[hider=The Battle of Medea]
The sweltering heat of Uzgob was, as it always had been, unbearable. Patrick had been riding for days now and between the freezing cold nights and the stifling hot days, his temper was being tested. Mercifully the walls of Andromeda could be seen on the horizon and Patrick could even hear some of his men from behind cry out in joy. Accompanying him from Cawanor were four thousand professional soldiers along with three thousand militia. During his journey Patrick had convinced Catryn Tuania to give him three hundred Telmarion longbowmen, whos famed archery would surely be of great assistance for the war to come. Alongside him rode Evennis and three other nobles; Lord Roid a middle aged man with thinning hair and a thick long beard and standing supporter of the De Reimers, Lord Gisborn a hardened and tested battle commander with short well kept ginger hair and Lord Crawford, a young boy of only sixteen with messy black hair. His lack of experience and youth made him stand out amongst the other commanders and he was only there because Lord Roid owed his family a favour.

As they entered the city Patrick couldn’t help but silently marvel at Andromeda, as much as he disliked Uzgob and the people that lived there he couldn’t deny their capital was one of the most beautiful settlements in Formaroth second only to perhaps the city of Vine. Much of the city folk had abandoned the main streets, likely out of fear after they heard the De Reimer forces were coming. Patrick smiled; the fact they were afraid and not rioting was a good thing, it meant that the populous of Andromeda knew better than to join the heretics in rebellion against the newly founded empire. As they neared the city center Lord Gisborn dismissed the men and gave them permission to rest and drink at the local taverns, after the long journey they had to travel on foot it was probably the best order he could have given to raise morale. Once Patrick and his fellow commanders approached the gatehouse to the palace the light wooden gates swung open, the palace itself was very grand and beautiful with many followers and palm trees decorating the courtyard; it was clear that the palace was built with what was aesthetic pleasing in mind rather than maximizing defensibility. Perhaps this was why Andris was able to break in and escape without being stopped. Patrick and his fellow lords dismounted and allowed for the palace servants to take their horses to the nearby stable. As they walked up the sandstone steps to the entrance the door opened to which a tall bald man olive skinned man appeared, Patrick soon recognised him as Nizaar’s seneschal whom he had met last time he had been here.

“My Lords it is a great honour to have you here” he said with a bow

“Our visit is hardly a honour” Patrick said, ignoring the seneschal as he walked past him “we would not be here if it wasn’t for Nizaar’s failings”. 

“Lord Nizaar is in the war room” The seneschal stammered, he had been ordered to direct Patrick there but given the confidence in which Patrick stroke it was clear he already knew where he was going. Patrick swung the doors to the war room open and without hesitation continued to walk. Inside was Nizaar along with a couple of other nervous commanders. Nizaar by comparison looked far more steadfast, however it was clear Patrick’s presence made him uncomfortable. Once he surrendered Uzgob to the concord he had hoped he would never have to see a De Reimer again, or at least not so soon. 

“My Lord” Nizaar said as he stopped leaning on the war table and stood straight. Patrick came to halt at the war table before turning to the other two commanders in the room.

“Leave us” the two commanders look to Nizaar for confirmation but before he could answer Patrick exclaimed “was it he who gave you the command or I! Why do you look to him for answer”? To this the two guards bowed before leaving the room. Patrick once again turned his attention to Nizaar

“Three months. In only three months you have allowed a civil war to break out in Uzgob and lost territory to fanatic rebels and desert dwelling savages. Explain yourself”.

“The heretical movement, was out of my control, and given the unstable state of the north at the moment it was to be expected that they would gather a large following amongst the people”. 

“It matters not if the cause was out of your control, you were responsible to seeing that any resistance to my Brother’s rule was subdued. We had a agreement, you serve your emperor loyally and ensure that the citizens of Uzgob do the same. In exchange we allowed you to govern Uzgob and decide the fate of its people. So far it seems you have been ineffective in your duty as Lord of Uzgob, perhaps we should find someone else, someone who will deploy a firmer hand”. At this Nizaar shifted uneasily

“That will be unnecessary” Nizaar said firmly “With all due respect my lord, I did not call for your assistance. My men are more than capable of dealing with matter on our own”.

