Chapter 181: Siege Warfare
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 181: Siege Warfare
The meeting room was littered with bodies, all growing cold. Every one of them was clutching their own throat as if they had strangled themselves, with foam crusted around their mouths.
It was the clear mark of poison.
Countess Monet had taken a chair from the room out onto the balcony and was now sitting, looking down at the city.
“Clean up the bodies.”
“Yes…!”
The servants, who had been watching her nervously, only moved after the Countess gave her silent permission.
I picked up a goblet from the table and another chair and walked out onto the balcony. I tilted the brass pitcher on the small round table and filled the goblet to the brim with wine.
Placing my chair beside Countess Monet, I sat down and looked out over the city, just as she was.
Though it was late, the port city of Dresden was still bustling with life. Torches mounted sporadically along the streets pushed back the curtain of night, and in the alleys, drunken revelers bickered with patrol guards.
“You made the right choice.”
Countess Monet swirled the wine in her goblet. Her grip was so loose that it looked as if she might drop it at any moment.
“Did I have a choice…?”
A self-mocking smile touched her lips as she spoke, her eyes still fixed on the city below.
“You certainly had the option of handing power over to the collateral line and becoming a powerless old woman in the back rooms.”
If a member of the collateral branch became the Count of Dresden, she would never be treated well.
A lord who wielded absolute power like a king in his own domain would inevitably find such a figure an inconvenience to have around.
Moreover, Countess Monet was an outsider with no Dresden blood. It was obvious she would be neglected before being confined to a tower or forced into a convent.
That was why, the moment the Count and his two sons died, she had no choice but to rely on Adeleade.
“That’s a choice not even a three-year-old would make.”
“Then I suppose that means the men sprawled on the floor in there have less sense than a three-year-old.”
“They were all blinded by greed. That’s why they couldn't see the heart of the matter and were played by you.”
“Played by them? What did I do…?”
I put on an aggrieved expression. Countess Monet finally turned to look at me, her eyes narrowing.
“You knew that if you demanded my cooperation, I would have no choice but to comply. Yet, despite the urgency of your situation, you took the long way around. All with the intention of eliminating the opposition in one fell swoop. Am I wrong?”
It was true. I had deliberately made a show of recruiting vassals to encourage the forces that would oppose my takeover of Dresden to gather in one place.
“Then I suppose you’ve also guessed my next move?”
“That’s obvious. You are a lord with vast territories, yet you have only four vassals. That’s how greedy for land you are. You suffer from a manpower shortage because of it, yet you show no sign of changing.”
“I did promise to grant the vassals I recruited this time fiefs in the northern continent.”
Countess Monet snorted.
“Didn’t you incite a competition of loyalty to make them pour everything they have into the war? How many of them will even survive to claim their reward? I guarantee it won’t be more than three.”
They say old ginger is the spiciest. Her intuition was terrifyingly sharp. That’s why I liked her. With her in charge, I could leave for the battlefield without any worries.
“We’ve gotten a bit sidetracked. So, what do you think my next move will be?”
“Now you’ll move to confiscate their lands.”
A smirk spread across my lips.
“I’ve already started.”
At that very moment, the vassals of Dresden who had sworn fealty to Allen were using the troops they had raised to support him to launch surprise attacks on the territories of the opposition.
With the key members of their families wiped out on the northern continent, and the rest poisoned by Countess Monet, there was little resistance.
The fact that they had trusted their attackers, believing them to be friendly neighbors, was another reason they fell so easily.
Thanks to this, the battles that erupted across Dresden were over in a single night. It was the moment Dresden fell completely into Allen’s hands.
*
Meanwhile, as Allen was finishing his business in Dresden and hurrying to join the front lines, a different scene was unfolding.
“They’ve finally arrived.”
Eleanor’s expression darkened as she looked out from a window in Roxwood’s inner castle, gazing beyond the walls. The king’s army was swarming toward them, a seemingly endless tide of men.
Three days and nights of torrential rain had caused the river to flood, washing away bridges, and landslides had blocked the roads. Yet, the king’s army had refused to give up their advance and had finally reached Roxwood.
“Don’t worry too much, Princess. They’ve marched through terrible weather, so they can’t be in peak condition. Besides, an attacking force needs to outnumber the defenders by three to one to have a chance of taking a castle, and they only have twice our numbers.”
Roxwood had two thousand soldiers, while the king’s army had five thousand, making it a ratio of 2.5 to 1. Piole had deliberately downplayed the numbers to ease Eleanor’s worries.
“Piole. We agreed you would call me sister, didn’t we?”
