Harbridge's Assault on Emeralton

## The Prelude

Adina Greencastle sat on the balcony of the west tower, she peered down to the parapet of the internal walls to see her brother, King Orsen, rushing back and forth ensuring arrow barrels were stocked, oil was being prepared, rocks and slings were at the ready. Emeralton's defenses would be tested in the coming weeks.

As the sun began to set over the west wall, Adina looked down at the scroll in her hands, a letter of thanks from her friend and ally, Lady Proven Edith Edmundus, promising she would arrive to protect Emeralton should they call for aid. a sigh escaped her, knowing well that Dagafall was 4 weeks' ride away, and that  they would arrive to find a burnt husk of a castle, if one at all. They were truly on their own in this fight.

The Imperial nation of Harbridge was awash with activity. Builders frantically worked on stripping lumber to construct palisades and a fort on the extremities side of the Kelfarr, the easternmost settlement. The war drums rumbled relentlessly as each of the 14 tribes began pouring onto the grass plains and claimed a location for their tents, a gigantic sheltered fighting pit erected in the centre of the camp.

As the tribe bosses entered the war tent, Alexis Stonebreech stood at the end of the table, her eyes scouring the crude battle maps drawn out by the tribe strategists. As the last of the bosses arrived, they all stood in the dim flame-lit tent, the roaring of drums filled the tent.

Alexis took the battleplans and threw them to the wall of the tent.

"What are you doing?" called one of the bosses

"We have a new strategist for this fight, someone who has experiencing fighting against this enemy"

"Who?"

The tent flaps opened, and Grandmaster Paladin Zorto, of the Sacred Flame stepped in, his gilded armour glinting in the flame-light. The war bosses all spoke out at once in opposition of an outsider leading their forces, the bickering turned to yelling, Grandmaster's two guards stepping in front of him as the room threatened to break out into fighting.

"Enough!" screamed Alexis. The room immediately fell silent.

"The Grandmaster is here from the Order of the Sacred Flame, with their armoured support, and their healers, we stand a better chance of dealing damage to Emeralton. We will follow the plan they have devised, and together, as a united front, we will conquer the traitors."

Mumbling and murmuring filled the tent.

"Anyone who has issue with my choice can invoke a blood challenge. Otherwise, we will begin discussing the new strategy with the Grandmaster"

Drums again filled the silence of the tent, as the sneers and scouls were shot around the room. Grandmaster pushed his guards aside with clinking armour and approached the table with his scroll case. Out of it, he pulled two region maps, schematics of Emeralton castle, scout reports, and portraits of key individuals. This attack would be their chance to devastate their enemy...

As long as it went to plan.

## The Initial Attack

The warhorn sounded over an empty battlefield. The Sun belted down from the cloudless sky from the town's structures as the Royalist forces surveyed the damage. They had marched in excess of 45,000 soldiers north, leaving just 25,000 to defend the south. The maneuver was a success, the Imperial force crumbling under the sheer weight of the Royalist army. Soldiers combed the wreckage, turning over bodies and looking for survivors.

“What were they trying to do?” called Captain Hodge an officer of Emeraltons field-guard, the soldiers who patrol the fields outside Emeralton’s city-state.

“I’m still trying to work that out, Captain” shouted back Sir Liandaar as he sifted through an imperial scout’s satchel, looking through old missives and correspondence.

“They knew full well that an attack like that could never hope to hold the town, they barely brought enough with them to properly raze the town. What could they have hoped to achieve?”

A soldier gingerly walked past them, arm in a sling, helmet in his hands.

“You there! What can you tell me of the attack?”

The soldier stopped, grimacing as he turned and began the story.

“The attack started with no warning. We were playing onrush with the rest of the guards when the watchtower sounded, for nought but a few seconds. After that, we saw Imperial surcoats within the town square.

They attacked with blistering speed, lighting thatching, killing unprepared guards and taking hold of the granaries. We sent off someone to alert the main army that was stationed south, whilst we set about limiting the damage they were doing. They poisoned one of our wells, burned the barracks to the ground and killed ¾ of the town guard in less than 15 minutes. Luckily we secured most of the resources they tried to leave with, and killed every attacker who stayed to fight.”

“They poisoned the well?” inquired the Captain, eyebrow cocked.

