At the foot of an impenetrable fortress [fantasy setting]
Posted: Sat Nov 01, 2025 1:00 pm
It took me a criminal amount of tries to get this picture just right, so I decided to write a detailed short story to go along with it. Enjoy 
The moon was mysteriously large that night, bathing the fortress of Mistrock and the surrounding highlands in ominous light. An assassin was scouting the fortress for a way in.
They said it was impenetrable. Perched on a rocky bluff, its walls were high, and security tight since the rogue baron betrayed his sworn oath and declared he would serve another king.
Such things must not go unpunished, so they sent an assassin to make things right. To show others such treachery shall not be tolerated.
When the assassin finally decided to try her luck at scaling the walls, she spotted movement in the distance. She squinted.
It was a lone figure, walking from the fort gates down the hill. A courier with an urgent message? A single man-at-arms on patrol? Better to find out.
The assassin prowled after the figure, moving from tree to tree to avoid getting noticed, until they made their way around the fortress and reached a very curious place: an old runestone, with a circular pattern of runes and a big cross etched on it.
From this distance, she could at last see that the figure was a woman dressed in a fine suit of metal armor; a sword was hanging from her hip. She must have been a knight: mere guards could never afford such expensive equipment.
The knight carefully laid a small sheet of linen on the ground in front of the runestone, knelt on it and took off her helmet. The assassin saw her young yet hardened face, with a scar on her right cheek.
"Saint Karthan of the Glistening Host,"** the knight said, her voice quite and solemn. "I, your humble devotant Aylana, offer to you my nightly vigil and my prayers," she started to recite the verses from some holy text the assassin didn't know about.
The assassin's lips curled into a smile: she wouldn't have to scale the walls after all.
It took but a moment to produce a pinch of something from her toolkit, another to close the distance.
The knight heard the approach, turned to the sound of rustling leaves, while reaching for her sword.
A little too late.
"Wha—?" she gasped as a sorcerous glitterdust sprayed over her whole face, reaching eyes and nostrils.
To her credit, she managed to spring on her feet and draw her blade. But the movements were not that sharp: the dust was already working.
"En garde, scoundrel..." she breathed and brought her sword up to face the assailant.
Then her knees grew weak, the sword dropped from her limp hand, and the vigilant knight collapsed in front of the assassin, motionless. She didn't perish, of course, for the assassin followed a creed: when on missions, she would only kill her marks. Besides, bloodied clothes do not exactly work as a disguise.
It took a while to strip the vigilant knight Aylana, and even longer to change into her shining suit of armor that smelled of leather and fresh oil. There is a reason why knights employ squires, for putting on elaborate armor alone is a nightmare. Taking it off the unconscious woman proved even harder. It all felt like a workout.
Aylana's half-naked body was lying sprawled beside the runestone. She had a warrior's frame, strong legs, and toned torso. The assassin realized she was lucky to take her out without a fight: facing a true knight head on was always a gamble with death, and that one looked dangerous enough.
There was no point to waste time tying Aylana up, since the glitterdust would work for at least several more hours, so the assassin turned away from her body, looked at the bright moon to appreciate its beauty, and stepped forth towards the fortress.
She still had the rogue baron to slay.
The moon was mysteriously large that night, bathing the fortress of Mistrock and the surrounding highlands in ominous light. An assassin was scouting the fortress for a way in.
They said it was impenetrable. Perched on a rocky bluff, its walls were high, and security tight since the rogue baron betrayed his sworn oath and declared he would serve another king.
Such things must not go unpunished, so they sent an assassin to make things right. To show others such treachery shall not be tolerated.
When the assassin finally decided to try her luck at scaling the walls, she spotted movement in the distance. She squinted.
It was a lone figure, walking from the fort gates down the hill. A courier with an urgent message? A single man-at-arms on patrol? Better to find out.
The assassin prowled after the figure, moving from tree to tree to avoid getting noticed, until they made their way around the fortress and reached a very curious place: an old runestone, with a circular pattern of runes and a big cross etched on it.
From this distance, she could at last see that the figure was a woman dressed in a fine suit of metal armor; a sword was hanging from her hip. She must have been a knight: mere guards could never afford such expensive equipment.
The knight carefully laid a small sheet of linen on the ground in front of the runestone, knelt on it and took off her helmet. The assassin saw her young yet hardened face, with a scar on her right cheek.
"Saint Karthan of the Glistening Host,"** the knight said, her voice quite and solemn. "I, your humble devotant Aylana, offer to you my nightly vigil and my prayers," she started to recite the verses from some holy text the assassin didn't know about.
The assassin's lips curled into a smile: she wouldn't have to scale the walls after all.
It took but a moment to produce a pinch of something from her toolkit, another to close the distance.
The knight heard the approach, turned to the sound of rustling leaves, while reaching for her sword.
A little too late.
"Wha—?" she gasped as a sorcerous glitterdust sprayed over her whole face, reaching eyes and nostrils.
To her credit, she managed to spring on her feet and draw her blade. But the movements were not that sharp: the dust was already working.
"En garde, scoundrel..." she breathed and brought her sword up to face the assailant.
Then her knees grew weak, the sword dropped from her limp hand, and the vigilant knight collapsed in front of the assassin, motionless. She didn't perish, of course, for the assassin followed a creed: when on missions, she would only kill her marks. Besides, bloodied clothes do not exactly work as a disguise.
It took a while to strip the vigilant knight Aylana, and even longer to change into her shining suit of armor that smelled of leather and fresh oil. There is a reason why knights employ squires, for putting on elaborate armor alone is a nightmare. Taking it off the unconscious woman proved even harder. It all felt like a workout.
Aylana's half-naked body was lying sprawled beside the runestone. She had a warrior's frame, strong legs, and toned torso. The assassin realized she was lucky to take her out without a fight: facing a true knight head on was always a gamble with death, and that one looked dangerous enough.
There was no point to waste time tying Aylana up, since the glitterdust would work for at least several more hours, so the assassin turned away from her body, looked at the bright moon to appreciate its beauty, and stepped forth towards the fortress.
She still had the rogue baron to slay.