Dawn was just beginning to streak pale gray threads across the eastern horizon when Viscount Sirot's and Commander Rick's forces began to move from the village of Mikali. 3,500 soldiers, advancing with confidence and arrogance, believing they were on their way to crush a minor viscount who possessed only a thousand men. Their shouts rose, their armor glinting in the faint dawn light, as if they were on a military outing.
Just two kilometers from Kisor, the forces halted. The puffy-faced Baron Sirot and the harsh-featured Commander Rick advanced at the head of their troops. On the other side, also two kilometers away, Kisor's forces, the thousand soldiers, were positioned in absolute silence on Cavir Hill. The fifteen 24-pounder culverin cannons were carefully hidden under large cloths, appearing as mere piles of supplies.
Sirot ordered one of his messengers to advance. The messenger rode a white horse and carried a small white banner. He approached Kisor's forces and stopped a few tens of meters away.
"Viscount Zidan!" the messenger called out, his voice echoing in the morning stillness. "My lord Baron Sirot and Commander Rick offer you one last chance! There is still an opportunity for peace! Surrender now, and Duke Frederick will enlist you in his army and grant you a respectable position! Do not shed blood needlessly!"
Zidan stood in the heart of his forces, observed by Zinan, Sivara, and Marion. Zidan did not answer. He gave a curt signal with his hand to the messenger.
"Be gone!" Zinan roared, his voice cutting through the dawn silence. "There is no peace with occupiers! Return to your masters and tell them that Kisor will not kneel!"
The messenger was shocked by the reply. "What? You coward! You despicable viscount! You will regret this! I'll be back to play with your head after we cut it off!" the messenger screamed, inflamed with anger, then turned his horse to return to Sirot's camp.
At that moment, as the messenger was riding away, an arrow shot out from the ranks of Kisor's forces. It was a precise arrow, fired by Marg, Zinan's deputy, who stood beside him. The arrow pierced the messenger's back directly, and he fell from his horse silently, a dead body.
"May he not live who insults our nobleman and guide!" Marg shouted, his voice echoing in the air as the messenger breathed his last.
Sirot and Rick witnessed what happened from a distance. They saw the messenger fall and heard Marg's cry. Rage flared in Sirot's eyes.
"What? They kill my messenger? They kill my messenger?" Sirot screamed, his face congested with fury. "This crosses the line! Commander Rick! Destroy these rats! Crush their forces! Leave none of them alive! I want their heads hanging on the walls of Kisor!"
"Your command, Baron!" Rick said, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Advance! Soldiers! Glory to Frederick! Glory to Sirot!"
Sirot and Rick's forces surged forward like a torrent. 3,500 soldiers, screaming war cries, advanced towards Cavir Hill. The ground trembled beneath their feet, and their armor shone in the light of the rising sun.
The forces drew closer. 1.6 kilometers. Then 1.4 kilometers. Then 1.2 kilometers.
Kisor's forces were silent, steadfast in their positions. The soldiers gripped their weapons, their eyes fixed on the approaching enemy.
Meanwhile, in the heart of the formation, Marg was yelling loudly, his voice cutting through the tension. "Ready the fuses! Soldiers! Ready the fuses!"
The soldiers assigned to the cannons began to move quickly. They placed the heavy iron balls into the muzzles of the massive cannons. Then they added measured amounts of black powder. Their hands were steady, their eyes focused.
"Fire!" Marg screamed.
A deafening sound, shaking the earth and sky!
The fifteen iron projectiles launched from the mouths of the cannons, like thunderbolts from hell. They tore through the air with a terrifying whistle, heading towards the advancing army of Sirot and Rick.
The first strike was brutal. One of the shells hit a small contingent of about 20 soldiers in the heart of the formation. There was no time for screams. Bodies were torn apart, limbs scattered, and blood mixed with the dirt. The entire contingent vanished in an instant, as if they had never existed.
Shock swept through the ranks of Sirot and Rick's army. They stopped for a moment, their eyes wide with horror. They had never seen anything like this in their lives. They had never heard of such destructive power.
But the sound of the 15 cannons did not stop. The shells continued to fire, one after another, striking the enemy ranks, tearing their formations apart. Each shell wrought immense destruction, crushing soldiers and throwing them into the air like rag dolls.
The advance of Sirot and Rick's army turned into utter chaos. Cries of terror and panic rose above the sound of the cannons. Soldiers were running in every direction, trying to escape this fiery hell. Armor no longer protected, and swords were of no use.
Sirot and Rick's army was mercilessly crushed. In a matter of minutes, 3,500 soldiers were reduced to less than 1,800, most of them wounded or trembling with fear.
"Flee! Flee!" Sirot screamed, his face pale, having realized the battle was over before it had even begun. He tried to mount his horse, but...
Another cannonball was fired. It hit Sirot directly, tearing him to pieces. Nothing was left of him but a splash of blood on the ground and a final scream that no one heard.
Suddenly, the cannons fell silent. A terrible silence descended upon the battlefield. The remaining soldiers of Sirot and Rick thought the hell was over. They raised their heads, their eyes filled with horror, but they hoped for an end to this nightmare.
But the hell was not over yet.
From between the trees, and from behind the small hills, the forces of Kisor, the thousand soldiers, began to appear. They advanced slowly, in organized formations, surrounding the remaining soldiers of Sirot and Rick's army.
Then, Kisor's soldiers began to throw something. They were "explosive fuses," the cone- and cylinder-shaped grenades designed by Master Rogo. The grenades flew through the air, then fell among the enemy ranks.
Successive explosions!
A brutal shock swept the area. these were not cannonballs, but small explosions, yet they were enough to cause immense destruction at close range. Shrapnel flew, hitting the soldiers and creating new chaos.
The grenade barrage was relentless. 300 bombs exploded among the remaining enemy ranks. New screams arose, this time of absolute despair and terror. The soldiers ran aimlessly, colliding with each other, trying to escape this new hell.
When the explosions stopped, only 600 soldiers remained. They were terrified, trembling, kneeling on the ground, raising their hands in surrender. Among them was Commander Rick, his face covered in dirt and blood, his eyes staring into the void, having realized that everything was over.
The Battle of Cavir Hill was finished. It ended with Kisor's complete control and a crushing victory that no one had expected. Zidan, with his new weapons and advanced training, had proven that strength lies not in numbers, but in intellect, technology, and courage. This was the beginning of a new era in the kingdom's warfare.