All three men wandered across the town to a well, surrounded by slain soldiers. The sound of flies working feverishly in the heat creating a cacophony of flapping wings. They peered into the well to see multiple floating bodies, including a tightly bound lump bobbing in the water.

“They brought sickly corpses, flung them into the well just as the fight began.”

“Fucking Imperials!” Yelled Sir Liandaar, throwing his arms in the air and storming off.

“So, how many soldiers do we need to hold this town, Liandaar?” said the Captain, trying to hold back his dry-reaching as he left the well to follow the knight.

“Conservatively, five, maybe six thousand? With a larger army within a few hours march. Why?”

“Because if I were to attack this town, I'd first send a force to test its defenses, see how delayed the response is.”

“What?”

“If they weren’t trying to take the town then they were testing it’s defens-” The captain trailed off, his eye widened as he snapped his head around to look around at the knight.

“Liandaar! How large is your garrison in Southshore?!”

“Around 10,000. Ample soldiers to handle an-

“March the men you don’t need here, down there, right now!” screamed the captain.

“If I'm right, your men in Southshore will be attacked by an army far greater than the meagre force that hit this town. We’ve been tricked!”

## Southshore

*The township of Southshore sits on the southern border of Emeralton and Imperial territory. The town makes it's money primarily from oyster trade in the trine riverbanks and mining of minerals from open pit mines around the northern edge of the town. The Imperial plan was to lay waste to and then capture the town to use it as a base of operations for a further assault on Emeralton's capitol. The attack comprised of ~70,000 soldiers, with a Royalist defense force of ~8,000 strong. Below is a retelling of the attack by a Royalist corporal.*

The garrison were putting the final touches on the southern palisades when the trumpets sounded. We thought a few scouts had been spotted - as that had been the case a week or so prior, so a few of the men stood and walked toward the trumpets whilst the rest of us kept hoisting logs up and into the holes for the wall. Suddenly, a massive boom shook the soil as we all stopped and turned to see a billowing plume of black smoke rise up from the other side of town, followed by more trumpets and the sound of clashing steel. Everyone dropped their tools and rushed to find their weapons. I immediately grabbed my helmet, shield and sword, strapping it on as my eyes fixed on the black smoke filling the sky.

I followed the rest of the soldiers rushing through the main streets, and then diverted into a narrow passage between two buildings in an effort to approach from a different angle. As soon as I emerged from the passage, I was shot at by two arrows that bounced off the buildings behind me. Raising my shield, I immediately caught a glimpse of Imperial soldiers sprinting past me, with two Imperial archers standing down the road. I lowered the shield and turned back down the passage as another arrow sailed past my head. If the Imperials were already in the city, we were going to need to gather everyone into a defensive position and try to force them out. I caught up to the bulk of the Southshore garrison, the noise of people screaming, shields being struck and the roaring of a nearby house fire froze me in place for a moment as I stared, looking at a soldier writhing in pain on the ground, blood pouring from his face as he reached out to me for help.

I snapped back to the fight as an Imperial soldier lunged at me, I slapped his sword away and drove mine deep into his neck, feeling the sword grating against the collar bone as I wrenched it out of him and followed up with a swift kick to his chest. I turned and ran up a stairway to the second floor of a building, entering through the open door to a balcony facing the town gates. There, i paused for a moment to take stock of at the situation. We were hopelessly outnumbered. I could see the main walls being rocked back and forth in five or six different locations, the front gate was ablaze, the residential area was a rolling sea of red and purple, the few places in which we controlled were a thin line of soldiers, guarding empty space, and as my eyes followed the avalanche of Imperial soldiers, I looked out into a field filled with infantry simply waiting their turn. We had to leave. Now.

I rushed back down the stairs and nearly toppled over. As I turned to re-join the line, I noticed Sir Parci, the captain of the guard - a Camdorian Paladin who relocated down to Emeralton for respite a few years ago and loved the relaxed lifestyle. He was calling for the Royalists to hold their positions, and give no inch. I rushed to him.

"Sir! I've had a look at what is coming for us, We simply don't have the forces!"

"I'm aware of that, Corporal, but our orders are clear, we will hold this position until the help arrives any minute now!". I could barely hear him over the clattering of shields and armour.

"I don't think the help is going to arrive in time, Sir, the enemy are at least 100,000!"

