At dusk, Ben didn’t waste time getting his team to prepare to leave my fort with their books and provisions. While they are funny to be around, I don’t want to babysit shitheads when a war is going on.

  Strange though, McAtaire, my Scout Master, should be here by now from his routine patrol at the outer perimeter. The Dogs are on the move, and he is late to report in, perhaps they are trying to take it slow and not draw attention from the Dogs. That will likely be the case since they have a habit of setting ambushes and traps. It’ll be the wise thing for him to do, best to play safe with those hairy cocks.

  Benston approaches me with a satisfied grin. ‘Well, Commander, we'd better head off before things get messy here.’

  You can fucking say that twice, I bet shit will fall apart once the Dogs start hitting populated areas and slaughtering civilians. Hell, they will perhaps salt our farm lands if given the chance given how petty and stupid they are.

  I shake his hand with a false smile. ‘It is good to have you here.’ A white lie, while those fuck-knuckles can always piss off somewhere else without wasting my time and energy, but I did get free wine. So, it is a happy ending on my end.

  The fort’s gates open as I give them the signal. The mule huffs as it pushes the cart back to the capital.

  My eye blinks as a sharp glint stings my retina. What is that? Curious, I squint to examine where that glare is coming from. There is something out there… waiting. Something is off!

  ‘Get back inside!’ I shout at Ben and his crew, but it is too late.

  I jump to the side as bolts whistle past me. Everyone near the gate and the mule is eviscerated as miniature bolts tear through them like a knife through butter. Chunks of meat and blood splatter all over the ground with a thud. The old man doesn’t have a chance as a stray bolt tears Ben’s head clean off and nails it to the wall near me.

  By the fucking Gods! They are here. The brutes decided to take us on right here and now. Fine, I’ll hold this position as long as possible. My soldiers sound the alarm, archers head to the walls to trade arrows with the Dog’s new weapon. The mutilated corpse of the mule and the remains of the cart block the path to the gates. Closing them will be difficult, almost impossible, unless we direct the Dogs' attention away so we can move them out of the way.

  ‘Everyone in position! We will defend this fort for as long as possible.’ I point at Rhyn, the fort's chef, but a talented soldier. ‘Signal the cavalry to be here, we need to get the pressure off us.’

  He nods before running off, grabbing the signal bombs and launching them into the air with a slingshot. I bark some orders at the other soldiers. Making them support the ballista teams, fortify the inside of the fort while the gate remains open. Some brave souls rush to try to clear the debris, but they are shot down before they can do anything.

  ‘Get a ballista team here! We can funnel the Dogs through and fight them inside if we have to!’ I shout, guiding my men to follow my plan.

  I doubt we can move the cart out of the way. The best I can do is try to guide the Dogs' movements to a desired point to fight them.

  My heart skips a beat as I look over the fort’s wall. There have to be hundreds of them here, all of them in broken up formations of ten soldiers, slowly advancing while they fire their weapons to keep our heads down. This has to be the vanguard unit, a small unit going against a fort with 2,000 soldiers stationed here.

  Shit! Those fucking cunts! Most of my soldiers are either patrolling the area or defending cities and towns. That is over 5,000 soldiers and an additional 500 cavalry units that should've been capable of fighting them off. Yet the brunt of my force is here, looking down at the canine filth! I have no chance of winning against the main army if their scouts are feeling bloody confident to go against me and my fort.

  However, not all is lost. In the distance, the cavalry finally arrives, led by my Troops Sergeant as they charge in to join the fray. The soldiers cheer as reinforcements finally arrive, knowing that the Dogs in the past struggled against cavalry charges.

  The Dogs, however, notice them. In their small groups, they quickly oriented their formation to face their hooved foe. In a single volley, they strike down some riders, but they still manage to crash through the formation and kill any Dog in the way. At the first blow of a successful charge, my soldiers in the fort cheer them on while they launch bolt and arrow at the Dogs to give the riders some cover. They believe the battle is already won in our favour.

