The Princess' Harem
Chapter 116: The Elysia’s Battle (1)

Chapter 116: The Elysia’s Battle (1)

Viana’s mind spun, calculating. Two thousand. It was not enough to match Arin, but it was a substantial force.

A desperately needed infusion of seasoned, if self-interested, fighters. "Terms, Joel?" she asked, her voice calm despite the frantic calculations in her head.

"A hefty upfront fee, Princess," Joel replied, catching his breath. "And a percentage of future prosperity. A stake in Elysia’s rebirth, if we survive."

He paused, a flicker of something new, a cautious optimism, in his eyes. "Daniel, their captain, believes in our chances. He believes in your chances, Princess."

A percentage of future prosperity. It was audacious, a gamble, but it showed they had faith, however, mercenary, that Elysia would have a future.

"Bring him in," Viana commanded, her decision swift. "Bring him and his men. And Joel, ensure they understand: they fight under Elysian command. No rogue actions. Their loyalty, for the duration of this siege, is to Elysia alone."

Joel nodded, relief flooding his features. "As you command, Princess."

He turned and raced out again, this time with a spring in his step.

Reyes, ever the pragmatist, spoke up. "Mercenaries are unreliable, Princess. Their loyalties are fickle."

"And our five thousand are exhausted and outnumbered," Viana countered, her gaze unwavering. "We are beyond the luxury of idealism, Reyes. We need every blade. Every shield. We need Daniel’s two thousand. Integrate them immediately. They will be deployed to the weakest sections of the outer wall, where their fresh strength can make the most difference."

Reyes nodded, his expression grim. "Understood, Princess. I will see to it personally."

The next few hours were a blur of frantic activity. Daniel, a man of few words but sharp understanding, quickly grasped the dire situation and the urgency of their task.

His mercenaries, a hardened collection of various races and dispositions, were surprisingly disciplined. They moved with efficiency, quickly integrating with Elysia’s own overwhelmed city guard and remaining soldiers.

Weapons were distributed, positions assigned. The new faces, though foreign, brought a much-needed surge of fresh energy and a glimmer of hope to the beleaguered defenders.

Arden, juggling his ledgers, worked with a furious pace to allocate funds for the mercenaries’ initial payment and provisions. His brow was constantly furrowed, muttering about strained treasuries, but the urgency of the moment outweighed his usual meticulousness.

Marion, oblivious to the financial woes, continued to oversee the production of distribution of her alchemical agents for combat, instruction soldiers on their proper use.

Fire Flower pots were strategically placed along the ramparts, ready to unleash their fiery fury. Vials of paralyzing agent were given to specialized teams, designated for critical points.

The King and Queen, informed of the mercenary arrival, welcomed Daniel personally. Their support, too, was unwavering.

The King offered Daniel a portion of the royal treasury for the initial payment, demonstrating Elysia’s desperate commitment. The Queen ensures the mercenaries, despite their rough appearance, received their due in terms of food and immediate care, understanding that morale was a potent weapon.

As the sun began its slow descent, painting the western sky in hues of orange and purple, the capital’s transformation was complete. The city gates were barred, massive timbers reinforcing them from within.

Streets were cleared, barricades erected, and the high walls bristled with archers, spearmen, and the newly deployed mercenaries. Fires were lit in braziers along the ramparts, casting dancing shadows and ready to signal the enemy’s final approach.

The air grew heavy, thick with the scent of fear, dust, and impending battle. The distant rumble that had begun hours ago now grew into a continuous, earth-shaking thrum.

It was the sound of an army of twenty thousand, marching relentlessly towards its prey.

Viana stood on the main battlements overlooking the Northern Pass, flanked by Reyes and Joel. Her breath hitched slightly as the last rays of sunlight glinted off a vast, metallic tide cresting the distant hills.

Arin’s army.

It was even larger, more terrifying than the scouts had described. A dark living sea of men and war machines, spreading across the plains like a plague.

Their banners, black and crimson, snapped in the wind, a stark symbol of their brutal intent.

She could hear the deep, rhythmic beat of war drums now, a primal throb that resonated in her chest. The cries of thousands of men, a low, menacing growl, reached the walls. They were almost here.

Joel, standing beside her, gripped the hilt of his sword. His face was pale, but his eyes held a steel resolve.

"Princess," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the rising clamor, "they are here."

Reyes, ever stoic, drew his own blade with a sharp, clear shing. The sound was both chilling and strangely comforting.

"Ready the archers!" he roared, his voice cutting through the growing din. "Prepare the fire posts! No arrows wasted. No hesitation!"

Along the wall, Elysia’s defenders, a paltry seven thousand strong now, responded with a collective roar of defiance. Fear was present, yes, but so was a deep, burning anger.

They had endured the blight. They would not fall to this.

The vanguard of Arin’s army hit the outer defenses like a tidal wave. The first volley of massive siege boulders arced through the twilight sky, slamming into the earth before the walls, sending up geysers of dust and rock. Catapults creaked and groaned, launching their deadly payloads.

Viana felt the impact of the first stone against the wall, a jarring tremor that ran through her boots, up her legs, and into her very bones. This was real. This was the war.

She experienced it once, but this time she stood in the front line. She watched as their archers, a thin line against the overwhelming numbers, released their arrows, a deadly rain falling onto the advancing horde.

Marion’s fire pots ignited, sending roaring gouts of flame into the enemy ranks, accompanied by the acrid smell of burning flesh and melting metal.

The battle had truly begun. The capital of Elysia, weakened but defiant, stood ready to face the full might of Arin’s invading force.