Chapter 41: Siege

Author’s Note: There’s a scene of nonconsensual sex toward the end of the chapter. Please skip over if the content is disturbing to you.

What a long road it had been since the Battle of Castus.

Jack couldn’t shake that thought from his mind that morning. In fact, the entire Swabian campaign had been one filled with stunning reversals and last-minute victories. Jack had some of the highest highs and the lowest lows in the country of his ancient foe, but today, all of that struggle appeared to have been worthwhile.

For today was the day that his army first caught sight of the Swabian capital city of Dagobern.

And what a beautiful sight it was.

It wasn’t that the city was beautiful. Even from his first visit here over a year ago, Dagobern was one ugly city. It was cold, dreary, and utterly without color. They couldn’t have made the Swabian capital more depressing if they tried. Jack found it to be oddly representative of the Swabian character on a larger scale. The Swabian mind was usually predictable and unimaginative, and even their architecture showcased this to a large extent.

No, the most beautiful thing about seeing the city of Dagobern was that the city appeared to be nearly defenseless. There was no army of one hundred thousand Swabian soldiers between Jack and the capital. There wasn’t even a quarter of that. Almost every trained soldier of any consequence was now sitting out the war in Jack’s prisoner camp back near Castus. That meant sixty thousand soldiers that Emperor Avila had to make do without.

Avila didn’t even have enough men to harry Jack’s progression northward to Dagobern. With the bulk of his army captured at Castus, Jack had proceeded for two weeks along the coast toward the Swabian capital without so much as seeing a force larger than a platoon.

All of Dagobern was now open to him.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t see some units sketched below him on the outskirts of the city. Even two weeks was long enough time for Avila to arm every old man or young boy still capable of carrying a rifle. But Jack suspected that any troops left in the city would be second-rate in quality and not capable of throwing off an orderly assault by a much superior force.

For the first time in this war, the Swabians were on the verge of suffering a killing stroke, even after they’d delivered such blows to so many other countries. It wasn’t that long ago that Swabian forces swarmed from their islands and overran Sorella, Andalucia, Picardy, and Apulia. Jack could remember sitting in the city of Arezzo on the Apulian coast and knowing it was the only free city left in Apulia.

Now that the shoe was on the other foot, Jack looked forward to bringing this war to a fitting conclusion.

But first, they would have to take the city.

Not much longer after the city was sighted, Jack ordered his forces to move to surround Dagobern on all sides. Since the city shared its northern border with the ocean, that meant running trench lines from the far western terminus toward the east by way of the south. In doing so, Jack’s forces cut off the city from its immediate environs and prevented any other forces still out there from riding to the city’s rescue.

To help those men, Jack ordered each part of the line to have their share of the newly-arrived tanks, many of which had just unloaded not long ago. They were now receiving regular deliveries of tanks from Galicia, the result of Will Calland’s management of that now vital war industry. Also included in the delivery of the tanks was several new squadrons of airplanes, which meant that once again, the Allied Army would have near total domination of the skies above Dagobern.

All seemed set to deliver the final crushing blow against the Swabians.

For that reason, Jack called together a war council that consisted of himself, Bill, Art, Greg, Lindy, Russ, as well as Dustin, who’d taken the lead in command of the aerial forces of Galicia. It was a role that he was a natural fit for, and his command experience meant the rest of the pilots already looked to him as a natural leader.

Jack had half a mind to eventually separate the airplanes from the army’s command and place Dustin in charge of a new division just focused on aerial warfare but the timing for that wasn’t right just yet. Jack still wanted to see how Dustin finished out the campaign before he made that move.

Like usual, all of them gathered around a map of the immediate area of Dagobern to plan their next movements. The map was actually furnished by General Ferberg who had accompanied the army unlike the rest of his men.

Jack was still unsure what to make of Ferberg. By all reports, he had one of the best military minds in the West, and he’d surely proven that fact when he almost tossed Jack out of Swabia after the battles of Sepolz and Murgullah. Before that, Ferberg was the general who finally conquered Picardy, and he was even responsible for the uprising that put Avila on the imperial throne.

