In Marenstatd, wars are not won with glory. They are won with sacrifice.
The Marksmen of Marenstatd were not always the elite of the city. They were just another unit, line soldiers armed with crossbows, meant to reinforce the city’s regular troops. They were not the vanguard, not the chosen ones, just another piece in the game of the merchant princes.
Until the night the sea turned to fire.
The Breaking of the Walls
The High Kingdom did not send envoys or warnings. It sent fire and steel.
At dusk, warships appeared on the horizon. The burgomasters sent messengers, seeking negotiations. The enemy answered with cannon fire.
The port walls shook under the bombardment, and within hours, the outer defenses lay in ruins. When the first enemy galleys reached the docks, they landed hardened troops, pushing into the canals and the lower districts of the city. Marenstatd was on the brink of collapse.
The mercenary companies hired for its defense either fled or perished in the chaos. The city militias were unprepared for an invasion of this scale. The Council of Twelve was already debating surrender.
But the Marksmen were still there.
They were sent to the port to delay the enemy, not to win the war. They knew they wouldn’t hold for long. They knew they were doomed.
And yet, they stood their ground.
The Last Barricade
When the invaders reached the Guild Square, the commercial heart of the city, nothing stood between them and victory. If they took the square, the Council would have no choice but to surrender.
That was when Lukas Falken took command.
He did not ask for permission. He did not wait for orders. He knew that if the city surrendered, all who had resisted would be executed. There was only one option: fight to the last.
The Marksmen turned carts and market stalls into barricades, fortified streets with the bodies of the fallen, and dug in. From rooftops and windows, they waited for the enemy.
Bolts flew. Every shot had to kill. There was no room for mistakes. When they ran out of ammunition, they scavenged weapons from the dead and kept fighting.
The enemy outnumbered them. But not in resolve.
Meanwhile, out in the bay, Marenstatd’s trap was about to be sprung.
The Night of the Burning Ships
The city’s fleet was not lost. It was hidden.
As the enemy pressed further into Marenstatd, the city’s war galleys emerged from the marshes, striking from the river.
The invaders had no escape. Their ships, docked in the harbor, had no room to maneuver. One by one, they burned.
The sky was set ablaze with the flames of sinking ships. The waters turned red with the blood of drowning men. The Marksmen held the line until dawn, until the last invader was slain.
When the smoke cleared, Marenstatd still stood.
But the city would not forget the price of its victory.
The Heroes Who Cannot Leave
When the war ended, the Council of Twelve could not ignore the Marksmen. They could not allow the men who had saved the city to become symbols of defiance. So they made them part of the system.
Falken was granted an honorary seat on the Council. Not to give him power, but to bind him to politics.
The Marksmen were named Defenders of the City, a title that sounded glorious but was, in reality, a sentence. Now, they were indispensable. Now, they could never leave.
The Chained Falcon
Lukas Falken still leads the Marksmen. His crossbow is still deadly. His falcon, Wulf, still circles over the walls.
The burgomasters see him as a tool. The merchants fear him.
The people call him the Falcon of Marenstatd, but no one knows if he is a protector or a threat.
Only the Marksmen know the truth. When the city is threatened again, when the enemy returns…
They will be the first to open fire.
Because that is the price of their victory.
