The Golem City (Complete)

Prologue

A horn sounded. The Lord Major reined in his horse as the Eighth Detachment of the Kimonese Army ahead of him came to a shuffling halt. He looked across the large snowy flat at the top of the hillcrest. The sky was a thick blanket of grey, hovering above ground sodden with muck and snow. Flakes of frost settled on his woollen coat, and his breath billowed white in the crisp air.

His eyes scanned the meticulously ordered rows of heavy cavalry before him, twelve thousand strong, where not a man was without a horse or weapon to call upon. They had been riding for weeks, and a great tension had been mounting.

The Lord Major gazed at the plated siege towers, the steel-nosed ballistae, the catapults, and all the various engines of war they had managed to wheel in, despite the challenging winter terrain. There weren't many contingents that could have accomplished such a feat, but his had with admirable deftness.

Pulling a spyglass from his coat, the Lord Major peered beyond the parade of horses and riders at the two nigh-insurmountable stone ranges that walled off everything but the heavens, their sharp inclines coated with the brown bones of deciduous trees. A narrow gorge was the only way beyond, and standing at the mouth of the mountain pass, barring entry to all but those it was willing to admit, was a castle of formidable stature. Buttressed walls, massive and thick, rose from the ground, towers poised on spurred, pyramidal bases, crowned with spires half as tall as the mountains that shouldered them. Lights burned in the castle's many slitted windows, yet not a shadow stirred among their sills. It was a temple of ominous silence.

"First Captain," the Lord Major ordered, "to me."

The man saddled on a horse well left of the Lord Major wore a suit of plated armour draped in fineries befitting the rank of his second-in-command. Mounted on the rear of his horse stood a black and yellow standard emblazoned with a fist clenching a long iron nail. The state symbol was a reminder of Kimone's founding as a place of industry and progress. But the war had changed all that. Now they were pioneers of nothing but tactics and the machinations of warfare. It was regrettable what they had become, but necessary for their survival in these turbulent times.

The captain deftly manoeuvred his animal to his superior's side.

"Lord Major, sir?"

The Lord Major handed the spyglass over to his captain. The bitter chill in the air made his weary joints ache and the movement made him wince slightly.

"What do you make of this?"

The younger man looked through the glass, scrutinising the field before him.

"No soldiers, no guards, not a soul in sight." He lowered the scope. "Certainly peculiar."

"Certainly."

"Maybe we took them by surprise and they fled?"

The notion had already crossed the Lord Major's mind. His regiment was a terrifying preamble for any enemy to face, especially one that hadn't the means to challenge it. The Davishnans had suffered significant losses throughout the war and their remaining forces were spread much too thinly. The majority were preoccupied in fields of contention abroad, and his troops had been able to cut through their domestic defences too quickly for them to marshal an adequate response. But what their enemy lacked in sound strategy they made up for in tenacity, refusing to submit even in the face of insurmountable odds. It was this that caused the Lord Major to hesitate.

"No," he said, running his thumb and forefinger over his greying moustache. "Beyond that stronghold is the Davishnan capital, Punbai. There's no falling back for them here. They must fight or surrender, and they haven't willingly ceded so much as an inch of land since the start of this war. They're expecting us - I'm sure of it. The question is how are we to be received."