Fallout:Blood and the Bull

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Before leaving the castle, I turned to Lucien, who still seemed to be processing everything that had happened. "My lord," I said seriously, "you must ensure that all the nobles remain in the castle for at least three days. No one is to leave. What happened here must not reach the ears of your bastard sister or her allies. If it does, they will use this information to strengthen their cause."

Lucien nodded, though his expression remained tense. "I'll have the gates closed and the guards reinforced. No one will leave without my direct authorization."

"A wise decision," I replied, bowing my head slightly. "Now I must attend to the next matter."

I quickly gathered with the seneschal and several of the mercenary captains in the strategy room. We unfurled maps and discussed the next moves. I laid out the plan in detail: a contingent of men would be sent to Clermont, the city mentioned in the traitor's letter, but their purpose would be purely to deceive the enemy.

"We need more banners and tents than we would typically use for a siege," I said, pointing at the map. "The enemy must believe we are mobilizing a significant force. They will march to Clermont, thinking it is our main play."

One of the mercenary captains, a veteran with a scar running across his jaw, frowned. "What if they decide to face us at Clermont with their full strength?"

"They won't be facing us," I replied, with a faint smile. "We won't send a full force. It will be a smokescreen. While they move their troops to defend Clermont, my men and I will strike elsewhere—targets that are likely poorly defended."

The seneschal leaned over the map. "That means we're relying on the enemy believing the contents of the letter. If they don't..."

"They will," I interrupted confidently. "The count's bastard sister cannot afford to ignore a direct threat. She has the backing of the wealthiest and most populous cities. That means funds and a considerable army. If she consolidates her position, we are lost. We must force her to divide her forces."

A murmur of agreement swept through the room. Finally, one of the captains spoke. "So we send the troops to Clermont. What do we do in the meantime?"

"My men and I will take care of that," I said, tracing lines on the map toward various nearby areas. "We will attack secondary targets: small settlements, trade routes, perhaps even a city that, due to the mobilization toward Clermont, is left poorly defended. We need to cause maximum damage in the shortest time possible."

The plan was set in motion. While the decoy forces moved toward Clermont, their banners flying and tents strategically set up to simulate an imminent siege, my troops and I prepared to advance silently toward our true objectives.

If the plan succeeded, the enemy would move a large portion of their forces to defend Clermont, giving us the chance to ravage their lands and seize key cities. In this war of succession, every advantage was crucial, and if we could sow enough chaos, the wealthy cities backing the bastard sister might fall one by one.

As most of the mercenaries marched toward the trap in the east, our forces—several thousand men—moved south with the intent to strike the merchant cities. These were the economic heart of the enemy's power, and every blow there would weaken their ability to finance the war. Our goal was to inflict as much damage as possible before they could react.

"Make way for the imperial courier!" shouted a rider galloping at full speed, his voice rising above the noise of the march.

The soldiers stepped aside, allowing the messenger to pass swiftly. As he neared me, he extended an arm and tossed me a rolled parchment before vanishing into the dust of the road. I caught it mid-air, immediately recognizing the seal of the frumentarii. It was an urgent message, reserved for specific eyes.

I pulled my horse to a halt, raising a hand to signal my escort to continue forward. Carefully, I unrolled the parchment and read its contents under the shifting light of the sunset.

The message was brief but revealing:

"Confirmed: numerous enemy forces have been mobilized eastward in response to the letter. Southern cities now minimally staffed for defense. Vulnerable trade routes identified. Rapid action recommended."

A faint smile crossed my lips. The plan had worked better than expected. The enemy had taken the bait, moving their troops to Clermont and leaving the merchant cities, our primary targets, defenseless. There was no time to waste.

I stowed the parchment and spurred my horse to catch up with the captains at the front of the column. "Assemble the officers," I commanded firmly. "We have new information. The enemy has made a mistake, and we will exploit it."

Shortly afterward, around an improvised table in the camp, we spread out a map and discussed the details. "The merchant cities we're targeting," I said, pointing to several points in the south, "are now minimally defended. This is our chance to deliver a devastating blow. We'll split our forces into smaller groups to attack multiple targets simultaneously. Each unit must act quickly and ensure they take what they can before withdrawing."

One of the captains, a man with a deep voice and an imposing presence, spoke. "What if they realize and counterattack?"

"That's a risk," I admitted. "But our main forces in Clermont are giving them something more urgent to focus on. As long as they're mobilizing troops to the east, they won't be able to respond in time. By the time they realize what's happening, we'll already be gone."

Coordinating movements with the seneschal, who spread an extensive map over the campaign table, we marked the target cities. Among our entourage and the legionnaires, we numbered about eight thousand men. While we lacked exact numbers on enemy troops, reports indicated most of their forces had been sent to Clermont, leaving these cities with weakened defenses. Our plan hinged on that assumption.

"The first city, Montreuil, has an approximate population of fifteen thousand," began the seneschal. "It's a key agricultural center, producing grain, wine, and other essential supplies for the enemy forces. Its garrison, according to reports, is minimal, making it an ideal target for a swift attack."

