The storming of the Southeastern Gate was not so much a storm but more of a breaking in. Most of the soldiers stood by the gates – only a hundred men were assigned to scout ahead of the rest. Fighting men of House Melvich marched behind one of the armored gun tractors; burn marks from the previous struggle with a beast of legend scorched and stripped the red and blue ceremonial paint used on one side of the hull. The slow and heavy flopping of tracks hitting Luminberg's cobblestone roads did not help relieve the uneasiness brought by the city that was turned silent. The Lord Heir, Rinvar De Melvich, was no longer watching over the command. He asked for a squad from the family's army to join him in his search for "another way into Luminberg".
Luminberg's magical shielding — one that was powerful enough to stop a full artillery barrage — was far from dispersed, but became passable when the mysterious deactivation of the city's Southeast Tower opened a breach in the Wizards' Wall. Aerial observers reported what their telescopes could make out through the prismatic and opaque dome that sat atop the city: episodes of what seemed to be fighting inside the city caused one of the tower mechanisms to fail. The very few instances seen did not escalate into larger skirmishes; those unknown entities offered what was the best the city got.
There were reports of an immaterial luminous wall that covered the base of the defective fortification. A miracle, or a sight of terror? It was impossible to ascertain what it was by the time the soldiers moved into the city's interior. There was hope that the white layer would become the protection the Empire needed. The guarantee of safe passage. If the soldiers could reach it, then Luminberg could break free of the Wizards' Wall faster.
An Imperial trooper manning the armored fighting vehicle's main gun saw nothing but darkened streets; moonlight passing through the Wizards' Wall's multi-colored ceiling revealed the bodies of Luminbergers lying still. Some of the soldiers moved from one hiding spot to the next, their guns aimed forward in case an enemy lurking beyond attacked in an ambush.
"Cannot reach. We can't... oove. Some-" the field officer in charge of the unit lay still with the radio carrier; there was static, followed by emptiness.
Their advance started to falter. Troops took longer to move from one place to another, often complaining of an unexpected burst of fatigue that weakened, then deadened, their legs. The armored vehicle meant to lead the charge went off the road. The driver was unable to follow the straight path and went off-course leftward with no sign of braking. The machine halted when it crashed into a nearby house and plowed through the opposite wall until the debris formed an incline that the tracks could not scale. The sputter and puff of the engine blended with the city's silence in moments. The last of House Melvich's troops tried to stand up and help, but their strength abandoned them shortly. All the hundred fighting men joined the citizenry as they lay on the ground. Field officers outside the gates, who had observed the failed scouting force, decided not to send any more soldiers into the city.
· · ─ ·?· ─ · ·
Hope was coming from outside the city. The gunfire that raged beyond Luminberg stopped, now that one of the gates to the city lay open for the Empire to settle matters. The canoness, though still a field of light, heard the faint rumbling of an engine drawing near.
She may have been too hopeful: both the machine and the feet that marched behind it were dissolved by the silence. Such was their predicament that even the rescuers easily fell to the sinister influence of the tainted Wizards' Wall. Euphemia had to endure; only she, Kirk, and Rook were capable of holding on amidst the dire situation.
Euphemia watched Kirk struggle with the armored man; each strike from the enemy's hammer crushed the ground beneath the latter's feet. Kirk swung the staff-turned-sword in response. It was not as easy as how her warrior companion dealt with the inhuman creature not long before. The single strike he used to reduce the man-bull to ash was not enough to make this other enemy relent.
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This opponent's stance and stature reminded her of the reason she was here. But then, Euphemia had not met many men the size of the one she was looking for. The armored fighter lacked grace; she felt only a frightening, destructive force delivered with every swing and hammering of his massive weapon. Lord Cecil carried a brutal finesse when wielding large or heavy weapons. This darkly clad warrior had strength and an unwavering determination to destroy.
Kirk, though hesitating, was doing his best. His sword singed the black sheen on some parts of the towering man's gauntlets; his vambraces and pauldrons showed lines left by the dark fire of Kirk's mystic weapon. Regardless, Euphemia's companion was holding back. An opening to disable, to maim, but not to take a life.
Another strike of the war hammer connected with Kirk's chest. She saw him grunt before the impact flung him to the tower's base. A rapid follow-up from his enemy would deny him the time to recover from the blow. While her magical field prevented him from being hurt or harmed, it could not give the tired warrior fortitude or resolve to fight on.
"No more. I cannot allow this."
The white field she wrapped around the building faded; her spheres whizzed in front of Kirk, who was panting and with one knee on the ground. The armored warrior screamed; both hands gripped the war hammer, preparing for a decisive strike.
The large, heavy maul descended fast and hard.
An explosive impact on a curved, scintillating force field, followed by Euphemia undoing her form of light. Two of her armlet's spheres took the blow. She rose before hearing the man utter something almost intelligible:
"You... meeeaaaa... yyy..."
The raging combatant took a step back upon seeing her face; his hammer braced for a follow-up smash.
That voice.
No.
It couldn't be him.
Euphemia's face contorted in tears upon hearing his utterances. Four violent shakes of his head, and he screamed louder; the weapon now urged to crush the cleric.
Something screeched past and struck the attacker on the helm. The explosion caused him to take three steps back; his weapon dropped to the ground as he swiped the resulting smog away. The warrior's faceplate chipped and fell into pieces on the ground.
An angled but sinewy face. The man wore a full peppery beard, cut to a length that did not tangle with his helmet. A web of veins on his cheeks all the way to his forehead. His eyes that used to give the canoness a doting gaze now narrowed to empty rage and uncoordinated strength.
He was revealed as the missing Cecil von Schild, a visage trapped in a pained trance. Another scream of torment, followed by his hands ripping off the rest of his shattered headpiece, revealing a crude-looking metal circlet adorned with gems of a deep red glow. The warrior struggled, confused between holding his throbbing temples and dismantling the hateful device forced on him.
Euphemia wanted to rush to his aid. He was found at last. Her legs could not comply; all she did was stand still, unable to make even a step farther. The last that she saw was a hovering disk-like object above her father's head. A light shot down and covered Cecil's body.
"Don't take him away!"
A maddened shout, overwhelmed by grief and tears. Her hand stretched out to the pillar that engulfed the towering man's form and reduced him to brilliant dots. Euphemia stumbled on her knees, far beyond exhausted from the struggle with the orchestrators of this disaster.
Kirk rushed to break her fall, and Rook appeared from behind. The gun-armed man with his cohorts withdrew from the encounter. The same bright orange beam that consumed the armored fighter went after the rest of the perpetrators, multiplying and pulling them away from the battle once and for all.
Why are you with the enemy?
Don't go.
Come back.
Father.
