Fall of an Empire: Prologue

Thus the final tests have been completed. Since yesterday, actually. Now i'll spend my time just writing and drawing and watching The Man in the High Castle. Hopefully.

And speaking of yesterday, yes, the last post was the final finished chapter. However, I did forget about this first chapter: prologue. Apologies, but this one was originally made quite earlier. Perhaps my writing was not as great. Or ... maybe it never is.

So before I curl up and think about my poor writing, I'll not hold back on this chapter:

PROLOGUE

THE WALLS OF MARE—the magnificent white curtain of stone, which have stood fast around the grand metropolis for more than two thousand years. Surrounded by the Crescent River as its vast moat, it had been designed as an impregnable fortress to guard the historic buildings, vast treasures, and the nearly one million citizens of Mare. It surrounded the city from out to the sea at the north, following the path of the River Mare to the west and south, and joining with the steep slopes of the mountains of the Divide to the East. Beyond the outer walls lay the city, the marble gleaming in the last rays of sun for the day, casting shadows to the old Inner Walls, which guard the rich and the nobility, and the Keep, where the Forum and Palace stands.

Once, Mare stood as the paragon of the achievements of Men, standing as the greatest city, its crenelated walls stood vigil for the peaceful commerce with the merchants from the three kingdoms allied with Mare and each other: Hart, beyond the Divide to the cold plains east; Newlane, over the hills and forests to the south; and Westervell, over the Yellow Fields and to the lush rivers of the west. Not once for millennia have the barbarians of the mountains dared to approach it, such was its power and magnificence.

But today, at the Winter Solstice of the year 1325 of the Age of Empires, more than two and a half thousand years after the Great Emperor Marius established the City as the heart of his united Empire, the walls stand for the test.

Today stood a thousand archers behind the crenellations above the walls, their faces grim with determination. They lined up right inside the towers that stood equidistant from each other, with their bows poised, arrows ready. Inside, thousands more swordsmen, City Guards, and elite guards of Mare, the Pledges, block the entrances.

A hundred thousand men have surrounded the city, besieging it for days at end: on the Southeast, the hardy men from the Kingdom of Hart; on the Southwest, the noble fighters of the Kingdom of Newlane; and on the West, the brave soldiers of the Kingdom of Westervell. On the sea, sailors from all three Kingdoms blockade the ports, and allies—‘barbarians’, as they call them—from the Mountains are ready to unleash a fury of arrows down and release their berserkers.

The first round of artillery came from the onagers. The fiery balls lit up the twilight sky, speeding through the heads of the armies and heading straight for the walls and towers. As it approached ever nearer, the archers ducked behind the crenels, hoping that the two thousand-odd years of impressive architecture will hold—

It did not. The fiery ammunition broke the crenels right off the walls with an almighty thud, and thrashed the archers behind them, shrapnel pushing them around on random directions, and pushed them over the edge. Those who did not caught fire, and were trying to shake and roll the fire off them to no avail, and the burning bodies plummeted into the paved streets below, flat and crisp to cinder.

From the sea, the heavier ships of the blockade also fired flaming volleys from their ballistae.

In a matter of an hour, volley after volley of flaming ammunition rammed into the old stones of the walls, with little in resistance. Brick by brick crumbled, and then a boulder tumbled down, and another, carrying along the bodies of panicked soldiers along with them, until at last—

A whole segment of the wall collapsed in the South. And then another in the west, and another one. Suddenly the mighty curtain walls, once thought to be indestructible, crumbles before the eyes of the invaders—and under the feet of the archers.

“Advance!” came the orders from officers throughout the battlefield. Immediately thousands of soldiers unsheathed their swords, gave an earth-shaking warcry, and ran forward, to the river. The bridges that were usually packed with the constant flow of merchants were long gone, destroyed by the defenders. But the invaders are not out of ways to cross, not at all. Each cohort of soldiers heaved a raft along with them, too, one that will carry them all through the rapids of River Mare.

One by one, the cohorts splashed their rafts and began rowing, which was a feat as they were constantly under heavy fire from the towers, causing some men to topple and splash. However, as more shots from the ballistae whizzed past them, one by one, the arrow towers also began to crumble.

On the opposite riverbank, the men disembarked, and quickly advanced through the rocks, the smoldering ruins of a once-high wall piling up in front of them, inching ever nearer as they take a step. Over them, stood the eerie remains of the tower, blocking the newly risen full moon behind it.