“Glad you think so. As it will be your men to dealing with this threat. I want you to put together a force of three thousand Uzgobian Militia and have them assemble outside the city by tomorrow evening”. At first Nizaar looked at Patrick with confusion but his stare turned cold as he realized his reasoning. “You intend to use my men a fodder? To test the enemy's strength before commiting your own men”? Nizaar said in a hushed tone, trying his best to contain his anger.

“On the contrary, you said your men were more than capable with dealing with the heretic threat, this is your chance to prove it. The way I see it if your men succeed then I am no longer needed here and will leave Uzgob immediately. If not then I will have no choice but to commit my own soldiers to this cause”. Patrick finished. Nizaar wasn’t sure how he should have felt; on one hand it was clear that Patrick was treating Uzgobian soldiers as expendable and cared nothing for their lives. On the other he had actually been given a chance to deal with this himself and a opportunity to get the De Reimer forces and their king out of his land. 

“Very well, I accept this if only to prove that Uzgob does not require help from the south when dealing with internal matters. I will lead my troops personally…” Patrick was about to speak up before Nizaar firmly added “I will have it no other way”. Patrick hesitated. While Nizaar was a important figurehead that he rather not risk losing, he knew matter than to push the man too far by demanding that he stay.
“Fine” Patrick said as he turned to face lord Crawford “You will take lord Crawford with you, along with the five hundred sell-swords we recruited along the way, consider their services a gift on behalf of house De Reimer”

“My lord” Lord Crawford stammered “I am grateful for the honour but I don’t not know if I am…” he continued before being interrupted by Lord roid 

“Consider this a chance to prove yourself to your family. Surely a few heretics won’t be a problem for you” He said as he placed his hand on his shoulder.

“I ... see” Lord Roid stammered “Then I accept this duty you have bestowed upon me with the highest gratitude” he said with a bow. Nizaar was unamused and did nothing to hide his contemptment 

“Good” Patrick stated before turning back to Nizaar “Do be careful out there, it would be a shame if you were to die. Who knows what might become of Uzgob otherwise”

***

The Count and his entourage had already left the city. He had assured Fenick that there would be no point in him staying for any battle that was to come, and that whatever happens he must survive for the sake of the cause and the greater good, and the like. He encouraged Fenick to do the same, but Fenick would not leave the city. Not now. He knew the count to be a coward, but as for himself he would face the enemy head on, for he knew that if Medea itself fell then no one would venture to join them, and the count himself would become nothing but an outlaw. Besides, he knew that he was the true leader of this movement, and the city would need a leader in this time of peril. Fenick, escorted by a troop of tribal warriors, headed over to the northern walls of the town. It was there that they would make their stand against the De Reimers. He walked among the walls and saw the impressive encampment of the enemy in the distance. They were not quite what they were expecting. Reports had told of a far more impressive army than this. Adathas, colonel of the militia of Medea came over to Fenick.
“Sir, all stations are ready,” Adathas said. “They aren’t quite what I was expecting.”
“No doubt this is only the first wave,” Fenick said. “When we turn them back here they will return with another, stronger force.”
“If we turn them back, sir,” Adathas said.
“The gods are on our sides,” Fenick said. “Though I think they shall prefer to have us seize victory by force rather than deliver it to us.”
“All the same to me, sir,” the Adathas said. “Far as we can tell they’re wielding the banners of De Reimer and Uzgob. Looks to me like those down there are Uzgob men the same as us, each of them is worth as much as one of us. The sun won’t bother them much.”
“Then we will have to hope our walls will make up for where our numbers fail,” Fenick said. “I will leave it to you, colonel.”
“Yep,” Adathas said. “We’ll show them hell.”

***

“The men are ready Lord Nizaar” Lord Roid replied. Ever since they left Andromeda he had been hanging on Nizaar’s every word. He had no idea why King Patrick had selected him to be second in command, he had no experience at commanding soldiers or forming strategies. Perhaps he intended him to learn from Nizaar, or maybe this was his chance to prove he was worthy of command. Either way he had left the planning of the siege to Nizaar and had acted more as a messenger to the men then he had their commander. 