  But doing that forces them to be in the open, making the other Dogs finish the riders off. The Dogs have already prepared for this outcome. They know we will do something like this. As my Troops Sergeant gets stuck fighting one Dog formation or another, the hounds will fire their weapons at his men to pick them off one by one.

  Eventually, a bolt goes through my Troops Sergeant's side and tears his chest open. Killing him instantly. With a worried scream, his horse runs in a random direction while its rider leans over dead. The rest of the cavalry, their spirits broken, try to retreat into the hills. But they can’t outrun the fury of the Dogs' new weapon as bolts crash through their backs or knock their horses over. None of them manage to escape or survive the chaotic rout.

  The realisation hits me like a ton of stones. The charge only managed to kill at least ten of the enemy. Our strength, our greatest strategy against the Dogs, is now useless. By the Gods, we are more than unprepared.

  My soldiers watch in horror, their spirits shattered as they watch what should be an effective tactic fall apart so quickly. It is clear, by the fucking Gods it is so clear. Conventional warfare doesn’t apply anymore; our strategies cannot work against them, especially against their new weapon. A large formation against the Dogs is just useless; they already know and are well prepared to go against them. We need to fight like they do, in small and quick formations. We have to hit them hard, and we need to hit them fast if we want to win this blasted war.

  But I can’t do it here; we have already lost, even if my soldiers do or don’t know it. I need to warn the others and inform Regali about the Dogs and my suggestions on how to beat them. However, I will not go down quietly, I will make the fucking muts try to take my fort. Delay and hurt them where it matters.

  In the meantime, I need to get my men to focus. Failure will not be acceptable during this dark hour!

  ‘Soldiers! We will hold this position as long as possible.’ I shout, my voice booming into the fort. ‘We will not fall to the Dogs. Not when we still draw breath! If we fall, the east will become open to them,, and they will gladly enjoy themselves plundering our lands. Hold them back! That is my order!’

  Some soldiers acknowledge me, understanding that this will be our last stand. We will die here, but at least we will die holding the cunts at bay.

  I point at a young lad to come with me. She seems fit, perfect for what I need her to do. We both rush to my office, and I throw the documents and papers off my desk to clear it so I can write down what is happening here. The other Commanders and the General need to know how they fight, how to combat them and what is happening here.

  ‘There is an escape tunnel in the kitchen area leading to Saltback River. You need to take it and run to the nearest town and deliver this message and relay it to the other Commanders stationed all over the east as well to deliver it to the General.’

  Besides listening, she looks out of the window, scared shitless at the battle happening outside. How a person screams and cries when they are seriously hurt. The colour of blood as it mixes with mud and filth, and the smell of torn meat. This is her first battle, the first time she will hear the blood-curdling screams and shouting of her friends.

  I walk up to her and forcefully put the document into her hands. ‘Do you know what is expected of you?’

  She shakes her head, clearly terrified of what is happening. ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘I am giving you a chance to live and fight again, but I am also giving our comrades a fighting chance! We can’t fight the same way anymore, we have to change in order to survive.’ She stutters, unable to say anything as the bark and snarls of the Dogs get closer. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Deen-Mordon,’ she stutters, I already know that is only her surname.

  ‘Your full name.’ I calmly say to her, I need her to come together right now. Her breaking apart will spell the death of everyone in the east before they can plan a proper counterattack.

  She takes a breath before she responds to me. ‘Rachal Deen-Mordon.’

  ‘Rachal, I need you to be brave. Take the escape tunnels and run as fast as you can.’

  She nods, unable to speak as fear engulfs her mind, but hopefully understanding what is required of her and pushing through in the end. She needs to be able to do this; I can’t leave this to fate.

  ‘Good, now get out of here while you still can. That is your final order from me.’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ She says before rushing to the escape tunnels. She turns back a few times to look at me; maybe she is appreciative of being offered a second chance.

