Of Pride and Power - 53. Chapter 47: “Strike the shepherd and the sheep will scatter”

In my timeline, the Siege of Narva was the penultimate battle of the Livonian War, fought between Sweden and Russia in 1581. The Russian Empire prioritized fortifying this position above all others on the Baltic coast to avoid such a defeat. They followed a strategy adopted in the 18th century during the Great Northern War, which most historians in my timeline regard as the turning point for Russia's rise to international power. After establishing a presence in the southern Gulf of Finland in 1703, the Russians, led by Czar Peter, established their first Baltic fleet headquarters in the newly developed territories. Czar Ivan now seeks to recreate this conquest, constructing Ivangorod using slave labor from the conquered Baltic regions, in the city formerly known as Narva. Years of military buildup have provided the Russians with a sizable fleet and a fortified naval base at the mouth of the Narva River. That’s where I needed to be, and why I was bringing my mecha knights and the HMS Lamrei.

The Lamrei, as you know, was the first of its class—a Sea Control Ship. In my timeline, the United States originally conceived the idea of a ‘pocket carrier,’ a small vessel designed to deploy aircraft and troops to protect convoys and project airpower in localized naval engagements. However, the concept was abandoned in 1974 due to budget concerns over maintaining a fleet of such ships versus larger nuclear-powered aircraft carriers. Robert and I revived this idea for the upcoming confrontation. The ship's sensor suite, which included advanced radar and sonar, used cutting-edge technology from Avalon, powered by a core that also served as its primary computer system. Instead of traditional turrets or launchers, the Lamrei employed multi-role drones, controlled by programmable crystals rather than circuitry, for both defense and attack. One of the drawbacks of the original Sea Control Ship was its limited carrier capabilities compared to larger nuclear-powered vessels, so I reimagined the Lamrei as a drone carrier capable of deploying and controlling 256 drones. For underwater protection, it was equipped with a sophisticated 360° sonic weapon designed to target torpedoes and proximity mines.

Shortly after leaving our designated inspection point, several Russian warships attempted to engage the Lamrei. First, a squadron of corvettes approached under active invisibility screens, but our infrared scanners detected them once they were within two miles. As a result, we anticipated their torpedo volleys and neutralized them with the ship’s sonic countermeasures, detonating the torpedoes prematurely. After their initial attack failed, I used my abilities to displace the outer hulls of the torpedo corvettes, causing immediate flooding and sinking, all without revealing our drones' capabilities. Destroyers soon joined the fray, adding turreted guns for greater range. Though they also operated under invisibility screens, their ranged attacks, launched from one to four miles away, were intercepted. Using binoculars, I pretended to focus my powers on specific points, even though I could already track the projectile trajectories in real time. I didn’t want the enemy to know this, so I deliberately limited the number of destroyers I sank beyond two miles, leading them to believe that greater numbers and range would give them an advantage.

After an hour of these waves of attacks, their heaviest naval guns—mounted on mid-20th-century pocket battleships and cruisers—began firing from 5 to 10 miles (8 to 16 kilometers) away. From their firing pattern, I could estimate their maximum range. The most powerful naval guns of the mid-20th century had a range of 24 miles (39 kilometers) and a muzzle velocity of 2,500 feet (760 meters) per second. Since one mile equals 5,280 feet, it would take about 10 to 20 seconds for a shell to reach our ship. However, these shells followed predictable trajectories based on the environment and could be intercepted or destroyed. Jack had developed close-in weapon systems with high-velocity projectiles from our timeline to counter such conventional weapons. He also designed a method to deploy these systems via drones, similar to the ones guarding Avalon alongside the mecha knights.

