“Flow in, secure the space.” Alter ordered as he marched into the room.

  He saw no need to continue the charade, nor did he wish to sit around, make nice and listen to a half-hour long evil monologue. It took Bertrand a couple of seconds to realise what was happening, and that his grand welcome had been utterly ignored. In confusion, he watched silently as the squad hurried to various points in the room. The servant’s door at the far end, made of plain, inconspicuous wood, was immediately secured as Boozehound forced a pair of thick wedges taken from Osprey Hall into the small gap beneath the door.

  “Rear door blocked.” He reported once the task was complete.

  About two thirds along, Pavejack and Walross were busy driving their own wedges into the bottom of what appeared to be a plain section of wall. While the German had to use the butt of his rifle to hammer them into place, they managed to find a gap quite easily. In hindsight, it was a good thing that they’d been shown the initial plans for the building, nothing had had a chance to be hidden away yet.

  “Secret door blocked.” Pavejack called out smartly as the two began making their way back to the entrance.

  “Sightlines minimal.” Boats reported from the windows. “Keep to the inner wall and any exterior hostiles won’t have a shot. Narrow eyes on the gates.”

  “Understood. Send the signal.” Alter ordered.

  Boats opened one of the windows and retrieved a smoke grenade from a pouch. As he pulled the pin and waited a couple of seconds before hurling it out into the open air, Bertrand found his voice.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” He demanded, his voice spluttering and cracking.

  Noticing that he had started frantically looking for something, Alter spotted the man’s cane resting against the side of the chair he’d been sitting in. Reacting first, he grabbed the cane and held it away from the rebellious lord. Sure enough, he could see the detachable pommel, a sword-cane, he knew it couldn’t have been just for show. In one smooth motion he drew his arm back and sent the cane sailing through an open window.

  “Get in the corner.” He growled at the man as he turned to face him again.

  Perhaps overwhelmed by the ridiculousness of the situation, Bertrand put one palm to his forehead, leaned backward, and began to laugh loudly and heartily.

  “Ha, haha! So this is how it is? Held captive in my own lounge? Overconfident fools, no matter how powerful those things are, you are utterly outmatched.” He looked at Alter, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open like a broken puppet.

  “Don’t try to hurt us and we won’t hurt you. I gave you an order, fucking follow it.”

  Bertrand began to back away towards the corner, but he was not done shouting.

  “Mathias? Pellarson? You were right, they’ve come here to kill me!” He roared at the top of his lungs. A moment later, someone attempted to throw open the hidden door, but the wedges easily held it shut and the unknown person quickly gave up.

  “Give me strength. Two, I want a report on the front.” Alter called.

  “The corridor gives us a commanding view of both the courtyard and the outer approach. We’ve also got a good fire position at the top of the stairwell. The servants fled the moment they realised that something was up and I’m hearing shouting from outside. Expect imminent contact.” Riptide responded from the back in the direction they had arrived from.

  “Alright. Three, Eight, stay in this room and make sure the mark doesn’t try anything stupid. Oh, and shout if anyone starts making a serious attempt to break through the other doors, or if any heads appear behind the windows. Four, Five and Six, set up in the corridor facing the courtyard. Make sure the others have a clear avenue of approach. Any armed unknowns you see are to be assumed hostile, you are clear to engage at your discretion. Two and Seven, hold the stairs, same rules of engagement, I’ll be joining you shortly. However, once the fighting starts I’ll be moving between groups as needed.” Alter rattled off orders as the members of the squad hurried to obey.

  Alter felt a certain amount of pride as he watched the pieces slowly yet efficiently begin to fall into place. It was not an ideal setup, he was happy to acknowledge that as he’d much rather have everyone consolidated in one uninterrupted sightline. But, regardless of his minor misgivings, they had been blessed with a surprisingly strong defensive position, even though they were completely surrounded. The final words of his train of thought were punctuated by the opening salvo of fire from Pavejack and the sharp crackling of breaking glass. The noise seemed to act as a catalyst for the true festivities to begin, as a roar of voices from somewhere outside rose in response. In the living room, the servant’s door began to shudder and bend as the enemy tried to ram it open.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  “So much for a single point of contact. Eight, with me.” Alter sighed and began making his way across the room with Vangroover in tow, all as Bertrand's laughter stung his ears.

  “Want me to gag him?” Boozehound asked hopefully, the Frenchman having already lost patience with their smug prisoner.

  “I won’t stop you, just don’t harm him in the process.” Alter answered without turning around, the man’s cackling suddenly turning to choking protests told him all he needed to know.

  “They’re keen, aren’t they?” Vangroover commented wryly as the door began to splinter at both the hinges and at the point of impact.

  “You can’t blame them, I suppose. Though I admit to having hoped that the guns would’ve made them pause for thought a while longer.”