  By the Gods, that woman better survive this for us to win the war. If she dies, I’ll haunt that bitch for eternity.

  But enough of this, my men need their Commander. I storm outside to expect my soldiers. We are surrounded, and the Dogs are trying to force their way in here. I like to see them fucking try.

  Though they are not charging, no, they are just taking shots at us to see how we react. Clever, they want to figure out my defences, which means we are running out of time before the main force arrives for one massive assault.

  On cue, the Dogs blow their war horn, ordering their retreat. My soldiers seem tired and defeated. They know they will be back, and that they will die when they do. In the moment of calm, my men rush in to move the cart and dead mule out of the way to close the gate of the fort.

  I notice one of my Corporals looking over one of her troops who got shot in the shoulder. At a glance, their shoulder bone is most likely shattered. If there is someone who knows how my soldiers are doing, it will be her. ‘Corporal Arc, report.’

  She stands up to face me after she orders a soldier to look after the injured soldier. ‘From what I know, about 60 are dead and over 200 are injured.’

  Not as devastating, I can have a small force here defending the fort while the rest escape. ‘Arc, you are the new Troops Sergeant. I need you to start evacuating the fort through the escape tunnels. I’ll have three platoons stay behind and cover your retreat.’

  She looks devastated, shocked at the order I have given her. ‘Sir, you’ll only have 400 men to protect this place. Let me stay instead.’

  ‘No, my orders are clear.’ It is crystal fucking clear, in fact, this is my fort and I’ll bet my life I’ll die here. ‘Head to the river and station yourselves there to hold them back. Try to convince the bandits to fight with you or retreat when the Dogs arrive, I don’t care. We can’t beat them in a conventional war, so we only stick to skirmish and hit-n-run tactics. If you do not feel comfortable with leading, join up with the nearest Commander. Is this understood?’

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  She pauses, figuring out if she will defile my order and fight alongside me or do as I demanded. ‘Understood, sir.’ She stands at attention and salutes to me, ‘it is a pleasure to serve with you.’

  And it is a pleasure to serve with her. But I don’t want to get sentimental, not when we have a war going on.

  Arc gathers as many people as she can. Grabbing the injured and any supplies they can carry to the escape tunnels. They are all trained for the eventuality of the fort being lost. So the rush out of here is organised and perfectly executed. Just how I like it.

  My soldiers who are staying behind rush to the northern and southern parts of the wall, right above where the tunnels are. Setting up the alcohol barrels to explode if we deem holding the fort is lost to the Dogs, and to ensure the entire tunnel system cannot be reused ever again, while severely damaging the fort to prevent the Dogs from using it effectively. While it is tempting to utterly demolish this place to rubble, my fellow Commanders will be upset if I turn a useful fort into nothing more than a quarry. So, the only compromise I can have is making this place strategically useless to the Dogs.

  In the barracks and every building, my men begin the final procedures to burn every map and important document. Even if the maps are fake and only benefit us. It will still benefit the enemy in some way. Clever and stubborn fuckers will always find a way to turn outdated and inaccurate information to their benefit.

  As the last of Arc’s soldiers escape through the tunnels, the ground shakes as the tunnels collapse behind them. Sealing us behind to face our deaths. Many of them are young, maybe they have never known the touch of another person’s flesh. Oh well, in heaven, I am sure the Gods will reward them with bliss beyond their imagination after a glorious death.

  ‘Get in positions!’ I order my men, some already seem demoralised.

  They all know for certain that they will die, and I didn’t give them a choice but to stay with me. I stand next to my soldiers overlooking the open field, war hammer in hand. The sky darkens as the sun sets over the horizon. Hard to imagine we fought and prepared for a siege from dusk till dawn. I suppose time flies during acts of extreme violence.

  The Dogs are not subtle about their presence; the steps of a thousand beasts can be heard from here. They chant, howl, bark and snarl the closer they are to my fort. Fuck-heads even bring their own siege weapons. I should be flattered, as it shows they are too fucking stupid to attack the fort with what they already have. Still, the more they waste resources on me, the better.

