The sun was pleasantly warm, and Jean felt in high spirits. He had some nerves, seeing her again. But he was certain that things would turn out well, so he did not let them bother him overmuch.

  His marshal, Ser Henri, had called up his most trusted knight and retainers quickly, and they supplemented these with an Umbrian mercenary company available for hire on short notice. Their force made good time traveling to Redrock, he was confident that the gods would reward his diligence with success.

  Redrock was a castle of moderate size. Only the old donjon was constructed of the reddish colored stone which gave the fortress its name. It was also surrounded by new, but very simple, curtain wall of normal grey rock. There was a small castle town inside the outer wall, but reports suggested they were negligent in maintaining their stores.

  Jean had already given orders for his agents inside the walls to foul what food and water they did have.

  The entire region was dominated by hills, and Redrock was built on the highest. Still, none of them were very steep. It would be easy enough to spread out over the entire area around the keep for their siege, if the lord of said keep forced them to tread that route. Jean hoped things could be ended more quickly and reasonably otherwise.

  The sooner that she was safe, the better. That was what mattered.

  Henri held command on the right flank. The marshal was decades older than Jean and a very capable, if predictable, general. He was a man plain in both manners and appearance, and his martial expertise was in the plainest arts of warfare: organization and logistics. There was not a trace of ambition in him, and he should never be relied on to take the initiative, but he followed orders very well. He did not possess the unfortunate habit of more ambitious commanders to deliberately misunderstand and aggrandize their instructions from superiors.

  Ser Georges commanded on the left flank. He studied the arts of war and great campaigns in the University at Vermillion for a time, but was recalled when both his father and elder brother were taken by fever over the winter. This was his first experience as a general in actual combat, but Jean ordered the mercenary company onto that flank, and he hoped they would not require much guidance.

  The mercenary captain was a man named Wladyslaw. The fellow gave Jean a favorable impression in the short time they were together, and he told Georges not to be too proud to rely on him if things became chaotic.

  They already planned their initial maneuvers the previous evening. Now Jean gave the signal and everyone moved with a practiced professionalism. They were fewer in number than a full siege called for, but each man was a master in his own tasks.

  The engineers and sappers remained in the field camp to deploy their machines of war. The artillerymen pulled their cannons into view of the fortress on the adjacent hills. The poor bloody infantry moved to dig in and plant mantelets for their siege. The cavalry rode out with Jean, and they approached the front entrance of the keep directly. Everyone was united in the hope for an easy victory and not much fighting.

  When Jean arrived at the gate, the portcullis was closed.

  A man, dressed in what passed for fashionable attire this far north, shouted down to him from the top of the wall. “What is the meaning of this? Why has the Marquis de Fer sent his host to these lands geared for war?”

  “You have-” Jean pointed towards the sun. The man’s eyes momentarily left to follow the gesture, but Jean’s never strayed. “-until high noon to release the Lady Veronique de Loix, and all her companions, to me.”

  “You have overstepped yourself, my Lord! You have no authority to make demands on your neighbors! I-”

  Jean was uninterested in listening to the scoundrel’s posturing. He interrupted to finish delivering his prepared ultimatum. “-If the Lady Veronique and all her companions are not released to me, by noon, we will be in a state of war.” He spoke in measured tones, and the man was quiet at once to listen. “And then I will take your castle by force.”

  “Why should we give in to your extortion?”

  Jean raised his voice, so that everyone behind the wall could hear him. “If you surrender, then no one shall be harmed! Your margrave will be allowed to renew his sworn feudal oaths to me, and we shall part ways in peace!” Redrock last swore fealty to Jean’s family during his grandfather’s time, but there had been two civil wars in Velois and one in Teutonia since then. “If you do not surrender, you will be stripped of your property and titles, then put into irons! Any man old enough for military service will be put to the sword if we encounter the slightest resistance from them! And if the Lady Veronique has been harmed when I find her, then I shall put each of your women and children into chains as retribution! You will watch as I lead them with whips to be sold into slavery among the elves!”

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  “That’s no choice! How can I-?”

  “We enter your keep at noon! For your sake, I hope the gate is open. And that the Lady Veronique is waiting for us there in good health!”

  The Lord of Redrock blustered behind them, but Jean turned his horse back towards his camp and his men followed him. Aeolus and the new chaplain, Mother Sarah, had only followed him halfway to the gate. They rejoined him on his way back.