“Very well, we shall start the siege immediately. Give the men the order” Nizaar said
“At once” Lord roid replied, bowing before leaving the tent. Once he left Nizaar sat down on his bedroll. He had no idea what to expect from this siege. While the tactics he had deployed were the best he could do with what he knew, he had no idea what opposition he faced. He didn’t know the strength or size of Fenick’s forces and if he lost this battle Uzgob would suffer. Uzgob; he had betrayed his king, surrendered its land and now he was leading his own men into a potential suicide mission, all for the greater good of Uzgob. Sometimes he wondered what might have been if he had stayed faithful to Andris and resisted the De Reimers whether things would have been better or if he had made the right decision and saved Uzgob from a even more terrible fate. It matter not now, the decisions he had made were final and now all he could do was follow them to their end. Nizaar stood up, took a minute to compose himself before walking out the tent to led his men.

-----

The forces on the wall were stationed and positioned for the inevitable siege which was soon to happen. Colonel Adathas stood among his men with a spear and shield at his side, intent on fighting amongst his men once the fighting started. Most of his men were militiamen with only the lightest of armor and a simple spear and shield, but they were not alone. They were accompanied by the warriors of the Zuwu tribes, every one of them grizzled tribesmen with fearsome expressions on their faces, and they were led by their even more fearsome chieftain, Sakoura Spearbreaker. Adathas did not talk with him unnecessarily – the chieftain knew little of the common tongue – but he knew at least that they were ready to begin the siege.
“I never have fought on a wall,” Sakoura Spearbreaker said in the common tongue with his characteristic heavy accent. “Strange thing.”
“You and your men’ll have to get used to it,” Adathas said.
Sakoura Spearbreaker laughed. “Yes. Zuwu are glad for fight always. But you are bolder – that is the word – bolder than your men, Adathas. They look like they will run when they see us.”
It was soon enough when Nazeer’s forces were riding up to the walls of Medea. Adathas was up on the wall, ready to lead the men to battle, just as he had ordered. As Nazeer’s army approached, Adathas had his men ready themselves. As soon as they were in range, Adathas ordered the archers to fire their crossbows. Bolts flung through the air, and Nazeer’s soldiers fell to the ground, though not nearly enough of them, and soon enough they were returning fire. Their advance was not greatly slowed, and this great force continued to march towards the walls, and Nazeer himself was within the ranks leading them. The enemy readied their siege ladders, and Medean militia braced themselves for the attack.
Adathas shouted orders and was determined not to let Nazeer’s forces easily assert themselves on their walls. Nazeer’s forces were organizing themselves in force, and with their multitude of siege ladders were closing in. They threw their siege ladders upon the walls and began to climb up on them. Adathas’ militiamen, however, continued again and again to throw down those ladders. Then Adathas shouted an order, and they prepared the pots filled with boiling oil. They threw them down on to the ground and burned the men below. Then the militia atop the walls threw torches down below, and soon a great fire spread down below that threatened to envelop all of those below, though those above on the stone wall were not reached by the flames. Nazeer himself was almost enveloped by the flames but was dragged away from the flames at the cost of four of his men.
Adathas knew that it was far from over. Even though the flames blocked off one section, at other sections of the wall they were coming in strength. Nazeer was once again leading his forces, and they were coming up in force further down the wall. No matter how many times they knocked the ladders down, they kept placing them back up. At last, however, Nazeer’s forces began to mount themselves atop the wall. Nazeer himself was leading them into battle. Beside him were several hundred grizzled veterans who contrasted against the simple militia of Nazeer. It was at that time that Sakoura and his tribesmen charged ahead to counter them. They were glad to have an opponent to fight.
The tribesmen fought ferociously and tenacious, and though they were lightly armored they fought ferociously. The battle was raging, and Sakoura Spearbreaker wished to take out the enemy’s leader himself, since he had been gracious enough to show his own face. Sakoura plunged his spear through the opening in the armor at the neck of his first opponent, his spear going clean through, and Sakoura withdrew the spear as quickly as it had landed. With his men fighting by his side, he made his way towards Nazeer. One after another the enemy fell before Sakoura. They were of small notice, however, for Sakoura. He had broken the spears of a hundred warriors in the past, and each of them of more note than the Greenlander soldiers who blocked his path today. Then he at last he aimed his spear at Nazeer. Nazeer drew back from the aim of the spear, and Sakoura instead struck one of Nazeer’s bodyguards.