It was clear that Ferberg was an intelligent strategist, and there were many that claimed he was too dangerous to be left alive, especially given how much carnage his forces had caused in the war.

Jack looked at the situation a little differently though. Ferberg was dangerous—there was no doubt about that. However, Ferberg was a general first and foremost. And so far, he’d been extremely candid with his opinion about the campaign—something that Jack was still trying to come to grips with.

He was so candid that he couldn’t help but give Jack his opinion on what he should do. And seeing as how Ferberg was still Swabian, Jack couldn’t decide whether such advice was given to him genuinely or as some kind of plot to sabotage Allied fortunes.

By the time of the war council, Jack still hadn’t decided if he could trust the Swabian general. For that reason, he was meeting separately with Ferberg later on after the meeting.

“Well, gentlemen, here we are,” said Jack proudly as he kicked off the council. “It’s been a long road of turmoil and we’ve seen our share of setbacks, but Dagobern is now finally in front of us. Our army is in good shape while the army of our enemy is practically non-existent. The only thing that remains is how we take the city.”

“We take it quickly and hopefully before nightfall,” said Greg, making several of the others laugh. “We can be spending the night in the imperial palace if we time this just right.”

“You’d want to actually spend time in that palace?” asked Russ with a noticeably distasteful look. “I can only imagine what kind of condition it would be in just because the Swabians built it.”

“A palace is a palace though,” replied Greg. “And it’s our main enemy’s palace. I wouldn’t care if we had to sleep in a cot in the mud as long as I could sleep soundly knowing the war was over.”

That caused a few laughs but Jack put his hands out after Greg was finished speaking.

“Okay, okay, we have to take the city first before we can figure out what the sleeping conditions are in Avila’s palace,” said Jack with a chuckle. “So let’s talk about it. It would appear the defense is rather light and we shouldn’t have to worry about too much resistance.”

“That’s the part that makes me nervous,” added Art. “It almost looks too easy. I know a good portion of their army was captured after Castus, but they’ve still had two weeks to prepare themselves for our arrival. I would have expected more men.”

“Normally, I would be one to agree with you, Art,” said Bill. “But we all saw the size of the force that confronted us at Murgullah. There were over a hundred thousand men there. Those are losses the Swabians can’t replace in a mere two weeks.”

“No, but I’d expect Avila to put a rifle in anyone’s hands as long as they were capable of firing it,” said Art as he gestured to the city. “And that defense down there doesn’t look like it.”

“I’m having similar thoughts as you, Art,” said Jack. “It does look a bit too easy. Avila has been a crafty foe but not much down there seems to make sense.”

“Perhaps taking Ferberg away from Avila has neutered him to a degree,” quipped Dustin. “If Ferberg was the real brains behind Avila, then it would make sense that we’re not seeing much in the way of a defense.”

“That I’ve also considered,” said Jack. “But here’s the deal—we have the city completely surrounded on three sides. For the time being, we don’t have to worry much about the northern shore, for reasons we all know.”

The men all nodded, which meant that Jack didn’t say anything else about it. Right now, both the Swabian Navy and the Galician Navy were absent from Dagobern. Shortly before the Battle of Castus, there was an engagement between the two that largely sent the Swabians sailing back to the north. The Galicians pursued but instead of heading west to Dagobern, the Swabian Navy continued to sail north and then east around the island of Cormfeld. There hadn’t yet been any kind of decisive action and most on the Galician side were still trying to figure out the motive of what the Swabian Navy was up to.

In any event, it was an added benefit that the Swabian Navy wasn’t in Dagobern as it was one less factor they had to work with. It also meant that they couldn’t rely on the Galician Navy’s guns to shell the city into submission though.

At least not yet.

“With the city cut off on all sides, that means nothing can get in or out of Dagobern without us knowing about it,” continued Jack. “It also means they can’t relieve the city just in case there remains any sizeable force out there that would think to try.”

