Era 2, The Mongol

[Oton]

'Is this all the wine that is left', the northern tower sentry asked, while looking cautiously in all directions. He was hoping the captain will delay his next round and will leave him enough time to smoke his pipe. He started to stiff it with fast and nervous motions and looked around again.
'Yes, this is the last wine and I intend to drink it all by myself, because you've had enough, you pig', his partner replied crackly, 'Unless I hear some kind of objection which to use as an excuse to brake your skull!'
His comrade sighed.
'I will fill your pipe with my tobacco', he capitulated.
His partner grinned and passed him the wine skin.
The night was full dark and impenetrable. The only thing visible was the glittering torches in the turrets. A bird was croaking from the near forest.
A muted noise crackled. It was coming from outside the wall.
The two grew quiet. The Sergeant put his pipe down and leaned down through the edge, the torch in his hand.
Only to witness a scene which could only come into the man's worst nightmare.
The twenty yard tall, straight up, five centuries ago built up wall, was crawling with dark dressed figures, climbing and hanging like some gruesome reptilians. They were carrying knifes in their mouths. And they had almost reached the edge. Their eyes were calmed. Almost alien.
'Oh, Gods...', the Sergeant began, but in the next moment a short blade pierced his forehead, jolting him back. The soldier spinned like drunk and loudly fell upon his mate, dropping the torch, which spread little sparks in all directions.
'I told you not to drink so much', the other one shouted irritated and breathing heavily. He still had not seen what happened. The darkness was complete. He pushed the body away and he felt its lifelessness this instant.
The soldier startled.
'Sergeant...', he reached for the torch to light up his face. And at that moment he felt movement behind him. It was as if... somebody stepped in through the edge. The sentinel reached for his sword.
Krum took out the knife from his mouth and slit his throat with a wide swing, before the poor soldier was able to make any sound at all. The gushed out blood splashed Krum's dark clothed face.
'What is going on there, everything fine', a cry could be heard from the twenty yards away middle tower. A torch waved. Four times.
'Everything is in order, mates, the Sergeant was just about to tell me about the female servant he picked off yesterday', the Mongol tried to make his voice sound negligible and slightly drunk. If the spy reports were not correct, his little stunt would finish too quickly and too shamefully.
More figures in black were climbing through the edge.
A crackling laugh could be heard from the tower.
'A billy-goat on heat your Sargent is, be sure to tell him that!'
"You will tel him that, when you all meet up in hell!", Krum thought and unfolded the rope on his shoulder. The other five, who had already climbed the wall, did the same. They tied up the ropes by the stones and let them down the wall. Fifty more elite infantry men were waiting by the walls. And the rest of the huge siege army was deployed hidden in the forest. If Fortuna did not suddenly try to mock him, everything should go as planned. They would succeed to open the main gate and take over the Stronghold without significant casualties. Xaoc was against the whole thing and he was on the edge to abort the operation. But the Mongol was not just anybody and it might work. He had almost done it during the battle for the Wall. Only the bad luck was in the way back then. He lowed to take chances and such a maneuver would definitely raise the troops' morale and teach the rookies some new tactics. How to take on a Fortress without casualties, for example. Krum had squatted, along with his whole army, hidden in the forest, waiting for moonless and starless night, infiltrating spies into the Stronghold to know its weak spots, sentinels' shifts, in one word - its all internal security.
And his efforts were awarded.
In fifteen minutes the whole unit had climbed the wall. They spread out silently to the remaining posts. The sentinels were quietly slaughtered and thrown outside the wall.
The Mongol stretched his bow and fired a flaming arrow in the direction of the forest - a signal for the army to march immediately.
After the gate patrol was forever silenced, the giant, two winged door, with its edges armed with hardened iron, slowly and loudly squeaked.
Now the imperians came to their senses.
The panic and the rumble were complete, and the Mongol, along with his all men, disappeared into the thin dark air.
The rest was done by the huge siege army, which stormed the Stronghold and ransacked it within an hour.
The ones who survived... had no time to wonder how is this possible.
Because... there would be plenty of time to think... where they were going.

Seventeenth wave results:

Imperian Fortresses destroyed: 332
Defenders' victories: 231

Nomads killed: 7752127
Imperian soldiers killed: 3869174

Eighteenth wave results:

Imperian Fortresses destroyed: 846
Defenders' victories: 242

Nomads killed: 13873983
Imperian soldiers killed: 5476656

Nineteenth wave results:

Imperian Fortresses destroyed: 680
Defenders victories: 970

Nomads killed: 3674519
Imperian soldiers killed: 966024

Along with all the pompous titles, which he sometimes truly despised, Krum became a Marshal of the Ever Victorious Horde as well. And he had to force himself to stone his face and make the parade march, accompanied by his soldiers' cries. The taking over of the imperian Stronghold without a bloodshed (except for the fallen ones during the short fight in the Citadel) earned him the fame of a deamon.
Xaoc ordered his Generals to spend several hours a day studying the technique which he had used and the hatred of some of them towards him raised even more. That was for the expense of his soldiers' love, though, who did not stop talking about his deeds several days.
But it was no time for celebrations. The Steppe Wolf did not want to slow down, nor delay, ordering Jane, Robust and Caxo to lead the Horde into a major offensive, all fronts.
He had to keep the initiative to give Flinstoun time to build what he had started to build.
The Steppe Wolf was not using only the battlefield for his ambitions. He was seeking contacts in the local imperian population, where his blade had not succeeded.
He was offering vassality, gold and uncountable treasures to those who dared to betray his own family, King, country. He was offering nearly godhood to the ones who kneel and recognize him as his Master.
He offered seamless lands in the Steppe to be ruled, immortality and eternal glory.
And he asked for so little in return.
Many imperian rulers had seen behind Xaoc's big words. And they were much determined in their refusal.
Horrible was his anger when that happened.
Horrible was the fate of those who refused him.
Many imperian families had already seized to exist, along with their Empires. The Steppe Wolf had sworn to wipe out even the memories of those empires. Old and ancient royal families, ruled for centuries, were disappearing, leaving... a huge emptiness after them, which could not be filled. The imperians were terrified by the thought those who were chosen to lead them by the Gods themselves... could vanish. It was really terrible.     
For tow thousand years already had they learned that the Emperor is their Father, their guiding light. They had used to take their ruler for granted, like it is granted that the sun always shines and descents every day.
And now... the barbarians were depopulating whole empires, as if they had never existed.
The fear from the fact that you could... disappear some day... without anybody to remember your name... was far more bigger than the fear of death.
And that was the exact fear Xaoc wanted to seed into imperians' souls.
Fear was his strongest weapon against the free rulers,
And he was increasing the pressure.

The war was becoming brutal.