Chapter 115
Chapter 115
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 115
Chapter Title: Climbing the Castle Wall
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“Father!”
Stone, the eldest son of the Wayne family, and his younger brother Marble cried out in anguish. The brash Viscount Wayne, who had marched out so boldly, had returned as a cold corpse.
However, their grief-stricken voices rang strangely false. Despite their mournful display, their minds were solely occupied with the question of who would succeed him now that their father was gone.
Just then, one of the maids still lingering in the manor came rushing toward them, her face pale as a ghost.
“Young masters! Outside... outside, Viscount Lucas Kyle's army!”
At her words, Stone and Marble rose to their feet, still clutching the corpse. As if putting on a show for someone, they drew the swords from their belts.
“So Viscount Lucas Kyle sent Father's body! It has to be him who killed him!”
Stone and Marble shouted in fury as they grabbed their swords and headed for the ramparts. But their courage and rage fizzled out the moment they arrived.
“...How the hell did Father even fight a war?”
They had assumed that even in defeat, he would have inflicted heavy casualties. Yet the army of Kyle before their eyes showed no sign of damage whatsoever.
Lucas territory's banner fluttered proudly amid hundreds of soldiers boasting high morale. And their equipment—what about that? There wasn't a single conscript in a gambeson, the hallmark of levied troops. Every man wore at least chainmail and a breastplate.
“An army like that...”
Forgetting their enmity for a pure moment of awe, Stone and Marble admired the Lucas forces. They knew they couldn't win. Even setting aside the vast quality gap in troops, they had barely ten soldiers left in the castle. How could they fight with that?
With that realization, their feigned hostility and anger evaporated like water on hot coals.
“Brother. What now?”
Stone shook his head at Marble's question.
“We sent letters to Count Osland and Viscount Wisili... but it'll be a miracle if the castle doesn't fall before they arrive.”
“Shouldn't we at least talk first? Viscount Lucas Kyle must have some sense. I doubt he'd really put that bastard child on the throne.”
It would be far more advantageous to governing the viscounty to pick one of them over some illegitimate son with no foundation. So Kyle would attempt negotiations before assaulting the walls. That was their thinking—but...
Dang—dang—
“Incoming! Viscount Lucas Kyle's army is attacking!”
A scream like a banshee's wail rose from the ramparts as the Lucas trebuchets hurled stones with mighty force.
“Take cover!”
Boulders the size of human heads battered mercilessly against Wayne Castle's walls and gates. Those atop the ramparts yelped in terror and ducked low.
“Without even trying to talk!”
Dodging the blind stones, Stone and Marble retreated below the walls, venting their frustration. Why attack without even attempting dialogue? But Kyle had his reasons for concern.
'Count Osland and Viscount Wisili, huh? If those bastards show up, it'll be a headache.'
A textbook siege would take too long. The proper method was to surround the castle and starve them out—but doing that now risked a stab in the back from Count Osland and Viscount Wisili's armies. He planned to end it swiftly and install Sisella in her place.
****
His ex-wife was dead. And the child she'd brought with her, he'd handed over to Sisella.
“Why not just kill the child and be done with it?”
“No need to go that far, is there?”
The knights nodded in agreement, but the real reason he'd spared the child was that he saw a use for it.
In case Sisella died after claiming the territory and her successor took the seat, he'd need a puppet with no legitimate claim to manipulate the new lord.
Not Sisella's child, nor even Wayne blood—just an illegitimate heir with zero legitimacy. Such a ruler would have to watch his every move, just like Sisella.
Perhaps even more so. They'd need his protection to survive.
Of course, he could grab any orphan, but handing it to Sisella was far more humane than slaughtering an innocent infant. Turning his gaze to her, he saw the woman sobbing uncontrollably.
“Sob... sob...”
Though illegitimate, he'd been her father nonetheless. Upon hearing of Viscount Wayne's death, Sisella clutched the child he'd given her and wept bitterly. It stemmed from despair at her motherhood's end, but he ignored it and silently watched the siege.
“They're not opening the gates.”
“We heard they have hardly any soldiers left—mostly civilians. No idea why they're not surrendering.”
Perhaps unsettled by Sisella's sniffles, the knights quickly changed the subject.
“Shall we have the troops commence the assault...?”
“...”