“That represents Avila’s best threat to us,” added Art. “And in this factor, the longer we carry out the siege, the better chance he has of getting a force together to relieve the city. Swabia is still a big country supporting a large population. As much as I hate to say it, they could make good on their losses with enough time.”

“All of that seems to support a relatively quick siege and then assault on the city within the course of a day or two,” said Jack.

“I don’t see why we wouldn’t do that,” said Greg. “We know they lack the defenses to hold the city against us long-term. Let’s attack now and hang Avila for the trouble he’s caused us. Then we never have to worry about a relief force.”

Jack looked around the room. “Any dissenting votes to that plan? Or reasons to carry out a longer siege? I could see merit in a plan that has us hold out until we deal with the Swabian Navy so that we can have naval support for our attack, but it might not be necessary for taking the city.”

None of them said a word in response. Art was the one that looked most nervous about an assault though. It was almost as if he suspected that it might not go according to plan but he didn’t want to speak against it regardless.

Without any response, Jack settled the matter. “Good. Let’s prepare to soften up the defenses for the next twenty-four hours with artillery. We’ll make our assault tomorrow. And then, we might just get Greg a spot in the imperial palace like he wants.”

The rest of the men laughed, but none grinned as much as Greg at that statement. Before Jack could adjourn the meeting though, Dustin had something to say.

“Jack, can I request permission to lead the aerial reconnaissance of the city? I’d like to be the eyes of the army so that nothing nasty can jump up and surprise us.”

Jack gave him a funny look. “Why do you need to ask? You already fulfill that role for us, Dustin. I’d just assumed you’d already do it even though you’re technically not supposed to be flying with a broken leg still.”

Surprisingly enough, Dustin managed to look embarrassed. According to Jack though, he had nothing to be embarrassed about. If anything, it was a testament to the bravery of his men. They were still willing to go to war even with broken limbs, something that Dustin had proven even back in Castus.

In doing so, he’d earned the respect of everyone who found out about it. It was a large part of the reason why Dustin was invited to these war councils moving forward. He was the heart and the soul of the Galician aerial forces, and he deserved a place at the table just as much as Art or Russ did.

“I still can’t believe he’s going up there with a broken leg,” said a grinning Russ. “That takes some serious guts, my friend.”

Dustin puffed out his chest. “That’s the kind of stuff the Javan marines are made out of, sir. There’s no weaknesses in any of them. I’m a living embodiment of it!”

More laughter ensued and it only ended with Russ and Dustin promising to get a drink together after the council. With the plan all but decided, Jack called an end to the meeting in order for all the senior commanders to alert their men.

It was also time for Jack to see one other person—someone whose opinion he sought before attacking the city.

It was also the person he didn’t quite know if he could trust yet.

Jack found General Ferberg inside his tent enjoying a midday meal. For being a high-security type of prisoner, Ferberg had a remarkable amount of freedom. That wasn’t to say that the Swabian general could come and go as he pleased. Rather, Jack only kept around four guards in total on Ferberg at any one time. He also made sure the general wore a pair of leg restraints that would prevent him from getting anywhere too quickly.

That last thing anyone would want was an escape but Jack got the impression that he didn’t have to worry about the possibility of Ferberg beating a hasty retreat.

He just didn’t seem like the type.

Jack also couldn’t decipher Ferberg’s peculiar moods. One would think that the general would be unpleasant or at very least more muted in his interactions with Jack. However, it was quite the opposite.

Ferberg could actually be quite ... pleasant. Coming from a Swabian, that was a remarkable change of pace.

“Your Imperial Majesty,” said Ferberg when he saw Jack. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Jack started to chuckle. “There’s no imperial in my title, Ambros. I’m not an emperor.”

Ferberg shrugged. “Maybe not yet but are we not outside Dagobern? Once you conquer Swabia, that’ll certainly make you an emperor. And to think, you’ll be the first emperor to lord over both Galicia and Swabia. You’ll be quite a powerful man. More powerful than you are now.”

Jack moved to sit in front of the general. He leaned back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. “I have no desire to become an emperor, especially not over the Swabian people.”

