to resemble the customs of the native Pagwyns, known for preserving the harmony of the great northern forests.

One of the children, tired from running, lies down on the ground and looks up at the sky. The landscape is vibrant and clear, something rare around here.

“Hey... I think I’m done... haha...” says the boy, lying on the ground, breathless and clearly exhausted.

The girl approaches and sits beside him.

“Was it you who called us here, and now you’re tired?” she teases, a little older than him.

“I said we were going to do something fun, not that we needed to hurry so much,” the boy replies, annoyed.

The girl laughs and comments, “Do you think she’s coming back soon? It’ll be lunchtime... Where are you taking us?” She looks around, searching for something, then turns back to the boy.

“I want to understand something you haven’t explained yet. Why don’t the people treat you well? Every day when I get home after seeing you, Dad scolds me. Did you do something wrong?” the boy asks with genuine curiosity, unaware of the weight of his words.

The girl immediately tenses up. It’s not the first time she’s been asked such a question, nor the first time she’s reacted like this. The boy, noticing her discomfort, quickly apologizes.

“Hey, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be rude, I just wanted to understand...” he continues to lament, and gradually the girl relaxes, letting the question fade. Noticing that she is starting to ease up again, he pulls her onto the grass, lying beside her to watch the blue sky together.

It doesn’t take long before their view is interrupted—not by a cloud, but by a younger girl, upside down over them, slightly blocking their perspective.

“Hehe, did I take long?” asks the little one, smiling, playful.

“A bit... I almost made your sister hate me, but it looks like she’s calm now, right?” says the boy, poking the older sister, who sits on the grass, still a little upset.

“Come on, stop making that face!” says the younger girl, jumping onto her sister’s back.

“Aughhh!” The older sister can only squirm, unable to defend herself.

The trio is clearly united, though peculiar. The sisters, with hair a sky-blue typical of the Ilicynes, contrast with the Pagwyn boy, with darker skin and a larger build.

The three start laughing after the sisters tumble to the grassy ground. A peaceful and warm scene. A memory. A cherished recollection...

But who were these people? Where were they? How do I remember this?

Thoughts begin to emerge, distorting the beautiful watercolor of the memory and turning it dark. The vivid colors give way to a burning orange and funeral black, a landscape of flames on the horizon. Amid these memories, remnants of others arise: the sound of cavalry, the clash of weapons, and a storm of spells falling from the sky, with a battalion of arcanists visible in the distance.

And at the center of it all, her sister, tears in her eyes, trembling and helpless in front of the body of their dear friend. Gathering the last shred of strength she has, she screams in desperation:

“Livy!”

***

“Livy...”

“Livy...”

That name and cry echo repeatedly, like a lost echo between walls. When she realizes it, it’s not her sister calling, but someone else.

“L...” Livy seems to gather strength, confused by the recent memory, but she is quickly interrupted as she’s pulled to the ground by a small fox, a Rofxi, who saves her from a large flaming boulder falling from the sky.

After witnessing the guard who accompanied her group being crushed, Livy appears to have entered shock, according to the perception of those around her. It didn’t take long before other flaming rocks began to fall, hitting several points, and one nearly struck her. Something about that falling rock triggered bad memories, freezing her in apathy for a few moments. Once the shock passed, she shifted her focus from the memory of the little girl to the present events around her.

Gradually, the memory fades, and as she stands up, she asks herself, “Why did I freeze again?” Her last glimpse is of small threads of sky-blue hair from a girl in her memory, but now that seems irrelevant.

Everyone halts for a moment to recover; there’s no time for thinking, and Ouros shouts:

“Through me!” – He positions himself to shield the group from any projectiles falling from above. His size would likely absorb some of the impact, but he knew this would be the only, and last, line of defense.

Without wasting time, they run toward a house at the edge of the courtyard. One of the soldiers who had been with the officer joins them, and they manage to find some level of protection as they take shelter near the building.

In the distance, the beautiful city of Bilgaragz begins to change, turning more orange and yellow. Above, columns of smoke rise in the distance, and screams of despair echo through the streets.

After the rain of flaming rocks, everyone’s attention shifts to the center of the square, where Baldar points to the local garrison, which is engaging a large group. From the state of their weapons and clothing, they appear to be locals, rebels.

“Hold the line, they won’t last much longer, lads! The day will be long!” someone yells in the distance, their voice deep and hoarse, strong enough to be heard from several meters away from the battle.