We launched 64 interceptor drones to neutralize incoming shells using their high-velocity projectiles. Since the Russian shells followed fixed trajectories due to gravity and mass, the drones, coordinated by the Lamrei’s core, intercepted only those that posed a direct threat, conserving munitions. Unlike the Habsburg Empire’s navy, the Russian Baltic Fleet had not developed guided missile technology and still relied on standard projectiles, known as 'dumb' weapons in my timeline. Simultaneously, we deployed 128 bomber drones, escorted by 64 interceptors, to strike the Russian warships. Drone warfare was still at least a century away for most major powers due to the lack of microprocessors and advanced transistors needed for miniaturization, but Jack—posing as Merlin—had conceived of using refined composite crystals to bypass the need for an industrial supply chain of overseas mining and manufacturing. His supernatural abilities, like his current life as Robert Dudley, allowed for technological shortcuts that would have been financially prohibitive in our original timeline.

After three battleships, eight cruisers, thirteen destroyers, and forty-six corvettes were sunk by our drones’ high-explosive payloads, the Russian fleet switched to using electric armor. As they regrouped, we recalled our drones and prepared for the next phase of the battle.

During the initial volleys, Robert and the Royal Marines, who were trained as technical specialists, began refitting our twelve mecha knights. Though their cores were powerful enough to operate heavy equipment, the airframes and fan jets required on-site installation. Unlike the Gundam suits of science fiction, you can’t just attach a jetpack and expect androids to become airborne combat units. The refitting process reminded me of the Transformer toys Jack had shown me as a child in our original timeline. Unlike the seamless transformations in the animated series, the toys required several attachments—Jack’s father even lost two wheels from Optimus Prime’s truck form.

While the Royal Marines had learned to assemble and refit drones in six months, it took them years to master the same process for the mecha knights' flight modules. They essentially had to gain the equivalent of a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering. Even with Robert's and my abilities, mastering this aspect of the mecha knights took several months.

The thrust-vectoring jets posed the biggest challenge. While offering remarkable agility by directing engine thrust for precise maneuvering, these jets had significant technical weaknesses. Their mechanical complexity increased the risk of failure during critical moments. Swiveling nozzles were prone to wear, heat stress, and damage from debris, leading to intensive maintenance needs. Additionally, they caused aerodynamic drag during the transition from hover to forward flight, reducing fuel efficiency and range. Despite these challenges, in my timeline, the British Harrier jet fighter, introduced in 1966, became a pioneer with its vertical takeoff and landing (VTOL) capability. The Harrier’s ability to operate from improvised or short runways revolutionized combat aviation, especially during the Falklands War, where its versatility allowed it to operate from naval vessels and rough terrain. However, the complexity of its thrust-vectoring system required highly skilled pilots and ongoing maintenance challenges —lessons we applied with the refitting of the mecha knights. Our work represented the latest step in this legacy of innovation and frustration.

To achieve thrust vectoring, the mecha knights' arms and legs had to be replaced. Their arms were fitted with retractable wings, and their legs with fan jets. Although the twelve mecha knights were trained to abandon their humanoid forms for aerial combat, they still relied heavily on this equipment for their flight capabilities. The fan jets required precise calibration, and stabilizers were installed on the main bodies to reach a speed of 850 miles (1,368 kilometers) per hour—about 1.1 times the speed of sound, which is 717 miles per hour (1,195 kilometers per hour). Had we been at Avalon, drones operated by the facility’s AI could have handled the precision refits without deviation, thanks to their advanced sensors. However, we couldn’t risk pre-fitting the mecha knights before the expedition, as this would have limited their mobility on board, restricting them to the deck or drone storage bay. Additionally, weight reduction measures required the removal of certain equipment, including their artificial voice synthesizers. Removing their voice boxes for refitting would have left them unable to verbally communicate, limiting interaction to the core link communication.

Since we had to perform the refits during the expedition, Robert and the specialists worked within a 2-millimeter deviation allowance. Any deviation beyond that would reduce the mecha knights' speed or maneuverability in flight, which was crucial for their combat effectiveness—especially against electric armor, which was immune to explosive and thermal damage. The mecha knights needed speed to maximize kinetic energy in their attacks. Their kinetic impact was formidable at their maximum potential speed, combined with their unique body composition. Made from composite carbon nanotubes, their bodies had far greater tensile strength and durability than the steel used in most warship hulls. Essentially, Gard and his knights were living battering rams.