Ferberg raised an eyebrow. “Then what will you do when the war is over? Someone will need to rule in Swabia. Why not you?”

“I think we’re getting a little too far ahead of ourselves,” said Jack with a chuckle. “We need to end the war first. We can think of the settlement afterwards. And when that time comes, I’m going to go back to Galicia with my army and my wives and try to live in peace.”

“Peace,” quipped Ferberg. “Now there’s a word that every soldier hates to hear.”

“I don’t know, Ambros. I think the soldiers in my army have been fighting for so long that they’ll take peace when it comes up.”

“You must not know much about the Swabian Army,” replied Ferberg acidly. “Peace is an anathema to them. When the war is over, they won’t know what to do with themselves. They’ll start preparing for the next war if you let them.”

“If I have anything to say about that, we won’t have another war in our lifetimes,” said Jack.

Ferberg actually grinned. “Just don’t let any other Swabians hear you say that.”

“Speaking of which, you don’t much fit the stereotype of your typical Swabian,” said Jack as he rubbed at his chin. “You seem remarkably...”

“Intelligent?” suggested Ferberg. “Thoughtful? Like I have more than two brain cells to rub together at the same time?”

Jack started to laugh. “Your words, not mine.”

“Yes, well, it’s been no secret that there’s a wide chasm between myself and the rest of my countrymen,” said Ferberg as he stood up and started to walk. In the process, the restraints attached to his legs clinked when he walked. “Personally speaking, I’ve always found little in common with most of them. When I was younger, I used to think it was me. Now that I’m older, I can tell it’s most definitely them.”

“What do you think is the reasoning behind it?” asked Jack. “Why you’re so gifted? Because let’s be honest, Ambros. You’re a gifted general.”

“I’ve always had a liking for the army. Ever since I was a boy. My mother wanted me to become a trader because it was a different path than the army, which was expected of most boys in Swabia. I wanted to follow in the footsteps of my stepfather though, who was a lieutenant in a local regiment.”

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Stepfather, huh?”

Ferberg paused. For a brief moment, he seemed to be picking his words carefully. “That’s correct. I’m unsure of who my birth father really was. For most of my childhood, my mother always maintained that it was some old flame of hers from Marbeck. However, one night when I was thirteen, she revealed in a drunken stupor that she once had an affair with an Apulian trader at the same time she was dating the man from Marbeck. The timing was right although I can never know for certain if it was just the alcohol talking or not. She never spoke about it again and she died seven years later so it’s not like I can exactly ask her.”

“So that would explain a lot,” said Jack. “Why you’re not like the rest of your people. You’re half Apulian.”

Ferberg looked panicked for a moment. “Keep your voice down please. Such knowledge could get me killed in Swabia. Babies that don’t have a Swabian mother and a Swabian father are considered illegitimate in Swabian culture. It’s not unorthodox for children of such liaisons to be put to death. It puts my life at risk for it to be common knowledge so I’m trusting that you keep it to yourself. I’ve trusted no one else with the knowledge apart from several very close confidantes over the years.”

“Then why tell me?” asked Jack. “If it’s so dangerous to know, why tell your enemy? Why be upfront with it here?”

Ferberg shrugged after thinking for a moment. “Could death still not find me at any moment? It’s quite interesting how quickly you start unraveling your own secrets when there’s no threat of consequence. In this case, I wake each morning expecting that it could be my last day. After all, I still have no idea what you plan to do with me.”

Jack gave Ferberg a hollow look. “Haven’t we been through this already? I’m not going to kill you. I think you have a role to play in all of this before everything is said and done. You’re more valuable to me alive than you are dead.”

Ferberg actually cracked a smile. “So you say. It’s going to take me a long time before I can start trusting the word of a Galician.”

“Even if you aren’t really fully Swabian?” asked Jack in a low tone of voice. “Even if you are half Apulian?”

Ferberg let out a barking laugh. “Even still, I’m afraid.”

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle with the man. Suddenly, the knowledge about Ferberg’s parentage made sense. If he was half Apulian, it explained much about why he was so different from his countrymen. Perhaps someone with his temperament could be relied on in the aftermath of this war?

