Belon Castle

Belon Castle, Ferencz Viscounty. A fortification of walls varying in height, watchtowers, and reinforced gates stood atop a mountain ridge, overlooking a rushing river. On the outer perimeter, a moat and drawbridge barred the approach, heavily guarded by the viscount's soldiers, while a massive portcullis defended the entrance to the lord's estate. For a thousand years, the nobles of the Northlands had waged incessant wars over land, grain, livestock, and populations. These frequent conflicts had driven them to construct ever more and ever larger castles to protect their domains. Belon Castle was one such stronghold, passed down through generations of the House of Lotte. Its current lord was Viscount Horace Lotte. "What?" "You're saying... even the City of Vici has fallen? And in less than two days?" "Are you certain this report is accurate?" "Count Okot is dead, killed inside his own manor." Listening to the knight's report, Viscount Horace was left dumbfounded, sinking into a long, stunned silence. As a fellow noble lord under the Principality of Otto, he knew full well how formidable and towering Vici's walls were. Compared to Vici, Belon Castle was nothing at all—little more than a pile of rocks. If even a stronghold that sturdy had fallen in an instant before the armies of the Kingdom of Cinders, how long could a fortress like his possibly last? After a lengthy silence, Viscount Horace finally said, "We mustn't breathe a word of this..." "Best if... we aren't noticed by those monsters." "Yes, my lord." Faced with a foe reputed to be invincible, Viscount Horace could only bury his head in the sand like an ostrich, praying he wouldn't draw their eye. After all, there were countless castles like this scattered across the Northlands. Even the Kingdom of Cinders wouldn't have the energy to sweep through every last one. *Word has it that a wizard skilled in teleportation has recently appeared in the Northlands, willing to lend a helping hand to nobles. Perhaps I can use his power to escape Anzeta...* Viscount Horace mused. Little did he know that within the Kingdom of Cinders was a horde of Starfallen who knew neither fatigue nor fear of death. Even less did he know that his supposed "escape route" was a trap-ridden dead end that had already been thoroughly shut down. *Roaaar—!* Suddenly, a roar echoed from the sky. Viscount Horace hurried to the castle window and looked up, only to gawk in shock as several wyverns swept through the high heavens, circling above the castle. And upon the backs of those beasts, humanoid figures were visible. "It's the Redscale Conquerors." Sir Mitra's face turned grim, his tone heavy with dread. Feeling the terrifying might carried in that roar, Viscount Horace asked with a tremble in his voice, "Wh-what on earth are those?" Sir Mitra dropped to one knee and recited in a low voice, "When the dragon's roar echoes from afar, the Redscale Conquerors shall descend from the skies astride massive and savage creatures of dragon bloodline..." He paused for a beat before continuing. "...bringing endless flames and absolute death unto their foes." These words had circulated through the Northlands for years, supposedly originating from an adventurer who had miraculously escaped the Kingdom of Cinders. Sir Mitra's expression darkened even further. "My Lord Viscount, those are the most terrifying scouts of the Kingdom of Cinders. And we... I fear we have already been marked." "By the gods..." Viscount Horace stared at the tiny black specks in the sky, muttering helplessly under his breath. *** "Woohoo, lift off!" At that very moment, the Redscale Conquerors—dubbed by Sir Mitra as the "most terrifying scouts" and "knights bringing death"—were cheering wildly in the sky, without a shred of the cataclysmic dread spoken of in legend. Even the wyverns were caught up in the rowdy mood, letting out ear-piercing shrieks until their annoyed player riders clamped their bloody maws shut. "Finally found a decent castle. We ought to make a killing here!" "Yeah, no kidding." "Damn right. That baron's crummy manor earlier had nothing but a warehouse full of grain. His purse was emptier than my pockets." "And we ended up throwing the granaries open to hand it out to the serfs anyway. Too much hassle to haul and sell." Mantou wore a look of sheer greed, wiping the drool from the corner of his mouth as he declared fiercely, "This time I'm looting the place clean to wash away my shame!" "I heard Lang-beast hit a count's manor and made off with loot worth a hundred thousand gold coins! Seeing him make bank hurts worse than not making any money myself!" Singo remarked impassively, "Don't set your hopes too high. He just struck dumb luck—caught the count right in the middle of transferring his wealth and swept the whole pot." "Word is that was originally Magic Coin's gig, but Langlibaitiao swooped in and hijacked it. Charlotte was so furious he wanted to challenge him to a duel." The corner of Mantou's mouth twitched. "Well, with Charlotte's rotten luck—the kind where he'd get hit by a car just going out to buy groceries—that sounds about right." "Still, that castle looks pretty solid. Can just a few of us really take it?" "We've got plenty of backup," Singo replied. *Raaawr—* With just a slight squeeze of Singo's legs, his wyvern let out a roar, banked in midair, and touched down. Mantou patted Noodles on the neck and landed right behind him on the ground behind the hill. "Holy crap, look at all these people." The area had already devolved into a noisy clamor, packed with over a hundred players. "When does the raid start?" "Damn it, why is Holy Light Bro here again?!" The players' outfits were completely out of place with their surroundings, running the gamut of eccentric styles. Some wore plate armor, others sported pink frilly skirts, and someone was even buck naked, letting radiant holy light ripple across his muscular physique. Beside them sat siege weapons dragged from who-knew-what era—from primitive catapults to magic cannons, thrown together in a bizarre, motley assortment. "Yo, you guys made it!" Tiansheng Zhankuang waved his axe, while his other hand rubbed his polished, patinated bald head. Xiaye Qiuyu beamed and waved, conjuring a dazzling burst of flame to signal them. Mantou dismounted smoothly from his wyvern and asked in a low whisper, "Damn, with this many people, it's too many wolves and not enough meat. How much cash are we even gonna walk away with?" Tiansheng Zhankuang said helplessly, "I didn't invite them. They had their eyes on this viscount's castle too." Singo chimed in, "That's just how things are across the Northern Kingdom right now. Players are sieging castles left and right. Fall half a step behind, and there'll be nothing left to loot." Xiaye Qiuyu nodded in agreement. "I heard the Wangquan folks have already taken thirteen cities. At this rate, the entire Northlands will be stripped bare within two months." Mantou sighed. "Ah well, guess we'll just have to settle for whatever scraps we can get." "Time to plunder, boys!" "Hand over all the gold!" "To stroke Lord Cassius's tail!" Wyvern after wyvern carrying riders launched into the sky once more. Wheeling their bizarre siege engines and shouting nonsensical battle cries, the players charged toward Belon Castle in the distance.