"What do you want? I need to know exactly." Setia stood in front of Zaran.
"Power at your side." The smile vanished from his face.
"Willing to be my husband?" Setia asked.
"Preferably today," he replied without hesitation.
Setia removed the silver mask she had put on for today's occasion. She rarely appeared without it in public. She tied her hair into a ponytail and looked at Zaran again.
"Do you think the scar deters me?" The mercenary stared intently at her face, taking in the sight. "You're wrong. I got the scar myself; I've heard too often how beautiful I am, like a little girl. My scar speaks volumes about my strength of character, yours about your courage and fighting spirit. It's proof of your victory. To me, you're the most beautiful, but what fascinates me most is your personality. We are kindred spirits. Together, we will conquer everything." Zaran's breathing was ragged, his hand resting on Setia's cheek, and he leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.
Setia allowed the kiss, then pulled away and replaced her mask.
"My previous husband died. Aren't you afraid that bad luck is following me?"
"No."
"I'm pregnant."
Zaran shrugged.
"The marriage won't be for another year, until then we must hold Fenigrid and repel the Equerds. You have my word," she added, adjusting her gloves. "Rosnar must die."
"He will die, you have my word." Zaran extended his hand to Setia. She shook it.
"I punish traitors severely, remember Zaran." After these words, she turned and descended the hill.
"Yes, I know, I saw it." Zaran smiled to himself.
They advanced on Fenigrid, split into three units, forming a wedge that drove into the city. In the streets, they encountered barricades made hastily of furniture and planks. Soldiers and local people hid behind them. Setia's unit was linked with Rosnar's army. At the front were men hidden behind portable, mobile shields that made a creaking sound as they rolled over the trampled clay. Behind them came archers, and then regular infantry. There was no cavalry; the city's architecture prevented it. Setia held a sword in her right hand and a shield in her left, which protected herself from the irregular attacks of the city's defenders. "Throwers!" Rosnar shouted.
Ahead of the archers, hiding behind moving shields, the throwers emerged, armed with small clay vessels filled with oil. Each vessel was sealed with a cork and held a soaked fuse made of yarn. The fuses were ignited, and the vessels were thrown against the barricades. Only now did the battle begin. Groans could be heard from behind the burning barricade, and the defenders even climbed onto the roofs of the surrounding buildings to continue firing. Setia pressed forward, but she had no choice as more soldiers pressed against her.
"We'll be trampled in a moment!" she shouted to Rosnar. "Split up, get around the burning barrier!"
"We're splitting into smaller groups!" Rosnar shouted.
Setia and her men retreated slightly and moved down a narrow alleyway that initially ran left before turning right. They were being shot at from the rooftop.
"Take out those archers," Setia ordered. The arrow sailed past her, hitting the young soldier squarely in the shoulder.
Moros drew his bow and aimed at the archer hiding on the rooftop. The sound of the arrow being released and his body falling to the ground with a dull thud. The squad moved quickly, and soon they reached another smaller barricade guarding the entrance to the square, which was accessed by several streets. They were now on the other side, so to speak, and they could admire Rosnar trying to breach the burning barricade from the defenders. They only had to defeat a few Fenigrid soldiers to rejoin the squad.
"Forward!" "Shit!" Setia shouted, climbing onto the chaotic pile.
She quickly shielded herself; an older, mustachioed soldier in Fenigrid's colors was attacking her. He had the better position, but Setia took his powerful blow on the shield, letting his sword slide off it. Before the mustachioed man could regain his balance, she plunged her sword straight into his protruding stomach. Blood spurted, the soldier fell to his knees, and Setia continued climbing the barricade pile. A moment later, with a single leap, she reached the other side, landing on the back of the defender, who turned out to be a wide-eyed young boy trying to catch his breath after the blow he had received. Setia finished him off with a clean thrust under the ribs. Beside her, Moros, his mouth tight, fought with a solidly built Fenigrid soldier. She saw Moros retreat and knew that in a moment he would be cornered against the wall, and then he would die. She slung her shield over her back and, running toward them, threw a dagger from her boot straight at the Fenigridian's broad back. Before joining Moros, she pulled the dagger from the back of a wounded soldier, grabbed his head, and slit his throat.
"Don't get into a fight, or you'll die! Shoot your bow!" she shouted to the stunned Moros. At the sight of her, he nodded, grabbed his bow, and drew back the string.
Setia, sword in right hand and dagger in left, ran at the head of the group toward the remaining group of defenders. It was a massacre. Rosnar finally broke through the barricade, and an archer, his clothes and hair burning, ran ahead of Setia, screaming. Setia fought, attacking with her sword, then delivering the final blow with the dagger in her hand. Zaran's face flashed to her side. The square slowly emptied. The defenders fled in panic, seeing their defeat.
"Don't chase them!" Setia shouted. "Towards the castle!"
She didn't have to look back; their steps were following her. She heard their battle cries and the pounding of feet. The road led straight to the castle's main entrance. They encountered no resistance; their only defense line consisted of these barricades and a few soldiers. A dozen or so guards, holding halberds, stood in front of the castle's main entrance.
"Do you know who I am?!" Setia shouted.
Silence answered her, and one of the guards spat at her feet.
"Kill!" The order was quiet, but everyone rushed the guards. The halberds gave the defenders a certain advantage. The mercenaries attacking with swords had to make good use of their shields to get closer to the enemy. Setia didn't attack; she stood behind the attack line to observe the events. The mercenary army's superiority was overwhelming, so after a short battle, Setia calmly entered the castle.
The interior was made of light gray marble; their footsteps echoed. When they reached the main throne room, it was closed by a large door carved with a tree with birds soaring into the sky. "Open!" Setia stepped aside, making way for the soldiers who a moment later arrived with a small battering ram. It was a solid block of wood, bound with iron, with four handles on the side. Four Emfer soldiers raised the ram and began striking with it, retreating and then again, pushing with momentum against the door. The dull thuds repeated several times, then the sound of the door bursting open. The throne room opened before them. Setia shielded herself and, along with her men and mercenaries, entered. Several arrows flew at her. "Attack!" came the order, and the guards gathered in the throne room rushed at Setia and her soldiers. Setia blocked the first blow with her shield, then attacked with her sword. She half-turned and brought the edge of her shield down on the guard's face, crushing his nose and stunning him. She slung her shield over her back, took a swing, and plunged her sword straight into the heart of the fallen guard. She dodged, another attacker behind her. She turned, swinging her sword, but the guard jumped back. He was young and moving quickly. Setia continued her attack. Her sword met with quite effective defense, until Setia's blade intersected with the guard's, and their faces found themselves face to face.
"Treacherous female dog," he hissed directly into her face, spraying saliva across her cheek.
Setia remained silent, her dagger already in her left hand, which she plunged directly into his ribs.
"Better to fight than to talk uselessly," she said in the dying man's face. This was the end of the last skirmish.
Fengrid belonged to her.