At the camp
With the lupines regrouped, the Laiatanese forces lined up in a defensive position and continued firing towards the first wave of Hamanian troops headed for the camp. The sheer number of flaming arrows sent down onto the camp sent most still in the camp into a frenzy. Soldiers still inside worked to try and save any supplies they could, the artillery troops still sending shells from their cannons posted on the walls. One fiery arrow landed perfectly in the stock of powder near a cannon on the far palisade, detonating it. Those not trying to rescue equipment and supplies joined the lines that had pulled back closer to the camp, using the palisades as cover.
The sheer scale and brutality of the fighting was unprecedented to much of the younger men in the ranks, but their experienced commanders kept morale in check. Even so, the flying metal and flaming arrows were beating down the young soldiers. They were out of their comfort zone: exposed and on the defensive. The risk of the camp being overwhelmed grew with each passing moment, the attacks coming from all sides. Couriers were sent to recall men from the scouting camps in an attempt to increase their numbers, though they wouldn’t know if a message made it through until the courier came back or reinforcements arrived. At the moment, they were on their own. No massive Laiatanese force would save them if they routed. The closest Laiatanese army was stationed in Lenipol, several days away, across the border, and completely unaware of the fighting that had broken out. They would eventually come, but not today.
Warren troops from the city garrison were thrown into the battle in an attempt to bolster the Laiatanese troop numbers. Many of the lupines had already fixed their bayonets, waiting on the command to charge the Hamanian lines. It was obvious many of the younger soldiers were anxious regarding the idea of quite literally charging into battle, though their commanders wanted them to use this anxiety and channel it. Lower level commanders shouted rousing words to their men, calling on their patriotism and pride as lupines. They weren’t fighting for the Warrens, they were fighting for the respect lupines had neglected to receive because they were lupines.
Ultimately there were little differences between a lupine from Laiatan and a lupine from any of the other kingdoms that made up southern Itur. They followed the same religion, spoke similar languages, and practiced cultures that were pretty similar. The biggest differences were usually in the flag they swore allegiance to and what color uniform they wore. The idea that Laiatan was the ultimate protector of the lupine race could be traced back to the 1300s, when the nation was arguably the most powerful lupine kingdom on the continent. When faced with threats from other races, like the humans of Hamania, Laiatan felt it was her responsibility to defend their lupine brethren.
Reminded of this, a new sense of confidence seemed to take over the Laiatanese troops. It likely wouldn’t last, but they at least had the confidence to march toward the advancing Hamanians to engage them in hand-to-hand combat. The order given and bayonets fixed, the combined lupine force charged toward the Hamanian infantry.
In the city walls
Osip hadn’t been asleep for long, leaning back in the chair and practically snoring. He was prone to falling asleep at inopportune times, but it was a mystery how anyone could sleep through a battle of all things. His Laiatanese partner had left him alone to join his comrades on the wall, and of course was unable to wake him since he wasn’t even there. That creaking floorboard was just what Osip needed to snap back to the real world, and his ears perked up as he stood. “… Matvei, that you? I wasn’t sleeping…” His voice trailed off as his eyes readjusted, realizing it wasn’t a lupine standing before him. “Hey, who’re you?!” He challenged, reaching for his flintlock pistol resting on the table.