Story: Stephen II of Wyrsia - Up to Speed

*Main Article: Stephen II of Wyrsia*

18th of Redfall, 1212 AW.

Stephen sat down at the table with General Curlow. Curlow was a busy man, especially now, but of course, he had the time to brief his own king. On the table was an almost comically large map of Wyrsia, with colored pieces of wood scattered around on top of it. Stephen noticed that the red pieces heavily outnumbered the blue ones.

"*When is the last time you were briefed on the situation, my liege?*" Curlow asked while adjusting one of the blue chips, moving it west slightly.

"*It must have been no more than three days ago. I've hardly slept, so I've lost track of time,*" Stephen said with a nervous chuckle. However, Curlow wasn't in the mood for a laugh. That much was clear.

"*My liege I-*" he began, before pausing, "*May I drop the formalities if it's just the two of us?*" he asked. Stephen nodded. "*Well, a lot has happened in three days, none of it good.*"

"*So what are our odds?*" the king asked, hoping for good news that wouldn't come.

"*Perhaps some of the other more optimistic generals will tell you that we can turn the war around. In reality, my liege, we are fucked,*" Curlow said, not attempting to downplay the state of the ongoing war.

"*What has happened in the last three days?*" Stephen asked, trying to wrap his head around the blue and red pieces, the lines, and the arrows.

"*Since three days ago...*" Curlow said, thinking aloud. "*The fighting in Stavia has all but come to an end. After the death of Trappike, Cyrus Grey took command of the leftovers stranded around the city, marching to Mathysia, his hometown. However, as of two days ago, we have lost all communications with Grey, so he is assumed to be dead or captured alongside what remained of the Army of Stavia.*"

Stephen pinched his nose in deep thought, but Curlow continued. "*All land routes into Whaler's Bay have been cut off, with a good portion of the navy trapped in the city. About half the ships tried to break out of the blockade and sail for Woodhall, but only a handful of them ever made it, and all of those ships were damaged to the point of barely being able to float. It can be safely assumed that any resistance in Whaler's Bay will be crushed in a matter of roughly a week. Further inland, Sunfort is used as a forward supply base, with enemy troops marching virtually unopposed towards Woodhall. At this rate, they'll be here in roughly ten days, and what little troops we have left stand no chance of holding the city.*"

General Curlow looked up, a concerned look on his face. "*I would suggest, my liege, to evacuate the royal family away from the Wyrsian mainland, as we have no hope of holding onto any part of it,*" he said. Stephen looked the man in the eye, an almost pleading look on his face. "*And then what? Where would we go?*" he asked. However, Curlow was always prepared.

"*There is one choice on the mainland which might suffice: the city of Redlyre, protected by its mages. They have also acquired a large army of civilian militias, and their port might keep them supplied in the event of a siege,*" Curlow said. However, Stephen wasn't a fan.

"*No, I will not have Frederick become the next Red Dove puppet king. You know what those mages did last time we relied on them,*" he said, shooting the option down. "*What about Woodhall Island?*" the king asked.

"*A fine choice, but impossible to get to, I'm afraid. Between the colony and us stands the entire enemy navy, and they've already blown ours into pieces of tinder. Any ship heading that way would be sunk. Our options are to the north or the east,*" Curlow said, leaning over the map. He pointed to a rock not far north of the Wyrsian coastline.

"*Serpent Island would make for a fine temporary choice. Oliver Oakfield, a fine enough general, protects the island, and his army is entirely intact. Furthermore, the island has excellent facilities for ships, as well as two modern forts to defend against any enemy naval activity,*" he continued. Stephen nodded in agreement.

"*From here, there are three choices. Speartip Island will make for a perfect safe haven. It is isolated and tactically worthless. The enemy won't attack it, yet supplying an army on the island is all but impossible due to its small population. Your family would be safe, but practically defenseless.*"

"*The second choice is the Wyrsian Wintersong Colony. It's a cold wasteland, and the population mostly consists of refugees, exiles, criminals, and the downtrodden. Furthermore, you are already well aware that Liam Ashfrey is not in a generous mood. The territory is large and has plenty of resources, yet I fear that the reception would be as cold as the land itself.*"

"*Finally, there is Redwall, all the way in the Eastland. A loyal ally who will undoubtedly harbor the royal family without a second thought. However, putting all our faith in Redwall might be disastrous in the long run, as they may leverage their way into making Wyrsia their puppet,*" Curlow said, finishing his list. Stephen briefly reflected before making his choice.

"*I won't choose. Frederick will when he's on Serpent Island,*" he said, a steeled look on his face. "*You're not leaving?*" Curlow asked, genuinely surprised. The general saw a fire in his king's eyes he hadn't seen in years. "*No, I won't. I'm not going to run away from my country as it gets trampled on by barbarians. If Woodhall falls, they'll have to kill me too!*" he practically shouted.

"*My liege, is that wise?*" Curlow asked. Stephen seemed to calm down a little, the reality of the situation kicking in. "*No, I suppose not,*" he said, slumping back into his chair.

But that wouldn't stop him.