Military convoy

The royal engineers laughed when they saw it for the first time. A wooden tower on wheels. Three times the height of a man. Inside were a battering ram, twenty archers, and a supply of smoking pots. "The steppe dwellers built a siege tower," the chronicler wrote and smiled. In vain.

The first fortress fell within two hours. The tower rolled up to the wall, trees soaked in the blood of the Rogos extinguishing the incendiary arrows. From the upper platform, the Stairs killed everyone who peered out of the embrasures. The second fortress surrendered without a fight when the tower stood opposite the gate. The Kingdom of Erikuria retreated for the first time in a hundred years.

But there was only one tower. The tribe didn't know how to build a second: too much Rogos blood was needed. The royal army outflanked the convoy, slaughtered the drivers, and burned the tower and its crew. Smoke from burning logs soaked in the animal's blood lingered across the steppe for three days. The tribe perished. And the convoy remained in military textbooks as an example of how even barbarians can teach the Erikurians fear. It's a good thing the demons didn't see the weapon.