Chapter 357: The Collapse Begins

"MOVE!" Oskar said, pushing a random citizen of Torun to the ground. Looking up at the distant walls, he could see the fierce battle going on and clicked his tongue. He had hoped to be out of the city by now, but no matter how he looked or who he asked, he couldn’t find an escape route.

He knew that Lesezek would know, but no part of him wanted to enter the Palace again, let alone meet the crown Prince. He heard what happened to Konrad. The Royal Family already knew his connections to the Underwells. In a dying regime, he didn’t doubt he might be executed because of that.

"uhh." Oskar bumped into a small child, tripping onto the ground. The kid looked around in confusion before looking at Oskar and crying. Clicking his tongue, he ignored the boy and ran off with his guards. He had seen enough families split in the chaos already to worry about every lost child. His life was more important.

In the distance behind him, Oskar heard a loud cheer. Looking behind it was hard to make out at such a distance, but he saw the men on the wall cheering. Squinting, he could barely make out the red of the Empire’s troops and knew who took the first victory. It was expected, but came quicker than Oskar expected.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

William looked at his men lifting their swords, cheering at the collapse of the Southern assault. He smiled coldly as they cut down the last remaining defenders on the wall, who covered the retreat for the survivors.

He could tell his enemy was stretched thin around the city. Some were mobilised to deal with the fire, the rest having to defend every inch of the wall. It was a simple number difference after his arrival. "TAKE THE GATE! GRANT ENTRY INTO THE CITY!" William gave the command, and his men finally stopped cheering. The final batch of Ammary soldiers left the siege tower with one in the back carrying the Ammary flag.

William snatched it from him and jumped up on the wall barrier. One of his men followed and gave him a boost up onto the watch tower that had been abandoned. Pulling off the Commonwealth flag that hung on it, he held the Ammary flag proudly before stabbing it. The black flag overlooked the burning city for everyone to see, the golden lion on it watching with proud eyes.

The Ammary men, upon seeing their flag in the distance, felt a second wind overtake them, realising the battle was turning in their favour. The ferocity in their attacks increased. Many shouted about the glory of the Empire before pushing their enemy back. The Commonwealth forces reacted in two ways. All of them finally realised the inevitability of their defeat. Some broke, wishing to at least keep their life if they couldn’t keep their kingdom. Others became more suicidal in their attacks, using everything they had. They knew they had lost but couldn’t accept it.

Men died after and more brutally than before, some killed from behind trying to flee, and others mauling their opponent beyond recognition. All around the blood fell down the side of the walls. The once cold, grey walls became red. It was a scene out of hell for the common people, who couldn’t help but think their world was ending. Many fell to their knees and prayed, some lost all sense of morality and did as they pleased to make what they felt their last moments worthwhile. It was pure chaos at every level, from the poorest to the wealthiest.

William finally saw inside the city. The people in the distance looked like ants, but he could see what was happening. The city guard desperately tried to keep the peace, but it was pointless, as many felt the same as the people. It disgusted him to see humanity completely abandoned by the people of Torun, but he couldn’t blame them. If he were a normal man amongst them, as much as he would like to think better of himself, he knew there was a chance he would do the same.

Shaking his head, he jumped back onto the wall and followed his men, who pushed down the staircase. He had a mission. That was all that mattered. He couldn’t get sidetracked.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"YOUR GRACE!" A Commonwealth soldier called out to Snowid, his voice strained. Snowid, bloodied and injured, stared at Marcus. Both men were covered in small wounds, showing the brutal fight they had been in. Snowid’s skin had gone deathly pale from blood loss, and clutching his stomach, he felt the effects of his injuries worsening. "THE SOUTH HAS FALLEN! THE EMPIRE HAS BREACHED!" The soldier’s words barely registered in Snowid’s mind. He turned to see the black flag flying high above, the Golden Lion mocking his final stand. Gritting his teeth, he shook his head.

"ALL... MEN! FALL BACK TO... THE... PALACE!" Snowid shouted as best as he could before retreating down the steps.

Marcus, eager to end the battle, started to charge forward but stumbled, his body exhausted. Snowid didn’t even spare him a glance as he made his retreat. Looking around, Snowid saw the destruction—the blood that had been shed for the walls. His city, his kingdom, everything he had worked for was crumbling, and he couldn’t stop it.

The face of one man appeared in his mind. Alfred—his blue eyes full of arrogance, smug smile, and golden hair that would trick anyone into thinking he was holy. Snowid’s grip tightened around his sword as the hatred surged within him. Everything was Alfred’s fault. The Commonwealth would have entered its golden age if Alfred hadn’t existed. He had worked too hard to unite the East and West under one identity, to get the nobility in a reasonable place of power.

He hated it. Snowid had done everything right as a king, yet it meant nothing. He had been destined to lead his people into a prosperous era, to be remembered for starting a golden age. Now, looking at his crumbling city, a part of him wished the fire would spread and consume it all, so Alfred’s forces would be trapped and die a painful death. The only thing he wanted now was to see Alfred suffer, to know that in the end, Snowid’s kingdom and everything he’d built would be denied to him.

"THE KING RETREATS! THEY ARE CRUMBLING!" Marcus’s voice rang out above, a mixture of triumph and disbelief. Snowid could hardly fathom how Marcus still had the energy to gloat.

Snowid’s eyes fell upon the Commonwealth flag at the foot of the steps, now discarded and trampled in the mud. His men paid it no mind as they rushed past, focusing only on the desperate retreat. Looking up, he saw an Ammary soldier raise their flag on the tower and cheer.

The men who held the line for as long as they could threw themselves at the Ammary forces, using anything they had left—blunt swords, shattered shields, even their bare hands—to fend off their enemies. It was a desperate last stand he could only watch.

With a silent nod to thank them, Snowid staggered away from the chaos. Once a safe distance from the fighting, he tore off his armour and examined the wound on his stomach. He tied a makeshift bandage, turning it red almost immediately. His entire abdomen was a mess of crimson, and he couldn’t tell how much blood he was losing anymore.

He wanted to rest, but couldn’t. Pushing off a nearby building, he stumbled toward the palace, his legs shaking with every step. He had to see his home one last time. If he didn’t, he knew he couldn’t die in peace. Some of his men ran past him, a few stopping to grab his arms and help him along. They knew that if they left him behind, they had a better chance of survival. But they also knew their king wasn’t ready to give up yet. As long as he lived, they would follow him.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Lesezek watched from his office and sighed. Sitting down, he looked at the pile of paperwork that he had let stack up and brushed it off. Grabbing a nearby bottle and glass, he poured himself a drink and peacefully sipped. He knew he should fight, but he didn’t want to.

He spoke proudly to his father about defending his home until the last, but when it came to it, he just wanted to have a peaceful death, free from the worries he had been burdened with. He didn’t want to be in pain. The noise in the background told him this was what he wanted. He heard the agony the people were suffering through and knew it wasn’t for him.

Finishing the drink, he reached into his drawer and pulled out a small vial of clear liquid. Pouring it into the glass, he added alcohol to it and rested his feet on his desk. Closing his eye’s he slowly drank, letting every worry and obligation he had vanish.