The first flaming projectile shattered against Almorr’s outer walls, exploding in a shower of stone, splinters, and fire.
Romanus siege engines, positioned at staggered intervals, roared to life, sending wave after wave of flaming ammunition into the city’s fortifications.
The defenders of Almorr—what remained of them—rushed to their stations, hurling javelins, rocks, and boiling oil down upon the advancing Romanus engineers, and legionaires.
But it was clear from the outset: this was not a battle they could win at best they could just make Romanus bleed greatly to take this city.
Yet, King Aled’s final decree had already been issued.
"If we cannot hold Almorr, we will make them bleed for every inch of our capital. Every man, woman, and child will rise to defend their hos. Romanus will find no ek submission within these walls."
The capital would die fighting, and they would make Romanus pay in the process.
~
The northwestern gate shuddered under the relentless pounding of Romanus battering rams. Reinforced with iron and wrapped in soaked hides to resist fire, the rams smashed through layer after layer of ancient wood and stone.
Berta stood at the head of the first assault wave, her polished armor gleaming with soot and gri.
The legionaries behind her stood silent, shields raised, eyes locked on the splintering gate.
With a final earth-shaking crash, the gate caved inward.
"Advance!"
Berta roared, and the first ranks surged forward into the breach.
The defenders—ramshackle militia ford from local tradesn, teenage boys, and desperate old n—collapsed almost instantly against the disciplined Romanus wedge formation.
Blood slicked the cobblestones as the Legion advanced thodically, shields raised, spears darting forward with terrifying precision.
But the deeper they pushed into the city, the more desperate the resistance beca.
~
The fanatical defenders fought like cornered beasts, driven to madness by starvation, fear, and royal propaganda.
Romanus legionnaires found themselves facing won ard with kitchen knives, children throwing stones, and old n clutching rusted swords, and tools with trembling hands.
There was no rcy.
The legion advanced with cold efficiency, cutting down anyone who raised a weapon, regardless of age or gender.
The policy was clear: those who resisted would be purged, and those who surrendered would be spared.
The flas of war, however, blurred that line.
As fires spread from rooftop to rooftop—whether set by Romanus siege engines or defenders themselves—chaos took hold.
Smoke filled the narrow alleys, choking out light and air.
The defenders did not break.
They fought harder, bodies stacked knee-deep in so of the city’s chokepoints.
When one line of militia fell, civilians surged forward to replace them, so bare-handed, others ard with makeshift spears and looted weapons.
It was not just a battle.
It was a slaughterhouse.
~
In the heart of the rchant district, the Shadows encountered sothing worse than militia or nobles: cultists.
The king’s propaganda, infused with religious fervor by the more radical sects, had turned entire neighborhoods into zealot cells, believing Romanus to be the embodint of a world-ending evil.
"They are demons! The demon king cos to devour our souls! For Aled! For Ramie!"
Crazed mobs, so dressed in just about everything they could find to create layers of what one might bother calling cloth armor, charged into Romanus lines unard, screaming profanities as they flung themselves onto spear and sword tips in the hope that their deaths might slow the invaders.
The legionaries, unnerved but trained, cut them down without hesitation.
But with every block Romanus secured, the price in blood grew steeper.
~
On the opposite side of the city, the southern forces had reached Almorr’s southern gate.
the southern army combined so Carthaginian veterans, Romanus auxiliaries, and freshly rallied defectors, and the Parthian soldiers who were new entrants into the Romanus kingdom.
The sight of Carthaginian banners approaching the city was too much for many within the walls, already well aware that they were being besieged to the north, but now having to also deal with a second army sieging from the other side.
Several Ramie commanders forrly nobles and military commanders of Carthage, seeing the banners of the nation they once betrayed returned at the head of a liberation army, abandoned their posts fleeing deeper into the city in attempts to escape the slaughter to co until the city itself surrendered when they might be able to slip away undetected.
The eastern gate was opened from within, but it was no peaceful surrender.
As soon as the gates swung open, fanatics and loyalists surged forward, screaming oaths of loyalty to the king, to their gods, to anyone who would listen.
The fighting at the eastern gate beca a brawl, as Serena’s front ranks were forced to fight their way inside house-by-house, street-by-street.
~
The noble district, once the jewel of Almorr, beca a charred ruin.
Romanus infiltrators had slipped in before the siege began, marking the hos of collaborators and loyalists.
These estates were systematically razed, their wealth confiscated or destroyed.
Those nobles who had aligned themselves too closely with the king were dragged into the streets—so executed, others paraded before the crowds of Carthaginians who had the biggest grudges, their property redistributed as both punishnt and spectacle.
Carthaginian rebels, seeing the nobles who had enriched themselves during the occupation, tore through their hos, looting with glee and setting fire to anything they could not carry, allowing these noblen and won to see what it was like to be a victim of the very sa thing.
By nightfall, the once-wealthy heart of Almorr was more ash than regular, and the nobility that had propped up King Aled’s reign was no more.
~
As dawn broke on the second day of the siege, Romanus and Carthaginian forces stood at the gates of the inner city, the final bastion standing between the outer city, and the exterior walls of the royal castle.
The outer city lay in ruins, its streets clogged with corpses and smoldering debris.
The last defenders—what few trained soldiers remained—had retreated to the inner ring of fortifications prepared to once again put up a stiff resistance before once more being forced back to defend the true final line atop the very castle walls.
~
Within the castle itself, King Aled sat slumped on his throne, trembling hands clutching the royal scepter, and crown as the distant sound of battle echoed through the halls.
His advisors were gone—either dead or fled.
His knights knew the truth—they were not protecting a kingdom anymore, only prolonging its death.
From the high walls of the inner city, the royal banner still flew.
But even that would soon fall.
~
Bente stood atop a scorched balcony of a forr magistrate’s manor, overlooking the smoke-shrouded ruins of Almorr’s outer city.
His armor was splattered with blood—not all of it Ramie.
Beside him, Berta stood, her erald eyes reflecting both pride and sorrow.
"You see them, don’t you?"
she said softly.
"Even now, they fight like animals."
Bente’ hand tightened on the hilt of his sword.
"They were given every chance. rcy only extends so far."
He raised his arm, signaling to Berta and Elheat, both of whom were already preparing the final assault on the inner city walls.
The legions, bloodied but victorious, ford up once more.
The horns sounded again.
"Take the inner city, and then the castle. Kill the king. End this."
The siege was not over yet, but its end was in sight.
The cleansing of Almorr had begun.
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