“What the hell is going on here? And what was that, Livy? What’s happening in the square?” Baldar comments, a little desperate about the situation. Everyone notices his apparent fear.

“They seem to be rebels. I’m not sure why they’re doing this, but I overheard a trio of people saying to seek shelter if we didn’t want to get involved in the fight,” comments the Rofxi who had appeared. Behind him, everyone also notices another of the same race.

For a moment, they exchange suspicious glances until Baldar breaks the silence, questioning and taking a defensive stance:

“And who are you?!” he asks, partially hiding behind Ouros as he shakily draws his bow and arrow.

The group stares at the two, and they return the gaze. The Rofxi who saved Livy earlier seems a bit confused and scratches his fuzzy ears, thinking of how to introduce himself in this situation. Beside him, his companion keeps a cheerful smile, as if nothing was wrong, with a friendly expression.

“Uhh... pleasure? I’m Lundrínio, and I just saved your friend?” he says awkwardly.

“I’m Ludius,” replies the other Rofxi in a friendly, cheerful tone.

“Okay. You’re not a threat, right?” Baldar asks, still tense.

“He saved Livy. Cut it out,” says Ouros, his deep voice causing Baldar to feel embarrassed.

“We don’t have much time. I think we should find a more resilient shelter, in case more flaming rocks come. The exits from the city should be closing... maybe leaving isn’t an option either,” comments Lundrínio, suggesting alternatives. But as he speaks, his worried expression is easily noticed by the group.

“My goal is in the city; I’m not leaving,” responds Dukken coldly, observing the situation, thoughtful. “I didn’t travel all this way just to run now.”

The others watch him, while Livy, still recovering, snaps back to herself. She looks at Lundrínio with a gentle smile.

“Thank you... I wouldn’t have survived without your help...” she says. Lundrínio becomes a bit embarrassed, and Ludius laughs, flashing an even bigger grin at Livy when he notices his friend’s reaction.

“Uh... o-ok... b-but now let’s get moving and get out of here!” he responds. Dukken seems indifferent to the comment but remains determined to stay in the city.

Breaking the group’s silence, the young soldier speaks up anxiously. His voice trembles, but he finds the courage to ask for help, even in the face of danger.

“P-please! Help Lord Helik! I’m sure he knows what’s happening and can help you! He might even reward you if it comes to that. I can tell him everything that happened earlier, but the situation’s complicated... I don’t think you’ll lose, but I have friends out there in the middle! You have to help us!” the soldier pleads desperately.

Everyone stops for a moment, silent. On one side, Lundrínio watches them, hopeful they’ll accept his invitation to move away from the chaos, which only grows with the new wave of fireballs falling on the neighboring district. On the other side, the young soldier, inexperienced, begs for help to save his superior and comrades.

The group never intended to get involved in conflicts like this; the few missions they had accepted as travelers were discreet and objective, very different from what they were witnessing.

But they saw an opportunity. What harm would there be in helping to take down a few rebels in the square, supporting the city and local government? They would be well-regarded by the leaders. And if something went wrong later? That was a risk to take.

They exchange glances, and, except for Ouros – who had already started walking toward the fight –, everyone nods in agreement. Livy looks at Lundrínio, offering a comforting smile, and says:

“I really appreciate the offer... but we’ll see this through. If you can help us like before, we’d be grateful, but I can’t leave things as they are.” She says this and begins walking with the group toward the center, where the main battle is happening.

***

“Sir, the situation seems to be spiraling out of control quickly! The two affected districts are being set ablaze; the evacuation is underway, but with the siege on the city, there’s nowhere to send the residents. We need a solution, and fast!” – a soldier reported to his officer. The superior appears deep in thought, yet his gaze remains fixed on a group of townsfolk gathering ahead.

“Before anything else, GET IN POSITION!” – the commander shouts, his voice echoing amidst the chaos of soldiers and civilians.

With these words, all the soldiers around him move closer to the north exit of the square, lining up shoulder to shoulder and keeping their shields firmly in place. Behind them, the street is deserted, with no signs of enemies – at least, not yet.

In the distance, however, it’s clear the battle is not limited to that area. Shouts and the sound of weapons clashing reverberate throughout the city, indicating the situation is rapidly deteriorating.

One of the soldiers guarding the rear notices a large, robust figure approaching from a side street. The individual carries a pair of axes and walks with calm assurance, seemingly oblivious to the chaos around him.

“Sir, someone’s coming from behind!” – warns the soldier to the commander.

The officer glances back, sees the figure, but, surrounded by other soldiers in front of him, has no time to make any conclusions.