Or even before the war was over?

“There’s something I wanted to discuss with you,” said Jack finally after a moment of silence. “About the assault on Dagobern.”

Ferberg nodded. “I had a feeling this wasn’t entirely a social visit. So you’re going to assault the capital, I take it? And what of a siege?”

“No more than a brief siege before the assault,” said Jack. “I’m planning nothing more than twenty-four hours of artillery bombardment before my men move in. Judging by our reconnaissance, there aren’t many defenders left in the city.”

“No, most of them will be down south with what’s left of my army,” replied Ferberg. “But I think you’ll find that Dagobern will be a tougher nut to crack than you think. As for a siege of twenty-four hours, I think you’ll find that the city won’t be nearly softened up in time to make your assault tomorrow.”

Jack’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you say that?”

“Come this way,” said Ferberg as he stood once again and moved outside the tent. Jack followed him cautiously until they were out in the opening, where there was a decent view of the city before them.

Ferberg pointed to the imperial palace perched on the highest hill of the city. “See that hill right in the center? That’s Avila’s center of power. It’s also the toughest nut to crack anywhere in the world. I had an army of attackers that outnumbered the defenders four-to-one and they nearly broke us. It’s ideal defensive ground in the way that the road curves in two different spots. They can make you pay with even a small amount of troops. After all, that was why it was designed that way—the ultimate protection for a sitting emperor.”

Ferberg’s arm swept to the east suburbs closest to the army. “Out here you might not see many defenders but I can guarantee you that Avila has put every body that he could get his hands on within every house of consequence. Just because they aren’t immediately visible doesn’t mean they can’t make you bleed.”

Ferberg then pointed out to the ocean. “You’re also missing your best negotiating piece—your navy. If you brought the full guns of your navy to bear against the city, you would pulverize it. There’d be nothing left of Dagobern when you were done. I think you’ll find that this siege will be longer than you expect.”

Ferberg brought up good points, and Jack couldn’t deny that much of what he said made sense. But he still questioned whether his advice could be trusted. After all, Ferberg didn’t exactly trust Jack yet.

Why should Jack extend him the same courtesy?

“From what we see, I don’t think there’s much resistance to be had,” said Jack, countering the general’s last point. “And even if Avila armed anyone that could hold a rifle, that doesn’t make them soldiers. Such citizens are liable to melt back into the city at the first sign of trouble.”

Ferberg shrugged. “You might have a point about that but it doesn’t take away what I’m suggesting either. I think you should call off your attack tomorrow. I think you should call in your navy and settle into a longer siege. You might save the lives of many men tomorrow in doing so.”

There was sense in the general’s words but a tiny part of Jack’s mind couldn’t help but suggest that Ferberg might be stalling. That he might still be working for Avila despite being captured. There was always the chance that he knew of a relief force, and if he kept Jack from assaulting the capital prematurely, it could stave off ultimate defeat.

In the end, it came down to a simple point—Jack didn’t trust him yet either.

“I guess we’ll see who is right tomorrow,” said Jack with a wary smile.

Ferberg nodded his head. “I suppose we will.”

The sight of the enemy so close to his center of power filled Emperor Avila with equal parts adrenaline and rage.

It was only just this morning that he could see the visible signs of their arrival from the highest floor of the imperial palace, finding the evidence of their main headquarters just outside the city’s eastern gate. From there, the Galicians and their dogs surrounded the city of Dagobern, and in every direction that Avila looked, he could see evidence of trenches being constructed.

How did it come to this? How could everything have turned so quickly?

It was only a month ago that Avila was confident of supreme victory as his hundred-thousand-strong army marched out of Dagobern to confront the invaders. They were men that were well-supplied and ably led by none other than General Ambros Ferberg himself—the best military mind in the West.

And now Ferberg was a prisoner of the enemy, or so Avila was told. He had no indication whether that was the truth of the matter or whether Ferberg was actually dead but in either scenario, his leading general was of no further use to him. As was the army that had been shattered far to the south outside the city of Castus.

