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The Magisters of Lys had taken a small and an unplanned break before the expected arrival of the enemy's navy. It was not a feast or a celebration of any kind, but just a small gathering with their favourite and comfort food and plenty of costly and exotic wine.
Although no one spoke the heavy words or the intruding thoughts aloud, they were all well aware that this could be the last time they would gather like this. And definitely the last time, they all would be alive.
As the Magisters of the city, they did not enjoy a particularly close relationship. They were rivals in politics and business, and treachery and backstabbing were prevalent among them.
It was also certain that if the need arose, they would not hesitate to sacrifice one another to save their own lives or even to simply secure their interests. Yet, despite all these problems, there was a sense of camaraderie, a sense of brotherhood, among them and they had gathered one last time to honor it. One last time of food and wine together.
They had barely eaten a few morsels and drank a few gulps of wine when a faint echo throughout the city snapped them to attention.
"What is this?" A Magister questioned and added. "It seems to be coming from the direction of the port."
The sound was a low hum of blaring horns. It was as if dozens of them were being sounded simultaneously, their noise creeping through the streets of Lys. Since the entire city was in lockdown, there was hardly any obstruction to the sound and it was easily spreading.
"Someone go and find out!" Another Magister roared toward the line of workers. "Find out what is happening!"
A couple of workers stirred into motion, but they had taken only a few steps when another sound momentarily overpowered the horns. It was the ringing of bells.
Unlike the horns, which were echoing from a single direction of the ports, the bells were ringing out from across the entire city. And the bells meant only one thing. The city was under attack. The bells were part of the defensive mechanism of Lys. Towers had been erected throughout the city to warn residents of an invasion.
And the moment they heard the sound of the bells, the face of every man in the room turned crestfallen. They did not need to be told of the implications of the sound of the bell. They were under attack.
"How is this possible?" One of the Magisters asked, his body overtaken by fear. "How? Lord Aeos' navy was still far away!"
Every person in the room shared the same question.
"Go and find out what is happening!" The weary Magister was the first to regain his composure. He shouted orders to the servants, and a couple of them immediately sprinted away.
Yet, they knew that the inevitable was at their doorsteps. They may find out how the enemy had made this fast but it would not change anything.
"Let us move," the weary Magister roared, snapping the attention of everyone. "Why does it matter if it has happened a couple of hours earlier than we were expecting? We can still turn around things. We have been planning only for this since the past few days."
His powerful voice gave some courage to the rest of the Magisters and they stirred and came into motion preparing themselves to take their pre assigned roles.
Meanwhile, on the ship, Sylvia, followed by her men, stepped onto the deck. She was holding a bloodied spear in her hand, her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the dead body of the Magister. She carried a horn in her other hand, with a sword strapped firmly to her waist.
"The time has come!" she roared, raising the bloodied spear high into the air. "For Lord Aeos!"
The chants of Lord Aeos's name echoed across the ship before Sylvia brought the horn to her lips and blared it loudly. The men behind her followed suit immediately, blowing their own horns in a deafening chorus.
The sound of the horns was the signal for all her men. The invasion had begun, and their plans were now in motion. One by one, from every ship in their party, the sound of horns began to echo, acknowledging the start of the assault.
The sacks used for camouflage were thrown aside, and men began to swarm onto the decks of the ships.
The man on the port watchpost was horrified. Perched high in the tower, he had watched as the Magister leaned in to examine the cargo, only for a spear to pierce his throat. He saw, with growing dread, how all the Magister's men were slain in an instant by Salac and his crew.
He was barely able to register what was happening when soldiers emerged from behind the sacks. Then the horns blared, and more men appeared on every one of the twenty-three ships.
"Betrayal!" he finally roared, overcoming his shock as he shouted down to the messenger below the tower. "We have been betrayed! Salac has betrayed us all! All his ships are carrying men. An army! He has betrayed us!"
With that, he seized the hammer beside him and began to strike the bell with all his might. The sound would carry to the other watchtowers, signaling them to ring in turn, while the messenger raced to deliver the warning.
Sylvia was the first to take charge as she descended the gangplank. Her men followed from every ship, immediately moving into tight formations.
"Remember our goal!" Sylvia screamed, perching herself on a couple of wooden crates, standing tall before her men. "We must gain as much advantage as possible, but at the same time, we must ensure that we do not suffer heavy casualties."
"We are three-thousand-five-hundred in number," she continued, her voice cutting through the growing chaos. "They have four thousand stationed at the port."
"It will take one hour for them to mobilize their remaining men toward the harbor, and two hours for our main navy to reach Lys. We must hold this ground until then!"
"Our main task is to ensure that by the time our entire army reaches us, we are still holding the port," she roared.
A loud chorus followed as the men roared with pure passion. They had trained for this. For the war. And it had begun.
"Monarch Lord Aeos!" The loud chant followed as they sprang into action.
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