The twelve mecha knights performed exceptionally well during their assault on the Russian fleet, neutralizing the electric armor and striking critical areas, such as coal power plants and munitions storage. After penetrating the armor, they projected plasma, inflicting devastating damage on the warships with a single blow. Within less than an hour, the remaining Russian Baltic fleet was either engulfed in flames or sunk. We retrieved the mecha knights and continued toward the Baltic Fleet’s main naval base, now less than twenty miles away. Half of our rearmed interceptor drones were already in the air, positioned for interdiction if Russian shore battery shells were detected. Everything had gone according to plan so far, but Robert and I might have become too complacent.

As we neared 15 miles the naval base, volleys of shells were fired at the Lamrei, but our drones intercepted them. At 10 miles from the coast, I was helping Robert and the others rearm bomber drones and their escorts to take out the shore batteries. Our drones had a maximum range of 31 miles (50 kilometers) on a single charge, allowing an effective roundtrip bombing range of around 10-15 miles.

While preparing the next wave of drones, my abilities suddenly detected a mass of heat sources surrounding the ship. Blinded by a brilliant light, I quickly activated my displacement ability and neutralized the threat by pushing the sources twelve hours into the future. Relying on my sensory abilities rather than my sight, I detected another wave of heat sources and displaced them as well. Five additional waves were neutralized in rapid succession, all within a second. I was sweating profusely and, for the first time on this expedition, felt a sense of dread. I feared I might have to use the technology Robert and I had spent years developing after escaping the trap in Paris with the help of Avalon’s advanced facilities to escape this new attack. Just before I gave the order, the bombardment suddenly stopped.

During the quiet moments that followed, I used my analysis ability to identify the weapon the Russians had used against us. For the projectiles to have traveled almost instantaneously from the coastline to our position, they had to be moving at ten times the speed of conventional shells, which already travel at twice the speed of sound. I also detected a high thermal signature from the weapon, but it wasn’t as focused as a laser. Noticing millisecond differences between the waves, I estimated the weapon's speed to be around 3% of the speed of light. After reviewing my knowledge of theoretical weapons, I concluded that the Russians had used several of their cores to power a plasma weapon.

In my timeline, toward the end of the Cold War, the United States developed a high-energy weapon system under the codename MARAUDER (Magnetically Accelerated Ring to Achieve Ultra-high Directed Energy and Radiation). It was essentially a plasma railgun, but by 1993, the project was deemed unfeasible due to its extreme energy requirements. In the early 21st century, the Russian Federation—successor to the Soviet Union—announced that it was once again exploring this technology alongside its Chinese allies. In our current world, the Western Charter’s Sky Fortress had proven that railgun technology had matured, so I had no reason to doubt that their rivals had developed something similar for land-based defenses. However, unlike the Sky Fortress’s railguns, which relied on kinetic energy, these plasma weapons used bursts of thermal radiation to destroy targets, with a secondary electromagnetic pulse that damaged electronics. Popular speculative fiction referred to these as 'plasma bolts,' as the discharges resembled lightning. Rumors of such weapons in the hands of Russian and Chinese Imperial forces circulated in the Middle East and Far East, though Habsburg-allied troops often dismissed them as lasers or standard kinetic railguns due to their immense speed and power. We had no idea the Russians had developed something like this.

I was breathing heavily, slightly dizzy from displacing what I estimated to be at least fifty-seven targets. It felt like the early days at Avalon when I would recharge all the cores and then fall unconscious. I had just enough stamina left to deflect one more wave of these plasma bolts before passing out, but I was at my limit. Since no more plasma bolts came, I assumed the Russians needed time to reload or recharge. One likely issue they hadn’t solved was cooling—such intense thermal energy would destroy most gun barrel materials after only a few uses. We couldn’t let them fire another volley.

