Redemption In The Shadows

Reynard's home was in silence save for the loud promise of impending doom. Between the gates opening into the high, jagged keeps yawns. Long shadows stretch out ahead of the luminous torches flickering along battlements: ready by forces of Reynard.

Up at the front of the army stood Damien. He watched, steel-gray eyes fixed on the fortress. Around him unshakable preparations: blades sharpened, armor adjusted, quiet prayers whispered to gods they wished had ears for people like them.

"Fortress, Damien: it's a fortress. You've got a plan; right? Or do we just crash through the front door and take our chances?" Amara slipped in beside him, her daggers glinting faintly in the firelight.

Would you believe me if I told you it was both?" he said with a faint smirk.

Amara raised a brow and tilted her lips into a wry grin. "That sounds like the kind of plan which gets people killed."

"Not if we are smart about it," Damien said. He turned to General Aldric, who stood beside him, grim but resolute in expression.

"Are the siege engines ready?" Damien asked.

"They'll be in position by first light," Aldric replied. "We have got two trebuchets and a battering ram, but it won't be enough for a prolonged siege."

"It won't come to that," Damien said. "We are not here to starve them out. We are going to draw them out."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Amara asked.

"Reynard's pride," Damien said simply. "He wouldn't keep behind his walls and wait. He would want to crush us, to prove his strength. We just need to give him a reason to come to us."

---

Early in the morning, the first of the siege operations commenced. Under cover of heavy shields, Damien's armies had moved into position and set up the battering ram while his archers stood by to provide covering fire.

Immediately the defenders were with their arrows and stones raining down on the besiegers from the walls. Steel met steel and the trebuckets roared as Damien's men pushed forward, their resolve unshaken.

Damien stood in the middle of the field, sword drawn, shouting commands. "Hold the line! Protect the ram!"

"Stubborn," she said while fighting besides him, her movements a blur as she darted between enemies, their daggers finding their marks with deadly precision.

"Desperate," echoed Damien, voice steady. "Reynard knows this is his last chance."

Bang! The battalion charged forth at the gates where troops started bashing the heavy, iron-tipped log against the gated, reinforced wood.

--

In this citadel, derived as the back opened within one of the high towers, sunlight was brought forth to view the silvered hair of Reynard whose gaze was fixed into the battle flames raging outside. Calm was his face, but his shrewd eyes indicated that every act he executed was calculated and weighed.

"Your Grace," said the commander, bowing, "The enemy has been pressing very hard. Their ram will breach the gates in less than an hour," he added.

"Let them," was the cool response of Reynard. "Their hope is their undoing."

The commander hesitated. "Should I then prepare the reserves?"

"Not yet," said Reynard. "We wait for them to commit and then crush them."

The man turned again toward the window, a faint smile curving his lips. "Damien Vryce. Always so bold and yet so predictable."

Morning wore on, and that battle was at its peak.The battering ram continued striking the gate with every blow, sending flying pieces of wood in all directions.

"Almost there!" Aldric shouted to raise the soldiers. "One last effort!" Damian forces surged forward under all their will. The gates protested, tensed but giving in to a final, furious crash.

Cheers rang out among the soldiers, but Damien's voice cut in. "Hold your ground! This isn't over."

His warning proved timely, for just as soon as those doors came down, Reynard's forces burgeoned forth from the stronghold, bursting and spilling out in disciplined formation.

"Here they come," hissed Amara, tightening her hold on her daggers.

Damien lifted his sword. "Archers, fire! Infantry, hold the line!" He roared across the battlefield.

The two armies collided and shattered as if shaking the earth itself. Rattle of swords against shields; cries of discontent in the air.

---

In the middle of this pandemonium, Damien fought with sword precision and purposeful drive. His sword came down to cut through one enemy's form like a blade through water. Beside Amara, she moved with deadly grace, a speed much too quick for human eye to follow, as much as there was with her daggers.

"Reynard is throwing all of hell against us," Amara said, panting.

"Good," Damien said, dodging an incoming strike and making a killing blow in quick succession. "The more he commits, the weaker he becomes."

That sight across enemy lines, Damien next spotted a figure in the distance—Reynard himself, coming up with a group of elite guards. Straight silver hair and an imposing personality ensured that he would not be overlooked.

"There he is," Damien said, sharply.

A grin grew on Amara's face as she followed his gaze. "You going after him?"

"Yes," Damien replied. "Keep the others focused on the battle."

Amara gave him a nod. "Just don't get yourself killed; it won't be fun finishing this without you."

---

Damien fought his way through the throng while keeping his gaze glued on Reynard. The rebel leader seemed to notice him approaching and twisted his narrow features into a grin.

"Vryce," said Reynard, drawing his sword. "I was beginning to wonder whether you had the guts to show yourself."

"You have run out of places to hide, Reynard," Damien remarked; his voice was as cold as death itself. "It ends here."

Reynard laughed, his silver hair glinting in the sunlight. "Bold words for a man who has lost everything. But let's see if you can back them up."

Two men met sword against sword with a real force that shook the entire battlefield. Sparks flew when Reynard fought in an acute, brutal, and calculated style of fight with strikes that were precise and unrelenting.

Yet Damien was hard as rock, and every movement he made drove his destiny forward, one which Reynard could not match.

"You spent your lifetime tearing apart this kingdom," said Damien, parrying a strike and slicing back with a quick slash. "And for what? Power? Glory?"

"For freedom," Reynard spoke, his voice fierce. "This kingdom is rotten to its core. Someone had to do something."

"And that someone is Elyas," Damien said, his tone sharp. "He is using you, Reynard. Just like he's used everyone else."

Reynard's expression faltered but only for a moment. "Lies," he spat while continuing his assault.

---

The duel went on, with the battle around them fading into the background noise. Damien tried to strike faster and faster, gradually more calculated, as he jammed Reynard back toward the gates.

Finally with a quick feint and a powerful thrust, he disarmed Reynard and sent his sword clattering down to the ground.

Reynard sat, breathing raggedly as he looked up at Damien. "Do it," he said, in a low voice. "End it."

Damien stood undecided with his sword held just above Reynard's chest.

"Not worth it," Damien finally said, stepping back. "It ends today with the rebellion. You will pay for your prisoner live though not in this manner."

Reynard's face twisted up with ire but did not budge.

---

The silence on the battlefield was deafening, and the remaining soldiers with Reynard dropped their arms at the commanders' surrender, showing defeat.

Damien stood at the gates with a lowered sword. His resoluteness, however, was not shaken. Amara approached him, though her daggers hung from her clothing, her face continued to bear the usual sharpness.

"You spared him," she said, her words bearing no sentiments.

"So he does for now," said Damien. "He will have to face justice now the right way."

"It's understandable that you try to make a better person of yourself," Amara said with a tight smile.

Damien's response stretched into her glee as he made direct eye contact with her. "Someone has to."

As the sun cast its final rays over the battlefield, Damien picked the first relief from the burden of the rebellion. The war isn't finished yet, but the tide has turned.

And he was Damien Vryce - ready to take whatever comes next.