Avarice Unfortunate Sons CH 21

No Refuge Left

Victor did not miss the finality of his commander's brittle words. Sure, over the years, the Wolf had suffered many setbacks. They had always gotten through them with planning and thought. This time, though, there was something heavy in Lothar's voice, as if he had well and truly broken.

Victor stood on the front porch in the harsh sunlight. He squinted at the cloudless pale sky that mirrored his own eye color. He heaved a heavy sigh and vacated the desert sun's uncomfortable warmth for a spot beneath the arbor. Welcome shade was to be had here as he sat on a stone bench and gazed up at the plump, almost ripe grapes hanging in profusion from the vine-covered archway. This place was so reminiscent of a memory, something so fleeting that he could barely recognize it lurking in his mind. A time before the world didn't want him, before his life grew so complex.

The Doctor didn't know what to do. He had to follow the orders of a broken leader, or at least be seen as doing so. Even if he had ruled, with license to do as he pleased, he had no clue how to proceed. Blindly throwing force at the walls didn't seem like a sound plan. But what else was there?

*****

After hearing Victor's full report, Lothar had sat immobile for some time. Whoever this enemy was, they were cunning. He had never anticipated that the sally port would somehow have been found and disabled. How had the underground passages been breached?

Lothar was now alone in the dining hall. He put his head in his hands in a gesture of silent defeat. There must be something he could do, anything, anything at all. He felt great distress at this news. He had expected a better outcome. What could he do to gain access to all that he had built? His men had reported that the courtyard was mostly unoccupied. With the exception of the craftsmen and workers going about their usual tasks, and a few teenage boys guarding the walls. Boys! There was no way that boys could have stormed HIS fortress! Who was this enemy!

This, though, was only a part of a greater problem. Lothar realized even before being told that he only had so long to remain medically stable. The medications he depended on to survive and function would, in a short time, run out. If he didn't regain control of his home quickly, he would grow progressively weaker. Only a month's supply of the valuable drugs remained. Lothar knew that if he was to make any kind of counterbid for the fort, it must be made inside that timeline.

The Old Wolf felt crushed and pressed into a corner. Part of him still lingered in a state of disbelief that this had even happened. He knew every inch of that stronghold. Its strengths and its weaknesses. He had to think of something.

*****

After dark, Lothar had called a meeting of the most senior of his men. They sat about the table laden with a delicious spread and fine wine. Servants hovered awaiting orders, and partially because they longed to hear of these invaders receiving their comeuppance. They may have been slaves to their conquerors, but they had not entirely lost their spirit. The candles in the large silver candelabras that sat at the center of the table flickered and danced like sprites as each man entered the hall.

Lothar sat in his wheelchair at the end of the long table, with Victor and the Major flanking him. Lothar's mouth was drawn in a thin line, and his expression one of depressed seriousness. None of the men, even though the wine was sublime and the food delicious and plentiful, looked to be in good cheer.

The meal began in silence. The clatter of utensils on the porcelain tableware was all that broke the dead air. All were waiting for their leader to speak, to offer them something. As the long minutes wore on, the men began to lose heart. Realizing that Lothar, who had guided them since before the onset of the chaos, perhaps had little more to suggest than they did.

All eyes were on Lothar as he cleared his throat. Though he was used to leadership, this announcement would take courage. He had been going over the pro's and cons for the better part of the afternoon. He knew that some of his men would stand in opposition to his suggestion. Yet for Lothar, the stakes had never been higher. His very survival hinged on his men believing that his plan was the only real path they could pursue.

His voice was deep and strong as he ran with his opening narrative. He could see by the men's eyes and expressions who was in and who was out almost immediately. "I believe in light of what has happened, that we have little choice but to storm the walls." Lothar's dark hazel eyes scanned all present and then came to rest on Victor.

This was not what many of his men had wished to hear. Yet no one interrupted. Victor took a deep gulp from his wineglass, unwilling to be drawn into such a desperate idea.

"We know our home better than those who took it."

Many of the men nodded at that. That was true.

"We still have some artillery." Lothar continued. "Firing at the weak points in those walls, it may gain us entry. It would seem as though they are few in number. They cannot repel us all."

"That sally port was a blast door; it will do little good on that." Victor finally found himself contributing to the ongoing conversation. "There are other places, though, that we may stand a chance of penetrating if we strategize carefully."

"How much artillery do we have left, Captain?" Lothar asked out of curiosity. He knew that much of it had been used to breach the farmers' walls.

"Not much, Sir, but possibly enough to blow out a weak section of a wall. We could also use some grenades. We have a good supply of those."

"Very good, so that's a consideration then. What about going over the top? If there are so few enemies holding the fort, as you say. Surely, we could. If we scaled the wall in multiple places, we just might breach their defenses."

"The casualties... surely, would be unacceptably high, my Lord." Major Harris chimed in.

"Perhaps, but what is the alternative, men?" Lothar gazed at each man in turn; many could not meet his eyes. "Heroically stupid or not, we have little choice but to take back what is ours!" His voice was strong and carried a heavy certainty. It was a sentiment not lost on his men. "Without our home, we are nothing but grains of sand. Do you really want to grovel in the dirt here for the rest of your lives? Or risk them for what we have built!"

Lothar's eyes briefly strayed to the darkened window. Where he knew the elaborate tombstone of his intended lie. A heady reminder of his own mortality if he failed. He had already given instructions that he be buried beside her. The bride, he never claimed. He felt a flush of cold pass over him, and he wrenched his eyes back to the faces of his men.

The officers and captains all looked at one another. Lothar raised his glass to seal the decision with a toast. It shook in his hand, and the wine looked like blood. Would his men still follow?

Victor was the first to tentatively raise his glass, followed by Greyson and Harris. The rest of the commanders followed suit. It was decided then. Better to die to regain their shred of humanity than merely continue to exist.