The Princess' Harem
Chapter 117: The Elysia’s Battle (2)

Chapter 117: The Elysia’s Battle (2)

The first day of the siege was a symphony of chaos and grim endurance. Arin’s army, vast and relentless, launched wave after wave of assaults against the capital’s walls.

Siege towers groaned as they were pushed forward, their ramparts bristling with heavily armored soldiers. Ladders slammed against the stone, immediately swarming with men eager to breach the defenses.

Elysia’s defenders, though outnumbered nearly four to one, fought with a desperate, primal courage. The mercenaries, led by Daniel, proved their worth in the thickest fighting.

They were brutal, efficient, their movements honed by countless skirmishes. They reinforced the thinnest sections of the wall, their fresh strength a vital bulwark against the enemy’s relentless pressure.

Daniel himself was a roaring, scarred whirlwind in the melee, his two-handed axe carving a bloody path through Arin’s ranks.

Joel moved like a whirlwind across the battlements, his voice hoarse from shouting orders, rallying exhausted archers, directing exhausted spearmen to new breaches. His face was streaked with sweat and grime, but his eyes burned with an unyielding determination.

Reyes, a blur of polished steel, seemed to be in three places at once. His blade flashed in the afternoon sun, parrying blows, driving back attackers, his presence a grim comfort to the soldiers fighting beside him.

He moved with a cold, almost detached efficiency, his focus solely on the next threat, the next enemy.

Marion, her face smudged with soot and sweat, worked tirelessly from her makeshift alchemical station near the inner wall. Her fire pots, when launched, erupted into searing infernos, incinerating swaths of Arin’s forces.

Her paralyzing agents, precious and few, were deployed with devastating effect at choke points, causing enemy commanders to collapse, their bodies momentarily useless, as Elysian defenders swept through the stunned ranks. Yet, every vial thrown, every pot ignited, depleted their dwindling stores.

The King, despite his age, refused to remain idle. He walked the inner perimeter of the walls, his presence a powerful morale boost.

He spoke to wounded soldiers, offering words of encouragement, occasionally even taking a bow to loose a few arrows himself, his aim still true.

His robes were discarded for simpler, more practical clothing, and his hands, usually accustomed to signing decrees, now gripped the hilt of a sword he had not drawn in decades.

The Queen transformed the grand reception halls into a vast, organized infirmary. She moved among the wounded, her elegant hands now stained with blood and antiseptic. She comforted the terrified, helped stem bleeding, and supervised the palace healers and volunteers.

Her gentle voice, usually used for royal pronouncements, now soothed the cries of the injured and the frightened whispers of children. Her face, though pale with exhaustion, showed no sign of wavering.

As the sun began its descent, casting long, menacing shadows across the besieged city, the intensity of Arin’s assault did not wane. If anything, it grew fiercer.

They were relentless, throwing everything they had at Elysia’s defenses. One massive siege tower finally managed to latch onto the western curtain wall, and its heavy plank slammed down, allowing dozens of Arin’s armored soldiers to spill onto the battlements.

A brutal, desperate hand-to-hand fight erupted, the clang of steel echoing like a death knell.

"They’re on the wall! Sector Seven has been breached!" a panicked cry rose above the din of battle.

Viana, watching from a central command post, felt a sickening lurch in her stomach. The lines were too thin.

Their exhausted soldiers, even with the mercenaries, were simply being overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of the enemy. She saw the despair beginning to set in on the faces of some of the defenders, their movements growing sluggish.

"Reyes! Joel! Reinforce Sector Seven immediately!" Viana roared, her voice strained. "Marion, any remaining paralyzing agents! Target that breach!"

Joel and Reyes, seeing the desperate situation, rallied their own personal guards and charged towards the breach, cutting through the throng of defenders. They fought with a grim determination, pushing back against the enemy, but the enemy still poured in.

Night fell, but it brought no respite. Arin’s army continued its assault, illuminating the battlements with burning arrows and the fiery glow of Marion’s dwindling fire pots. The clatter of ladders, the thud of siege engines, and the screams of dying men formed a gruesome, ceaseless symphony.

Arden, his face haggard, brought Viana a grim report. "Princess, our stores are depleting at an alarming rate. Food, water, medical supplies... and the gold for Daniel’s men. We cannot sustain this for more than another few days at this intensity."

His voice was flat, devoid of hope. "Even if we hold, the cost will be unbearable. We will starve them out before Arin breaks the walls, but it will be a hollow victory."

Viana looked at the map, the lines of Arin’s encampment like a dark, suffocating shroud around her capital. They were encircled. No aid was coming.

Rayne was days away, if he even dared return to a lost kingdom. The nobles had abandoned them. Kaley was still an unknown distance away.

Elysia was alone.

Another colossal boulder slammed into the gate, the impact echoing through the stone foundations. Dust rained from the ceiling of the strategy room. The very earth seemed to groan under the sustained assault.

Viana walked to the nearest window, looking out at the hellish landscape. Fires burned in the distance, refugee villages Arin had torched.

Closer, shadows danced along the walls as exhausted defenders fought on. The air was thick with smoke and the metallic tang of blood.

***

The second day dawned, bringing with it renewed, relentless attacks. Arin had not rested. His forces were fresh, endless.

Elysia’s defenders, however, were not. Their movements were slower, their eyes sunken. Casualties mounted, and the makeshift infirmaries overflowed. The morale, once bolstered by defiance, began to crack under the unyielding pressure.

The battle raged. Elysia was being pushed back, inch by agonizing inch. The roar of Arin’s army seemed to grow louder, more triumphant, as if they knew the end was near.

Viana watched, her jaw clenched, her heart a heavy stone in her chest. They were fighting, but they were losing. The odds were simply too great.

This was the dark hour. The hour before oblivion.

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