Chapter One Hundred and Forty-Seven
I was glad Louise had taken care of the cannons, although I had told her in no uncertain terms not to move from the ship, and to stick close to Agnes at all times. As the thundering of cannons came less, I gave a curt nod to the men by my side, and we rushed through the trenches on our way to the summit. We weren't alone in our mad dash, but as I hoisted my wand up, the trenches shifted form becoming a ramp for me to jump on.
Slamming it against the gates of the palace, I hopped down on the grass of the frontal courtyard much to the shock of the troops on the sides of the palace itself -Louise's attack had aimed at the crews of the cannons, who were knocked unconscious on the ground, and not at the entirety of the palace.
"Wind blades!" I snapped as thin slices slammed home in the throats of the nearing soldiers of Albion, a few ducked, but a couple didn't and lost their heads. Behind me, soldiers jumped down from the breach I had crafted, opening fire as they moved to cover. The guns made those funny ping noises as the cartridges were expelled and new ones were put inside. I swiftly chanted for another air hammer spell, holding it in front of me as I slammed it home against the corner of the palace's stone foundation, letting it shatter the brickwork and blind temporarily the men behind it.
"I want Gallia's flag perched atop the palace before the sun dawns!" I snapped loudly, grabbing hold of the banner from the man in charge of it as I sheathed my swordwand. "You keep on firing, soldier. I'll take care of this."
"Y-Yes sir!" the man barked, moving to grab his rifle and fire near immediately at an incoming man clad in heavy armor. The shot pinged against the armor, hardened with magic with all probability. As the soldier yelled in fear, I thrust the banner of Gallia forth like a spear to intercept the enemy, but the man swung his sword and swatted it aside closing the distance with ease, the sword brought up. I closed the distance in turn to keep him away from the scared man -recharge, you fool! recharge!- and slammed the shaft of the banner right against his raised arms, only for his downward swing to hit the metal pole in turn.
I let go of one side near immediately as I sidestepped him, and as his sword descended across the banner, I punched him right on the side of his helmet, letting my knuckles bruise as his head emitted a satisfying dong noise. I took a step back, hoisted the banner back up and then thrust, the man grabbing the shaft with his left hand and swinging the sword down with his right.
I let go of the banner long enough to twist beneath it, letting the sword hit the ground, and then I stopped thrusting, instead pulling the man closer, my arm coming up against the knight's neck as I gripped hard onto it and let my whole body's weight go into pulling him down on the ground. We both fell with a sick thud on the floor, but he was the one in armor, and I was the one without it. Rolling to the side, I unsheathed a smaller swordwand and jabbed it down straight into the man's throat, much to his gurgling dying breath.
I then stood back up, dusted myself off, and grabbed the banner once more after pocketing my extra wand -sharpened like a dagger. Amidst the whizzing bullets, my men had stopped to stare at my dirtied form.
"What are you doing?" I snapped angrily, "Stop gawking, and keep firing!" I barked, planting the banner of Gallia on the ground by my side, a chant already having repaired it back to its glory.
They obeyed, and more than one of them screamed as they rushed forward. Apparently, it would be bad form to let the Prince have all the glory, or something of the sort. "Turn the cannons towards the palace!" I snapped to a group of soldiers that had just arrived on the scene, having come right through the road we had cleared. The cannons were a smaller variant of the artillery normally used to siege cities, good for peacekeeping, rather than land warfare.
They broke down the doors and the windows of the palace just as well, even amidst the screams of the people inside.
By the time the cannons had been emptied of their current load-out, the palace was still standing, but much of its face had been demolished. Beneath the rubble, the corpses of the defendant -and of the servants- could be seen. "Push through, sweep, capture the survivors," I barked as two squads rushed in through the breaches. A few bullets departed their rifles, a couple of windows shattered-doors were broken, and walls and floors painted red.
I took a deep breath, and then watched impassively as people in night gowns were brought out, or half-dressed. Some were fully dressed, but without wands. They were swearing and praying to Brimir, making the oaths that all nobles were taught to repeat when they wished to surrender, for they would, without a doubt, be spared if they swore them. All of them were pushed down on their knees, even the nobles, and ordered to keep their hands behind their heads.
One noble refused, and the back of his head met with the butt of a rifle. He swiftly obeyed after that kind reminder that I was the one making the rules, and by consequence my army.
"Who was the man?" I asked to the one that looked the top noble -the fattest among the fully dressed- while pointing at the fully armored man that I had killed.
