Chapter 19: The Fall of Cintra - Part 1
POV: Adam
Dawn broke over Cintra like blood across steel, painting the horizon in shades that spoke of endings rather than beginnings. Adam stood on the castle's highest tower, his breath forming clouds in the morning chill as he watched darkness take shape on the distant hills.
Black banners. Thousands of them.
The Nilfgaardian army stretched across the landscape like a plague given form—siege engines that looked like mechanical spiders from this distance, cavalry units that moved with the precision of professional death, and foot soldiers whose numbers seemed to stretch beyond the horizon itself.
Bigger than in the show. Much bigger.
Below him, Cintra erupted into chaos as horns sounded the alarm that everyone had been dreading and half the population had refused to believe would ever come. Soldiers ran to predetermined positions while civilians screamed and pointed at the approaching doom, their voices creating a symphony of terror that rose from the city like smoke.
It's really happening. After all these weeks, it's actually happening.
"They think we'll surrender!"
Queen Calanthe's voice cut through the panic with the authority of someone who'd built a kingdom through violence and intended to destroy it the same way rather than hand it over intact. She stood on the main battlements surrounded by her personal guard, her blonde hair streaming like a battle standard in the morning wind.
"Show them Cintran pride!"
The army's response roared from thousands of throats, defiance hurled at impossible odds with the desperate fury of people who understood that courage was sometimes the only choice left when all the reasonable options had been exhausted.
They think they can win. They have no idea what's coming.
Adam descended from the tower with urgency that bordered on panic, his mind already racing through contingencies that felt increasingly inadequate against the scope of what was approaching. He found Ciri in the castle's main courtyard, armed with her practice sword and wearing leather armor that made her look like a warrior instead of a princess.
She's ready to fight. Of course she's ready to fight.
"I should fight," she said as he approached, her green eyes burning with determination that would have been admirable if it hadn't been suicidal.
"You will," Adam replied, his voice carrying intensity that made her step back slightly. "But not today. Today you survive."
Today you run when I tell you to run, and you live through what's coming.
"Adam—"
"Promise me." He grabbed her shoulders, feeling the tension in her muscles that spoke of someone preparing for battle. "When I say run, you run. No arguments, no discussions, no royal privilege. You run."
The argument that followed was brief and decisive, ended not by logic but by the desperate intensity in Adam's voice that finally penetrated her determination. She nodded once, sharp and reluctant.
"Promise me you'll come back."
I'll try. I'll try so hard it might kill me.
"I'll come back. I swear it."
They gripped hands tightly, her fingers warm against his palm while the sound of approaching war grew louder beyond the castle walls. Then she was gone, moving toward the secure position he'd scouted weeks ago, and Adam was alone with the knowledge that everything he cared about depended on the next few hours.
Eist. Need to find Eist before this starts.
The Skellige warrior appeared as if summoned by Adam's thoughts, his weathered face bearing the grim satisfaction of someone who'd been waiting his entire life for a battle this significant. Blood already stained his armor from some minor skirmish, and his axe gleamed with fresh oil.
"Protect her, boy. Make my death mean something."
The words hit Adam like physical blows, carrying implications that he didn't want to acknowledge.
No. You don't get to die. Not if I can help it.
"You're not going to die," Adam said, but even as the words left his mouth, he knew they were lies born of desperation rather than possibility.
Eist's smile was sad and knowing, the expression of someone who'd made peace with reality that others couldn't accept.
"We both know that's a lie. But I appreciate the sentiment."
They clasped forearms in the traditional warrior's farewell, Eist's grip carrying the weight of promises passed between people who understood that some things were worth dying for.
"You'll make a fine man someday. Try not to get killed before then."
I'll try. For her, I'll try.
The first wave hit the eastern wall like thunder given form, siege ladders and grappling hooks carried by soldiers whose faces bore the professional calm of people who killed for wages and advancement. Adam found himself positioned with ten Cintran defenders, their mail and leather looking pathetically inadequate against what was climbing toward them.