“You too shall die!” Sakoura said to Nazeer in the Greenlander tongue.
Nazeer did not retreat but went to face the tribesman. Nazeer’s bodyguards were soon facing Sakoura’s warriors, and soon it was simply the two of them there to face each other. Nazeer struck his blade, but Sakoura repelled it with his shield, and struck again rapidly with his spear. Nazeer raised his shield and deflected it. There, they exchanged blows, and Sakoura proved more fearsome than Nazeer was expecting, and Nazeer, clad as he was in his armor, could not match Sakoura’s speed. Just when Nazeer thought he was about to make a clean strike at Sakoura and finally slay this troublesome opponent, Sakoura deflected the blade and made a strong blow against Nazeer’s chest. It only dinted the armor and bruised the skin beneath. Nazeer would not allow himself to lose, however, and he raised himself and struck furiously at Sakoura. The two of them were engaged in a furious exchange of strikes and deflections once again, until Nazeer found the slimmest of openings in Sakoura’s stance and took it. Then with a strike of his blade struck at Sakoura, and Sakoura struck at him. Both of them narrowly avoided death, with Sakoura’s spear only barely missing an opening in Nazeer’s armor and Nazeer nicking Sakoura’s spear.
Nazeer drew away from Sakoura, and his men went to protect him. At that time Sakoura had no choice but to withdraw. His men were losing ground, and he had lost his chance to kill Nazeer. The militiamen and tribesmen continued to fight their enemy on the wall and refused to retreat. Yet many of them were slain, and though many of their enemy were slain as they were too numerous to repel.
It was then that something began to shift in the sands. From below the forces of Medea had obtained reinforcements. Yama Wyrmslayer and his warriors from the tribe Burunu and Umar the Wise and his warriors from the tribe Sunnah struck at Nazeer’s flanks. They came from behind, and struck at the rear of Nazeer’s army. They were numerous, too numerous for Nazeer’s army to shake off. Fighting reigned, and many on both sides were then slain. Yet the tribesmen were fearsome. They fought rapidly and wildly, and their shamans uttered magical chants that emboldened the tribesmen and made Nazeer’s men lose heart. With many of their own dead and surrounded at all sides, Nazeer’s soldiers surrendered. Yama Wrymslayer slew one of the surrendering officers with a strike to the face with his club and dragged away one of the others, and the other tribesmen followed suit, dragging away their new captives. Up above on the wall Nazeer forces found themselves surrounded and without reinforcements, and the militia and tribesmen steadily whittled away at their remaining reinforcements.
“Next you shall die!” Sakoura Spearbreaker said.
“Wait, we want him alive!” Adathas said. “Okay, your majesty, time to surrender. Don’t misunderstand, though. We aren’t giving you a choice. You can either come with us quietly, or kicking and screaming.”
“Well, sir,” Lord Roid said to Nazeer, standing amongst the handful of soldiers that were still standing. “If you had any last ditch plans now would be as good a time as ever to reveal them.”
Nizzar simply looked over the battlefield at his now scattered and captured forces. He had lost, there was nothing he could do. To think Fenick had somehow convinced the tribesmen to fight with him, just how far did this heretical corruption go? How much power had it already gained? Nizaar briefly considered throwing himself from the battlements, just to deny his enemies their prize. But what good would that do? Uzgob still needed him and he could serve it far better as Fenick’s captive then he could dead. Still now that he had failed in his task a De Reimer now sat in a position of power over his people and the thought chilled Nizaar to the bone. He had to find someway to escape Fenick and get back to Andromeda, by any means necessary.
“Very well I will not disgrace myself by futilely resisting” Nizaar said as he dropped his sword, the sword vibrating as it hit the ground “Just know, that you have no idea what you have unleashed here today”. 
“Do you think we fear Alasdair here, like you do?” Adathas said. “Take him away. I will deal with him later. You should be thankful, Nizaar. We shall duly send a letter to Patrick informing him of your victory here. I’m sure he will want to see to it in person.”
[/hider]