Overwhelming Firepower

In a building in the new outer district of Ironhold, several people had gathered. To anyone looking at them, it would seem that they came to a friend’s house to drink, as they had brought barrels of ale, but that was simply to hide what was truly going on.

The second they entered the building, the smile on their faces were wiped clean as they put down the barrels of ale they had brought.

”Report.” A woman of average height and build with short black hair was the first to speak. Her voice carried no warmth, only control.

”It seems that no one knows the exact recipe of the gunpowder, and if we ask too much about it, people might get suspicious.” One of the people answered.

”The only people who seem to know the recipe are Lucen Thornehart and Robert Duskwell.”

”Then what about those things placed on the battlements? Did any of you get any information about that?”

”No one wanted to talk too much about that, but it’s supposed to be an improvement to the balistae.”

”So they have more weapons hidden than just those Iron Wolves were using.” The woman who seemed to be the leader spoke as she sat down and started tapping the table.

While the group were talking, someone started knocking on the door. The group quickly got into defensive positions as they hid in the corners, but then they heard the rhythm of the knock was that of someone who they truly were.

The leader stood up from her chair, the icy expression on her face disappeared, and what replaced it was a warm smile. She opened the door, and there was a man with a similar smile.

”How can I help you?”

”Nothing much, Miss, I’m just here since I’ve smelled ale.”

”Is that so? Do you want some?”

”Thanks, but I don’t want to take it for free. Here, something in return.” The man then handed a letter to the leader, who then gave a mug of ale.

”So it that all?”

”Yeah, thanks for the ale.” The man lifted the ale three times before leaving.

Once the door was closed, the icy expression returned to the leader’s face as she opened the letter. After reading the contents, she looked at her team and spoke.

”It would seem that it is time to lay down our lives for our lord.”

Every member straightened, expressions tightening as though they already knew what such a message implied. The woman placed the letter onto the table, the wax seal, a hawk imprint, staring up like an ominous eye.

”Orders?” One of the men asked.

She nodded. ”Direct from the lord himself. We have three targets, and we need to kidnap Robert Duskwell and Cael Thornehart, and finally, we need to assassinate Lucen Thornehart.”

Kidnapping the mad alchemist was already something difficult for most to do, but to also kidnap Cael Thornehart, who would most likely be protected by several knights, and the most ridiculous order was to kill Lucen Thornehart.

Even if they do succeed in doing the last one, it means death either way. They would either be killed by Lucen Thornehart or Vardon Thornehart.

For a moment, no one spoke. The room was filled only with the muted creak of the old house and the faint slosh of ale settling in the barrels, as well as the crackling of the fireplace.

One of the older agents spoke. ”So this will be our last mission.”

”Shall we have a drink before we start?” Another one spoke already near the barrels of ale.

”You know we can’t do that. It might get in the way of the mission.”

The man’s hand hovered over the tap, then slowly lowered. A wry smile tugged at his mouth, bitter, resigned.

”Right. No drinking on the last night of our lives,” he muttered.

The leader’s gaze softened only the slightest bit. ”If we succeed, we drink when we return.”

Everyone already understood that there was no returning after this mission. The orders given were pretty much ordering them to die. The chances of completing even one of the orders given were almost nonexistent.

The youngest of the group hesitated a little bit, but in the end was able to gather up the courage to talk.

”Do we really need to do this mission?”

The very second he said those words, the youngest of the group fell under a heavy killing intent pressed down on him. The leader was looking at him with an icy gaze.

”Are you saying you’re going to disobey a direct order from our lord?” Her voice was low, and it felt like a drawn blade.

The youngest, who had already spoken, found it easier to continue. ”I don’t know about everyone else, but I became a blade of the lord because he said that what we’re doing is for the betterment of Norvaegard, but kidnapping Robert Duskwell and Cael Thornehart, as well as killing Lucen Thornehart. That doesn’t sound like it’s for the betterment of Norvaegard!”

