The dawn broke cold and gray, casting a long shadow over the valley. At first, it was only a distant glint of steel on the horizon, a slow-moving river of polished armor that snaked its way up the mountain pass. Soon, the glint became a thousand men, the King's Guard, marching with a chilling precision toward the fortress. The sight of their siege weapons, massive catapults and battering rams, sent a shiver through even the most hardened Vexin veteran. The siege had begun.
From the main wall, Isolde's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes, which had been so focused on tactics, now went wide with a horrifying recognition. At the head of the King's Guard, a figure on a black charger sat motionless. It was General Valerius, a man of cruel arrogance and a cold, brutal stare. She had been promised to him in a political match years ago, a match that ended when his true nature was revealed. He was a man who saw her not as a person, but as property. He had used his power to punish her, to beat her, to make her feel small and worthless. The sight of him, now at her doorstep with an army, was a waking nightmare.
Damon saw the change in her face, the way her hand trembled. "Isolde? What is it?" he asked, his voice low with concern.
"The man on the black horse," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "That is General Valerius. He... he was a man from my past."
Damon's jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the hilt of his sword. His fury was cold and absolute, far more dangerous than a hot rage.
A herald rode forward from the King's Guard, his voice ringing across the valley. "General Valerius of the King's Guard demands a parley with Lord Damon Vexin!"
Damon, without a word, began to walk toward the gate. Isolde grabbed his arm. "My Lord, it is a trap! He will kill you."
"He will try," Damon said, his voice a low, hard rumble. "But he will fail. I will not let that man speak to me from outside my home."
Damon rode out, a single banner bearer behind him. He met General Valerius at a stone's throw from the fortress walls. Valerius, a man whose face was a mask of cold cruelty, smiled. It was a terrible, empty smile.
"Damon Vexin," he said, his voice like the scrape of a blade on stone. "You have played your games in the court for long enough. Now the King sends a man to put an end to it." His eyes flicked to the walls where he knew Isolde stood. "I see you have kept my old prize. A shame. She was always so… fragile. But don't you worry. After we take this castle, my men and I will find a more fitting use for such a beauty."
Damon's face remained a mask of stone, but his eyes burned with a terrifying, silent rage. He looked at Valerius and saw not a general, but a personal demon. He did not speak. He simply turned his horse and rode back to the fortress.
Damon stood on the main wall, the wind whipping his long, dark hair around his face. Below him, his army of 250 men was a grim but resolute sight. He looked at each man, a silent message of respect passing between them. He was not a king. He was not a lord in a polished court. He was a warrior, standing with his men, preparing to defend his home.
He raised his hand, and a hush fell over the wall. He did not speak with the honeyed words of a courtier or the blustery bravado of a young lord. He spoke with the quiet, unyielding voice of a man who knew the cost of every word.
"Look at them," he said, his voice carrying on the wind, a low rumble that was more felt than heard. "They come for our homes. They come for our families. They come with the King's greed in their hearts. The man who leads them, he is a coward. He is a butcher. He is a man who knows nothing of honor. He wants to take this fortress not to win a war, but to satisfy his own cruelty. We will not let him have this fortress. We will not let him have our lives. We will not let him have the honor of my wife."
He raised his sword, and the blade glinted in the gray light. "We are a people of the mountains. Every stone of this fortress was built with our hands. Every path they march on, we have walked a thousand times. They may have a thousand men, but we have the mountain at our back. We have the courage of our ancestors in our hearts. We have our families within these walls."
He lowered his sword, pointing it at the approaching General Valerius. "We will show him what a true man is. We will show him what a true warrior is. We will show him that a mountain wolf fights best in his own den. We will show them that no number of men can break a will forged in these mountains. We will hold the line. For our home. For our lives. For our house!"
The men answered with a roar, a defiant challenge that echoed across the valley. The siege weapons began their bombardment, the first massive stones sailing through the air, crashing against the outer walls with a thunderous roar. The King's Guard, arrogant in their numbers, began their first assault.
But Damon's defense was a work of genius. He had prepared for this. The first ranks of the royal guards were met not with a clash of steel, but with a torrent of boiling oil and heavy stones from the battlements. Archers, hidden in strategic points, picked off the enemy's officers. The Vexin's small force, led by Damon, was a disciplined and deadly machine, turning the fortress into a killing ground.
As the day wore on, Isolde's insight proved invaluable. She watched the enemy's tactics, recognizing the discipline of the Guard and their reliance on a single, powerful push. She advised Damon to focus his defense on a single, weakened point in the outer wall, where Valerius was pouring most of his strength.
From a high window in the inner keep, Lysa watched the battle rage. The noise was deafening, the air thick with the smell of smoke and fear. She was a merchant's daughter, not a warrior, but she felt a new, fierce strength in her heart. This was her home, her family, and the future of her unborn child was at stake. She would not hide. She would manage the supplies, tend to the wounded, and fight in her own way.
As night fell, the King's Guard, bruised and bloodied, pulled back, leaving a trail of bodies at the fortress walls. The Vexin had held, but at a cost. The outer wall had been breached in several places, and many of their men were wounded.
Damon, his face streaked with dirt and blood, looked at Isolde. "The first day is ours," he said, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. He looked down at the battered but defiant walls of his fortress, his eyes burning with a new, terrifying resolve. He had not just fought a battle. He had fought a ghost from his wife's past, and he was not about to let him win. The siege had just begun.