The dwarven cannons had been firing without cessation for well over an hour, into the early afternoon. Each chest-compressing report echoed across the hills of the Heartland and off of the walls of the Capital, now severely degraded by the bombardment. Two hours ago, the northern rampart of the city had been a truly redoubtable fortification, standing some thirty feet high with crenelated battlements and anchored by guard towers with catapults atop. Now, after being struck by over a hundred cannonballs, the wall was crumbling in several places. Lord Goutfoot had focused the fire of his cannons on certain points in the wall, blasting the solid blocks of stone into sloping scree piles of rubble and sand. Stray cannonballs had even managed to topple one of the guard towers, rendering the catapult atop a twisted, splintered mass of wooden beams. There were now at least three breaches in the northern wall, and one was large enough to accommodate three men abreast or a single ogre.

Baron Ulrek surveyed the devastation from horseback as he and his entourage rode over to the dwarven batteries. The cannons were powerful weapons to be sure, battering some of the finest fortification in all the land to rubble in mere hours, and inflicting great damage to the city behind the walls. Columns of smoke billowed up from various fires throughout the capital, giving proof to the devastation caused by the dwarven guns. Destroying the city had not been Ulrek's intention; his quarrel had been with his Brother and Father, not their subjects. But knowing that the vampire slayer was within the city - working even now to kill Edward before Ulrek got a chance to exact his revenge - the Baron instructed Lord Goutfoot and his dwarves to fire as quickly as possible and not to waste any time taking precise aim at their targets. Some ruined tenement buildings and a few thousand slain cityfolk were tolerable collateral damage so long as Ulrek reached Edward first.

Ulrek found the Dwarven lord leading a battery of four bombards on a ridgeline overlooking the Baron's gathered army. Giant tubes of black cast-iron held at a low angle by huge beams of solid oak, the cannons sizzled and fumed from the unrelenting bombardment. Ulrek and his retinue watched briefly as the dwarves prepared the next volley. A team of dwarves packed linen bags of firedust down into the smoking aperture of the cannons before a heavy cannonball was rolled down onto the firedust charge. Another dwarf, holding a ramrod three times taller than he, would then hop up onto a stool fashioned out of a sawn half of a barrel and pack the charge down. While this was taking place, a pair of dwarves would scoop trowelfulls of a waxy, white cream from barrels positioned by the cannonball stacks and apply it to the cannons, smearing it all over the surface of the gun as the opaque cream was melted into a watery fluid by the residual heat of the cannon. The smell of cooked meat or bacon filled the air as the guns were lathered down.

"Hog lard," Lord Goutfoot explained proudly, noticing the Baron and his retinue at last. "Firing at this pace, the cannons need to be cooled down or the gun will expand from heat and cause the projectile to jam up inside, like a cork wedged down in a bottle of mead. Blew a cannon up that way once before. Sad business, that was," Goutfoot recalled with a frown. "But the lard cools it down enough to fire almost nonstop and gives it a nice waxy polish to boot. Does a good job of keeping the rust down."

"Ready!" Shouted a dwarf, followed shortly thereafter by the other three in charge of their respective cannons. The next volley was about to begin.

"Might want to cover your ears, Baron," Lord Goutfoot recommended as he fished two wads of cotton out of his breast pocket and packed it into his ears. "Wish I had when I was younger as I'm practically deaf nowadays... [i]Fire[/i]!"

Torches went to the fuses of the cannons, which burned down into the breech with a menacing sizzle. The dwarves manning the guns ran back a considerable distance as the fuses burnt down, suggesting that they too had seen a cannon or two explode." Ulrek's knights, Kharald Halfbeard, and the other riders with the Baron put their palms over their ears, but vampire prince only watched through the frozen stare of his silver helmet.

A series of earth-shaking reports thundered across the land as the cannons fired, eliciting terrified neighing from the steeds of the Baron's retinue as a cloud of heavy blue smoke and fiery embers burst forth from the muzzle of the cannons. Moments later, the cannonballs impacted. One cannonball arced high over the city wall and pulverized a tannery smokestack before crashing into a shop or house. The other two impacted against the wall, knocking off several hundred pounds stone from the eroded northern wall that tumbled down in an avalanche into the rubble pile of one of the wall breaches. But one cannonball had missed dramatically, and impacted one of the spires of Castle Bathory. Even from this distance, Ulrek could see that shot had made a large hole in the spire's wall. The tower teetered and listed for a few moments before ultimately collapsing. A shower of bricks, rubble, and dust rained down from the collapsing spire onto the ramparts and courtyard of Castle Bathory. An enthusiastic cheer rose from Ulrek's army as the damage to the enemy's castle was witnessed.

"Sturin's Beard!" Exclaimed Lord Goutfoot. "We might've killed Edward with that one!"

"Stop this bombardment at once!" Ulrek snarled. The enthusiasm of Lord Goutfoot and the others instantly melted away in the face of the Baron's ire.

"Halfbeard," the Baron snapped at the dwarven mercenary commander, "there exist now several breaches in the city wall. Send your heaviest men and your ogres through the breaches and clear an entrance for the rest of the army. If there is no resistance, send men up to the gatehouse and have them open the gates. Lord Goutfoot and his cannons, accompanied by the horsed knights, will enter the city through the gate."

"As you command, Baron." The mercenary commander turned his horse around and galloped away to gather his men and storm the breaches.

"I did not anticipate that we would be taking part of the actual fighting inside the city," said Lord Goutfoot. "My understanding was that we would only fire upon the city from beyond the walls. My dwarves are not prepared to assist in the fighting."

"The gates and walls of Castle Bathory have yet to be breeched," reminded Ulrek. "I need your cannons to break the inner walls. And you must be more careful with your aim this time."

"No," Goutfoot refused. "The risk of the cannons being destroyed by the defenders is too great. I will not risk it."

"No harm shall come to your cannons," Ulrek assured. "And if they are, I shall double your payments, and you will be able to buy many more cannons for your collection to replace any that might be damaged."

Orrin Goutfoot's eyes widened at the prospect of adding even more cannons to his collection. Once again, Ulrek had successfully taken advantage of insatiable dwarven greed.

"As you wish, Baron Ulrek. We shall participate in the attack." Lord Goutfoot turned to his dwarves, and beckoned for them to pack their supplies onto the wagons once again. "Limber the guns up! We're following the Baron's men inside the city!"

As Ulrek turned his horse away to watch his army march toward the breaches in the capital's walls, one of his knights rode up beside him.

"Are you sure that is wise, your majesty?" Asked the knight. "You have already agreed to pay Lord Goutfoot a great fortune. And you want to double it? Pardon me, but are you not concerned about your ability to repay?"

"Not in the slightest," said Ulrek as the horns of his unhorsed sergeants resounded across the land. "I am a [i]vampire[/i]. It may take me many mortal generations to repay these debts, but even a century is a short time indeed for one of my kind. The debts will be repaid surely enough, but my victory will be eternal and absolute."