Though we had survived, the Russians were unfazed. Realizing that the Lamrei was still undamaged, they resumed shelling us with their shore batteries. The interceptor drones we had previously deployed had been destroyed by the plasma weapons’ intense heat, so I had to rely on my abilities once again to displace the incoming shells. Our ship’s systems immediately launched more interceptor drones to assist with defense, but we had only 54 drones available, having lost 64 in the initial attack. This left a small 17-degree arc without coverage, which I had to intermittently fill using my abilities. Although these shells didn’t tax my stamina as much as the plasma bolts, they still posed a significant challenge.

Everyone on deck was shouting, trying to make sense of what had just happened. I raised my voice and called out during a brief respite when shells did not target the unprotected arc, 'I’ve neutralized the Russian high-energy weapons. I don’t think they’ll be able to fire another round so soon. We need to use our remaining bomber drones and interceptors to take out their shore batteries. This will give us time to recover our sight and launch the rest of our drones.”

I turned toward where I sensed Mecha Knight Commander Gard and said, 'Gard, I don’t know how many plasma bolt weapons they have, but you and your knights need to eliminate them immediately. Search for core signatures along the shoreline and destroy or disable any facilities you find.'

Gard acknowledged, replying, 'Your Majesty, we will defeat these foes as you command. May the last be the first!'

The rumble of fan jets filled the air as Gard, his mecha knights, and 73 of the 128 bomber drones on deck began their ascent. At full speed, our aerial forces would reach the coastline in about 65 seconds. Meanwhile, I had to endure the shelling for five to ten minutes as the bombers made their runs on the shore batteries, barring another volley of plasma bolts in that time. Pausing to restore our eyesight after destroying the shore batteries was risky, but necessary, as the ship would remain vulnerable until Robert and I recovered our vision. Without my eyesight, my displacement ability was limited to a 600-foot radius, so sending all the mecha knights was a gamble. Still, I had to take advantage of their technological edge and hope they could neutralize the primary weapons. After eight minutes, the shelling stopped.

I reached out to Robert, asking him to link his senses with mine so we could heal each other’s damaged optic nerves. My sensory ability creates a secondary awareness of the surrounding space, forming a 'mind’s eye' with details such as thermal and light refraction data. When combined with Robert’s ability, we could regenerate and realign our optic nerves. Initially, using my linking ability to share my mind’s eye with Robert required frequent rest breaks, as we learned when helping Thomas Cranmer. Over time, we became more efficient. After 23 minutes, our vision was restored, and we began healing the others on deck. It took two more hours to fully restore the sight of all the Royal Marine specialists and repair damaged ship systems from the blasts, but we were fortunate—no more plasma bolts were fired.

I admitted to Robert that without his help, I likely would have had to order Gard to guide the Lamrei back to England for medical treatment. I had underestimated the power of the cores behind these weapons.

Gard returned before we finished restoring everyone’s vision, reporting that the plasma bolt installations and conventional shore batteries had been destroyed. The mecha knights had also photographed and cataloged the weapons' details, uploading the data to the Lamrei's core for further study at Cadbury Hill and Avalon. Gard requested that the mecha knights be refitted into their humanoid forms for follow-up operations at the Baltic Fleet’s headquarters, now defended by only a few corvettes after we sank their main force. It was a sound strategy, but I was concerned the Russians might have set another trap, possibly a nuclear device, within the naval base complex. Gard noted that the plasma bolts made it difficult to detect trace elements like uranium or plutonium, effectively shielding such weapons from detection unless the mecha knights were closer. Following his suggestion, Robert, the Royal Marines, and I were sequestered in a shielded compartment aboard the Lamrei in case of a nuclear detonation.

While the mecha knights wouldn’t be affected by atomic weapons—since their carbon nanotube bodies could absorb and channel radiation—our primary goal remained the preservation of Russian lives, for now. My grand strategy required as many defeated Russian soldiers and civilians as possible to survive the battle and future conflicts, so they could flee into the interior of Russia.

