The Blood of the Lion by C.D. McKenna

Author:C.D. McKenna
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chelsea Diann McKenna
Published: 2022-01-11T05:58:04+00:00

Dark Destiny

The strategy against Diemon was good, but not great. Boris had met Morei outside in the halls prior to the dinner to share his plan. Station eight hundred men to the left, right, and directly in front of the main gate. Firepits would burn along the top of the wall, where soldiers would be stationed with arrows. They would light each arrowhead with fire and target any soldier that broke free of the heart of the battle. Manned catapults would be placed in between these groups of men along the walls. The catapults would come first as the siege began, so that Geral could upset Diemon’s formation. At close proximity, though, these catapults were worthless and would do nothing but cause chaos among even his men.

Boris’s strategy relied on these catapults doing enough damage that the eighteen hundred men on foot would have a clean sweep. It was a risk Morei didn’t like. What if Diemon had their own catapults? What if Geral’s malfunctioned? What if, what if, what if. The plan simply wasn’t good enough, and it was agitating. Boris was better than this. So, Morei told the Commander that it was a good start but not good enough. This plan needed to be pristine by tomorrow morning, so that they could set in motion the catapults and firepits. The king suggested digging trenches tomorrow and staking them, but Boris shook his head, stating it was too short of a notice and this would exhaust the men they needed. Plus, Boris added, there had not been enough rain this season, and the grounds were tougher than usual. It would be a waste.

So it was a good plan, but not great, and that concerned Morei. They were scrambling for a strategy that could protect them against an army that had likely been planning this charge for weeks. Up against their main gate, they were like cornered rabbits and if one mistake occurred, and they would be slaughtered by the hundreds.

He trusted Boris with his life, though, and reminded himself that the commander had spent his entire life studying strategy. Something masterful would come out of this, and they would be victorious. They had to be.

Morei watched the dozen servants drop an assortment of dishes across the long oak table, which was burned with the Geral crest in the center of it before being waxed to make the wood shine. There was nothing he could do at this very moment about the problem, so Morei told himself to try and enjoy the evening and good food. It was the least he could do. Fruits, breads, pastries, dipping sauces, cut meats, and whatever was under a gold lid, which he thought had to be some sort of stew for a select few. Spices and sweet apple butter filled his nose, tugging at old memories when he used to eat a plate of fresh rolls and apple butter to himself. His mother would scold him for eating too much bread in one sitting, but it had never stopped him.

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