"Only if you tell the truth," Emma corrected the soldier. "If word gets out that you and your fellow guards stood outside whilst your charges died in a brawl gone wrong, everyone's going to the gallows. If it was the work of a skilled assassin with powerful magic on his side, who subdued me and killed the others? Well that's just regrettable, and completely beyond our control."
Emma had no idea if that was true or not, but the soldier seemed to believe it; or at least was hopeful enough to play along for the sake of survival.
"Say, how long will it take before anyone at court wonders about the deceased?"
"They usually report back through messenger at least once a week." Came the prompt reply, the soldier wincing as another section of the tent caught alight.
"Good. That gives us up to a week to breach the castle," Emma nodded, finally standing and stepping lightly over the charred corpses on her way out. "Go to whoever is responsible for coordination with the other camps. Tell them to assemble every able bodied man on open ground as soon as possible, and have them watch the sky. When they see my signal, which will be unmistakable, they are to advance fifty feet. This will repeat with each subsequent signal."
"A show of force?" The soldier frowned, deference warring with caution. "Her highness was in no mood to surrender the last time this was tried."
"We're not expecting her to surrender, though that would be nice," Emma shook her head. "This is just the opening gambit of a strategy that should succeed, while minimising losses where it matters. All the advisers managed to agree on this much at least, before knives were drawn in anger."
The soldier rushed off after that, both happy to hear that there was a plan to follow and eager to escape from the scene of the crime. Emma followed him out at a leisurely pace, paying no heed as the tent collapsed behind her. Climbing up to the watchtower the normal way this time, Emma parked herself next to an archer standing watch, looking down at the throng of humanity nominally under her control. The beginning was gradual, lines of soldiers emerging half a dozen at a time from the camp below. Each mounted a horse brought to them, departing for the remaining camps forming the perimeter of the castle. Soon, those too began to empty, as hundreds of troops assembled into crude square formations, one outside of each camp. Emma didn't miss that each formation carried different flags; even the make of their weapons and uniforms varying wildly in colour.
Truly, this isn't a unified army so much as a cobbled together collection of mercenaries.
"Five, four, three, two, one, zero." The possessed archer recited, eyes never leaving the construct that commanded the attention of everyone present.
[Status: Instant Death applied.]
Emma was ejected immediately, as her former vessel slumped against the watchtower's railing, devoid of life. None of those assembled had fared any better, as in front of her eyes, over ten thousand soldiers simply collapsed to the floor, no more than empty puppets with their strings cut. Paying them no more attention, Emma leapt down to the ground, calling upon Sir Bearington to cushion her fall.
"Head for the castle," Emma commanded him, ignoring the many corpses along the way. "That should have scared the Princess enough to come and negotiate."
[Ah, I see. You removed the advisers first, so they couldn't contradict your claims of a grand plan, then simply led all the soldiers to the slaughter.]
Indeed, Emma had never intended to play this farcical scenario straight; she simply lacked the knowledge required either of siege craft or the time period depicted. Such things were surely covered in the standard curriculum of the Eternal Britannian Empire, but she'd missed those lessons. Placed in the situation of a novice facing a master, Emma instead chose to flip the board.
"Wonderful," A high-pitched voice proclaimed from above as Emma neared the castle. "I take it you're the one behind this delightful scene?"
There were fewer corpses here now; only a few mostly splattered examples as curious defenders fell from the walls in death. Nudging Sir Bearington to a halt, Emma glanced up at the speaker. Sure enough, it was the target of her quest in person; that in and of itself came as no surprise to Emma. What surprised her was the presence of a name tag, the first that Emma had seen on this floor.
[Princess Astaroth, Level 20 Warlock of the Deep]