  “Then that means they’re coming at us with only half a plan. I like that, personally.” Vangroover added breezily as he flipped the safety of his rifle off and pointed it at the door.

  Alter followed suit as the banging and scraping continued to rise in volume as progress was made. Sure enough, the door could no longer stand the ferocity of their assault, a sizable chunk of wood gave way and tumbled down into the room. For a split second, a determined, desperate face appeared in the gap. Unfortunately for the man, Vangroover’s reaction time was nearly instantaneous, the single bark of his rifle saw the face rocket backward leaving a fragmented plume of blood in its wake. Cries of surprise and dismay were heard from the far side, but this was not enough to stop them from resuming their efforts. In response to this, Vangroover began to sidestep while keeping his rifle trained on the gap. A handful of steps later he stopped and squeezed the trigger, another shot met by another scream and one less person knocking on the door. Wanting to press this advantage as best he could, Alter moved in the opposite direction. While he gained no vision of a head or torso, a hatchet-wielding arm could be seen chopping away. Alter’s shot was clean, and a pained shout saw the arm flinch away. Another burst from Vangroover was enough to cause them to back off, and the doorway fell silent at last. Alter waited for a handful of seconds before lowering his rifle and turning away.

  “You should be able to hold this alone for now. If they come back in greater numbers, shout for help over the radio and I’ll be back asap.” He gave Vangroover an encouraging pat on the shoulder as he left.

  Alter could hear that all other teams were engaged at this point, with the exception of the medic. Boozehound was on station next to the main door, his medical kit was open and arrayed on a drinks cabinet nearby. The man had ripped a length of soft, expensive-looking curtain rope from a wall, stuffed the tasselled end into Bertrand’s mouth, and used the rest to secure it in place as well as bind his arms and ankles before folding him up and dumping him in his corner. The pair exchanged a nod before Alter moved towards the front of the building. The courtyard overwatch team were still engaging targets with sporadic fire, and the small mounds of bodies around both the gate and the doors of the other houses spoke highly of their effectiveness. However, the enemy had been quick to catch on, with Boats reporting that they had swapped to the side or rear doors to move through. The stairwell team was holding strong, the finely carved marble steps were quietly turning red from the blood of those who had tried to climb them. Riptide had worked his way down to the centre of the right-angled U-shape of the space, and was launching rounds down to the entrance hallway. Whim remained at the top, his eyes upon the stairs leading upward to the servant’s quarters which appeared to have seen no action, as well as the corridor leading to the opposite end of their floor. The plans had listed them as bedrooms, and several bodies evidenced the fact that they had not been unoccupied.

  “Glad you could join us.” Whim smiled as Alter stood next to him.

  “Oh, the pleasure is all mine. What’s your assessment?”

  “They’ve realised that they can’t come at us directly, so they’ve pulled back into the other parts of the house. We all know there’s more than one staircase in here, my guess is they’re going to try something a little trickier next, though I can’t quite put my finger on what.”

  “I agree, it feels as if we’re missing something.” Riptide said as he made his way back up to them. “Has there been any sign of the other arriving?” He called over to Boats.

  “Not yet!” Was the response.

  Alter opened his mouth to continue their conversation, but he was interrupted by a sudden crash of splintering wood, accompanied by a startled yelp from Pavejack. The three men at the top of the stairs whirled around but saw nothing but a section of broken flooring where something had pierced through next to the gunner. A moment later it happened again. A large metal spearpoint, wreathed in dark blue flame, burst through the floor at incredible speed. Its thrust reached a meter into the air before it slammed back down and out of sight.

  “What the fuck!” Pavejack yelled as he scrambled away from his position.

  “Nerothyll Soul Kindler beneath us!” Alter shouted as the spear once more crashed into view.

  “Boss, we need to deal with that now! It looks like they’re stabbing blind but sooner or later they’re going to get lucky, and there’s no way Three’s patching you up if it gets you! Everybody on the stairs, the bastard won’t be able to pierce through solid stone!” Riptide ordered and the overwatch team quickly made their way over as the spear continued its random strikes that seemed to follow them along.

  “How are we going to handle this? I could drop a grenade through one of the holes they’ve left behind?” Walross suggested through deep, gulping breaths.

  “Too random.” Alter shook his head. “We need to get down there and make sure they’re dead before the priest arrives.”

  “Well then you’d better hurry, they’re here.” Boats growled, pointing through the window to where Oliver and the Silver Wolves began to edge through the open gates.

  “Shit, that’s perfect timing. Alright, Two, Six and Seven will come with me to flush this guy out. Four and Five, stay where the floor is solid and give Oliver and company as much support as you can. Let’s go.”

  Quick nods were exchanged and half the squad began to pick their way down the steps, between the bodies and down into the entranceway. The crashing noises continued off to their left, through yet another closed door, but every instance sounded like they were getting further away. Well, nothing like a little manhunt to get the blood flowing. It was time to kick down a few doors of their own.