  ‘Ballista teams! Prioritise their siege weapons. Archers, if the Dogs get too close, fall back and take up second defensive positions.’ I shout at my soldiers stationed on the walls before turning around to my soldiers at the yard. Looking up to me and awaiting their orders. No, they need more than that. They demand a reason to die today.

  ‘Soldiers! The hounds, our former slaves, are pounding at our walls. We are not prepared for this occasion. However, we were never given the luxury of foresight. But the Gods have given us an opportunity to prove ourselves today! We shall show the Dogs who truly own this island. We are given the title as defenders of the world, and we will live up to that title, for that is our birthright! The Dogs dare challenge our authority and will stop at nothing to butcher our friends and families in an attempt to make us buckle under the weight of responsibility. But today, and only today! Will we hold the line and wound their pride?’ Grabbing their attention and fueling their rage-fueled hearts, I slam my hammer down to chip the stone stairs. ‘Though we are outnumbered, we are not outskilled. Though we will die today, we will slaughter them by the dozens. When they break through, we will make them regret going against us. While every second they spend attacking us is a second our Empire has to prepare and win. We will die today, but we will die as legends!’

  My soldiers cheer, their spirits lifted with a newfound purpose. They will hold the line at all costs, and they will make those creatures pay for daring to break their bondage. This is our fucking island! Those cunts have no right to pry it from our hands.

  I point at the gate as I address the ballista team in the courtyard. ‘They will prioritise the gate, fire your ballista once it is open and keep them outside for as long as possible.’

  Thousands more Dogs emerge from the forest, firing their handheld ballistas at my archers to keep their heads down while their siege forces roll in. Bolts as long as a spear and half as thick as a tree trunk crash into the sides of my wall. Making the foundations shake with the impact. My ballista team will not take that kindly as they retaliate against the mut forces. Some miss, but others are fucking brilliant as they manage to strike down either the enemy equipment or wipe out the enemy operators. Turning them into pink mist and bloody gore.

  Slowly, a shield line approaches us, soaking up arrows from my archers. Behind them are the soldiers with handheld ballistas who will periodically fire back at my archers and ballista teams. But they struggle to hit anything as my archers put the pressure on them to keep their heads down. Clearly, they are unfamiliar with their new weapon, and they are trying different formations with it. The shield wall and handheld ballista teams behind them are a clever idea, but not effective against an elevated enemy.

  ‘Commander! Battering ram ahead!’ A soldier shouts as a group of twenty Dogs runs towards the gate carrying a large tree log. Fucking barbarians are eager to take what is mine.

  ‘Keep them away from my fort!’ As soon as I say that, two ballista teams on top of the gate refocus on the charging beasts. One fires but misses the Dogs by a whisker, the other is far luckier as the bolt slams against the breastplate of one of the Dogs. The bolt bounces off, but the creature is clearly dead as their entrails and blood pour out of their mouth. Yet that didn’t stop their advance as the Dogs ram their tree into my gate.

  ‘Keep the pressure on them! Kill the rammers if you can.’ I head down to the yard. I need to fight with my soldiers to prevent them from breaking formation when they get inside. ‘Be ready to hold the line! If I see any set foot here, I will haunt your family once this is over.’

  On the ground, five ballistas aim at the gate, one of them being a split ballista. Perfect for close range and ground control. Besides them is a shield wall, every soldier points their spears at the gate, which is being pounded by our foe. Behind us are what’s left of the archers standing on foundations to look over us.

  Bang!

  The soldiers flinch, all silent as they lower themselves to lessen their profile. The ballista teams ready to load the weapon and prime it as soon as possible.

  Bang!

  I tighten my grip on my hammer. I raise my free hand to signal my archers to notch their arrows and draw their bows.

  Bang!