After neutralizing the remaining Russian corvettes in the harbor, we refitted the mecha knights into their humanoid forms and docked the Lamrei at the Russian Baltic Fleet’s primary dockyard. Lucan and Michael, defense specialists among the mecha knights, secured a foothold at the pier. They controlled 64 interceptor drones, which swiftly eliminated several platoons of Russian troops attempting a coordinated assault, mistakenly underestimating the threat posed by the six-foot-tall androids. After the failed assault, the Russians retreated behind barricades. Though the naval base was defended by 5,000 soldiers and another 20,000 troops in nearby installations, they were no match for the mecha knights. The Russians had prepared for an amphibious assault or bombardment from dreadnoughts, not specialized attacks. Suppressing the Russian forces required minimal effort.

Lok and Brin, leading the vanguard in clearing the naval base buildings, found no nuclear devices but recovered several cores from damaged weapon installations. Meanwhile, Hector and Achilles, armed with carbon steel tachi, mopped up the remaining troops outside the base, engaging in close combat with Russian soldiers whose bayonets were no match for the knights' superior weaponry. Alexander and Helmut bombarded the barricades using modified infantry mortars and bomber drones linked to their consciousness through their cores. Curt and Ken rounded up the surrendered Russian soldiers. According to our plan, all ranking officers were executed, while the rank-and-file soldiers were sent east into the Russian Empire’s interior. While some cowardly commanders might hide their rank to save themselves, we allowed such men to return home in disgrace.

Curt and Ken disarmed the soldiers, leaving them with only a week’s worth of water and rations from the base’s warehouses. Gard and Marc continued to provide mission updates and security for us on the ship. After salvaging the cores, food, and useful supplies from the base, we detonated its munitions stockpiles, obliterating the docks, warehouses, and fortifications. The area would require extensive cleanup before it could be used as a military base again.

Although we had destroyed a key naval base, it was only a minor step in the battle. The base was about 8.7 miles (14 kilometers) from Ivangorod, our primary target. Despite the distance, the Narva River connected the Baltic Sea to the city. Reaching Ivangorod by ship would take about an hour, but we sent a refitted interceptor drone ahead to scout the area. The drone, equipped with imaging cameras and sensors, could arrive in ten minutes at an undetectable subsonic speed. It detected a significant radiation signature a block from the city center, indicating a nuclear fission bomb hidden in an unmarked vehicle, shielded by an invisibility screen, as we had anticipated.

Since we were outside the blast radius of a standard nuclear weapon of that size, which covers about one square mile (1.6 square kilometers), the trap was likely set for any conqueror eager to accept the regional leaders' surrender. I had no interest in conquering Ivangorod, but to maintain appearances, I sent a short-range radio message to the city, demanding its surrender to the Northern Pact. Less than ten minutes later, Governor Gregor Peskov responded, offering terms of surrender. The speed of his reply suggested it wasn’t a formal decision, but Peskov was clearly not one for dramatics. He invited me to accept the city's surrender in person and requested that I bring my forces into Ivangorod to help maintain order. Knowing it was a trap, I accepted and informed him I would arrive the next day by ship after reorganizing my forces, as conventional military strategy would suggest following a major battle.

While the Lamrei remained near the mouth of the Narva River with the Royal Marines awaiting my command, Robert and I departed in an armored personnel carrier (APC) accompanied by twelve mecha knights and a device containing nine valuable cores from our military stockpile. The APC, based on the M113 from my timeline, featured more advanced armor and modified hydraulic suspensions. Inside the carrier, I activated our greatest technical achievement: a phantom energy field generator. The trap set by the Valois and Habsburgs in Paris had inspired Robert and me to develop something capable of generating such a field. While it wasn’t large enough to encompass all of Ivangorod—multiple generators would be required for that—the phantom energy had other uses beyond mere defense.

One of the most fascinating properties of phantom energy is its variable energy density, which creates negative mass when interacting with our universe. Essentially, with an active phantom energy field, travel time between two locations is no longer bound by relativistic speed limits—a concept first proposed by physicist Miguel Alcubierre in 1994. Alcubierre’s model aimed to circumvent the speed of light to enable interstellar travel within a human lifetime. Though interesting, his model lacked a material to create negative mass and variable energy densities. Moreover, warping space and time in this way would cause significant problems for both the traveling vehicle and its destination. After witnessing the space-time tear created in Paris by the cores, Robert and I found the solution to these issues by linking my abilities to Alcubierre’s theoretical model.