“Keep your eyes on him. If he’s an enemy, we’ll deal with him when he gets here!” – responds the commander, as he clashes with his first adversary, a civilian he vaguely recognizes from weeks ago, who now attacks him.

Helik, the commander, is a Giknior – tall, broad-shouldered, and physically imposing, clearly built for battle. His muzzle is wide and elongated, resembling that of a lion, as is common for his race. He wields a large claymore, forged from fine silver and adorned with dublinir, wielding it with ferocity and skill. Clad in custom-made Maltian steel armor, he stands out among the militia’s simpler gear.

Those who know him understand that he is not just the commander of Bilgaragz’s garrison but also one of the generals of two battalions that protect the city, under the command of the Principality of Flagon and its sovereign, Frederick van Horman IV.

With a swing of his claymore, Helik sends one of the rebels crashing to the ground, breaking through their defense and leaving a large gash across their chest, from shoulder to abdomen. Wounded and terrified, the rebel scrambles to get up and attempts to flee, shoving others out of the way.

The morale of the enemy troops is fragile, but a man equipped with superior gear appears behind the rebels, shouting orders and encouragement:

“Don’t run, boys! That deserter’s just a coward! It won’t be long before our brothers from the Empire step into the city. Do what we promised, and everything will be fine!” – the soldier shouts.

Helik finds the comment strange and, while dodging the attacks of two inexperienced combatants, tries to identify a pattern among the enemies. He quickly notices that, though the rebels are irregular, there seems to be a predominance of Hammus among them.

Helik attempts to get a better look at the rebel leader, but it’s difficult to make out who they are while he’s blocking arrows coming from rooftops.

“Archers! Hold the line, they won’t last much longer, lads! The day will be long!” – Helik yells with enough force to be heard by both his men and the enemies. He then positions himself in defense, dodging or breaking arrows before they can hit him.

The enemy archers struggle to land a shot, as long as he keeps his line of sight. His strength is immense, but Helik is primarily known for his agility.

A nearby soldier shrinks in fear as he watches Helik break an arrow in half with his claymore. "Something so large and powerful shouldn’t be used with such dexterity," the rebel thinks, terrified.

With a spin of his weapon, Helik strikes a rebel on the side before colliding with another. He then blocks a third attack. The general’s combat prowess both intrigues and terrifies everyone on the battlefield, and when reinforcements arrive, doubling the enemy’s numbers, the rebel forces shout in celebration.

“Tshk...” – Helik mutters, bothered. He wants to leave; if the city is under enemy artillery fire, something much bigger awaits outside.

The militia soldiers, once at an advantage, hesitate to advance. Some fall, and the arrows from the rooftops only dampen the garrison’s morale, causing the balance to shift in favor of the rebels.

Helik slowly retreats, bringing his allies closer. An arrow pierces his defense, causing a small cut between the gaps in his armor, but it’s not enough to stop his momentum. Approaching a trusted soldier, he commands:

“Quick, find Ludwig, Mikarium, or Baltazar. Preferably the first two, and tell them to allow the evacuees to stay in the mansion!” – he says while shielding both himself and the subordinate from an attack.

The soldier nods and, as he moves away, hears Helik shout:

“Stop by the garrison too! Call everyone to help here and at the wall!” – and Helik quickly turns to deliver a strike that shatters a rebel’s shoulder guard, revealing the enemy to be a former soldier.

While facing the bolder rebel, another militiaman approaches, maintaining a combat-ready stance but focused on reporting to Helik:

“Sir, it seems that group of strangers is getting involved in the battle! I recognize that guy; he’s Trov’s subordinate, responsible for the neighboring subdistrict. What are your orders?”

“Let them come. If they’re on our side, they’ll be welcome. If they’re enemies, they’ll have to join the queue!” – Helik responds, continuing to face off with the veteran, who is holding the blow with some resistance but can’t hide a defiant smile.

The battle intensifies with each passing moment.

***

The tension grew as the group neared the rebels and the militia forces engaged in battle. Ouros, leading the front, decided to take the first action. He noticed that a small group of rebels had started to approach through a parallel entrance to the one the guard was protecting, while archers comfortably aimed down at the soldiers from the rooftops, at a height that no one else could reach, except for the giant himself.

Due to his immense size and weight, and realizing that the rebels seemed more motivated than prepared, Ouros advanced down the street, blocking the path. In a levering motion, he confused everyone around him, surprising them with the throw of a small wooden box he had picked up as he approached.

