"...He wants us to abandon the main gates tonight, and let the Frankish army inside the city."

"To let the entire Frankish army enter our city?" Hakon broke the silence. "Are you insane? That is madness."

"I am not the one who wrote it, Hakon," Bjorn muttered, his eyes still glued to the parchment.

Torstein stepped forward, rubbing his beard. "Of course, everyone in this room understands the core idea. It is a classic pincer movement. The King wants us to open the gates, let them swarm inside thinking they have won, and then we trap them. We close the steel portcullises behind them, surround them on the inner walls, and slaughter them like pigs in a pen."

"Like a few doves presented with bait who flew in only to discover it was a trap and their freedom stolen..." Odo whispered quietly, pushing his round spectacles up his nose.

"Yes, boy, exactly like that." Hakon snapped angrily, "But it is still madness. Madness upon madness!"

"...To let twenty thousand angry Franks enter the city and risk the lives of thousands of our own inhabitants? Does Ragnar think Calais is empty?"

Hakon threw his arms up in frustration. "We have women, children, dockworkers, and merchants living right down the street. If we let Marshal Hugh’s men inside, they will burn the houses, slaughter the peasants, and loot the vaults. Who could even think of such a thing?"

Even so, Bjorn couldn’t easily defend his King’s strategy... he slowly walked over to the table and tossed the parchment down.

He agreed with the merchant.

Bjorn too saw the madness in it... despite knowing the trap, sacrificing the safety of the common people was a line he wasn’t eager to cross.

"It is a gamble, ragnar is relying on the Franks being disorganized when they breach.

He assumes we can bottle them up in the lower courtyard before they reach the civilian districts.

But if Marshal Hugh maintains his discipline... the city burns."

"Is there anything else in the satchel, Odo?" Bjorn asked, looking at the young assistant. "Did he just send a suicide plan and nothing else?"

"O-Oh. Yes, Lord Bjorn!" Odo stammered, digging into his bag.

He pulled out a much heavier bundle of papers sealed with standard red wax. "This is the official ledger. It contains the inventory of the goods, the figures of the black powder barrels we just unloaded, and... another letter wrapped inside."

Bjorn quickly grabbed the bundle... he cracked the red wax and unrolled the second letter.

The handwriting on this one was slightly cleaner, as if Ragnar had finally taken a breath and sat down properly to write.

Bjorn,

I know the courtyard trap sounds insane. You are standing there right now, letting Hakon yell about the merchants and the peasants. Tell that giant blonde idiot to shut his mouth.

Hakon blinked, leaning over Bjorn’s shoulder to read the ink. "How does he always know what I am doing?"

Bjorn ignored him and continued reading.

I am not abandoning you to fight this grand coalition alone. My scouts have confirmed the terrifying numbers. Four armies, the Magyars, the Danes, the main force in Flanders, and the vanguard pounding your walls. You asked what my plan is? I am going to attack all four of them.

Torstein let out a low, impressed whistle. "He is going to attack all of them? With what army?"

I am only preparing for it right now, the letter continued. The beast we are forging in the royal smithy is nearly awake. Prince Louis has ruined his soft hands hauling iron, but the steam boiler is finally stable. Once she is ready to march, we will break the Emperor’s teeth.

However, the final paragraph of the letter shifted the tone.

But until I arrive, you are the commander of the southern front, I offered you the courtyard trap because it is the fastest way to break the vanguard’s numbers.

But I am sitting in a warm castle, and you are the one standing in the blood and the mud.

I reassure you, my friend... the final choice is yours.

If you think the trap is too much of a gamble for the civilians, then ignore it. I trust your instincts. Just hold the city.

Bjorn slowly lowered the parchment, placing it next to the crude maps on the table.

He stood silent for a long moment.

"Well?" Hakon asked quietly, his anger fading.

He saw the burden resting on his friend’s face. "What is the decision, Commander? Do we open the gates tonight and invite the wolves inside, or do we stand on the broken stones and fight them the hard way?"

Bjorn closed his eyes, he thought about the terrifying power of the Iron Kingdom’s weapons, he thought about the thousands of frightened peasants huddled in their wooden homes down by the port.

He had spent his entire youth raiding southern shores, burning villages, and stealing the freedom of innocent people... he knew what an invading army did when they breached the gates.

"We do not open the gates," Bjorn resolved.

He had resolved not to heed Ragnar’s advice... the bait was entirely too risky.

"Thank the gods." Hakon breathed a sigh, leaning against the table.

"Send orders to General Gurvand," Bjorn commanded, turning to Torstein. "Tell him to reinforce the forty-foot breach with every single spare piece of timber and stone he can find. I want three layers of heavy pikes waiting behind the rubble, backed by a thousand Breton muskets. If Marshal Hugh wants to enter this city, he is going to have to walk over a mountain of his own dead men."

"It will be done, Lord Bjorn!" Torstein saluted sharply.

"Odo," Bjorn said, "Make sure every single barrel of that new black powder is distributed to the wall batteries. Leif needs to keep firing and suppress their artillery lines."

"Right away, Commander!" Odo scrambled to gather his papers, rushing out after the ship captain.

Now, it was just Bjorn and Hakon left in the dim room.

"You made the right choice, Bjorn," Hakon said quietly, offering a serious smile. "If we let them in, we would have lost control of the chaos. Now, we fight them on our terms."

"I hope you are right," Bjorn muttered, walking over to grab his helmet from the corner. "Because fighting a defensive siege against six thousand muskets and hundreds of cannons is going to be bloody."

"...we have the high ground." Hakon reminded him firmly.

Bjorn strapped the helmet onto his head, ready to return to the hellish noise of the battlements.