Where Ashes and Oaths Collide

Chapter 50: The Siege Begins

As Mestre Escuro and his army of corrompido neared the immense stone curtain wall stretching around Cidade dos escravos. The wall is constructed from massive blocks of weathered grey stone, darkened by age, soot and moisture. Its surface is uneven and textured, with centuries of wear visible in the cracks and discoloration between the stones. Heavy crenelations line the top edge, creating alternating raised battlements and firing gaps where defenders can shoot while remaining partially protected. At regular intervals, thick defensive towers protrude from the wall, their height giving the guards of Cidade dos escravos commanding views. Blue banners hang vertically from several towers and sections of wall, their deep royal blue cloth fluttering faintly in the smoky air.

Along nearly the entire length of the battlements above the main gate, stands Cidade dos escravos’s guards, dressed in blue cloaks and tunics. Many are already positioned in firing stances, leaning over the battlements with crossbows aimed downward toward the attackers below. Other appear to be waiting for orders. The main gate of Cidade dos escravos is shut tightly, sealed by massive iron portcullis and reinforced wooden doors recessed into a deep stone archway. The corrompido army spread out in front of the closed gate, their black armour absorbing the light of the morning sun, making the army appear like a moving black tide pressing against the fortress.

Tall wooden siege towers, catapults and crude defensive barricades are pushed forward and positioned strategically near the road to the gate. Despite the arrows flying from the massive stone wall, the skeletal wooden structures of the siege towers mounted on wheels, moving smoothly over the road. As the corrompido archers return fire, small fire starts in isolated patched and smoke rises in grey columns.

…

Back in the Estate, Sol dragged the man out of the pantry, through the kitchen and hallway to the living area. Leo and Cassandra followed the commotion. Sol stopped in front of Luz and let the servant go. “He said they are in the cathedral,” Sol said quickly. Luz scanned the terrified servants face, kneeled on the floor. He is a young man with messy brown hair partially hidden beneath a worn cloth cap. His face is pale and strained, his wide eyes glistening as he stares upward toward Luz. Deep worry lines crease his brow. He wears simple peasant clothing; a loose beige linen shirt stained with dirt and sweat, layered beneath a rough brown wool vest. His apron-like tunic is heavily worn and smudged with grime, suggesting long hours of labour in kitchens. The clothing hangs loosely from his frame, reinforcing his low social status and exhaustion.

“Talk,” Luz says coldly, and the servant starts shaking. “The rich and powerful gather in the cathedral,” he said with a shaky voice. “They say Corrompido can’t enter.” Luz’s amber eyes bored into the trembling servant, the intensity of his stare alone making the man shrink further. The darkness radiating from him was palpable, a physical pressure that seemed to suck the warmth from the room. “Corrompido cannot enter holy ground?” he repeated slowly, his voice dropping to a dangerous level. “That is what these fools believe? That some architectural symbol protects them from my kind?” Behind him, Leo snorted with amusement. “Sounds like they have been drinking too much of their own wine if they think some cathedral door keeps out actual monsters.”

The servant’s terror visibly increases but her retorts. “God’s light will repel any unholy forces!” Luz’s lip curled into a sneer. “God’s light is a candle flame against a forest fire.” The servant squeezed his eyes shut and pleaded softly. “Please do not kill me.” Cassandra came in from the hallway doorway and asked in a disgusted tone of voice. “So, what? They left their servants behind to die?” Luz’s amber gaze shifted from the servant to Cassandra, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes before the cold mask slammed back down. “Their cowardice is predictable,” he stated flatly. “They abandon their servants like rats deserting a sinking ship.”

Luz stepped closer to the trembling servant, his black armour looming over him. “Tell me everything about this cathedral. Layout, defences, how many guards remain.” His voice carried the weight of command, leaving no room for evasion. The servant shakes his head wildly. “I– I do not know,” he muttered. “Servants– are not allowed–” Luz’s amber eyes flashed with irritation at the servant’s uselessness. “Useless,” he muttered, turning away dismissively. “Sol, tie him up. Lock him in one of the rooms,” he commanded and without waiting for confirmation, he strode toward the main entrance hall, where Leo was already studying a large map mounted on the wall.” “Forget this dead end,” Luz announced sharply. “The cathedral is our next objective. If those fools think holly symbols protect them from me, they will learn differently.”

His gauntleted hand traced lines across the map– a sprawling network of Cidade dos escravos streets leading toward the cathedral in the southeast corner of the city. Darm walks to stand beside Luz and whispers in his ear. “I can scout out the city from the rooftops.” Luz’s amber gaze shifted from the map to Darm, considering his proposal. The idea of having aerial reconnaissance was tempting– Dorn’s magical sight could penetrate roofs and walls in ways mere observation could not. “A limited scope,” he agreed finally, his voice low enough not to carry beyond their immediate circle. “Thirty minutes maximum. Return to this location unless you spot something critical.” His tone carried the weight of command, making it clear that this was not a request but an order with strict parameters.

To the others, he raised his voice slightly. “Darm will be our eyes from above. Everyone else– armour check and final gear inspection. We march on the cathedral in ten minutes.” As the team checked their weapons, Luz moved toward one of the estate’s windows overlooking Cidade dos escravos streets. his eyes narrowed as he stared down at the unusually calm street below. The lack of panicked citizens fleeing or military formations mobilizing suggested either incompetence or deception from the nobles and guards. “Something is not right,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “If their forces are gathering for defence, why is there not more activity?” his strategic mind raced through possibilities– had they miscalculated something?