Robert called it a “warp drive,” but I preferred the term “speed lane.” However, the device was incredibly resource-intensive, requiring eight cores to power the field and one core to calculate spatial coordinates, updated in real-time via quantum entanglement relative to its destination. The precise coordinates of the town center, near the location of the hidden nuclear bomb, were provided by our scout drone, which was linked to the phantom field generator’s computing core. While the device was useful in certain situations, it was far too complex for routine troop deployments. Also, it couldn’t achieve interstellar travel due to its reliance on real-time telemetry from the destination, at least not with our current relativistic technology. Still, it was a breakthrough, much like the combustion and jet engines of my timeline.

With the phantom energy field activated, we entered Ivangorod with the force of a storm. I stepped out of the APC with my mecha knights marching beside me, their towering forms casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets. The android soldiers moved silently, their sleek metallic bodies reflecting the dim twilight like grim reapers. Nearby, Ivangorod’s city hall loomed—a gray, utilitarian structure of low-quality concrete, a symbol of Russia’s decaying empire, already showing signs of wear despite its recent construction.

Upon arrival, I used my displacement ability to remove the nondescript truck carrying the nuclear bomb. Panic spread among the Russian guards as they realized the vehicle—once containing their atomic weapon—was gone. Their disbelief was evident as their eyes darted to the now-empty space. The bomb, intended to obliterate my forces, had been effortlessly neutralized—no explosion, no fanfare, just the quiet dissolution of their final hope for mutual destruction.

The guards began shouting in alarm, their voices growing desperate as they raised their rifles, flicking off the safeties. Their hands shook as they aimed at me, fear plain on their faces.

“Drop your weapons,” Gard commanded, standing in front of Robert and me, his voice calm but authoritative.

I saw defiance flash in their eyes—the stubborn Russian pride that persisted even in the face of overwhelming odds. Before they could make the fatal mistake of pulling their triggers, I reminded them of their predicament.

“The Baltic Fleet is gone. Its headquarters are in ruins. Your forces in Gdansk, Königsberg, Klaipeda, Riga, Reval—all wiped out, their people liberated. You have nothing left to hold onto in lands that were never yours.”

Their denial was immediate and visceral. “Lies! Propaganda!” one of them spat, his grip tightening on his rifle.

Before I could respond, the heavy doors of the city hall creaked open, and out stepped Governor Gregor Peskov. He wore a military officer’s uniform adorned with shining medals, symbols of valor and courage, but his face betrayed exhaustion and alarm. Despite his arrogance, it was clear he knew he was beaten.

“You think this little show will work, Elias Tudor?” Peskov sneered, approaching us behind his guards. “Do you really believe that your victories in these small Baltic cities will last? Taking Ivangorod won’t change anything. Remember what happened to Napoleon? To Hitler? You’re not the first to challenge Russia, and you won’t be the last to fail. You’re just a temporary disruption in our long history.”

I laughed, a deep, resonant sound that echoed across the square. The Russian guards flinched.

“You misunderstand me, Governor,” I said, raising my voice slightly. “I am not Napoleon. I am not Hitler. I don’t need your resources, your endless plains, or your frozen cities. I’d be content to watch it all crumble around you.”

Peskov’s sneer faltered slightly as he struggled to grasp the meaning behind my words.

“My goal has never been to conquer Russia,” I continued, locking eyes with him. “I don’t care about your empire’s legacy in any timeline. No, I seek destruction without reward. Men like you, filled with false bravado and ideals from a bygone world, will never understand that. You’re not worth it.”

Before Peskov could respond, I raised my hand, severing the epidural space in his spine. He would die in twenty minutes as his organs shut down without input from his brain. The Russian guards opened fire, but their bullets were halted by the strong magnetic field Robert generated. Using steel casings for their bullets had been a foolish oversight. The mecha knights advanced, efficiently dispatching the remaining resistance with precise shots from their compressed air rifles, clearing the streets like debris.