Eleanor’s concern was with her title. As she pouted in displeasure, Piole couldn’t hide her troubled expression.
“Princess, there is a difference in our stations. How could I…”
“Aenya can, but I can’t?”
“Well, Aenya is much younger than me, and…”
“Hmph. You may call her your younger sister, but you were the one fawning all over her. I thought for a moment you had become Aenya’s personal maid.”
“Princess…”
Only when Piole’s face crumpled into a miserable frown did Eleanor’s expression soften into a smile. She gently embraced Piole.
“Piole, Roxwood is the gateway to the Rasino and Debussy territories. If we can’t stop the enemy here, we’ll have no choice but to divide our forces to defend both sides. For us, who are already outnumbered, that’s a future we can’t afford.”
“I will defend it with my life.”
Piole gave a military salute, her face hard as stone. She meant it.
“Don’t risk your life.”
“I… what?”
Eleanor smiled at Piole’s dumbfounded face.
“Sir Allen would consider you far more precious than this damn castle. Besides, he’s skilled enough to take a castle like this over and over again. So, if it looks like we can’t hold it, let’s retreat and wait for the next opportunity.”
“…You’re joking, right?”
“You’ve known him since you were children, Piole. Think about it yourself. If he had to choose between Roxwood and you, what would he choose?”
It didn't require much thought. In a situation like this, there was only one choice Allen would make.
“He wouldn’t give up either of them, would he?”
“Ah…”
This time, it was Eleanor who looked dumbfounded. Piole let out a small laugh, saluted again, and said.
“And neither will I.”
Leaving the room, Piole clenched her fists. Hadn’t Allen entrusted command of the army to her when he left for the northern continent?
If she gave up so easily, she wouldn’t be able to face him. Besides, that womanizer had probably added even more women to his collection on the northern continent. To avoid falling behind in the competition, she needed to prove her worth.
If Allen knew what she was thinking, he would have told her that her formidable chest, impossible to hide even under chainmail, was more than enough, but he wasn't here.
With every step Piole took down the stairs, her impossibly large breasts swayed.
“Listen! I, Bronx II, your rightful ruler, command you! Open the gates at once and kneel before me!”
As Piole reached the top of the castle wall, a gruff voice assaulted her ears, and she scowled.
Bronx II, accompanied by only a few knights, had approached to just outside of arrow range and was shouting at the top of his lungs. His voice was incredibly loud.
In truth, a booming voice was one of the virtues of a monarch. In an age without proper means of communication, a quiet voice was a great inconvenience.
“Oink, oink. What is that, the sound of a pig being slaughtered? It feels like my ears are being defiled. Zant! Give me a bow!”
Sir Zant had a composite bow with a much longer range than a standard one. It was a family heirloom.
“Surely, you’re not going to shoot, are you?”
Zant handed over the bow with an awkward smile. Before Muel and Dreng, who had known Piole longer, could stop her, she drew the bowstring.
“Lady Piole! Attacking a messenger is a highly condemnable act! You’ll be reviled for it!”
Dreng, who had become rather prim and proper since becoming a noble, was so flustered that he slipped back into his old mercenary speech. Of course, it had no effect on Piole.
“Bronx II, who’s trying to brand my sister a witch and have her killed, will be reviled far more than I will, so it’s fine.”
With Dreng shot down in one go, Muel stepped forward.
“Haha. Calm down. Please, calm down, won’t you? He’s the king. The king. If word gets out that the daughter of a mere knightly family fired an arrow at him, it won’t end with just a few insults.”
“And if I treat him like a king, he’ll just pack up and leave?”
Piole snorted and released the taut bowstring. The three knights squeezed their eyes shut at the sharp sound that tore through the air.
“Oh, Lord…!”
“They say a husband and wife grow to resemble each other…!”
The most surprised person was Bronx II himself. He had seen Piole draw the bow but had assumed it was a simple threat, which made his shock even greater.
“Huk—!”
“Your Majesty—Gak!”
Fortunately for him, the knights who had accompanied him as his guard had not let their guard down.
An arrow struck the back of a knight who had moved to block Bronx II just in time. If he hadn't, it would have pierced the king’s chest.
“You… you ill-mannered…!”
“Your Majesty! You must retreat! Quickly!”
Bronx II’s face turned beet red as he bellowed, but at his knights’ insistence, he had no choice but to withdraw to the rear of his formation.
“Haha! Look at him run away with his tail between his legs! What kind of king is that! Right?”
Piole lowered the bow and looked around, but the three knights, and even the soldiers, avoided her gaze. The best way to deal with a crazy bitch was to avoid her.