He pointed to another spot on the map. "The second, Saint-Valery, is a major commercial hub on the mainland, where key trade routes converge. Its population is around fourteen thousand, and its wealth comes from the markets and warehouses that supply the entire region. If we take Saint-Valery, we'll disrupt a critical trade network for the enemy."

Finally, he indicated the largest and most strategic city. "Abbeville, with an estimated population of forty thousand, is the mercantile and textile heart of the region. Its size and wealth make it the most ambitious target but also the most impactful. Its walls are high, but according to reports, its current garrison doesn't exceed fifteen hundred men. If Abbeville falls, the impact on the enemy's morale will be devastating."

As the seneschal studied the map, mentally coordinating movements, I spoke firmly, making clear the ultimate goal of our strategy.

"Divide et impera," I said, my tone resonating in the command tent. "If Abbeville falls while all the claimant's forces are tied up in the east, the other cities will open their gates to us. We will deny them their resources, strip the bastard of her economic and military sustenance. And when that happens, the nobles who support her will realize they've bet on the losing side. They will come crawling, begging for forgiveness."

The captains nodded slowly, understanding the gravity of the situation and the scope of the strategy. The seneschal, with a faint smile of approval, added, "With Abbeville under your control, my lord, we won't just cut off her ability to finance the war; we will also weaken her political position. The allies she has left will hesitate to remain committed to someone who cannot protect her richest lands."

"Exactly," I replied, my gaze fixed on the map. "This isn't just a military strike. It's a calculated blow to break her support from within. If we succeed, the bastard will have no choice but to entrench herself or surrender."

As the captains and officers finalized the details, refining tactics and routes to maximize effectiveness, the atmosphere in the command tent shifted. This wasn't just another move on the war's chessboard; it was a masterstroke intended to utterly destabilize the enemy.

"Have the men ready," I said at last, rising from the table. "Tonight, we begin writing the end of this war."

Wasting no time, I departed with a group of scouts to precisely measure the height of Abbeville's walls. Disguised as merchants and peasants, we mingled with the locals around the city. Using the shadows cast by the walls at sunset, we calculated their exact height. The ladders we prepared had to be perfect; we could not afford any errors in a nighttime assault.

Our forces moved along secondary roads. While most remained dispersed and hidden nearby, ready to respond to any eventuality, a small group was tasked with initiating the attack. The plan was set: under cover of darkness, one hundred of my best-trained and most determined men would silently approach the walls. Once the interior was secured, the rest of our troops would enter to complete the operation.

The night fell, dark and thick, with only the faint glow of distant stars. With my hundred men, we moved in a tight formation, cloaked by the veil of darkness. We carried the ladders carefully, making as little noise as possible. As we neared the city, the torches on the walls barely flickered, their sparse light suggesting a lack of guards.

When we reached the base of the walls, the absence of vigilance was disconcerting. For a moment, I considered the possibility of a trap, but there was no time to hesitate. "Raise the ladders," I ordered quietly.

My men acted with precision. We positioned the ladders carefully against the walls. The settlement lacked a moat, which made our approach easier. One by one, we began to climb. The only sound was the scrape of boots and gloves against the stone. The tension in the air was palpable; each second felt eternal.

As I reached the top, I paused for a moment to survey the scene. The streets within the city were calm, most of the houses dark, with only a few scattered lights. The city appeared confident that its walls and the night would protect it. A confidence we were about to shatter.

We quickly reached the top of the walls. Barely had we begun to position ourselves when the first challenge arose: a small group of guards appeared, likely alerted by some faint noise or unusual movement. There was no time for subtlety. The fight was brief but intense; knives and swords clashed in the confined space, the sound of metal breaking the silence of the night.

My men, trained for this type of engagement, swiftly took control. Two of the guards fell before they could raise an alarm, while others tried to retreat toward a nearby tower. "Don't let them warn the others!" I shouted as I led a small group toward them. A swift, decisive strike was enough to neutralize them.

With the guards atop the walls eliminated, we turned our attention to the mechanism controlling the main gates. It was more complex than expected, requiring time to turn the massive wheels and chains that released the bolts. As we worked, more guards began to arrive from within the settlement.

I heard them before I saw them—desperate shouts and hurried footsteps echoed on the stone as they approached. Confident in their numbers, they tried to drive us away from the gates. "Formation!" I ordered as my men positioned themselves to hold the line. The clash of swords began anew, this time in a chaotic melee.

"Hold your ground!" I shouted as two of my men turned the wheels with all their strength. The gates began to open slowly, groaning and creaking with every inch. The enemy guards pushed fiercely, trying to break through our line and close the gap, but my men held firm. Swords cut through the air, and the sounds of battle filled the top of the walls.

Finally, with a combined effort, the gates opened wide enough. From within the shadows, a horn sounded, and our troops began pouring in en masse. The sight of our forces entering in waves broke the enemy guards' morale. They tried to retreat, but it was too late.

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Any opinion and comments are welcome

honest reviews would be greatly appreciated