Chapter 6 - The Iron Gate
Three days later, the unbroken winter storm of the Russian taiga raged around the towering obsidian walls of the Romanov Citadel.
Grand Duke Nicholas Romanov stood upon the highest balcony of his fortress, sipping spiced wine from a silver goblet as he looked down into the valley below. His dark fur-trimmed coat billowed in the freezing wind.
"Has the deed been done?" Nicholas asked without turning around, addressing his chief inquisitor who stood rigidly in the shadows of the stone chamber.
"Reports from the vanguard scouts suggest otherwise, Your Grace," the inquisitor replied nervously. "The Omega failed to strike. The Alpha King... he disarmed her. And now, his entire army has surrounded the outer fortifications."
Nicholas’s smile vanished. He slammed his goblet down onto the stone balustrade, red wine splashing across the white snow below. "Incompetent fools! A broken mind, and she still couldn't drive a silver blade into a weakened heart?"
"It is worse than that, Grand Duke," the inquisitor whispered, his voice trembling. "They are not waiting for a siege. They are breaching the gates."
BOOM.
A deafening explosion rocked the citadel, shaking the massive stone structure down to its foundations. The heavy iron-reinforced outer gate—a barrier that had stood uncompromised for three centuries—buckled inward under a devastating combination of siege magic and raw, primal Alpha fury.
Nicholas spun around, drawing his broadsword from its scabbard. "Sound the horns! Release the war hounds! Let every soldier in the citadel slaughter them in the snow!"
The courtyard of the Romanov Citadel instantly turned into a chaotic meat grinder of fur, steel, and blood.
The Russian elite guard rushed out to meet the invading northern coalition, but they found themselves facing an enemy driven by a fury unlike anything the continent had ever seen. Cedric Plantagenet led the charge at the forefront of his troops, his massive dire wolf form tearing through enemy lines like a scythe through wheat. He didn't fight as a king seeking tactical advantage; he fought as a vengeful god seeking absolute annihilation.
Behind him, Garrick and the vanguard secured the perimeter, ensuring no enemy could flank their position.
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Cedric ignored the chaos around him, his senses locked onto a single target: the grand double doors of the inner keep, where Grand Duke Nicholas waited.
With a single, devastating swing of his newly retrieved Laurentian silver gauntlet, Cedric shattered the oak doors of the keep into splinters and stepped inside the grand hall.