The box spun through the air and struck one of the archers on a rooftop, knocking him down and incapacitating him with the impact. It didn’t take long for the rebels to realize he was an enemy, and some began trying to attack him. Swords, sickles, and axes were swung in his direction.

However, with his size, it was difficult for them to land a hit. His skin was tough, and for a member of his people, it was even excessively so. Many would claim that he was not like his kin, and his defense was privileged in many ways.

With most of the weapons aimed at him, the first mistakes began to show when the attacks failed to penetrate his skin. Ouros, serious and concerned with the situation, began to notice the lack of preparation among the enemies and, getting into the rhythm of battle, gave a small smile at the corner of his mouth, which worried those who hadn’t yet removed their weapons from his tough hide.

“AUGRHH!” – Ouros let out a tremendous roar, lifting three of the men who held weapons, causing others to trip and fall. As a result, some of the few who were still advancing through the square halted their approach, seeing a colossal wall knocking down their allies.

Meanwhile, Baldar, who had hesitated greatly before entering the battle, found a favorable position to provide support with his bow and arrows.
“The best I can do is stay out of this mess and try to hit the archers on the rooftops too...” – he thought as he carefully prepared an arrow.

However, he quickly lost focus when he looked beside him and saw a small smile from Ludius, who had followed him and was now watching. Next to him, Lundrínio also aimed his arrow, and his bow seemed quite different from the usual, with more tribal tones. Even his arrow had small adornments made of animal feathers.

“Hey!” – Ludius said energetically to Baldar.

“W-What are you doing here...? Can’t you see I’m trying to concentrate?” – he commented, annoyed by the unwelcome surprise. However, to his surprise, Lundrínio responded in kind:

“Don’t you see I’m trying to do the same?” – the Rofxi said, aiming at an archer focused on shooting arrows at the soldiers fortifying the rear, attempting to affect their morale.

After his short and to-the-point reply, Lundrínio released his arrow. Baldar looked on, surprised by how quickly he concentrated and aimed at his target, and Ludius watched happily as the arrow flew past his face before following its target. It flew low at first, but with the necessary effect, it curved through the air, and before Baldar could realize, the rebel was struck in his right thigh.

Startled, the rebel dropped his bow and touched the wound, clearly in pain.

“Now! It’s your chance!” – Lundrínio called out to Baldar and his bow. However, Baldar wasn’t expecting this cooperation after the Rofxi’s attack, and just looked confused. With little skill, he adjusted his arrow against the target, which, though on the ground, seemed immensely harder to lock onto due to Baldar’s occasional lack of focus.

Baldar released his arrow, aiming at the target’s shoulder, a shot filled with uncertainty, and it was obvious from his expression afterward that he didn’t think much of it. Lundrínio watched with mild disappointment, though his face showed little emotion.

But to his surprise, Ludius said, “That’s it!”

As Helik looked down at the fallen veteran, his grip tightening around his massive claymore, he felt the rush of battle slowly ebbing away. He had been relentless, and now the field was filled with cries of pain and confusion. The enemy’s morale was crumbling fast, and even the arrival of their reinforcements hadn’t been enough to tip the balance.

The giant general’s mind, however, remained focused on the battlefield. His eyes narrowed as Livy’s plea echoed in his ears, but he couldn’t afford to slow down now. The battle had to be won, even if it meant bathing in the blood of their enemies.

Livy’s voice interrupted his thoughts again as she stepped forward, trying to calm the situation. “We don’t need to kill them all, Helik. We need them to surrender, to break their spirit.”

Helik only grunted in response, wiping sweat from his brow. His focus was on the remaining rebels, who now seemed unsure, hesitant. Many of them exchanged glances, unsure whether they were fighting for the right cause. The words of doubt spread among them like wildfire, breaking their resolve even further.

“Let’s give them a chance,” Livy continued, “If they surrender now, we can avoid further casualties.”

A low growl emanated from Helik’s throat. His instincts screamed at him to push forward, to crush the enemy completely. But he had seen it before—the enemy soldiers’ will breaking under the weight of uncertainty.

He looked over at his soldiers, who were also exhausted but eager to finish the fight. He could see their hunger for victory, but the sight of his fallen comrades weighed heavily on his conscience.

After a long pause, Helik raised his hand, signaling for a temporary halt in the fighting. He turned to Livy and Duken, his voice heavy with resolve. “We’ll give them a chance, but if they make a move, we crush them.”

Livy nodded, relieved, while Duken stepped forward to organize a more formal ceasefire with the remaining rebels.