He stopped, mid-order.

"One hundred *thousand*!? Are you sure?" I nodded furiously as the Guard Captain's face drained of colour.

"Royalists! Fall back! Fall back to the western gatehouse!" He screamed. No sooner had the words left his mouth, every royalist soldiers turned and abandoned their position. Some fled so quickly they dropped their shields.

I stumbled on a body that was lying next to me, regained my feet, only then to be shoved by a soldier trying to get away, tripping on someone's heel, and careening head first into the front step of a house. The last thing I remember was the sound of my helmet slapping the hard stone of the stoop.

## Aftermath of Southshore

I awoke to the sound of burning buildings and trumpets in the distance. I reached up and felt my helmet, I had split it open at the join, along with my head. As my vision came back in to focus, I looked around to see the streets littered with bodies, and Imperial soldiers looting the buildings. I immediately grabbed my sword and stood, quickly falling to the ground due to a lack of balance.

I stumbled and sprinted down the street, until I fell on the ground just a few hundred meters short of the west gate. I looked up to see Ironclaw, Camdorian, and Emeralton soldiers holding off ten times their number of Imperial attackers. I rushed toward the fight, the sound of combat filling my ears as my vision blurred and refocused repeatedly. I stabbed three Imperials in the back - as I approached the Royalist line, holding my weapons above my head. An Ironclaw fighter saw me stumble as I ran toward him, he caught me and pushed me behind him as he took an arrow to the chest. I lay there on the floor, shuffling feet and steel plate armour kicked and pushed me around as I forced myself to a crawl. Someone's hand grabbed my shoulder as I felt intense heat on my skin. My vision cleared instantly, I felt my strength return as I stood to my feet. The healer nodded to me as they pushed back through the chaos toward another injured fighter.

I turned and helped force the Imperials back for the next ten minutes, whilst the rest of the sick and Infirmed fled the town.

I lost Southshore that day, my home, and my friends. But others lost so much more than that. I survived, somehow, and I knew but one thing. I'll make those Imperials bleed for what they did to my town!

## Attack on the Imperial Reserve camp

*Surgeon's assistant report 1049AT - Field medic Arnald Spizer, Order of the Sacred Flame*

The attack started as the sun was setting. The guards at the eastern palisade called out, raising the alarm of the approaching army. Mass confusion erupted, as the soldiers tried to arm themselves. I was trying to get to the medical tents to prepare the surgery, stopping multiple times to assist soldiers with strapping armour and equipping shields. Many young knights, inexperienced faces who were yet to see conflict. We were the reserve army - we were only supposed to receive the call for duty if the main army ran into trouble. It seems trouble had found us, instead...

"Ready the spike traps, prepare the shield walls, spread the flanks!" screamed Sir Falotol, the camp sergeant at arms.

Soldiers rushed in all directions, as the rhythmic clanking of heavily armoured Royalist formations grew louder. My ears filled with the sound of marching plate armour as I unrolled the surgery tools, and tied the chief field surgeon's apron. We stood, reluctantly waiting for the first wounded. The rhythmic marching stopped, followed by a trumpet, and an indistinguishable warcry. The sound of troops clashing rent the air as the two forces smashed their formations together. Bodies churned, magic ripped through the lines on both sides, as the Royalist began forcing their way into the camp.

The first soldier to be rushed to our tent was a young woman in full plate armour. She bore the sacred flame on her purple/white tabard, and clutched her sword to her chest. As the soldiers dropped her on the gurney and we wheeled her in, I noticed a huge hole in her stomach, rapidly filling with blood as she screamed and wailed for Tarvala to save her. I went to remove the sword from her hands so the surgeon could access the wound, she locked her eyes on mine and composed herself in a moment.

"I'll die with this sword, you won't take it from me"

"That's fine, my child, but you must lower it so we may help you survive this!"

She immediately lowered her hands and I pushed the sword out of the way. The surgeon and I quickly closed the wound, and the healer came over and healed the internal damage. The soldier then gingerly rose from the gurney and looked at me.

