Swordpoint Diplomacy 16

CHAPTER 16

When they finally separated, Etienne reached down deep for patience and reminded himself that Rose did not intend to be an ass. The easy way that she'd taken command of his unit and everyone had deferred to her had his hackles up. It hadn't even occurred to her that she shouldn't be leading, when she was the only one present who didn't know the route and had an injured leg to boot. It didn't appear to have occurred to anyone else either.

Utterly ridiculous.

'Even odds as to whether she really even remembers the injury,' he thought wryly. Years of practice helped him smooth his frustration away into serenity. There was no use to getting upset. It changed nothing.

She was frustrating, but she was only what her Father's favoritism had made her. He could hardly begrudge her for that when he'd have done anything to be the favorite.

"I'm being a melancholy bastard," he murmured to himself. His lips twisted in a scowl. That was all long passed. These days, Rose loved him more than she wanted Father's approval.

And here was his chance to finally get some of that approval for himself. How novel.

It didn't occur to him to worry about his sister. She could transport 3 prisoners back to camp.

The keep seemed abandoned as his group backtracked towards the gate and wall defenses. Their hostages had kept quiet while they speculated, but Etienne was sure that LaGown would be there.

The gate itself had been hardened to such a degree that rather than being the wall's weak point it had become the strong point. Celestin would be doing his level best to go over the wall, not through the gate. Hence the bulk of the defenders had been positioned up on the wall.

That was the only reason that what they were trying was semi plausible.

Their whole group was silent, aside from the unavoidable sounds of heavy armor moving. He stole a glance at Lady LaMott. She was indomitable.

'We will come in fast, before they realize we aren't theirs, and open the gate. They'll be overrun in minutes.'

The audacity of the plan nearly had him laughing. Only the eerie quiet of the city kept Etienne in check.

'They must have evacuated the people to the churches.'

That was well for him. If no one was out and about, no one would know to run and alert the defenders. He'd hate to have to cut down civilian runners.

Getting there was the trouble. Etienne felt sweat accumulate on his scalp as they hurried along enemy streets. The layout was a mess, and he'd never been there before. It took absolutely forever to reach the gate. If the wall didn't tower over the old wooden buildings it would have been impossible to find.

The first major problem loomed overhead.

'Two gates. They have two gates.'

Of course they did. Etienne did not sigh. He slowed as they reached the closer of the gates, mind churning through predictions.

If they opened the outer gate and let the invading army in, the defenders would fall back to their second gate. They wouldn't be prepared for it, unless he was unlucky indeed and the wall was about to be breached.

'That would be a waste. That's the worst outcome.'

The inner gate either had to stay open or it had to be closed before the defenders could fall back behind it. Of the two possibilities…

'We might not be able to hold it open. Probably won't be able to. The defenders will be moving to close it, and they'll be right on us. I'd have to hope that Celestin is knocking on the gate right when it falls for the timing to work out.'

"Lady," he said in an undertone. "I will take my group ahead, to the outermost gate." Sweat dripped down his neck, under the metal helmet. He repressed a shiver as it rolled down between his shoulder blades.  "When you see that the outer gate has been opened, you must take control of the inner gate."

Lady LaMott nodded, face wrought in concern. "Are you certain that we should not switch places?" She asked, too quietly for their soldiers to hear.

He shook his head. "Yes," he said grimly. "I need you to do something that I might not be able to do." He cast his gaze forward. "If we are not far enough ahead of the retreat, then you must shut the gate with us inside."

Etienne had to be the one to go out. If he was the one watching their soldiers try to escape, he would leave the gate open too long and endanger the success of the venture. He knew himself and his failings too well to take that posting.

She seemed pained. "As you will it." She cleared her throat.

He swallowed and looked away. "We part here." It took real effort to steady himself to make eye contact and reach out to clasp her forearm. "Good luck."

"Good luck," she echoed. "Your ancestors are watching." She inclined her neck in a subtle bow. Then she turned to her squad, reduced to 18 soldiers after one had gone with Rose. "We're going to post up here," she instructed.

Etienne mustered up a court-perfect smile that was wasted inside his helmet. He waved a farewell to Lady LaMott and her half of the soldiers, and he pressed on. His squad was 17, now. Him and 17 common soldiers, off to flank a whole army. He felt hysteria bubble up. It wasn't funny at all but he very much wanted to laugh.

Not five minutes after he'd left his reinforcements, Etienne saw some of the city defenders for the first time. 8 people wearing eclectic armor were sitting against the wall of a grand house. They must have been refreshments, waiting for their turn up on the wall itself. One of them looked up at the sound of footsteps.

Unwillingly, he made eye contact. The soldier might have been a young woman, or a pretty man. They had a round face with a few pockmarks and blue eyes. The soldier frowned.

Shit.

His heart was pounding now. He wasn't far enough. If they called the alarm now, there was no chance that he'd manage to open the gate.

'Remain calm. Just keep walking. They don't have any reason to expect an enemy here.'

He strode past the gaggle of soldiers as if nothing was wrong. His helmet hid his distinctive, foreign hair, and there were no sigils on his armor. The soldiers had exchanged their proper shields with heraldry before entering the city, and so they were not obviously foreign at a glance.

