Siege of Brymburk

**Chapter 1**

The rain of winter had passed. With the spring, a clarity came about in the air. The harsh ice had transformed to silky dew that covered the green woods of Brzané. The city of Brymburk lay in hibernation still, awaiting news from Kunst Taepe of Hrad Kanberk.

“-and the man offered me sweet vorda? And i‘s said ‘sweet vorda is a child’s choice’ and he’s said ‘is you’s not a child?’ And I said ‘you’s is markedly not, your bout’ sixty by the looks of things!’. And now I ain’t allowed one step closer to old Podišańice than the east gate!”

The guards that stood upon the wall burst out in a clamor of laughter that echoed across the quiet West gate.

“Oy, Teo- who’s that feller over yonder?” A man approached the west gate, dressed in full armor rode slowly towards the gate.

“Who goes by the path!” Shouted one of the guards. The man did not respond and instead continued trotting towards the gate.

“He wears the banner of Samospeze! Say, friend, what news from the city of fools!”

The men once again let out a lonely roar of laughter, but the soldier still rode on. Just paces in front of the West Gate, the man toppled off his horse, falling on his front, revealing the arrows impaling his back.

“Werry’s will!” The guard shrieked.

“Jan! Brin’ the body into the city!”

The guards by the gate nodded, and hauled the body into the street, that was now filling with residents, coming to see what the commotion was.

“He has a note, Sir- a scroll.”

The gates-man nervously reached his hand down and removed a thick paper scroll from an arrow.

“What’s it read, Teo?”

The gateman began to slowly read the note, struggling with the Samospezian Joran

“Vyńosill naz-Vevády? Vevády z Karredu? Jan, I can’t read this, ere’ you try.”

The gates-man handed the younger brown haired guard the note, who began to read it in far better translated Joran.

“By decree of the duke of Karred, we call for the city of Brymburk to give up its arms and raise the white flag-“ .

“What!” Exclaimed the bearded gates-man.

He ripped the note from the young guard, and tore it into two.

“No man of this ere’ city shall ever raise no white flag and not to no false duke neither! Inform Lord Poséfald that Samospeze has fallen, Amel. Now!” A guard set off towards the Rathaus of the city, meanwhile the crowd of townsfolk was dispersed by the guards, who began to rush to and fro from stable to gate to house, with more guards appearing from doorways and houses.

The preparations had begun.

**Chapter 2**

The young guard hurried through the streets of Brymburk, clearing the townsfolk and fumbling up the steps of the Rathaus. The door of the Rathaus boomed open, letting the bright morning light of spring fill the hall. The guard hurried towards Poséfald Hônas of Brymburk, who was sitting at a oblong table with the burghers of the city.

The guard took a lengthy breath and began “My Lord, a dead man brings news to the west gate! Samospeze has fallen!”

The count gave a harsh stare into the eyes of the young soldier, before rising from his chair, and flinging the sacks of money and scrolls that sat upon the table across the floor.

“FOOLS!”.

The counts voice reverberated across the room, bouncing from ceiling to floor. The burghers sitting at the table sat back in their chairs, pale with terror, and the young guard himself began to darken with a deep rouge.

The count composed himself and slowly took his seat again.

“Guard, when did the city fall?”

“It seems early fall my lord-“

“Early fall?” Early fall! And under who’s flag does the city remain?”

The guard hesitated, and took a moment to breath before unravelling the scroll.

“Duke of Karred, my Lord.”

“So then it’s true. Johann has fled. Joraje has no duke. But for- Kunst. No, Kunst knows too well the delicate balance of the houses of the silver seat. No, no. Albrecht…”

The kings advisor, Jevok Velser spoke.

“Aye, we’ve long known Albrecht to envy his cousin’s title. It is most probable that-“

“Then so be it” interrupted the count “Brymburk stands against the Taepe.  The day has come my friends. This is our day. The day! I shall not hoist the white flag and kneel before vile snake, nor offer my sword to him, nor even share a table with the fiend, and eat food, and drink wine. My world is one where Albrecht does not EXIST! My world is one where he never shall nor did nor does exist. Een’ heretics and whores make a fool of Albrecht. Een’ the unborn and ascended have more flesh than that scrawny spirit of sin and treason! Bastard son of a Beldym! He shall be crushed!”

The room lay silent once more. Much of the room had fled into the bowels of the building to escape the wrath of the count, only leaving Jevok, the deafened burghers and the young guard in the large room.

“Jevok” the count croaked “levy me an army worthy of Brymburk. Let every man with a pair of hands and feet be equipped with a sword. Make every banner unfurled and every flag soar in the wind. Do not let any men leave. This city shall not fall, not while I have head enough to speak. This will end, trust me, forthwith!”

