On the morrow, we decided on a rapid attack. The enemy hive was near the coast, and easily reached in a quick march. All this was wisely ordered by your Viceroy, Leta the Princess.

The warriors of our legions set out on foot, and on mounts carried in the larger ships. The Dragon squadrons followed in two hours, with huge vats of burning pitch suspended on chains below the wings of our beasts.

We were over the hive of the troll folk in less than an hour. Legions of them lurked below. Flaming bolts were being loosed by our crossbow men below, and from our engines of war.

“Now!” I called.

My squadron descended on the walls of the hive below. When my beast was directly over the ramparts of the great wall, I pulled the release chains. Burning pitch covered the defenders on the wall below. The reptilian foe was griped by panic, and fled the towers and ramparts.

Our own warriors advanced to the wall. I could hear their war cries below. Some of the foe rushed back to the ramparts. Our dragons began to swoop down on the enemy, seizing the foe in their claws. The defenders were dropped inside the walls, onto the enemy ranks below, causing more panic.

Our warriors had reached the top of the walls. They cleared the foe from the ramparts and towers. They then pushed into the streets below the walls. Lata commanded the assault, and entered the city with the cohorts.

Over the next hours, our cohorts pushed up the streets, forcing the enemy back. My riders cleared the enemy from the towers, when they attempted to make a stand. The defenders fell to our arrows, shot from above.

The final stand of the Hive Folk was at their central stronghold. As before, the walls were cleared by my squadrons. Some of our Wings had returned to the ships for more burning pitch. Our legionnaires scaled the walls with their ladders.

The central courtyard was filled with our legionnaires and the foe, in a vicious melee. I landed my beast on the top of a tower. I left my mount with one on my riders, and rushed down to the fighting below.

The foe was being pushed back to the walls of the keep. One of the captains of the enemy spied my white plume, waving above my helm. He called out an order, and the foe rushed at my position, in a final effort to repel our attack.

Two of the enemy managed to cut thru to me. One of the foe, the captain, struck at me with his war axe. I turned the blow with my shield, and cut into his midsection. He screamed in pain, and fell to his side. The riders of my squadron rushed to my side.

The next hour was a slaughter. The enemy did not ask for quarter – that was alien to their kind. We slew the last of the foe, and regrouped in the great courtyard. Leta entered the gates of the stronghold, to our cheers.

“Hunter, you have won great honor this day. You will march in triumph on our return to the city!” commanded the royal lady.

“We have slain the foul enemy! We delight to war in your name, and that of your Queen Mother!” I replied.

We entered the great tower of the stronghold. The enemy had all fled, or had died on the ramparts. The great hall was empty. The walls displayed shields and helms captured in battle. A red shield perched above the main hearth. As I approached, I saw that it bore the coat of arms of the Satrap of our city.

“So My Lord, this was the fate of your arms!” I cried.

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