'Anyone who pays attention will notice me.'

His left hand was shaking.

'I don't look like a soldier. Anyone who knows the first thing about armor can see that mine is very expensive. They'll wonder. Some of them will already be speculating on who walked past.'

He pushed down a thrill of nerves and just hoped that none of the soldiers he'd passed were overly suspicious people.

Whatever they were or weren't thinking, they didn't call out. He gradually relaxed back to his previous state of heart-thudding expectation.

The outer gate was close now. He could already hear shouting and clanging and the sounds of people running up and down the walls. He spied a young woman in a blue dress making her way upwards, arms laden heavily with drinks. Her brown apron fluttered in the wind and her white cap actually flew off. Etienne turned his head to watch the trajectory.

She turned around, flustered, and saw him. He was no Rose, blessed with the full gift of their ancestors, but his vision was good enough to see her eyes widen.

He raised a hand. There, now, nothing is wrong, he tried to convey. The enemy wouldn't wave at you. The enemy wouldn't stop to pick up your cap.

Etienne swerved to do just that, and used the same hand to gesture at the stairwell she'd gone up.

The maid flushed pink and curtsied. Then she hurried back up to finish her errand, black hair flying wildly where it escaped her coiffure.

She could have been anyone. She could have been a girl back home- the girl who served tea, the sister of a friend, someone he saw in the stables. A normal person who didn't deserve any of this.

He felt a lurch in his stomach. His mouth was very dry.

'I hope she lives.'

The weight of what he was about to do put a pit in his gut. He went out of his way to set the cap at the bottom of the stairwell as he'd silently promised. He tucked it under a rock, out of the way. Hopefully no one disturbed it.

'I hate this,' he thought miserably. 'We shouldn't even be here. This is all a waste of life and money.'

But he knew his duty. He didn't have to like it. Rose's plan would win the city with fewer deaths than a full scale flight into the city proper. An army rampaging through a city would have a lot of latitude to brutalize the locals who were holed up for safety.

The mechanism for opening the gate was quite simple. Etienne stopped to look at it, feeling nearly sick with anticipation. It was a winch drawn by a chain, there to open a portcullis.

One person could operate it. He looked it over, trying to guess how many turns it would take. Then he squinted at the army outside, wondering how long it would take them to notice and cross the distance to get in.

They weren't as close as he'd like. The front line was a good 500 meters back, probably in an attempt to avoid getting picked off by archers.

It would take him perhaps…. A little more than a minute to sprint that distance, Etienne estimated. Perhaps the average soldier would do it in a little less than two minutes.

There were sets of stairs closer than that to either side of the portcullis. The stairs were wide enough for two to come down at a time, but it would naturally become one at a time when people were swinging swords there. Swordplay was terrific for maintaining personal space.

'At least they can't see the gate from up there.' He was as tense as a drawn bow, even though he was out of sight of any of the defenders. 'They won't know immediately. If we're lucky, they won't know until Celestin's people start a charge. And they won't be prepared to immediately regroup to sprint down to a melee.'

They'd have to hold the gate open alone for at least two minutes, Etienne estimated. He looked at his second. The man looked back, but it was impossible to see anything of his expression through his armor. "It's been an honor," Etienne said quietly. "Choose someone to operate the winch. The rest of us will defend them. We fall back to Lady LaMott when I call out." He cleared his throat. "I'll take that stairwell. You the other."

"Understood." His voice was lower than usual. He turned away briskly. "Davis," the captain ordered. He jerked his head at the winch. "On three," he said gruffly. "Then hold position."

Etienne's stomach flipped.

He turned on his heel. He couldn't watch.

No, he had to watch. Etienne turned back around in time to see Davis lay hands on the winch and pull.

The portcullis jerked with a metal shriek.

His heart pounded.

Incredibly, the sounds from up above didn't change.

'It's loud,' he reasoned. 'They didn't recognize that sound among the din.'

He stole one more glance at the portcullis took another upwards lurch.

Still no one reacted. His heart was pounding in his stomach now. Somehow. He picked up his feet into a run, heading grimly towards the stairwell that he'd claimed. He didn't have to look to know that either 7 soldiers would be following him.

A massive scream rose on the wind, outside of the gate. It was high and gleeful and it ripped out dozens of throats.

It was immediately followed by surprised cursing from up on the wall. It nearly cut off the incredible sound of hundreds of heavy men and women running in armor.

'That'll be our army,' Etienne thought. He positioned himself at the bottom of the stairs even as shouts echoed down from the top. 'They'll have noticed the open gate.'

Crack.

He jumped, wild-eyed, and jerked around to see what had made that loud noise so close behind.

A human figure in chainmail and leathers was on the cobblestone street, limp and oddly positioned. It was definitely dead. He couldn't see any details of the injury, but blood began leaking out of the helmet and seeping into the grey stones.

It took him a moment to realize that the poor bastard must have overbalanced or been shoved off of the wall.

First casualty, Etienne noted. This was hell. The screams rose higher and closer.