Chapter 123 – The Crimson Banner over Three Baronies
The gray sky hung low above the battlefield that had finally fallen silent. Wisps of smoke still drifted from the ruins of Baron Hohenberg's encampment. The stench of blood-soaked earth mixed with the metallic tang of iron, filling the lungs like poison.
Hours earlier, Eisenwald's soldiers had shouted in victory, their roars shaking the plains. Now the cries were replaced by ragged breathing and the desperate calls of medics tending to the wounded.
Fenrir stood upon a small rise, where the crimson wolf banner of Eisenwald fluttered violently in the cold wind. His crimson eyes swept across the horizon, where the castles of the three fallen baronies stood—empty of their lords, waiting to be claimed.
"Casualty report," he commanded, voice low but sharp.
A mud- and blood-stained courier dropped to one knee before him.
"Lord Fenrir! Eisenwald has lost nearly 1,200 men across these three days of battle. Many more are wounded and unable to fight. Current active strength… eight thousand five hundred."
Fenrir nodded once, his expression unreadable. Around him stood his generals—Darius Holt, the war-scarred veteran still covered in enemy blood; Kael Morgenstern, his black armor and blade gleaming with crimson stains; Selene Aestra, exhausted but sharp-eyed; Lyra Nightshade, leaning against a timber post with her ever-present sly smile; and Garrik Stormhoof, silent as he stroked his warhorse's neck.
"The enemy is finished," Darius rasped, his deep voice hoarse. "The banners of Hohenberg lie in the mud. Their people… some have fled, others are surrendering."
Fenrir's gaze narrowed. He knew war by the sword was only half the struggle. The harder battle now awaited him—integration, governance, and crushing rebellion before it could begin.
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A weathered map was spread across a makeshift wooden table. Three baronies—Drachenfels, Falkenhain, and Hohenberg—were marked in black ink. Now the borders of Eisenwald, drawn in crimson, encircled them all.
"We cannot waste time with celebrations," Fenrir said coldly. "These territories must be brought under control immediately. If we hesitate, uprisings will spread like wildfire."
Kael stepped forward, hand on his sword. "Allow me to lead the Crimson Knights. We will secure the roads to Falkenhain and strike down any lingering pockets of resistance."
"Approved," Fenrir replied.
He then pointed at Drachenfels on the map. "Darius, you'll take the infantry and garrison their mines. Eisenwald must hold the iron."
The veteran saluted with a clenched fist. "A thousand men will be enough. The mines will be ours within the week."
Fenrir's finger slid to Hohenberg. "Selene, take the archers and secure their farmlands. Feed the people and they will bow their heads faster than steel can force them."
Selene inclined her head. "As you command."
Finally, his eyes fell on Lyra. "You and your scouts will watch the baronial remnants. Not a single messenger leaves these lands without my knowledge."
Lyra smirked. "Consider it done, my lord. Not even a crow will fly without me knowing."
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The next morning, Eisenwald's crimson banner stretched like a tide across the road to Drachenfels. Soldiers marched in tight ranks, boots striking the ground in rhythm. The villagers peered from behind shutters, faces pale with fear. Children clung to their mothers' skirts, while men kept their heads bowed.
Fenrir rode at the front astride his black warhorse. His gaze swept coldly across the onlookers. He understood—this march was not just movement. It was theater. Eisenwald had to show power, or risk rebellion before authority could take root.
At the gates of Drachenfels, local soldiers had already cast down their arms. An old officer knelt, holding out the heavy iron keys to the fortress.
"We surrender unconditionally… Lord Eisenwald."
Fenrir dismounted. He accepted the keys and drove them into the earth at his feet. "From this day, Drachenfels belongs to Eisenwald. Those who bow will live. Those who resist…" He glanced sideways at Kael, whose silent presence was enough to make the kneeling soldiers shudder. "…will be erased."
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Inside Drachenfels' great hall, Fenrir sat on a rough wooden chair elevated as a throne. Around him stood his generals, their armor still bloodstained.
Before them knelt the lesser nobles of Drachenfels, trembling, some trying to mask fear with hollow dignity.
Fenrir's voice was cold as winter steel.
"You still breathe because I allow it. From this day, you will pay tax to Eisenwald—half your iron, one-third of your harvests. In return, Eisenwald will grant you protection."
One young noble opened his mouth to protest. Before a word could leave his lips, Kael stepped forward, sword raised, its edge nearly grazing the man's throat.
"No discussion," Kael intoned, his voice as unyielding as iron.
The hall fell into suffocating silence.
Fenrir's crimson gaze swept across them all. "Comply, and you will keep your lands. Refuse, and your family name will vanish from history."
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The following days blurred with ceaseless work. Eisenwald garrisons were raised in all three baronies. Crimson banners bearing the wolf clawing the moon were hung from every gate and tower.
At first, the common folk trembled at their new overlords. But as Eisenwald soldiers began guarding roads, distributing food, and punishing bandits, the people's fear shifted to wary curiosity.
"Our old lords only took… these ones at least protect," a farmer whispered to his neighbor as they watched Selene's men guard the harvest.
Still, danger lurked. Loyalists to the fallen barons moved in shadows. Already, Lyra's scouts were tracking and cutting them down.
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Real-Time Report – After Initial Integration
Eisenwald Forces
Starting: 10,200
Total losses (to fall of Hohenberg): ~1,700
Remaining: 8,500
Morale: High, emboldened.
Enemy Coalition
Starting: 15,000
Total losses: ~15,000
Remaining: 0 (three barons dead, armies destroyed)
Morale: Shattered.
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Fenrir stood on the balcony of Hohenberg's fortress as the sun dipped low, painting the horizon in crimson light. His lands had expanded beyond recognition. Three baronies had fallen, their wealth, lands, and people now under his dominion.
Yet his expression was cold, unreadable.
"This is only the first step," he murmured. "Eisenwald is no longer a minor barony… and I am no longer just a baron."
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#wanD48.