  The wooden gate splinters open, the hinges snapping and falling off. The Dogs draw their swords and ready their shields as they flood into my fort. My archers launch their arrows as the first volley, only killing a few of the Dogs as the arrows only make their killing blow in the gaps of their armour. The ballista teams finish them off as the speared bolts spread them to pieces, while the blunt bolts may bounce off the armour, the impact will still kill them. Either making them spew their guts out or the trauma takes them out of commission.

  But the Dogs are excited, they know the opening. Their noses can smell a dirty cunt from miles away. This time, they can smell blood in my fort. Some break formation to rush to the fort, rows upon rows of Dogs run inside, only to be shot down by my archers or ballista teams or held back by my spearmen. However, the Dogs are getting closer, even climbing over their dead with a smile to get into the fight. They want blood, by the Gods, they are desperate for it.

  A soldier aims their ballista and pulls the trigger. ‘Fuck!’ He shouts as the split ballista’s string snaps without warning. Next to me, another ballista string breaks from being overused without having the time to rest. Fine, we will deal with the mutts the old fashioned way.

  ‘Shields! Advance! Give our boys more time!’ I coordinate my soldiers to be in front of the ballista teams while they repair their equipment.

  With nothing to really hold them back, the Dogs lock themselves in a brutal melee with my spearmen. The archers slow them down, make them cautious as spears hold them off or finish the monstrous creatures. A foolish Dog with orange fur crashes through my shield line to get to me, but with a swift movement of my hammer, I crack its lower jaw clean off. The Dog drops their sword and shield as it falls to its knees, screaming in agony, but before it can be a problem, I drive my dagger through its eye socket. Killing the fucker instantaneously.

  Although that doesn’t deter them from pushing in. My soldiers on the walls fall back to the second line of defence, seeing how we are nearly overwhelmed. Some soldiers broke from formation to set off the charges.

  If we fall, I'd better kill as many of those shits as possible! Make them bleed so they won’t perform this sort of operation on any of my comrades. Oh, they will have their fun, but they will pay for it!

  As the shield line breaks apart and my soldiers drop their spears just to equip their sidearm, be it a hammer or their trusted sword. Fighting tooth and nail, fighting for their lives and the Empire. The defences are breaking apart; there is no time or point for the ballista teams to fix their gear. This is the end.

  I join the mosh pit, striking at the Dogs with all my might, aiming at their heads and throats. While they are stronger than I and their armour is impervious, it slows them down. They are sluggish, undisciplined pieces of gutter trash. It is easy to make quick work of untrained killers. Though they are not my main price, no, not even close.

  Their leader, half of his body covered in grey fur, a half blind mutt wearing a crown of chains and their armour and shield fussed with magic crystal. The Black Death, their Dog King. If I can take a blow against the Dogs, it will mean I have to kill him right here and now.

  I fight my way through the Dogs, my face and body covered in slave blood. My uniform of blue now changed to be crimson red, a fitting colour for a battle like this. The blind cunt notices me advancing charges. I dodge a swing of his cleaver; unfortunately, the blow of my hammer is blocked by its hulking shield. It is skilled, fuck, they are very skilled. In the end, the Gods blessed me with speed. We trade blows, trying our damned hardest to kill one another, yet none of us can break the stalemate. I almost manage to stab him in the neck a few times, but they whack my arm away with their shield.

  Boom!

  As the southern walls collapse and shakes the earth, I lose my footing. Just enough so the brute smashes its shield into my face. As my body crashes against the ground, my head pounding as if my brain wants to burst out of my skull. Blood from my nose gushes out like a waterfall, and my vision blurs while my eyes water.

  The world around me used to be loud and chaotic. Now, it is a haze. A ringing that is present yet silent. The leader kicks my stomach to force me onto my back before slamming his foot on my rib cage. I cough and wheeze, trying to gasp for air as they slowly crush me under their weight.

  ‘Dog cunt!’ I blurt out with pride. If I am going to die, I will at least die with a smile.

  The Dog huffs before they raise their foot above my chest and crash it back down. Making my world go dark.