The Siege

Outside Northwind Keep. A rising clamor filled the open plains from all directions. "For the Cinder Nest!" "Take Northwind Keep!" A dense swarm of wyverns covered the sky like roiling storm clouds, while a packed throng of kobolds and goblins swept across the earth like a murky tide. The skies and lands outside Northwind Keep were completely overrun by dragon-blooded thralls. To the people watching from within the walls, it looked as though the end of the world had arrived. "Gods above..." Standing on the ramparts, a city guard murmured as he stared up at the sky. Wyvern knights from the Cinder Nest swept low over the city, scattering surrender leaflets that fluttered down like snowflakes. The leaflets were covered with promises of generous treatment should they yield, alongside copies of the pact their liege Duke Brad Lakeman had pledged, and even magical projections showing the blood thralls inside Northwind Keep. At the very bottom lay a final, cutting question— *Are you truly willing to remain loyal unto death for a vampire?* Bards from the College of Lore who had never shown their faces before suddenly emerged throughout the city. Each of them knew how to use their innate talent to enthrall an audience. Once the applause died down, listeners often found themselves questioning everything they had once believed without a doubt—from their faith in the clergy at the local temple to their loyalty to their monarch. And the tales these bards recounted were all the dark, buried deeds of House Lakeman. Before the Lore bards could finish their tales, guards dragged them off or simply hacked them to death on the spot to make an example of them and intimidate the crowds. Yet the bards showed no fear whatsoever, shouting at the top of their lungs even as they faced death: "One death in exchange for thousands of contribution points—totally worth it!" "For the Cinder Nest!" At that very moment, a bard player whose name display read "Lonely as Snow" was being dragged by the guards. He threw back his head and bellowed, "With blade in hand, I face the heavens and laugh; staying or leaving, my valiant heart stands firm as the Kunlun peaks!" Though the onlookers could not grasp the full meaning of his words, they could clearly sense the impassioned defiance in his tone. He was hauled out into the street and summarily beheaded before the crowd. With a sharp swish, a head tumbled across the cobblestones, blood splattering in all directions. The cowardly cowered and trembled at the sight. Soon, whether deliberately steered by someone or merely spreading on its own, different whispers began to circulate through the city. A chilling suspicion quickly took root among the populace—perhaps those captured "traitors" really had been turned into blood thralls, made into sacrifices for Duke Brad Lakeman. When they recalled the earlier diabolical pact, everything fell terrifyingly into place. Yet no one dared voice such thoughts out loud. Doing so invited instant execution. They could only bury their suspicions and terror deep within their hearts, waiting for the right moment when all of it would inevitably erupt. Outside the grand council hall of Northwind Keep, panic-stricken citizens were assembled on Eagle Square. Perhaps learning from Count Dawson's death by artillery fire, the authorities had avoided placing the assembly anywhere near the outer walls. Count Brandon, the supreme military marshal of Northwind Keep and its nominal commander in chief, surveyed his surroundings. Gathered on the square below the high platform were finely dressed nobles, armored soldiers, ragged beggars, and patched-up peasants... All stood clustered together, their eyes filled with dread and unease. *The Duke made it clear: we must buy time at all costs.* *Once His Grace completes that magnificent ritual, every problem will solve itself.* *I must squeeze every last drop of usefulness from these people.* With that thought in mind, Brandon slowly began to speak. "Citizens, I understand your fear. "After all, the enemy you are about to face is the legendary 'Purgatory Scourge'—the evil dragon that once annihilated a coalition army of thirty thousand, quite possibly the most terrifying, powerful, and wicked monster to appear in Anzeta in over a century. Even if we combined all of our forces, we might not withstand a single blow from that beast." A commotion rippled through the crowd. Even though the army of the Cinder Nest had besieged Northwind Keep and wild rumors flew across the city, a significant portion of the populace still doubted the truth of those tales. Some had even assumed this so-called Purgatory Scourge was merely an excuse invented by the coalition's generals to shirk blame for their defeat. Now, however, the truth was laid bare. "Indeed, I have no intention of hiding it, nor could I even if I tried. That red dragon and his vile thralls have descended upon Northwind Keep and laid siege to our entire city. But must we surrender without a fight? Shall we offer up our wrists, become the thralls of monsters, and submit to the brutal tyranny of an evil dragon?" The crowd fell into heavy silence. Count Brandon cast his gaze across the square and singled out a middle-aged soldier below the platform. "Soldier. Yes, I mean you. "Tell me truthfully: do you have children?" Flustered at being addressed directly by the count, the soldier stammered nervously, "Y-yes. A daughter, my lord." Brandon nodded slightly. "A daughter. Splendid. "Yet from what I know, that red dragon is a creature of lust and wrath. He once assumed a monstrous humanoid form over four meters tall, ravaged a fair young maiden without restraint, and then cruelly swallowed her whole. This is a true account witnessed firsthand by righteous men lurking in the shadows." He paused deliberately, his eyes locked onto the soldier before he pressed on: "Think about it. When that evil dragon rules Northwind Keep, what will he do to your daughter? Can you stand by and watch her suffer unspeakable torment before dying a miserable death? Can you bear to open your front door and find your home in ruins, with nothing left of your daughter but severed limbs and bloody remains?" "No! Never!" As the horrific scene played out in his mind, the soldier's eyes flushed crimson, veins bulging across his neck. Count Brandon nodded in satisfaction, turning his gaze away from the soldier and toward a merchant. "And you, sir—do you have a wife?" "I do." It was the same routine, leading to the same conclusion. Guided by the count's deft rhetoric, each exchange ratcheted up the speech's inflammatory power. *It's almost reached a boiling point,* Brandon thought. Seeing that the crowd's emotions had been stoked to the right pitch, Brandon swept his gaze across everyone present and hoisted his longsword high into the air. "Everyone here, regardless of your station—whether you are a noble, a man-at-arms, a peasant, or a merchant. At this very moment, there is no exalted duke among us, only ordinary men! You and I are the same: fathers to our children, husbands to our wives, sons and daughters to our parents—people who merely wish to protect their kin! So let me ask you all: can you permit your dearest loved ones to be treated like beasts and cast into the clutches of that evil dragon?" "No!" "Never! Never!" A moment of stunned silence gave way to a roaring wave of defiance. Among the thirty thousand citizens of Northwind Keep, many were indeed swept up by the count's impassioned rally. Yet others sneered in disgust, simply carried along by the overwhelming momentum of the mob.