The surrendered soldiers were offered the same terms as those on the coast, while the commanders were executed, as planned.

I stood over Peskov’s body for a moment, watching his life ebb away, then turned toward city hall. The mecha knights entered the building wordlessly, dealing with the remaining administrators and leaders, who were entirely unprepared for our rapid assault. Like the military commanders, they too were marked for execution. Our next target was the church.

As the sun set behind Ivangorod’s brick buildings, I approached the stone steps of the Eastern Orthodox church. The path was heavy with the scent of blood and gunpowder, remnants of the Russian forces’ valiant but futile last stand outside their final stronghold. Through the stained-glass windows, the soft flicker of candles created a contrasting scene—one of hope, prayer, and desperation.

The church door creaked open as I approached. My intelligence agents have given us dossiers of who led the religious centers in Russia, so I was able to identify the elderly priest. Presbyter Andrei emerged, his dark eyes burning with defiance as he descended the steps. His robes billowed in the wind, weighed down by his faith. Despite his age and frailty, his presence was commanding. He fixed his gaze on me, raising his hand as if he could stop time itself. Comically, I knew from experience how such abilities truly worked, and his gesture struck me as a farce.

“Halt, King Elias Tudor,” he commanded, his voice slicing through the oppressive silence of the corpse-laden street. “You have no right to pass judgment on Russia or its people. Only God has that power, and I will not allow you to profane His house or His flock.”

His righteousness amused me. He believed I had come to exact vengeance on the civilians sheltered inside the church. He presumed too much. I let him speak, much like a predator allows its prey one last moment.

His voice swelled with courage. “Let my people go, peacefully and unharmed. Your victory in Ivangorod is already stained with enough blood. Do not add this sin to your soul.”

I remained silent, watching as his acolyte priests gathered behind him—frail, unarmed men who foolishly believed they could protect these civilians from me. The Russian civilians were not my concern; it was Andrei and his priests who interested me.

“I have no quarrel with the people of Ivangorod,” I said, my voice calm and measured. “I did not come here to kill innocents.”

A flicker of relief crossed Andrei’s face—pitiful in its naivety. Yet before he could exhale in relief or mutter a prayer to his nonexistent deity, Hector drew his sword. Its blade gleamed in the fading light, aimed directly at the priest’s head.

I added, almost playfully, “I came for you and your idolatry.”

Shock flashed across Andrei’s face, quickly replaced by resolve. He raised his arms, perhaps to shield himself in prayer, but Hector’s sword struck before he could utter a word. Blood splattered the church steps as his severed head rolled to the ground.

The priests gasped but remained motionless, frozen like lambs awaiting slaughter. One by one, they fell to the steel of my knights, their blood mixing with the earth, desecrating the sacred ground they had sought to protect.

The civilians erupted into screams and curses, a chaotic chorus of rage and despair. An elderly woman, frail with grief and fury, stumbled forward from the crowd. Clutching a holy relic—perhaps a supposed fragment of the “True Cross” that many important Russian cities claim to possess—she raised it high, as if it could somehow ward us off.

She rushed toward me, her mouth forming a prayer, but Achilles acted first. His carbon steel sword flashed, severing her arm in an instant. The relic clattered to the ground, stained with her blood. Achilles wasn’t finished. With brutal efficiency, he cut her apart, piece by piece, until her dismembered body lay scattered across the stone steps.

The crowd, once filled with screams, fell into stunned silence. Shock and horror were etched onto their faces as they stared at the grotesque display before them. None dared move. None dared to speak.

I looked upon them—these miserable souls huddled in fear. “Leave this city and head to Moscow,” I commanded, my voice cold as iron. “Or die where you stand.”

The weight of my words crushed the last remnants of resistance within them. Slowly, in utter silence, the civilians began to file out of the churchyard, their eyes fixed on the shattered remains of their faith and hope, now smeared in blood across the stones.

As I watched them retreat, I felt no remorse, no hesitation. This was the reality of war.