Gezarius watched the fortress from over the river. Flying above it was a flag with the same crest of House Zehrfeld that he’d seen burnt into wood time and time again. He could see an embankment just over the river as well. The walls of the fort were nothing but wooden planks. Against a Demon’s power, they would break in an instant.
Gezarius snickered. A fortress like that would fall in less than half a day’s time. He couldn’t help but mock the foolishness of humans for relying on such a structure.
His troops in the Demon army wore similar sneers tinted with ferocity. Gezarius let out a laugh and raised his voice. “Devour every person in that fortress!”
The Werewolves and Weretigers surged forward with a war cry. In a flash, they were over the river. The inside of the fort was silent, and Gezarius was confident it was because they were shaking in their boots. Still snickering, Gezarius put one of his feet on the embankment, ready to launch himself inside the fortress. As a lycanthrope, he had that power.
Suddenly, the ground crumbled beneath his feet. He had stomped right through what he thought was an embankment.
Despite their initial appearance, the embankments were nothing but a veneer of dirt spread over wood repurposed from the villagers’ emergency shelters. The wood was weathered by the rain and wind and propped up against poles before being covered with a thin layer of sand and mud. They weren’t strong enough to support a monster’s bodyweight.
Beneath the false ground was nothing but thin air. One of Gezarius’s legs was stuck inside the plank all the way to the thigh. Trapped, the Demon army were stopped in their tracks.
“Volley!”
Countless arrows flew from the fortress and buried themselves in the flesh of the Demon army. Gezarius tried to remove his foot from the trap, but each step led to the same outcome. His legs could find no purchase. His movements had been stymied.
With their legs stuck in the planks covering the pit, the Werewolves and Weretigers were defenseless as arrows rained down on them. Demonic beings could withstand an arrow or three, but with enough shots, even they would perish. Even now, some had collapsed lifeless in the wooden trap.
“They tricked us!” Gezarius’s voice roared louder than the flying arrows. And then, the hum of the arrows swelled in volume as if determined to drown him out.
“They fell right into our trap,” Holzdeppe said, impressed.
“I had heard they were good jumpers,” Werner said while watching the battle unfold from atop the wall—or rather, just a pile of planks leaned against pillars. He then looked behind him, watching the smoke signal that would warn Anheim and the surrounding villages that the battle had begun. “Once you see something you can use, that’s all you can think about.”
“This certainly seems to prove your point.”
Werner had built a fake embankment that looked like the perfect stepping stone. Ever since Werner had heard from the crown prince that their enemies relied on powerful leaps, he had been thinking of ways to disable their legs.
The mud and sand that was slathered onto the planks to make them look like ground had been hardened by a grain glue made from käthe wheat. Oddly, glue made from boiling käthe wheat wouldn’t be eaten by bugs or animals, so it was prized for its ability to be used outdoors. That might have something to do with the fact that it becomes incredibly spicy once fermented, but Werner wasn’t interested in the details.
“I’m surprised they didn’t hide themselves during the day,” said Holzdeppe in exasperation.
“That’s just how lowly they think of us. It’s why that trap was so effective.” Werner gave a wry smile.
“The secondary force approaches!”
✦ ✦ ✦
“Don’t worry. As long as they don’t jump right into the fort, we have nothing to fear.” Werner could hear the soldier’s panic, but he responded coldly.
Then came a thump. A few monsters had struck the fortress walls. Even if they were lycanthropes, one or two hits wasn’t enough to break the walls. They had been built to be stronger than they looked, but the monsters had come close enough to attack with stones rather than arrows. Werner calmed himself and spoke as if it was nothing.
“Are we set to abandon the fort?”
“We are ready.”
Werner nodded at Holzdeppe’s answer. Ideally, he would’ve liked to trap them here for another few days, but this fortress was made to be abandoned, anyways. Hanging onto that ideal would mean adopting a poorer plan.
The Demons thought little of humans, and thus, they had attacked head on. Dillydallying would get them surrounded. The difference in power was greater than Werner had imagined, and even he was shocked by how easily they had crossed the river that served as the country’s border. He concluded that there was no need to adjust the base plan for the moment and issued his orders. “All right, let’s get ready, beginning with the infantrymen. Watch out for fire and water.”
“Understood.”
Werner watched Holzdeppe head inside the fort. Then he turned his eyes back to their enemies and ordered Neurath to prepare to launch the rocks.