CHAPTER 7: The Siege of Duskwatch – Part I
Duskwatch Fortress, Southern Edge of Gravenmarsh
The walls of Duskwatch had never fallen—not to bandits, not to winter, not to revolt.
Built on a jagged bluff above the River Serryn, the fortress was more stone than imagination. Towers like fangs, gates reinforced with oaken braces thrice the thickness of a man, and sentries who knew the price of sleep. It guarded the empire's inland roadways like a clenched fist.
And Kael had come to break it.
Two Miles Out – Rebel Encampment, Dusk
"Eight hundred men," Myrren reported, drawing her finger over the siege map carved into damp wood. "Seventy mounted. At least four trebuchets inside. Enough rations for two months. And the gate is warded."
Kael nodded, arms folded over his cloak. "And their morale?"
She smirked. "Shaken. Word of the Red Veil reached them before we did. They double their patrols at night. You can smell the fear on the horses."
Seyda stepped into the tent, her crimson robes damp with mist. "I've marked the weak points. Their southern cistern lies along natural stone fractures. A few buried flamepots, and it caves."
Dren raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?"
"She usually is," Kael said. "Prepare them."
Dren scratched his beard. "We're really doing this?"
"We don't take Duskwatch for glory," Kael said. "We take it to hold the River Road. We take it because it was never theirs to begin with."
Nightfall – Southern Approach to the Fortress
The wind screamed across the cliffside. Seyda knelt beside a patch of moss-covered stone and pressed her palm to the earth. Her followers fanned out behind her—eleven flame-bound agents of The Red Veil, each with veiled faces and small sealed vials of red-glass liquid.
"Now," she whispered.
With a series of muffled thuds, the flamepots embedded beneath the southern base ignited.
A tremor passed through the stone.
Then came the cracking.
Inside Duskwatch – Alarm Bells Ring
Captain Vaedren of the garrison cursed as the southern wall buckled inward. Smoke and glowing embers poured from beneath the outer cistern. Soldiers scrambled to bucket lines. Archers raced to the parapets.
He gripped the battlement, knuckles white.
"This isn't a raid," he hissed. "It's war."
At the Riverfront – Kael's Assault Begins
Kael led the first charge through the fog-covered gully, his blackened blade raised high, the banner of Ravencair snapping above him. Archers loosed cover-fire as shieldbearers sprinted up the slope, carrying spiked ladders made from felled ash trees.
Myrren fought beside him, axe in hand, cutting down a pike-man who slipped in the mud.
"They didn't expect us this soon," she said between gasps.
"They'll still bleed."
Seyda joined them minutes later, her veil charred at the edges. Her eyes glowed with quiet fury.
"I have a gift," she said, holding up an imperial officer's severed hand still bearing a fortress ring.
Kael took it, stared at the ring, then tossed it into the rising flames.
"We finish what we start."
Elsewhere – On the Wall
A rebel named Loric managed to plant the first ladder. As he crested the wall, a Duskwatch soldier drove a spear through his side—but not before Loric hurled his torch onto a cart of dry pitch near the ballista.
The explosion shattered the tower's left edge.
And in the chaos, a roar rose from the rebel ranks.
"FOR SOVEREIGN KAEL!"
End of Part I
As smoke curled through the shattered southern walls and flame painted the night sky, Kael stood among the wounded and the dead, blood on his jaw, ash on his cloak.
He looked to the towers still standing.
"Tomorrow," he growled, "we take the gates."