Medieval Warfare - Blog Posts

Chapter 8 is here mwahaha 😈

The siege has been going longer than expected as May tries to come up with something to save her men from the impending doom of being locked behind the courtyard walls for too long, still not sure of where the attack came from.

P L E A S E give me feedback and critiques 😌 only partially edited as well so keep that in mind lol

tw: mentions of death, war, bodily harm, blood, food shortages

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Ch. 8

They started calling it “the Bitches Siege.” It enraged May’s men in a way that made her proud, no matter how twisted the circumstances.

The makeshift barricade lasted longer than anticipated, especially after the local masons and carpenters took to work reinforcing it on their own volition. Food and certain other supplies were growing scarce, though that was to be expected from a siege. It wasn’t going to end in a matter of days; they’d be lucky if it were over in a matter of weeks, if not months.

May was a studied Duchess, understanding more than others the ramification of what this attack could mean. It’d been months since Giardin’s men were at her gates; they had settled their three-generation long debacle after May had all but killed him in hand-to-hand. She knew him as a coward, but never expected him to yield. The truce was signed within the day. And, considering the lengths at which they were at odds, she had never seen him possess such tactics.

But what would he know about Oryn?

There were no secrets among her men. At least, none that May couldn’t control. Oryn was a secret that was spread wide throughout the manor and surrounding encampment, the stories of a man who can become a beast saving the day.

Little did they know that the entire attempt at this siege was one made on Oryn’s life.

It was obvious who they were searching for; they distracted as many of May’s men as they could with the hopes that Oryn would be tucked away into the saferoom that they must have known about long before May herself had discovered it.

How was it all related to the summons she received from the King? The call to war?

She had yet to call a meeting to discuss anything more than battle tactics with her men. The looks of desperation and curiosity grew in numbers with each passing day, more and more of them needing answers to feel satiated. But May didn’t have any.

Someone is leagues and leagues ahead of me, calculating every step I take and making sure I fall into place like the pawn they want me to be. Whether it’s one of my own men, someone from the church, some imposter hiding amongst the chaos—

“You’re brooding,” Demetrius’s heavy hands clapped together as he stood at attention next to may, staring ahead.

“Planning,” May interjected, sighing as she changed her own stance to match his. They stood atop the barricade as the sun set, the small flames of invader campfires glowing softly in the distance.

“We need to ask for further assistance,” he mumbled, his brows setting deeper. “Look at them all out there. A few thousand, at least.”

“We can hold,” she said, her own confidence wavering in her voice, “I’m not concerned about the barricade. You know it comes down to supplies, which we’re steadily running out of.” She sighed. “Any word yet?”

He shook his head, not daring to make eye contact. “I doubt there will be,” he scoffed.

May’s jaw tightened. “I’m not going to disagree with you, Demetrius, but what proof do we have?”

“Who else knew?”

She took a moment to respond, wishing she could ignore the obvious signs. “You know what that would mean, Demetrius! That’s treason. I can’t risk that yet.”

“Then when?” He finally looked right at her, the anger flaring in his eyes. “When our men are starving? When we’ve eaten all the mounts and burned the last of our fuel?”

She glared at him the way one does when you’ve disrespected your superiors. “I’ve sent my ravens. Until we get a response, the only thing we can do is wait.”

Demetrius shook his head, turning to face straight ahead again. “You know,” he started, “I don’t know much about politics; never cared to. But playing their games can only end one way. Your father knew that.”

May’s jaw tensed as the taste of acid coated her tongue. “My father…” she fought against the lump forming in her throat. “I’m standing firm, General. Tend to your men. I doubt a raid tonight, but be prepared nonetheless.”

She felt his eyes on her back as she descended.

“It has to be about him,” he called after her.

“I know.”

-

There was no brooding after this kill, just a constant worry nagging in the back of Oryn’s head about Alec; the young boy reminded them so much of… some warm and tingly feeling. May’s men quickly turned the dining hall of her manor into a makeshift infirmary; there weren’t enough structures that would properly hold out all the elements within the barricades wall. This was the safest they could get, dying amongst one another.

May’s boots made a crisp sound as they clicked across the stone, walking amongst the rows of beds. It couldn’t be more than maybe a hundred of them—if that—but every single one of them was a devastating blow when your entire retinue only consisted of maybe 600 men total.

There was no doubt that she continued to inspire them just by being in their presence, allowing them to gaze upon the person they thought was wiser and more deserving than themselves. In the recent weeks, however, she could tell that the light behind their eyes was slowly fading. They didn’t see an end coming soon to the carnage, no matter how slowly it was reaped.

She looked from one patient to the next, smiling and shaking hands and bowing as was expected of her. It took longer than she would have liked, but she finally approached Alec’s bed, where Oryn was perched by his feet hunched over a massive tome.

His injuries weren’t as severe as May had assumed. The burns were the worst of it, taking the longest to heal and the only reason he was still being kept in bed.

“How are you holding up?” May smiled, meeting his gaze. He couldn’t help but smile back at her, his eyes still full of hope.

“You could’ve let me up days ago,” he said, nudging Oryn with his foot under the blanket. “But at least now you’re letting me be useful.”

Oryn nodded, shuffling where they sat and waving their hand at whatever it was Alec said, too absorbed by the book in their lap to have heard anything.

“He’d do really well with proper tutors,” Alec said, all but beaming with pride. “I never thought Clergy History was too fun, but we have to cover that first before we start with the real stuff. Look at this,” he said, immediately changing the subject as he slowly peeled back one of the bandages wrapped around his arm.

May peered into the healing wound, still leaking a bit here and there with the skin having faded from a vicious red into a more tender pink. “You seem more anxious than excited to get out of bed,” she said, eyeing him with suspicion. “I don’t want you fighting yet. Besides,” she gestured towards Oryn who had all but stuck their face right up against the aging parchment, “it’s too important to teach him about the world. I can’t risk you,” she tousled his hair, not realizing the care in the gesture until her hand was back at her side.

He laughed before pouting as he fixed his hair. He really was just a boy.

“Alright,” May sighed, “I’m sorry to have to pull you away from your studies,” she waved a hand in between Oryn’s face and the pages of their book, finally pulling them away from whatever they were reading, “But you and I have some planning to discuss.”