**Chapter 2: The Enemy at the Gates**

The darkness of night had barely descended upon Blackstone Ridge when the first warning shots pierced the air. The defenders, still weary from the previous day's preparations, scrambled to their stations, rifles and bows at the ready. Captain James "Hawk" Wilson, perched atop the battlements, peered into the darkness, his eyes straining to pinpoint the source of the flashes. The Red Legion had arrived. At first, it was just a trickle of skirmishers, probing the Ridge's defenses and testing the mettle of its defenders. Hawk's men held their ground, firing cautiously into the darkness, trying to pick off the enemy advance guards. But as the night wore on, the skirmishers grew bolder, and the main body of the Red Legion began to emerge from the forest like a behemoth. Hawk's trained eye estimated the enemy's numbers at several thousand, a force that dwarfed the Ridge's defenders. The Legion's commander, General Krieg, was nowhere to be seen, but his presence was felt in the relentless drumbeat of artillery fire that pounded against the Ridge's walls. As the night wore on, the defenders grew weary, their shoulders aching from the constant barrage of arrows and catapult fire. The Ridge's walls, once thought impregnable, began to show signs of strain, cracks and breaches opening up like wounds. Hawk knew that they couldn't hold out for long; the Red Legion was simply too strong. As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the enemy's tactics changed. The skirmishers gave way to massed formations of infantry, shields locked and pikes bristling like a porcupine's quills. The defenders of Blackstone Ridge responded with volleys of arrows and musket fire, but the enemy just kept coming, wave after wave of bodies crashing against the walls. Hawk's second-in-command, Sergeant Ryder, stumbled back to the command center, his face smeared with blood and grime. "Hawk, we're taking casualties," he reported, his voice hoarse from shouting above the din. "The civilians are getting scared, and some of the militia are talking about retreat." Hawk's jaw clenched in frustration. He had expected this. The defenders were tired, hungry, and scared. But he knew that retreat was no option; the Ridge was their only home, and the Red Legion would show no mercy if they were allowed to take it. "We'll hold," Hawk said, his voice firm. "We'll hold the Ridge, no matter what." Ryder nodded, his expression grim. "Aye, Captain. We'll do our best." As the day wore on, the Red Legion's attacks intensified, their artillery pounding the Ridge's walls into dust. The defenders fought on, their bodies aching and their spirits battered, but Hawk's determination kept them going. For now, at least, the Ridge still held. But as the sun began to set on another bloody day, Hawk couldn't shake the feeling that the end was near. The Red Legion was relentless, and he knew that it was only a matter of time before they breached the walls and poured in like a flood. The defenders of Blackstone Ridge were running out of time. The question was, would they be able to hold out for one more day?