The count now fully sat up from his chair, revealing his broad set of shoulders, thick arms and thin sheath of ginger hair. He made for the balcony that overlooked the city square with a prideful stride. As he emerged into the sunlight he immediately began to sing out a refrain in a deep bass.

***“The land of woods and doe,***

***Where no-one sings of woe,***

***But all for thee,***

***I try and be,***

***A warrior born and bred!”***

The voice boomed and scattered into the lanes of the city.

***“The land of forests so wide!***

***Where men and women abide!***

***The laws of ye,***

***The truth we see,***

***A Werran born and bred!”***

Poséfald stopped singing and began to speak in an equally resounding tone. “My people! A threat approaches from the west! A pretender, the bastard of house Taepe, Albrecht! He has taken Samospeze- the fools surrendered to only words! We, my friends, are far hardier than them of the north. We shall fight. And we shall win. Drop your ploughs and prepare! This shall be our day, our life! For Joraje!”

**Chapter 3**

The spring of 614 had passed into summer, and summer into Autumn. The leaves had transformed to a deep red, and the land became a dull green, the ground hardening in anticipatoon for the bleak winter months. The city of Brymburk had long been preparing for a siege, Count Poséfald Hônas of Brymburk had been readying the city for its impending doom. He had called on his vassals to levy an army, from Prynov to Brezénik. Wagons of food, supplies, earth and gunpowder flooded the city as Poséfald prepared for a victorious defence of the city. Meanwhile, he had called upon Robard Muntz of Tanderland to head west and reinforce the city. No response came. Poséfald reinforced the cities walls with earth, and had built barricades across the city. Martial law had been declared, and no man nor women was permitted to leave the city, on pain of death. Albrecht's attention in the Kredewe had dwindled after succesful victories West of the Orat. Now he aimed to remove the last thorn of the old world that opposed him- Brymburk. The Rathaus hall was dimly lit by candles that danced with the cold stale breeze that haunted the city. Outside the clashing of swords and voices could be faintly heard, muffled by the thick stone walls of the building.

"My Lord, the messenger has arrived" Jevok announced

"Permit him entrance."

The messenger entered holding a large brown pouch filled to the brim with scrolls and parchments.

"Count Poséfald of Brymburk, Sir! A message has-"

"Read it" the lord muttered.

"Aye sir. Baron Hareld of Bartek brings a force of 103 men, my Lord- he also tells of enemy soldiers in the village of Przaweld."

"Then our guests have arrived" replied the count "and we, having furnished our hall, shall welcome them with open arms. Jevok, tell the gatesmen to bolster the gates and position garrisons around the outer walls."

"My Lord, as your advisor, we do not know the number of our enemy. They could outnumber us! My Lord... as your advisor and friend, I suggest we take more caution, we do not know how many soldiers come to siege us, nor their equipment. I sense Albrecht has been planning something- why else would he wait so long!"

Poséfald hunched over in his chair, and covered his head with his thick hands and sighed. "My dear Jevok, you are a dear friend, but I am now doubting your role as my advisor. You do not rule this city! This realm! So let the man entrusted with this city treat it as his forefathers would; with undying respect and *loyalty*"

"My Lord I was not suggesting we surrender! I merely-"

"I do not care, Jevok. This is what shall happen. Count Werry's blessings I have not sent you to the walls myself!"

"Aye, Sir... I am grateful."

"Then I bid you friend, act grateful."

Suddenly the old doors of the Rathaus were opened with force by Jan.

"The enemy approaches! Their leader demands to see you, my Lord!"

"Then see me he shall."

Poséfald, accompanied by the young Jan headed towards the north gate, where the guardsmen of Brymburk were cowering behind the battlements.

"My Count, they came out of nowhere, they 'ave!"

The count ignored the guard, and swiftly ascended the stone staircase that was lined with soldiers. Upon reaching the top of the wall, he stood looking over the west gate, shielded only by a thin wooden board.

"ALBRECHT YOU SNAKE! SHOW YOURSELF!"

Albrecht, alone, sat atop his horse before the gate, blued armor absorbing the sunlight.

“I am here, Lord Poséfald.” He says, holding a blank banner aloft.

"And so you are." Poséfald responded.

“I wish merely to speak”

"You always do..."

“I do not wish for bloodshed. I do not wish to spill the blood of the people of this city. So I implore you, please open the city’s gates, and surrender.”

“Lies”

“Please, my lord. I do not wish to put this city under siege. Your people will die. You will die. So please, I bid you surrender. You will have safe conduct.”

“My Lord? Since when have you payed respects to anything but your own tongue? You have no mouth but that which to lie with! You have no teeth but to betray your lineage with a poison only a Beldym could make! You are a plague that only Werry could conjure, yet you lack even his touch! Your very soul lies in the pit of Mäazl! You are lies, and you cannot help it!"