           

-o-

Three kings were present in the battle. King Aldric of Hart, the one that devised the plan and rebellion, charged from a breach in the South, his bodyguards protecting his flanks as they move through the pile, and streaming through the main plaza of the city’s Outer Ring. King Alyn of Newlane rode from the breach in the Southwest, behind his bodyguards, and immediately charged a panicking squad of City Guards from the rear as they cleared a whole street near the walls. However, King West of Westervell bravely led the charge through the city walls, and took on a squad of sword-armed Mare Pledges head-on, his men behind him, roaring a warcry as the hooves of their horses clipped and clopped through the rubble of the once-tall walls.

The men took heart of each of their rulers’ presence. They continued their charge, stampeding through the city, flattening any barricades stationed in the middle of the cobblestone roads.

Swords clashed in colorful sparks. Blow after blow were exchanged by the defenders and the invaders. The men of Mare became ever more valiant the nearer they got to the city center, their phalanxes tightening. However, the sheer weight of the attacks, an onslaught of charges and flurries of blades broke them.

The defenders routed. Behind the line of soldiers: burning buildings, smashed blocks, and mutilated bodies remain still.

However, at the end of the main road was the gates through the Inner Wall of Mare, yet another bastion of defense ready to be crushed. However, they won’t go down without a fight, as once in range, the hundreds of archers opened fire.

The invaders decided to fire their ballistas again, more burning stones fired above the heads of soldiers, streaking the starlit sky, hitting the white stone walls.

Again, they crumbled. A sea of boulders and dust fell as volley after volley tormented the walls.

The sky darkened above the kings. Not of the dust, but of something else.

           

-o-

The Emperor was not at all pleased of the city’s defenses. He was previously sure that the defenses his ancestors placed were impregnable. He stood at the balcony of his palace, nervously awaiting the results of the battle. His royal guards, the Elite Pledges, had been sent to hold the walls. His purple silks rippled in the wind of the balcony.

The enemy was right behind the Keep walls. Only it shields the Imperial Palace from a barrage of fire.

The walls finally did collapse. More white stone crumbling, sending men toppling down. A wave of enemy troopers followed suit, right behind the piling remains of a once-high wall. Right at the front, a warrior dressed in scarlet above a white stallion rode to battle, hacking at the panicking Elite Pledges before him. As the final hurdle was brought down, there seemed nothing to stand between the invaders and victory.

Then, something else came, opposite from the charges from the Allied Kingdoms.

Just a moment ago, the sea had been calm, wave and froth lapped calmly against the cliffs. Slowly, but surely, it turned choppy and rough, and in a heartbeat the entire Frozen Sea seemed to be roiling angrily, fishes broke the surface to attempt escape from the evil within, only to sucked back inside by the waves.

The sea suddenly rose in a black mass, towering above the seaward walls of Mare, speeding through the expanse of the ocean, straight for the sprawling docks of the city. Above the churning sea, a dark hurricane engulfed what remained of the twilight, its winds also blowing without rest straight to the streets.

The first thing that dared stood in its way: the blockade of the invasion, almost a thousand wooden ships facing and firing at the harbor. Just specks of dust compared to the maelstrom, their oars as toothpicks.

What can the puny ships of the blockade do to stop such a force? Even with sails furled, the hurricane and the sea trashed the hundreds of ships, and all hands inside. Wood from the fleet of biremes, triremes and giant quinquremes splintered, the sea brought their carcasses under the murky waters, their hundreds of oars snapped like a withered twig.

The chaos continues inside the sea walls, which were unable to stand such pressure from the sea. The docked warships of Mare were also smashed in the harbor as the sea rise, and the hurricane continued inland, such was the force of the storm.

From within the hurricane, dark hands emerge. Then, a fiery eye and mouth opened in the maelstrom.

The figure rolled straight through the city, the whole force of the storm behind it, sending the remains of ships, buildings, and walls through the city. It was gigantic, towering above everything by a thousand feet. It reeks of chaos; thousands flee from their white stucco homes, only to be demolished into nothing by the figure soon after.

The sky darkened as the storm grows. More stars vanish as the Dark figure envelops the City of Mare. The figure stopped above the Palace balcony, where the soldiers of both sides have finally met, and their leaders hacking at each other.

The soldiers stopped fighting. They looked above, fear evident in their kings’ eyes. Hands trembled as their swords and spears drop, mouths whispering prayers to the gods above.

The storm figure bellowed in a thunderous voice of a hundred hurricanes as thunder and lightning flashed around the great city. “Heir of Mare, I have returned.”

And thus the hands of Darkness shrouded over the Palace, the invader Kings, and the soldiers. It leveled the entire city, so was the day, almost a hundred years ago, Mare and the lands were driven to chaos and Darkness.

Finished on 17 July, 2015