Light blazed across the walls of Lapurum, illuminating the full array of our forces. We fell into formation six hundred paces from the gates, as the Lifegiver ruled the sky above. The battle plan was simple yet elegant: a spearhead formation led by a Hierophant and his priests, striking precisely at the central iron gate, while the rest of our forces advanced to support. Infantry and archers flanked them, ready to intercept any defenders emerging from the walls or the ground. Three other Hierophants were positioned to our left, right, and rear—a show of overwhelming force meant to make the enemy reconsider their stance.
I commanded the forces at the far end, finally taking in the full spread of the walls and our army. We stood atop a small hill, ready to deploy the cavalry if needed. Hundreds of spears, shields, and helmets caught the sunlight, glinting across polished surfaces—the army gleaming like stars aligned on the earth, poised to strike with full force.
"Everyone has fallen into place, Praefectus," said Felix, reins tight in his hands. Sweat gleamed on his brow, his voice rising slightly under the weight of anticipation. "Shall I send for the herald?"
"I think it's time for our final warning, Felix," I said, allowing a faint curve of my lips—a small gesture to ease the tension.
I turned my head once more to survey the small patch of land separating us from the walls. "I want you to bring him to me before he is deployed."
I saw his brow furrow, the question forming on his lips, but I cut him off. "If you can't tell why I want to talk to him first, you'll have to wait until you get him here."
That was enough. He pulled in the reins and spurred his mount, leaving a small trail of upturned grass and earth in his wake.
Left alone for a few moments, I studied the enemy's positions on the walls. We had been informed of small amplifiers in their possession, but their exact placement had been unknown—only a rough estimate. Now, though, I could make them out clearly. At least a dozen were spread across the battlements: four on each side of the gates, another eight lined up neatly, side by side.
They looked crude—black, coarse metal tubes, apparently without inscriptions or any sign of clergy nearby. The only movement I could make out came from small, dark-clothed figures, moving in sync from one amplifier to the next, like worker ants adjusting their nest before a storm.
They were indeed not adult-sized. The few that wore armor carried oversized helmets, slipping awkwardly on their heads. But it was their movement that made me uneasy—precise, calculated. Their strict, disciplined routine was unusual, too methodical for their size—but that only sharpened my focus. How—and why—would they be trained like this? We were only a few precious moments from finding out.
The banner bobbing up and down signaled the return of Felix, accompanied by the herald carrying it. The young lad, though clearly flustered by the pace he had to keep to follow Felix's mount, held himself with respectful poise.He couldn't have been more than twenty, with sharp features half-hidden beneath a mop of dark hair that kept slipping free of his helm. Without letting the banner touch the ground, he slammed his right hand over the left side of his chest, the three middle fingers pointing outward.
"You asked for me, Praefectus," he said, struggling to steady his breathing.
"Indeed I did," I replied, giving him a few moments to recover. "And your name, herald?"
"Lucan, sir. Lucan Varro," he answered quickly, voice carrying a note of pride beneath the nerves.
I nodded once. "Very well, Lucan. I want to ask you for something outside your usual responsibilities," I told him. Felix jerked his head, puzzled.
"To be frank, Praefectus, this is my first deployment as Herald. Ask me for anything you need, and it will be done," Lucan said, honor and anxiety both in his tone.
"I just want you to come to me straight after your task is complete and tell me what you saw on the walls. Nothing more."
Immediately, his shoulders dropped slightly, the tension of my unknown request giving way to an easy-sounding task. Meanwhile, the puzzlement left Felix's face. He met my gaze, eyes showing a touch of embarrassment for not realizing sooner, but a quiet understanding that he was now on the same page as me.
The herald saluted both of us once more and made his way down the small hill, the iridescent banner fracturing the light, its hues shifting as it pulsed in the air.
"And now we wait," I said to Felix, my gaze still fixed on the movements on top of the walls.
"What if the praevitor was wrong?" he asked sheepishly, eyes not meeting mine but trying to follow my survey.
"I want to be sure our might strikes those who deserve it," I replied, watching the little "worker ants" scuttling across the battlements.