[COMBAT SCENARIO: "Defend the Walls"]
[Objective: Survive until sunset]
[Enemy Wave 1: 20 Nilfgaardian soldiers, Level 5-8]
Air Gust to push the ladders back. Keep them from getting a foothold.
The first soldier to appear over the wall's edge met Adam's focused air blast at point-blank range, the invisible force sending him tumbling backward into his climbing companions with bone-breaking impact. Ladder after ladder toppled away from the stone, their occupants falling to death or injury while Adam moved along the wall like a living siege engine.
Air Blade for the ones too far to push. Cut them down before they can establish position.
Eight kills came to Adam's tally during the first assault, soldiers knocked from climbing positions or cut down by wind that moved with surgical precision. An arrow grazed his shoulder, drawing blood but nothing that would slow him down.
[Experience Gained: 96 XP]
[Damage Taken: 15 HP]
[Current HP: 175/190]
First blood. But this was just the probe. The real attack comes next.
Wave two arrived with thirty soldiers and two elite knights whose black armor spoke of professional competence that made Adam's blood run cold. These weren't conscripts or hired swords—these were career killers who'd earned their positions through demonstrated lethality.
Wind Barrier up. Deflect the arrow volley.
The invisible force manifested around him as shimmering distortion, turning a dozen arrows into harmless projectiles that clattered off stone instead of finding flesh. Three Cintran soldiers who would have died instead lived to fight another few minutes.
Elite knight making it over the wall. Time for sword work.
The duel that followed tested every skill Adam had developed over weeks of training with Ciri, professional technique clashing against improvised tactics in a dance that left both fighters bleeding. The elite knight was skilled, experienced, and equipped with steel that could cut through Adam's reinforced leather like paper.
Air Jump to dodge the overhead swing. Get behind him.
The technique worked perfectly, lifting Adam over the knight's head in a maneuver that left his opponent exposed and confused. Adam's sword found kidney area with surgical precision, werewolf oil doubling the damage and sending the elite warrior to his knees.
[Critical Hit: 70 damage]
[Elite Knight Defeated]
The second elite fell to a Cintran captain with Adam's assistance—Air Gust disarming the enemy at the crucial moment, allowing friendly steel to find vital points.
[Experience Gained: 180 XP]
[Damage Taken: 30 HP]
[Current HP: 145/190]
Still standing. Still fighting. But they're getting stronger.
Wave three brought forty soldiers, five more elites, and something that made Adam's blood turn to ice in his veins—a Nilfgaardian battle mage whose robes crackled with barely contained magical energy.
Mage. Level 15 minimum. This is where it gets interesting.
The fire spells began immediately, gouts of flame that turned stone to slag and reduced defenders to screaming torches. But the mage's attention focused on Adam specifically, apparently having noticed magic that didn't conform to expected patterns.
He can sense the airbending. Knows I'm not normal.
"Interesting," the mage called across the battlefield, his voice carrying over the clash of steel and screams of dying men. "What manner of magic is that, boy?"
Wind Barrier to deflect the fireball. Partial success—some damage gets through.
Fire washed over Adam's defensive technique like water over stone, most of the magical energy turned aside but enough penetrating to sear exposed skin and fill his nose with the smell of burning hair.
[Damage Taken: 20 HP]
[Current HP: 125/190]
Air Blade in retaliation. See how he likes elemental magic.
The cutting wind struck the mage square in the chest, opening robes and flesh with equal ease. But the Nilfgaardian responded with professional competence, fire shield manifesting to block Adam's follow-up attacks.
Cintran captain trying to help. No, don't—
Lightning erupted from the mage's fingertips, catching the brave soldier in mid-charge and reducing him to twitching meat that painted the battlements red. Adam watched a good man die trying to protect him, and something cold and murderous settled into his chest.
