Feliratkozás a letöltéshez
The staggering siege of Hartenwald (by Alex S)

“The Siege of Hartenwald”

The candle burns low, the wax running in quiet rivers, much like the lives that ran away from me that autumn. I write these words in my final years, when the cheers of the court have faded and only the whisper of memory remains. They call me Marshal Edric of Avenmarch, breaker of Hartenwald. But names bestowed in triumph weigh heavier than chains…

It was the autumn of 1374 when His Majesty commanded me to take the fortress of Hartenwald. The royal order bore no ambiguity—“at any cost.” Hartenwald lay in a broad, swampy valley, shrouded each morning in a fog that clung to the earth like damp burial cloth. It had been built upon a steep hill that rose from the mire like an island of stone, its walls layered in three massive rings that climbed one above the other. The moat surrounding it was no mere ditch but a waterway so vast and deep that small sea-ships could have sailed upon it. Its towers stood like grim sentinels, their narrow windows watching the marshlands for centuries. At the summit of the hill rose the citadel—a dark, solid heart of stone. Beside it, as if bound to its very soul, stood the great cathedral of Saint Ardent, its spire cutting the mist like a blade. Hartenwald had been a bastion of faith for generations, defended by warrior-monks and holy brothers sworn to the flame of their god.

Yet my scouts brought a word that the spirit of the garrison was waning. Their king had suffered grievous defeats two months before our arrival; entire provinces were lost, banners trampled into the mud. Hartenwald’s defenders were pious, yes—but prayer does not mend broken morale. So, the walls stood. And they waited for us. Our army encamped to the south, at the edge of an old grove — a tangled and silent stand of trees older than the fortress itself. Anybody familiar with the siege tactics knows these trees should be cut, otherwise enemy can sneak too close and make serious advantage for himself. Yet, in this case there was a solid reason behind the defenders leaving the grove safe. My scouts reported traps laid there: pitfall stakes, snares, concealed ditches—every inch a death sentence to any who approached unwary. It was a place that smelled not of sap and leaves, but of patient malice.

I convened my captains beneath the damp canvas of my command tent. Their faces bore the wear of long campaigns—pale, hollow, resigned. They spoke of the fortress’s strength, of the swollen moat, of the fire-blessed warriors who held its walls. None of them believed the stronghold could be taken without great loss. And they were right… That night, I walked alone among the men. Autumn winds rattled the campfires, scattering sparks like dying stars. The soldiers polished their mail with quiet hands, sharpening spears not with zeal, but with the slow, practiced movements of men who have already accepted their fate. They saluted me in silence. I felt each gaze like a blade. The king’s order remained heavy in my pocket. I had been given no room for retreat, no patience for negotiation. If I hesitated, my name would be stripped of honor, and another would throw these men to their deaths in my stead. Then, a sudden thought came to my mind, like a whisper of an old friend, whom one never listens to — Hartenwald should not fall to our brilliance. If, and only if it falls, it will be beneath the weight of our dead.


This map is designed to be hard for the attackers (and is thus strongly advised to be played in the respective mode). I recommend to play it on Easy setting first and afterwards try harder options. No tips or pieces of advice here - everything is in the game, so, good luck!