Albrecht sighed. “Very well. You have made your choice.” Albrecht then directs his voice to the guards on the wall, and beyond them into the city. “Remember, I offered you all mercy, but your lord rejected it. Remember this when you begin to starve!” He turned back to Poséfald, but didn’t speak to him. “I will give you one day to allow those who wish to live to leave. They shall be granted safe conduct. That is all.” He throws down his white banner and rides back the way he came. Poséfald descended the stairs, staring straight past the guards as he moved, all of whom watched him, terrified, yet filled with anguish.

"Mi' Lord! Is it true? He offerd' ye' peace?" Poséfald remained cold in expression and passed the gatesman towards the Rathaus, knowing what he must do.

**Chapter 4**

The bitter cold bit Jan’s hands, and his face was pale and skull-like. The bleak stillness of winter had now descended upon Brymburk. Jan hobbled up the stone steps of the Rathaus, wrapped in a thick woollen coat. As he entered the Rathaus through its old wooden doors, the mild warmth of the room sent shivers across his body. Count Poséfald sat, laid back in his chair, surrounded by captains and nobles, none of whom noticed Jan’s intrusion.

“Captain Sânad, how do the tithe barns hold this winter?” Said the count.

“They don’t, my Lord. All but one are empty, this years entire harvest is entirely gone. I’m afraid it shan’t last another few weeks…”

“And what of the North gate, Jóleswaan?”

“The enemy is close to breaching it.”

“How close.”

The captain looked into the eyes of Poséfald with an unspoken hatred and disgust.

“Close.”

“Then we shall reinforce it, yes! Heynrik, I trust you can allocate troops there, hmm?”

“None but women, children or the elderly, sir.”

“Then they shall fight for their count, and die if they must.”

Poséfald’s words echoed around the room, the nobility too afraid or sullen to respond to the count. Jevok visibly squirmed in his chair that was cast in the shadows of a pillar.

“Any protests to these orders, men? Then get to it, forthwith!” The men hesitated, unwilling to go back into the city. Jan headed forward to greet the count who was now buzzing around the map of Brymburk that lay before him.

“My Lord.” Said Jan.

“Ah! Jan, my good man.” Poséfald paused for a moment and inclined one ear to the hollow ceiling of the hall. “You hear that?”

The air rang with faint booms and shots. “It comes closer, day by day. These soldiers. These men are our only defence. Are you ready, son?”

Jan paused, as the murmurs of the burghers faded out of the hall.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Very good, soldier. I have matters to attend to elsewhere- but I promise to you and all the loyal young volunteers at the walls- We will win.”

With that the count sped out of the hall and through an ornate doorway into the depths of the building. The room was now empty but for Jevok, still sitting uncomfortably in his chair, skinny and hawk-like, with his protruding jaw and hunting eyes that zipped from sound to sound. The other guardsmen stood frozen in stature, and the last of the nobles filtered from the hall. Suddenly Jevok hastily ascended from his meek chair, and followed Poséfald through the doorway, leaving his scroll-book in haste.

“My Lord, your-“

Jan, after waiting for Poséfald’s return, traced Jevok through the halls of the Rathaus, which were deep and only dimly lit by the cold winter light that flooded through the slit windows of the building. As he turned to follow Jevok down yet another hallway, he saw Poséfald, gutted and bloody, spilled over the Rathaus floor.

“My Lord! Who did this!”

The Count payed no attention to the guard as he stared aimlessly into the dying light of a torch on the opposite wall.

“It is- not time yet. Promise- promise me you will keep the city safe- I cannot trus- trust others. I-“

“My Lord who!” “Jevok-“

“I shall avenge you my lord- I shall!” The young guard left the count bleeding profusely, and followed the echo of Jevok’s steps high up in the Rathaus tower as he ascended to the roof. As Jan emerged at the roof, thoroughly out of breath and overwhelmed with tears and fury, he was standing before Jevok, holding a white flag in one hand, and a bloodied quill in the other. Jevok himself was hunched, and only vaguely could keep both legs planted to the roof, staggering in the strong wind and bending his neck that was bruised and swollen.

“Jevok you traitor! You have killed your Count! You cannot run!” Jan said as his mouth was filled with cold wind and his hair swept across his eyes.

“He was going to kill us! He would never surrender till he was dead! I loved him, Jan. He was my friend! My light! People change, friend!”

“You have, Jevok. You have.”

“This war, Jan. It’s changed us all. The people, they starve. The soldiers, they perish. You hear that? We will all die! I did what I had to.”

“Then you know what I must do.”

“Yes.”

With that, Jevok flung himself over the edge of the tower, flailing and thrashing in the wind, dropping to his death. Jan looked over the city, blazen in dust and smoke. The last few men of the city surrendered their arms to the Albrechtian army, and were relieved without punishment. The siege of Brymburk signified the last of House Hônas’s resistance, and the removal of the last thorn in Albrecht’s Eastern Joran campaign.