  Aeolus was a wizard; he wore plain grey robes and a dark tri-corner hat. He did not shave, but he did not have much of a beard either. He was only middle aged, but he very thin, and his skeletal appearance made him look older. The magician was extremely near sighted, and could only see through spectacles. Finally, he had an irritating habit of clicking his tongue when he was thinking, which Jean only tolerated because he was very capable and loyal.

  Mother Sarah was a priestess of the Reasoning Goddess, whom his wife worshiped. She came into his service years ago, to replace the priest of Helios Jean’s father previously kept as chaplain in his privy council. She was young and very beautiful- for a high priestess. However, she took her vows seriously, and was not at all interested in men.

  His wife liked her very much.

  “You have everything you need to bring down the wall?” Jean asked.

  Aeolus answered, “All the reagents are here and ready, my Lord. The mixture will be a volatile one, so it can’t be stopped safely after we’ve taken the next step.”

  “How long will that take, once I give the order?”

  “Length of the weekly sermon if we hurry- make it a holiday’s mass if you want to be sure it’s done right.”

  “I do, and I shall, if it comes to it. I hope that it won’t, however.”

  Mother Sarah cleared her throat in a way Jean suspected was meant to sound sagacious. “The greatest general gains victory without resorting to battle.”

  Jean smiled at her. “I’m glad you approve, Mother.”

  The wizard left to make sure everything would be ready for the final alchemical process. Jean and Mother Sarah met with Henri, Georges, and Wladyslaw at their field camp once the initial positions were firmly established.

  His spymaster had reported structural flaws causing major cracks on the western side of the wall. The infantry pressed their fortifications all the way up to that point, and the whole route now lay well covered by his crossbowmen.

  No one reported any resistance from the other side, which was a good sign. His forces had time to fully debouch from their marching formations into posture for a siege without casualties. The defenders at least considering surrender would also give his agents a chance for agitation inside the walls. If they did need to make a fight of it, Jean wished his enemies’ morale as low as possible.

  They took a quick soldier’s dinner of ham on bread at the map table. It was served early to be finished in time for the noon meeting. When they had eaten, they rode back to the gate to see what had been decided by their opposition.

  The Margrave was waiting for them, and Jean shouted up to him as they approached. “Open the gate!”

  “What guarantees do I have that you’ll honor any negotiations if I allow you inside?”

  “There will be no negotiations. You will admit me right now, or I shall batter my way in. You will give me what I want, or I shall take it from you by force. Open the gate, now.”

  “Be careful, Marquis. I could yet do great harm to the thing you desire. Much could be done before you yet take it from me.”

  Jean felt his stomach tighten with anxiety, but Vero would not be helped by that. He still felt confident he held the superior position, and continued to press his advantage. “Then you shall truly see my wrath, and all your people will be punished for your arrogance! This is the third, and last, time I shall ask. Open the gate, and lay down your arms! Any who surrender to us peacefully shall not be harmed, or robbed. All others will die by the sword!”

  There was silence and the lord went down into the gatehouse, where the mechanism to raise and lower the portcullis could be found. Jean waited to see if there would be some positive sign, but all he could hear were song birds and a dog barking somewhere beyond the wall.

  Once he was sure they would need to breach the wall, he turned his horse away. There was a shout from the other side, and then a woman’s scream. Jean felt a cold sweat pass over him in a wave, but he did not believe it sounded like Vero. It also sounded more in shock than in pain.

  A figure appeared on the wall and raised a crossbow, eliciting shouts from Jean’s entourage. Another figure grabbed the first, and the crossbow was fired into the air. In another moment, a third figure joined them and they all disappeared. It was unclear which side, if any, the third figure had been on.

  By this time Jean was surrounded by his bodyguards. They were trying to convince him to withdraw when the portcullis opened.

  Jean motioned to Henri and Georges, and they forced their way to him. “Henri! I want you to get these men disarmed before they know what’s happening, no looting! Georges, get your soldiers into the gatehouse and make certain that portcullis stays open. A special reward to the men who bring me that lordling, so long as he’s still alive!”

  The soldiers shouted their approval at this last declaration, and Jean pushed his way to the front of the crowd. Past the raised portcullis, a solitary figure was standing in the dusty red courtyard beyond.

  The woman wore simple pants and a tunic. She was tall and fit, and her fire red hair was cut short like a boy’s. Her skin was fair, but her face was lightly freckled. Her eyes were green, and shimmered at him like emeralds.

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