Air Suffocation. Choke the life out of him.
The technique cost nearly all his remaining magical energy, but the results were spectacular. The mage clawed at his throat while invisible force compressed his windpipe, his fire magic guttering out as oxygen became unavailable. Seven seconds of sustained pressure, then Adam's MP reserves hit zero and the technique failed.
[Damage Dealt: 140 HP]
[Nilfgaardian Battle Mage Defeated]
[Current MP: 70/280]
Exhausted magically. Need to conserve what's left.
[Experience Gained: 180 XP]
The brief respite that followed felt like gasping for air underwater—precious, inadequate, and tainted with the knowledge that worse was coming. Adam drank water with hands that shook from exhaustion and adrenaline, his eyes searching the courtyard below for familiar ash-blonde hair.
There. Ciri's safe in the courtyard with her guards.
The Kindred Spirits bond that connected them hummed with shared emotion, her fear mixing with his determination in ways that felt like telepathy disguised as intuition. He sent reassurance across the connection, willing strength into her mind while she looked toward the battlements without being able to see him.
We're both still alive. That's what matters.
The ground shook as Nilfgaardian siege engines moved into position, massive catapults that hurled stones the size of barrels with mechanical precision. One projectile struck the tower adjacent to Adam's position, explosion and falling debris claiming three defenders who'd survived everything else the day had thrown at them.
Air Gust to push the debris away from the others. Save who I can.
The technique worked, invisible force deflecting stone and timber that would have crushed five more soldiers. But the damage was done—the main gate buckled, then shattered, and Nilfgaardian soldiers poured through the breach like water through a broken dam.
[OBJECTIVE FAILED: Wall Defense]
[NEW OBJECTIVE: Retreat to Inner Castle]
Time to go. Time to get to Ciri before they reach her.
The fighting retreat through the castle's courtyards was chaos barely contained by training and desperation. Adam used everything he'd learned about moving through hostile territory—environment as weapon, Air Gust to create space, sword work that prioritized efficiency over elegance.
There. Ciri surrounded by four Nilfgaardian soldiers.
Protective rage flooded through him like liquid lightning, burning away exhaustion and fear in favor of single-minded focus on the threat to the only person who mattered. Adam charged through the melee with suicidal determination, using his last significant magical reserves in an explosive Air Sphere that scattered Ciri's attackers like leaves in a hurricane.
[Air Sphere: 50 MP]
[Current MP: 20/280]
"NOW WE RUN!"
Planned escape route. Stables. Get to the horses and ride hard for the forest.
They ran through corridors that Adam had memorized during weeks of preparation, Ciri keeping pace with the desperation of someone who understood that stopping meant dying. Behind them, the sounds of battle grew closer as Nilfgaardian soldiers secured the castle room by room.
Almost there. Almost to safety.
Eist appeared at the corridor's end, his armor red with blood that might have been his own or might have belonged to enemies he'd killed. His weathered face bore the satisfaction of someone who'd found the death he'd been looking for.
"GO! I'll hold them!"
Come with us. Please, just come with us.
"Come with us!" Adam shouted, but Eist was already turning away, raising his axe toward the approaching soldiers with the grim joy of someone who'd found his perfect ending.
"This is where I stand!"
The old warrior charged back into the battle with a war cry that shook the castle's foundations, buying them precious seconds with currency that could never be repaid. Adam pulled Ciri away as she screamed Eist's name, her voice breaking with loss that would haunt her forever.
Those seconds save our lives. His death saves our lives.
Eist's battle cry echoed behind them, growing fainter as they ran toward whatever safety they could find in a world that was ending around them.
Then it stopped.
He's dead. The old warrior died buying us time.
Adam didn't tell Ciri. Not yet. First, they had to survive. Then they could mourn.
The sound of pursuing soldiers grew closer as they ran deeper into the castle, seeking sanctuary that might not exist in a fortress that was already lost.
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