"We have movent, Your Majesty," Charles said, looking through a telescope at Malbrok. Alfred smiled and took it off him. From the back entrance at Malbork, thousands of soldiers slowly funnelled out in a tight formation.
"Attacking them will be impossible." Alfred sighed but shook his head, redirecting his attention to the fort itself. "A few are being left behind. Hundreds. Maybe more." Alfred handed the telescope back, letting Charles look.
"Hundreds seem more likely. You said it would take a while for everyone to get sick. Those guys must have already been susceptible to illness." Alfred nodded with a wide grin.
"I told you, Charles. They will open the gates for ." Alfred turned his back and walked deeper into the camp. "One more thing. Leave no one alive inside. Afterwards, burn everything. I’m taking no risks." Alfred spoke again, not stopping his walk. Charles bowed towards the departing back and took a final look at Malbork. With cold eyes, he walked off to prepare for the siege.
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Trebuchet fire flew from above, smashing into Malbork’s high walls. Across the open field, a large ram slowly inched closer to the gates. The n left behind tried to fight back, but the pain in their bodies and exhaustion from their illness made it impossible to be effective. Any arrows that made it over the wall flew, of course. Those who tried to drop boulders from above the gate couldn’t find the strength to lift them.
Those who pulled their swords had their hands shaking. Over and over, they tried to regrip, pushing the real cause aside and blaming their nerves. All of them knew they were dead. So actually hoped for the siege to end soon and be put out of their misery. Others wanted to cling to each second they had left, even if those final monts were in pain. Screams of agony echoed throughout the camp as those too weak to even join the defence begged to be free. Free from the pain, the tornt, their lives.
Those who were healthy enough wanted to help them. Either provide so solace or grant their request. Each scream was like a vision into the future. That would be them if they lived. Lying, unable to do anything other than scream and cry. Lying with no control over their bodily functions. They weren’t even able to enjoy the pleasures of eating and drinking.
It terrified them all.
The ram slamd into the gate, hardly getting it to budge. A couple of n standing before it looked at one another. Their pale faces and bloodshot eyes told each other what they wanted to do. In the background, they heard the sound of their comrades throwing up and screaming once again. The n at the gate looked around. It was over. Two of them went towards a rope by the gate and began to pull.
The iron bars covering the gate slowly raised into the air. With it in place, they tied the rope down and went to the biggest wooden board, keeping the gate locked. A few more n ca over and lifted, throwing it to the ground. Retaking their positions, they pulled their swords with shaking hands. Despite making it easier for their enemy, they were still soldiers. Even if abandoned, they knew it wasn’t out of malice but because they were dead weight for the rest of the army.
The gates creaked with each hit, shards of wood flying out each ti. The n held firm and tightened their weak grips. So coughed to push down the sickness that was clawing its way up, whilst others slapped themselves to remove the lightheadedness. Each hit into the gate was like an eruption of thunder directly into their brains, but every man pushed it away.
They had one job: hold the line as best as they could. The ram slamd into other gates, creating a small gap to the outside. Through the small gap, they saw it. Like an army from the deepest pits of hell, the Unyielding stood unmoving, staring back at them, their cold black helts covering showing as much emotion as their eyes did. The n tightened their grip once more as the ram slamd again.
The doors nearly opened. One more ewwa, shall it take? Everyone knew that. Watching through the gap in the door, they saw the ram pull back. It felt like slow motion watching it swing forward. The world was silent, and suddenly it wasn’t for the n. The thunderous eruption in their mind was louder than any of the previous ones, with the gates flying open. The Unyielding poured in and charged the line.
The n kept as tight a shield wall as they could and blindly swung out. Their attacks were weak, and the Unyielding soldier easily hit them away. Throwing their bodies into the Commonwealth soldiers, the line stumbled. They tried to stand firm, but their legs refused to follow. With pressures, the Unyielding strikes, piercing through the gaps. Blood slowly leaked to the ground as bodies fell one after the other.
The Commonwealth n tried everything. Stabbing, punching, kicking. If they could, so would have bitten their enemy. Yet nothing worked. Like an immovable object, the Unyielding marched forward, killing those in front and forcing their way through. The line grew smaller and smaller until nothing remained.
The Uneyilding quickly spread out, searching every section of the Malbork. Those too ill to move were swiftly found and put out of their misery whilst the few remaining who could fought a desperate but aningless last stand. Outside, tens of n worked to dig a large pit overseen by Alfred.
"It’s the only way," Charles said coldly, watching the first bodies being brought out and laid next to the pit. Alfred sighed and nodded. He ordered this to happen. Whilst it was a very primitive form of biological warfare, it was still just as horrible.
A part of him felt guilty seeing the corpses being piled up. He could see how thin so n had gotten, their clothes ready to slide off them. Looking at Malbork, he closed his eyes. ’It is fine. We took the fort. We hardly took any casualties. The war will end quicker with this.’ Clenching his fist, he opened his eyes, a cold light in them.
A few hours passed, and the pit was ready. The bottom was covered in wood, and leaves were set alight. The Unyielding rolled the bodies in, piling them up, with more wood thrown between them. Alfred watched and felt slightly horrified. His mind went to the past.
He had seen the killing fields. He had seen the remains of genocide. Unmarked graves as n were piled into them like sardines. It wasn’t a genocide he was committing, but the sight before him made him feel like he was committing one. Each man had a family, a friend, sothing. And now they were being burned in an unmarked grave, only what would remain of their charred bones to be found by future generations.
’You had to. Snowid left no choice. He should have surrendered. The war is already won.’
’They targeted Edward. A toddler. My son. He was innocent, and they tried to take him from . This is revenge.’
’Why care about them. Hundreds of people die a day from disease. All that has happened is that the number will be slightly higher today.’
Shaking his head, Alfred wanted to walk away, but stopped himself. ’Watch. You did this. Watch. This is the cost to protect those you love.’ Excuse after excuse was tried to justify what he had done. He knew so of them were right. He ended the battle quicker. More got to live because of it. Tactically, it was a smart idea, but seeing them, he couldn’t imagine what he had caused those n to suffer before they died. The rage, helplessness and desire for revenge vanished watching it.
Charles looked over at Alfred. It was sothing he forgot, but Alfred was still in his early twenties. He was a young man. He always wore a cold exterior, and while he let his emotions break through, that was only in tis of extre rage or hate. But now Charles saw sothing else: sadness and regret. The overwhelming anger he had been using to fuel his idea to take Malbork had vanished, and now he had co face to face with its consequences.
He didn’t do anything, however—no words of comfort or gesture. It was Alfred’s orders. He had to bear the consequences. Alfred was the Emperor, and he was only a soldier. Looking back at the bodies, the flas grew bigger and wilder. Much like Charles, the Unyielding surrounded the pit, all staring with cold eyes as if the sight before them was normal.
Alfred didn’t move, didn’t speak, and didn’t know how to feel. He hoped it would make him happy that he had succeeded so quickly, but every way he rationalised it in his mind just didn’t work.
’There’s no point in defending myself.’ Finally telling himself, Alfred closed his eyes. ’This is war. It’s awful and disgusting. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. It was your order. Live with it or jump in to atone.’
Alfred scread at himself from his mind and opened his eyes. The raging fire reflected in his cold eyes, the final sign of regret vanishing from them as if the fire had burned them. Each man watched until the fire was over and recovered the grave as if nothing had happened.
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