Of course, Piole wasn't the type to let that slide. Scowling, she strode toward Zant and threatened him as if she were about to kick him in the shin.
“Hey! Laugh! Aren’t you going to laugh? You wanna die?”
Zant shot a pleading look at Muel and Dreng, but the two men averted their eyes.
“Ha. Haha. Hahaha…”
Piole was officially their superior, entrusted with command by Allen, and she was also his mistress. Of course, if that were all, they would have protested at once.
But among Allen’s knights, the one with the most experience in war was none other than Piole.
Having devoured experience points, she was now more than capable of serving as a commander.
“Enough nonsense. Prepare the cavalry.”
The light atmosphere vanished in an instant at Piole’s words. Zant cried out as if screaming.
“The enemy outnumbers us more than two to one!”
“I have eyes, you know. The king came in person. Doesn’t that tell you anything? It means he’s not comfortable with a direct confrontation either! Why? Because if he suffers heavy losses, the Noble Faction won’t just sit by and watch!”
A siege was a method of warfare that inevitably resulted in extreme attrition for the attacking side.
Dreng, Muel, and Zant’s eyes narrowed simultaneously. Dreng spoke for them.
“You… who are you!”
That last statement was uncharacteristic of Piole, who detested complex topics like political dynamics. She knew that better than anyone.
In truth, Piole, who had merely repeated the advice she’d heard from Eleanor, flinched.
“Sh-shut up! Anyway, he’s going to try to persuade us again! We have to use that opening! If we want to hold out until Allen arrives, we have to break their momentum!”
The three men exchanged glances. Seeing Piole change the subject instead of kicking Zant’s shin, they roughly guessed the situation.
“Understood.”
Zant, the youngest, went down from the wall to prepare the cavalry. Almost at the same time, the king approached again. Wary of the bow, he stopped at a greater distance than before.
“You are all being deceived! The one you follow is a witch who has harmed the innocent with all manner of wicked arts!”
He was accompanied by a man in priest’s robes—a bishop Bronx II had won over.
Bronx II’s justification for the war was to execute the witch Eleanor. For that, he needed a high-ranking priest to officially declare her a witch.
“What’s he on about? The Archbishop didn’t say anything like that.”
Of course, to Piole, who was acquainted with Archbishop Raceni, this high-ranking priest seemed utterly pathetic.
“Do not listen to the sweet whispers of the devil! If you act as the witch’s pawn, you will go to hell and suffer eternal torment after death!”
The bishop, who had flinched at Piole’s mention of Archbishop Raceni, continued speaking as if he hadn’t heard her.
Piole laughed in disbelief and shouted loudly.
“And your king won’t? The scriptures say that he who kills his own brother will surely go to hell!”
“The witch is no brother of mine!”
As Bronx II roared, the sneer on Piole’s lips deepened.
“Honestly. He’s the type to cover the sky with his palm and believe it’s completely hidden.”
The corners of the defenders’ mouths twitched as Piole shrugged and spoke to those around her. If their opponent hadn’t been the king, they might have clutched their stomachs and roared with laughter.
In contrast, Bronx II’s face turned a mottled red and purple as he pointed an accusing finger at her.
“How dare you laugh at me, your king!”
“You idiot. Did you really think you could commit such a sin against your own blood and not be reviled for it?”
“You—!”
Overcome with rage, Bronx II unleashed a torrent of curses.
In the meantime, Piole slid down the stair railing and mounted a waiting horse. Three hundred cavalrymen were ready and waiting.
“Open the gate!”
While the gate opened with a thunderous groan, Piole turned her head and shouted to the cavalry.
“Anyone who can’t keep up gets left behind!”
The moment the gate was open, she spurred her horse forward. She moved like an arrow.
“Your Majesty! Flee!”
By the time Bronx II, who had noticed Piole too late, turned his horse, she was already nearly upon him! His knights desperately moved to block her path.
“Stop! You go no further!”
“You’ll have to go over my dead body!”
Piole didn’t slow down.
“Out of the way, small fry—!”
Instead, she spurred her horse even faster. As she closed in on an enemy knight, she braced herself with only the strength of her legs and gripped her lance with both hands.
Her magnificent warhorse, despite the reins being loose, veered slightly, following its master’s will.
In that moment, as she and her horse became one and passed the enemy knight, Piole’s lance plunged through the only exposed part of his helmet—the eye slit of his face guard.
For someone on a galloping horse, her spearmanship was astonishingly precise. The speed of her thrust felt faster than a beam of light.
It was a strike that proved her mounted spearmanship had already reached the level of a master.