"Th-That was the Lord of Rosais," one of the women in nightgowns spoke -one of the servants, perhaps. Her hair was long and graying, her skin covered in wrinkles. She looked like the typical sassy old lady that worked in the kitchen, but I had the impression that she was something like the head maid around these parts, especially with how the other servants were glancing at her with worry that she might lose her head if she spoke wrongly. She had a bruised lip, and as I furrowed and glanced up at the soldier, he had the decency to look ashamed.
"She was hitting me with a pan, your highness," the soldier whispered, pointing at an angry welt on the side of his face, and a jagged scar that could have been made by a sword, all things said.
"More like a kitchen knife," I remarked, whistling in appreciation. "Pans are awfully sharp around these parts," I added. That got a chuckle out of a few soldiers nearby. "What was his name?" I asked the woman.
"His grace, John of Rosais," she murmured. "He was just fifteen-those bastards didn't even allow him to keep a wand," she turned her gaze towards some of the nobles -their night gowns were made of silk, rather than of wool or hemp.
I blinked, and then looked at the armored man. "He had a good sword arm," I said. "Could you help me recognize who's who among the prisoners of the palace? You'll be free together with the other servants to try to recover your things from the palace and to get Lord John's corpse somewhere he can be cleaned and prepared for a funeral." I turned to look at a couple of officers who were running towards me with looks akin to relief.
Honestly, I think they had to consciously hold themselves from falling down on their knees and hug me tightly never to let me go.
Seriously, guys, it's not my fault you're just so slow.
Nearby, dragoon riders were descending to let their beasts rest, the battle in the skies over and won.
The few survivors that had managed to escape would be returning to Londinium with their tails between their legs, but it was fine.
They could run, but they couldn't hide forever.
"I'm surprised," the old woman said as I extended a hand to help her up. "Chivalry's not dead yet," she chuckled softly, but it was more of a bitter laugh, spoken without heat. "A young strapping officer such as yourself wouldn't be in need of a head maid, would it?"
"Ah, do not worry, we are in need of people to staff the supply lines and take care of the distribution of care packages. You are awfully thin for a young lady," I answered in turn with a small smile. "You'll need some meat on your bones too," and as I said that, a few more chuckles left her lips. She was old, and she was probably thinking I was a young dragoon officer.
"Are all Gallian nobles as funny as you?" the head maid said as she pointed at a few men and women as members of Reconquista, before recognizing the others as servants. True to my word, I let the servants go. The nobles wouldn't have an easy time. Oh no, they would not.
"My wife says I am one of a kind," I acquiesced with a nod. "Truly, I hope she isn't worrying herself to death." I grinned. "She's pregnant, you see."
"Oh, congratulations," the head maid said with a nod. "Well...I suppose these old bones must go find a corner of the palace with a part of the roof that still stands. Come on, Jack, Mary, Frank-help me with poor Lord John. We need to get him out of his armor." She let go of my arm, and I watched the old lady go.
"Y-Your highness!" a few officers wailed as I cringed at the sight of their eyes all tearing up. "W-Why did your highness go ahead!?" they were actually hiccuping. "We-We understand! We weren't fast enough! His highness had such high hopes in us but he wasn't-wasn't satisfied and-and he had to do it himself! We failed you, your highness! We-We failed you!" oi, oi, stop crying. Why are there dozens of you crying now?
"Your highness," a voice spoke by my side, the banner holder that was now clutching his hat and looking shamelessly down at the floor. "I-I'm not worthy of the honor of being saved by your highness-this humble me-I-I am just a commoner!" he began to cry and sob too, wailing into the air. Words like I'm just the son of a baker! or I wore my brother's used clothes! were the ones I could understand amidst his tears and sobs.
Oh for the love of all the gods!
"You're an army!" I roared, making the crying men around me shut up immediately. "Act like one!" I bellowed. "Clean the streets! Get me a report on the situation with the fleet in Dartanes! Someone get the nobles we captured in a prison they won't be able to leave yet! And somebody tell Lord-" I bit down on my tongue, "Lord Chesty that I want to see him and captain Agnes within the next five minutes! Now move it!" and as I barked that, the men obeyed.
To be honest, the servants of the palace of Rosais actually looked at me with their mouth agape, the head maid first among the others. She then looked down at her arm, mumbled something utterly akin to I linked arms with royalty? and then proceeded to faint.
I passed both hands through my hair, and then winced.
Uh. Punching the sides of an iron helmet apparently breaks fingers, rather than just make them hurt.
Who would have known, right?