Hassel was eerily still as Leonard led his men forward. Although his army encountered only sporadic resistance, the silence weighed heavily on his mind. This was not the fierce, desperate defense he had expected to find. If anything, the absence of opposition felt more disconcerting than the bloody battles of past sieges.

  Mounted on his massive charger, Leonard surveyed the path ahead. Buildings loomed over the narrow streets, their windows darkened and their doors bolted shut. A handful of soldiers emerged from an alleyway, brandishing spears and shouting defiance, but his men dispatched them with ruthless efficiency. The brief skirmish didn’t even require Leonard to draw his sword. Instead, he continued scanning the surroundings with his senses, waiting for the inevitable trap.

  It never came.

  “Captain Duval,” Leonard called.

  “Yes, Grand Marshal?” The captain rode up beside him, looking perfectly unruffled despite having taken part in the skirmish.

  “Double the scouts at the front and send two detachments to secure the flanks. Just because the enemy is reluctant doesn’t mean they are defeated. They are planning something.”

  Duval saluted sharply and began issuing orders. Within moments, runners darted off to relay the commands, and Leonard’s column adjusted its formation. He allowed himself a small nod of satisfaction. Precaution was the difference between a commander and a hero too dead to enjoy his legend. That was the first lesson taught to him by his mentor in the Whiteguard, and he wasn’t about to forget it just because victory was so close.

  As they rounded a corner, a grand building stood out from the rest of the city’s architecture. The structure was carved with elaborate reliefs depicting warriors and beasts locked in battle. Stained glass windows reflected a rainbow of colors, depicting scenes of heroism and triumph. A large sign above the wide double doors proclaimed it the Hassel Adventurer’s Guild.

  It was quite grand for a tavern full of mercenaries, but when a major city sat so close to the untamed wilderness, work was always plentiful.

  Leonard’s keen eyes immediately spotted the figure standing at the entrance. A burly dwarf leaned casually against one of the ornate doors, his thick arms crossed over his barrel-like chest. His beard, streaked with gray, hung in twin braids, and a massive warhammer rested at his side. Although his posture might have seemed relaxed to the untrained eye, Leonard recognized the readiness in the dwarf’s stance—a coiled spring waiting for the right moment to strike. This man was a Master, and an experienced one at that.

  Leonard raised a hand, signaling his men to stop. The soldiers spread out, encircling the building in a well-practiced maneuver. Archers and gunners climbed to the nearby rooftops, prepared to fire at the first sign of trouble, while the infantry formed a protective perimeter around the area.

  Dismounting, Leonard strode toward the dwarf, clinking softly with each step. The air between them hummed with tension as the two warriors sized each other up. Leonard’s expression remained calm, though his fingers brushed the pommel of his sword. The dwarf’s piercing blue eyes glinted with something between challenge and amusement.

  After a long pause, the dwarf grunted. “Still tall, still shiny, and still too damn handsome for your own good. Hero of the Light, huh? Took you long enough to get here.”

  Leonard allowed himself a faint smile. “And you’re still as grouchy and old as ever, Rusty. It’s good to see you.”

  The dwarf’s stern face broke into a grin as he extended a hand. Leonard clasped it firmly, feeling the calluses and scars. Rusty’s grip was as strong as ever.

  “It’s been a while,” Rusty said, with just a hint of warmth. “I almost didn’t believe the rumors when I heard you were leading this so-called Revolution. But seeing you here, in the flesh… well, I guess even Heroes need retirement hobbies, aye?”

  Leonard chuckled. “I wouldn’t call overthrowing tyranny a hobby.”

  Rusty’s grin grew wider. “Fair enough. Now, come on inside. We have things to discuss. Hassel has changed a lot since the last time you were here, and if you want to take the city, you’ll need some information.”

  The soldiers tensed at that. Despite the friendly greeting, inviting the leader of the revolution into a closed building that they didn’t fully control felt like an obvious trap. Leonard waved them down. “I know Rusty. He’s not the kind to deal in subterfuge. He’d have already challenged me to a duel if he wanted to fight.”

  That didn’t seem to reassure the men much, but it wasn’t like they could oppose his decision.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “Continue the scouting operations. I want constant updates on how the other groups are doing. We’ll resume our march within half an hour,” Leonard added, which seemed to reassure the men.

  The soldiers saluted in unison, their discipline impeccable. Satisfied, Leonard followed Rusty into the Guildhall.

  The interior was as grand as its exterior, though it bore signs of recent turmoil. Chairs lay overturned, papers were scattered across the floor, and a faint smell of smoke lingered in the air. Despite the chaos, the space exuded a sense of history and purpose. Trophies from past expeditions lined the walls—monster heads, enchanted weapons, and other relics from adventuring days gone by.

  The men gathered inside fell into a low murmur as Leonard stepped into the main chamber. About a hundred adventurers stood scattered around, ranging from wary to hopeful. Many were armed, although their weapons were sheathed, and their stances remained neutral. It was a far cry from what an invading enemy might expect.

  That, at least, made it unlikely that he had walked into a trap.