Meanwhile, the sounds of the battle continued to ring out across the city. In the distance, explosions echoed, and cries for help filled the air. The city was still under siege, and this skirmish was but one piece of a much larger puzzle.

The rebels, many of them now wavering, began to lower their weapons, unsure of what would come next. Among them, some whispered, questioning their leader’s absence and their reason for fighting.

In that tense silence, Helik knew the battle was far from over, but this moment of calm might be the key to turning the tide in their favor.

“Hold them here. No one moves until I say so,” Helik commanded, his voice carrying a weight that silenced even the rebels closest to him. His eyes scanned the battlefield one last time, assessing the situation.

The fight was far from over, but the next move would be crucial.

"We're not playing around here, girl. If we don’t strike to kill, they will..." Helik comments, his gaze fixed on the enemy group, focusing more on their commander.

"I..." Livy thinks about apologizing but quickly refocuses on the battlefield.

The area was beginning to feel more controlled, and gradually, the sounds of battle and chaos in the city became background noise. The attention was shifting, and the enemy commander, realizing the difficulties faced by the rebels, decided to join the fray himself. He wielded a battle axe and a medium-sized shield, but what caught attention the most was his finely forged armor, covering him from head to toe. It didn’t seem to be the best armor compared to the others, but to the rebels, he was a true champion.

"Alright, if you're here to help, flank that one over there..." Helik orders as the enemy commander moves through the battlefield, striking some of Helik's men and forcing them to retreat due to his superior skill.

"He's not that bad..." Helik mutters quietly to himself, making sure no one hears.

"S-Sir! O-Over here! I mean, A-There!" One of his soldiers calls out, and when Helik looks, he recognizes the man as someone he had spoken to earlier. He decides to give the soldier his attention.

Suddenly, a dark, furry figure leaps through the lines of militia. Helik can only see that the figure wears a mask and carries a pair of heavy battle axes. He stops between Helik, Livy, and Duken, creating a moment of suspense. He turns his head towards Helik and says:

"I came to help..." His voice is raspy and a bit nasally, which doesn’t quite match his imposing build, but none of the three lower their guard in the face of this strange figure.

He looks to the side, toward Livy, and offers a slight smile before saying:

"Just watch..." In a swift and unexpected motion, the figure runs toward the enemy group, unconcerned with those trying to attack him. He dodges several rebels coming his way and heads straight for the enemy commander, who watches him with surprise.

"Don’t kill them!" Livy shouts, concerned about what the man might do to the rebels. Though wrong, she knew most of them were locals, untrained for battle, likely manipulated by someone into fighting. They didn’t deserve to die, no matter how foolish their actions were.

The stranger shows no sign of having heard her warning. Completely focused on dodging weapons and arrows, he weaves through a narrow path between the enemies, even encouraging some of Helik’s soldiers to push forward and creating chaos among the rebels.

However, the mysterious "ally’s" path encounters an obstacle: a rebel steps in front of the commander, determined to defend him.

Spinning his axes, the stranger targets the rebel’s throat with pinpoint accuracy, catching the attention of everyone around. Large and strong, much like Helik, he seems very agile, which draws the commander’s attention, who watches the fight with a focused look.

To the rebel’s surprise, and that of those watching, the stranger doesn’t aim the axe blades at him. Instead, he positions the hafts of his weapons threateningly against the rebel’s neck. Relaxed, the rebel, who is the last barrier between the stranger and the rebel commander, tries to speak:

"Hey... don’t think..." He is interrupted by a shocking blow from the second axe. The intent wasn’t to threaten, but rather to position the axe strategically for a decapitating strike, like a guillotine.

Shocking all the rebels around, the strike severs the rebel’s head from his body, and blood begins to pour out. The axe’s blade drips with the remnants of the lethal blow.

Everyone watches the scene in stunned silence and anguish. While it’s impressive that a new ally has arrived to the battle, the blow is terrifying and unsettling. Livy, watching everything, growls in anger at the stranger but is stopped by Duken, who places a hand in front of her when she impulsively tries to move toward the aggressor.

As everyone watches the scene, the enemy commander and the stranger lock eyes, waiting for the first sign of action from the other side. The tension between them mounts, creating an aura of intimidation, as if the battle to come would be utterly destructive.

"…"

"…"

"I..." The mysterious figure seems to break the silence, and, advancing toward the enemy commander’s neck, he swings his large axes, which had just taken the life of another rebel.

"I am... Kairos!"