"Thank you, for respecting my wishes and for your aid, may Tarvala smile on you"

I smiled at her as she left the tent, walked past the next 2 injured souls coming for our aid. The fighting was relentless, as the battle seemed to get louder, and louder. We had a constant stream of injured soldiers, who were beginning to bank up as the healers became exhausted one by one, and we were reduced to mundane practice only. At one point, I ran out of thread, and had to make a trip to the supply tent. As soon as I exited the tent flap, reality hit me. The camp was totally ablaze, raging flames licked the pitch black of the night sky. Imperials lay dead everywhere as Royalist soldiers pressed into the camp and sought to control the site. A soldier rushed toward me, only to notice my medical armband, and slow to a walk.

"Begone doctor!" he said gruffly, genuinely disappointed in not being able to run me through.

"I'll be out of your way, I just need supplies for these wounded. I am no threat to you." I replied, pushing past him and entering the supply tent.

The Imperial forces retreated from the camp - leaving it to the Royalist occupiers. The Emeralton healers entered our surgery tent and healed up all the soldiers we were unable to heal and captured them, allowing us to go free. The standard agreement in Markoth for wartime.

We walked west, along the makeshift path through the tall grass fields. Looking backward to a smoking ruin of a camp.

Word reached the main force the day after the attack. As the army prepared their assault on the village outside Emeralton, the scout arrived with a report.

"For Tarvala's sake!" Screamed one of the captains. "There goes our siege weaponry AND our reinforcements!".

"It's fine, our plans don't change. We press on to Emeralton, strike them hard, then return to Southshore and solidify our position." came the calm voice of Guard-general Torrin Volkhammer - the new head of the Imperial forces in Emeralton. The Imperials would deliver their strike.

## Assault on Emeralton's Outer Wall

*Battle Report - Strategist Carlisle Stollit, Order of the Sacred Flame, 1049AT - First Harvest*

The ill-fated attack on Emeralton's outer townships can be summed up in a sentence. A completely needless waste of life! The admiration for Guard-general Torrin Volkhammer's dedication to the cause, coupled with his reckless disregard for our strategic advisory made for the perfect storm of ignorance and arrogance. We held a meeting on the eve prior to the attack, after receiving the scout report of the total annihilation of our reserve forces. During this meeting, it was discussed that the Royalist forces would be both outnumbered, and unprepared for our forces to sweep in and cut off their means of return, driving them north and into the village we razed prior, and then removing both Royalist armies from the map. These ideas were dismissed by Volkhammer with little consideration.

As we prepared the attack, the front line soldiers worked with the little resources they had. We prepared the supply carts and marched from Southshore.

We arrived outside the village in the afternoon, we wasted very little time in pressing the attack. I heard one of the Silvelion officers take the front line, and give orders to hold the first of a few noted strategic locations. As we held, the royalist forces washed over us, breaking, and falling against our formation. We were unyielding, and solidified our position immediately. Then it happened.

With one of our flanks broken, the Royalists began to seperate the formation, our skirmishers desperately tried to alleviate the pressure on the main force by dragging the fight into the open fields surrounding our location. Whilst we pressed forward, the Royalist line held their ground for hours. We called in reinforcement wave after reinforcement wave, doubling down our position and trying to force ourselves against what seemed like an impenetrable wall. Eventually, the call was made to pull back and launch a second attack.

We went for the gatehouse as the next strategic control point. We met with severe opposition as we attempted to brute force our way inside the Emeralton fortifications. The Royalist healers were frantically chanting, keeping their front line fighters fresh - I noticed this, and dispatched a few of the mage hunters fighting under the crows banner. In order to get them in, one of the Silvelion Command knights volunteered herself. The hunters targeted the healers by throwing their balled-up powders, used to silence casters with a cloud of choking gas. They managed to land the barrage as the Knight raced in from behind enemy lines and slaughtered the casters, opening the gatehouse for Imperial forces.

Despite this minor victory, the call for retreat was given by Captain Alfer, with Volkhammer captured in the melee. We grabbed the wounded, and escaped with as much as we could. The defense put up by the Royalist forces matched by the fierce war cries from their gates as we ran for the hills.

Overall, this poorly executed attack was an exercise in futility. Our soldiers did incredibly well with the little we had, but without siege support, reinforcements of fresh soldiers, and ways to replenish the lines in a real capacity - this attack was near impossible to pull off.

It is my recommendation that if Guard-General Volkhammer returns safely to the Empire, he will be put on trial and sanctioned for his choices in Emeralton.