The more he spoke, the more emboldened he felt. ”Isn’t Lucen Thornehart, and his Thornefang, helping the people of Norvaegard? Why kill him? This just feels like it’s not for the betterment of Norvaegard at all, but more for the betterment of the lord.”

Several pairs of eyes snapped toward the young man, some wide, others cold. The leader stared in silence, letting his words hang like a noose tightening around his own neck.

She then disappeared from the young man’s view and reappeared in front of him, grabbing him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. The entire building rattled.

”You dare question our lord? The one who fed us, who gave us a home to return to? If he says this is for the good of Norvaegard, then it must be. We might not understand it now, but it surely should be for Norvaegard.”

Her grip tightened, fingers digging into his collar until the cloth strained. The young man’s breath hitched, yet he did not avert his gaze. Fear trembled in his bones, but so did conviction.

”The lord is human too. He can make mistakes, the same like us. I trust what I see, and what I see is a young man trying to do his best to protect the people of Norvaegard.”

Hearing what the young man said, the others in the group were slowly being convinced. In fact, a few of them were already incredulous about the mission.

”Is that what you see?” The leader of the group tossed the young man to the side.

”Now I’ll tell what I see. I see a young man who has created numerous weapons and won’t share how to make them with others. I see a young man who is slowly gaining more military might that overshadows the others. I see a future that, if this young man, for any reason, decides that he is supposed to be on top for the good of the people, he will start a revolution. No one will be able ot resist his power at that point. In that future, many will die. So are you willing to bet the future on the whims of that young man?”

Silence settled like dust. The leader stepped forward, her boots heavy on the wood. She looked at each of them, one by one, as if weighing their resolve.

”What I said may or may not come to pass. Killing the young Thornehart might turn into a sin that we will never be able to atone for in this life or the next. But such grand things aren’t for us. We are but blades of the lord who gave us a home. If he says this is for the good of Norvaegard, I will trust in his judgment.”

The leader then stopped to look at the others and saw the hesitation in their faces. Seeing those faces, she could not help but sigh.

”I know many of you have doubts about this mission, especially since it’s a mission with a guarantee of death. So I won’t force any of you to join me in this mission. If you wish, you can stay here in Ironhold and continue to live here. Those of you who choose to do this will be recorded as dead, killed by me because you defected. That will be the official statement, but in reality, you’ll just continue being people of Ironhold. So what say you?”

The young agent who questioned earlier stared at the floor, fists trembling, torn between loyalty to the lord who gave him purpose and the morality he could no longer ignore.

Another agent rubbed his thumb along the edge of his dagger, jaw clenched tight. The oldest member closed his eyes, shoulders sagging with years of scars and sins behind him.

”... I will go,” the oldest agent said.

He said not with passion, nor with a fire that burned with righteousness, but with resignation, like a man deciding where he wished to be buried.

Once the oldest of them spoke, another followed, then another. Not out of belief in the mission, cause even now most of them didn’t understand how this would help Norvaegard. So they chose to do this because they chose loyalty over doubt.

Soon, only the young man remained undecided. The young man stepped forward, but his knee stopped halfway, as if shackled by the gravity of what he was choosing.

”I...” he swallowed hard, voice barely audible. ”I will not join.”

The leader closed her eyes — not in anger, but with a heavy acceptance. When she opened them, the coldness returned like steel being drawn.

”Very well.” She threw the letter into the fireplace and then approached the young man.

”Live quietly. Live the best life you can for us as well.” The leader then went to the door and was about to head outside, but before she left, she spoke to the others. ”Prepare. We move at night.”

After saying what she needed to say, the leader opened one of the barrels and sprinkled a little ale on herself. The leader’s expression then changed, acting as if she were drunk, as she left the building.

Once the leader was gone, the other spoke to the young man. ”Do your best in whatever you choose to do next.”

”Don’t forget us, alright.”

The group said their goodbyes to the young and went on their way. Now, the only one left in the building was the young man, who had tears flowing down his face.

He cried alone beside the barrels, knowing dawn would never see them together again. Above the crackling fire, the hawk-sealed letter burned to ash. He promised in his heart that he would never forget any of them.