The loss of such a general and his army was a blow that Swabia needed time to recover from. Once Avila received the news about the army, he was temporarily paralyzed with how to respond. For two full days after the battle, he made no major orders nor did anything else to prepare for going on the defensive. There was just no way that Ferberg could have lost.

And yet reality still managed to seep in regardless. By the third day, it was time to face facts—it was up to Avila now to prevent his city from falling and this war from being a total defeat.

That was why he now took total military control. Even though Ferberg was the nominal head of the Swabian Army, Avila inherited that power now, becoming the generalissimo of the Swabian Army.

In reality, power couldn’t have been concentrated in less capable hands. Avila wasn’t a general. For nearly his entire life, he’d relied on Ferberg to lead the army while Avila worked the politics. It was a compromise that worked well for them but now he was in need of a different solution.

It also didn’t help that there wasn’t a capable successor to General Ferberg. The man was nearly unreplaceable and none of the remaining officer corps inspired Avila enough to believe they could handle the big job. It was another reason why he was content to put total power on his own shoulders.

Now that he had the ultimate responsibility, it was time to organize a defense. Avila vowed the Dagobern would never fall while he was still alive, and to that end, he had to create an army that was capable of defending it.

The only problem was that all of the capable men of military age had already gone south with Ferberg. In doing so, there were just about none of them left in Dagobern or on the main island of Swabia. In this regard, Avila was nothing but a pragmatist.

It wasn’t just men that were capable of holding rifles. Anyone could shoot a rifle in the general direction of the enemy. Even kids as young as ten or pregnant mothers could hold territory if given the tools to make it happen.

And so ensued Avila’s first general order to the populace—anyone capable of bearing a rifle had to receive one from the armory within three days of his order. From there, they would organize themselves by neighborhoods and prepare to hold the city in the face of the attacker.

Avila knew that it was likely his citizen soldiers wouldn’t be able to stand up against the well-trained soldiers on the other side but he wasn’t looking at a one-on-one type of match. He hoped to overwhelm the enemy with the entire populace of Dagobern and make Dagobern not worth the casualties that it took to take it.

It was quite a long shot to hope for but it was the best that he had left.

He was determined not to go down in history as one of the emperors who’d lost Dagobern and the war. Swabian history was already full of such examples and needed no further entrants to that disdainful list.

No matter the cost in blood or tears, Avila would hold Dagobern if it was the last thing he did.

To that end, Avila made daily inspections of his new fighting soldiers to make sure they were training for the battle ahead. While they were nothing like the inspections he used to hold with professional regiments, they were still necessary for ensuring his citizen-soldiers were prepared physically and mentally for the struggle ahead.

One such battalion was in front of him now. It was led by a former major who’d been discharged after he lost a leg in Picardy, rendering him unfit for normal service. Since these were far from normal times, he was reenlisted to defend the city, and Avila’s only order was that he show his recruits how to shoot and then put himself in a good position to defend that wouldn’t require him to be mobile.

The new Swabian Army was rife with such special provisions—all designed to take advantage of the manpower that was left.

The legless major’s new battalion was full of the residents of Rugendorf, a neighborhood not far from the industrial western heart of Dagobern. It was a poor neighborhood, one that never had much and had suffered greatly in the war with the loss of their men. In this particular battalion, Avila spotted boys that still hadn’t gone through puberty, old men that walked with limps, women who’d given birth within the last month and some that were due in another month. It was a hodgepodge of the remaining Swabian civilians but they all had one thing in common.

They all carried a Swabian rifle and were ready to give their lives for their country.

“My soldiers,” called out Avila as he neared the battalion. “The hour of our final victory draws closer. Are you ready to give your lives for your emperor?”

The responses were decidedly mixed. Most of the men knew to give out a vocal chant in affirmation but it was somewhat muted by the reactions of those that didn’t chant. A great many of them bowed to him instead, which was a normal reaction in decent times.

The youngest boys simply stared back, no doubt awed at the presence of their emperor in front of them as well as the ever present thought of death coming to find them way too soon.