  Leonard’s gaze swept across the gathered crowd. Although a hundred men and women might seem like a formidable force, he knew better. Hassel had once hosted one of the largest adventurer guilds in the kingdom, boasting over two thousand registered members. While he recognized that the city had faced difficulties in recent years, that wouldn’t explain the sudden drop.

  He turned to Rusty, raising an eyebrow. “The last time I was here, Hassel had two thousand adventurers,” he said. “Where are the rest?”

  Rusty grimaced, folding his arms across his broad chest. “North,” he said with a snort. “When the fighting got too close for comfort, most of ‘em didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire. They don’t care about your revolution or the king’s lies—they just want to keep their coin pouches heavy and their heads attached.”

  Leonard snorted. “So they abandoned the city.”

  “They abandoned us,” Rusty corrected bitterly. “The ones you see here? They stayed because they have something more than gold tying ‘em down: family, friends, or just a shred of honor left in their bones. The rest? Cowards.”

  Leonard nodded slowly. He hadn’t expected much from the adventurers when he’d first planned this siege, but hearing it spelled out still left a sour taste in his mouth.

  Rusty gestured toward a side door near the back of the hall. “Come on. If we’re going to discuss this properly, let’s do it in the Guildmaster’s office. It feels strange enough having you stand here with a reception like a visiting noble.”

  Leonard smirked faintly but followed without a word. The two men climbed a short flight of stairs, their boots echoing against the worn wooden planks, and entered the Guildmaster’s office. The room was spacious yet cluttered, with maps, books, and ledgers scattered across the desk and shelves. A heavy chair stood behind the desk, and Rusty wasted no time claiming it. He leaned back with a satisfied sigh, propping his boots up on the desk while grinning at Leonard.

  “Now this,” Rusty said, “this feels right. Took me long enough to sit in the big chair.”

  Leonard chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll admit it suits you. Though I didn’t think you’d take to leadership so quickly.”

  Rusty barked a laugh. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still a warrior at heart.”

  “Good,” Leonard replied, his tone growing serious. “Because as much as I’d love to sit here and reminisce, I don’t have time. The Count won’t wait for me to finish with pleasantries.”

  Rusty’s grin disappeared. He leaned forward, his boots striking the floor with a heavy thud. "Alright. Let’s get to work, then.”

  The dwarf retrieved a rolled-up map from the cluttered desk and spread it out on the surface. Leonard stepped closer, recognizing the layout of the citadel. Rusty began to point out various sections, tracing the lines of walls, towers, and gates.

  “I’ve got eyes and ears in this city,” Rusty said. “Not as sharp as your shadow lady, but good enough. Most of what I know aligns with what I’m guessing you already know. However, there have been changes in the past couple of days that I doubt you’re aware of.”

  He tapped a section of the map near the Tower. “This gate? It was reinforced two days ago with Cold Iron. Don’t ask me where they obtained it, but it doesn’t take a genius to guess they want to trap your mages there.”

  Leonard frowned but nodded. It was useful information, especially since it implied that Pollus still had open lines of resupply to gather that much Cold Iron. “Noted. What else?”

  Rusty’s finger moved to a narrow alleyway leading toward the main entrance. “There’s a choke point here. They’ve been stockpiling alchemical explosives. Enough to turn this entire area into a crater if your forces press through too quickly.”

  Leonard’s brow furrowed. “We knew the King had kidnapped some alchemists, but I thought he’d keep them to himself.”

  Rusty shrugged. “They’re crafty bastards. Pollus might have been keeping them for himself for all I know.”

  The dwarf continued to outline various traps and defenses; some of these Leonard was already familiar with, while others were new and troubling.

  “Your insight is invaluable,” Leonard said, stepping back from the map as Rusty finished. “We’ll have to adjust our plans.”

  The old dwarf grinned. “Don’t mention it. Well, do mention it when this is all over, and you’re passing out medals.”

  Leonard chuckled, but the quickly became serious again. “There’s one more thing I need from you.”

  Rusty raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

  “I need your help to keep the population under control,” Leonard said. “The people of Hassel are scared, misled, and likely to resist even after we complete our takeover. They’ll trust your adventurers more than my soldiers, at least for now. I’ll assign a Corp of Security Forces to work with you. I want you to ensure the transition is as smooth as possible.”

  Rusty stroked his beard thoughtfully. "It's a tall order, but you have a point. The people here know us. We should be able to prevent any riots from happening, at the very least.”

  “Good,” Leonard said firmly. “I’ll have the Corps report to you by nightfall.”

  Before Rusty could respond, a sudden, oppressive weight filled the air. Both men turned and darted toward the window. A flicker of red light danced across the room, casting long, ominous shadows.

  Leonard pulled the heavy curtains aside and stared out into the city. His breath caught as he saw the sky above the citadel.

  It was red—an unnatural, glowing crimson that pulsed like a beating heart. The mana in the air felt thick and suffocating, a palpable force that made even Leonard uneasy.

  This wasn’t just raw power. It was a desperate, screaming energy that could only be borne from human sacrifice.

  Rusty appeared at his side, his face pale. “What in the bloody depths is that?”

  Leonard’s jaw tightened as he stared at the ominous glow. “Damn stubborn old bastard,” he muttered, his voice low. “He really means to keep us from taking the citadel at all costs. Those are blood wards.”