Instead of replying, he racked his brains. His mind was filled only with how to breach that castle. When Lenia had attacked Sarisa Count's castle, the losses had been immense. He'd heard the sieges had caused more casualties than the open battles.
Wayne's captured soldiers claimed the castle was empty and ripe for the taking—but history was full of civilians repelling armies. Castles weren't castles for nothing. Even wooden palisades had stymied many a force.
“Let's wait a bit.”
He issued the order and had his troops keep the trebuchets firing nonstop. He'd hoped sending Wayne's corpse and showing his army would make the heirs open the gates themselves. Apparently not.
From afar came the trebuchets' rumble and the soldiers' shouts.
“Fire!”
Clunk!
Siege engines launching boulders the size of heads—hits that didn't just hurt, they killed. They looked like they could crumble the walls in one go... but Wayne Castle endured the barrage until nightfall.
“They have no intention of opening up, my lord.”
“Worse, civilians are scurrying about the ramparts now. Looks like they're moving stones for counter-siege.”
As the knights said, they were gearing up for a proper defense. That meant they'd sent for aid from Viscount Wisili and Count Osland. He had to take the castle now, even if it meant pushing hard.
After a moment's thought, he addressed the knights and officers in the tent.
“We'll attack tonight.”
“At night?”
Night assaults had advantages for attackers: enemy arrows and stones were far less effective in the dark. Though visibility hampered both sides.
But his reason went beyond that.
“I'll scale the walls under cover of darkness and open the gates from inside. Send the army when you see my signal.”
The knights balked at the plan to climb the walls and unbar the gates.
“Impossible!”
“Even for you, my lord—how could you face dozens, hundreds alone?”
They were right; he couldn't fight that many at once. But holding out? That he could manage.
“Most aren't soldiers—they're townsfolk, unarmed rabble. I can handle them. And... haven't you heard how I took Sarisa Castle?”
Even an ordinary knight could cut down dozens of civilians. Slash the first few, and panic would scatter the rest. And he'd done exactly this at Sarisa.
“True, but...”
The knights, familiar with the tale, nodded reluctantly. It was still dangerous, their faces said.
That night, defying their worries, thick clouds veiled the moon as if aiding him.
“Be careful, my lord.”
“We'll charge the moment we see your signal!”
Knights and soldiers wide awake in the dead of night bid him farewell as he set off for Wayne Castle, smudged with soot on his armor and sword to blend into shadows.
“If this keeps up...”
“...or what?”
The clouded moon and soot concealed him perfectly; he reached the range of the sentries' chatter atop the walls undetected. Catching his breath in a safe spot, he eyed the wall just below.
“This looks climbable even without gear...”
Stone castles couldn't be seamless like concrete or brick. Gaps always existed between blocks, no matter how well-cut.
And after a day of relentless trebuchet fire, those gaps had widened, with chunks of masonry cracked and crumbling.
He'd brought a dagger for climbing, but bare hands might suffice.
Crunch!
Wedging fingers into crevices, toes hugging every crack, he ascended slowly. Soon, he crested the ramparts. Voices sharpened, clearer now.
“Heard reinforcements from another territory are coming. Any word on when?”
“Dunno... I heard it'd take about ten days?”
“Damn it... We'll starve or those bastards will breach and slaughter us all fi—huh?”
His gaze met a man turning with a grumble. In the brief silence, a small axe left Kyle's hand and buried into the man's head as his mouth gaped to scream.
Crack!
Watermelon-splitting crunch as the man toppled backward. His companion spun in horror, only to meet the same fate moments later.
With the situation cleared, Kyle scanned the ramparts slowly, feeling a hollow emptiness.
“This is their idea of a guard?”
Bright lights had suggested tight security, but it was just braziers. Maybe they'd scattered upon spotting him.
What could you expect from civilians playing soldier? And the gate below—utterly unguarded. Not even a token watch.
“...”
Assessing ramparts and gates, he revised his plan. Wayne's sons were still inside. Kill them here, open the gates, and no risk of them fleeing to Viscount Wisili or Count Osland. No needless street fighting either.
Heading to the lord's manor, the streets were deserted—not a soul, not even a rat. The only sign of life: flickering lights from house windows.
Arriving via alleys, the manor sat at Wayne Castle's heart—more mansion than fortress.
“Yawn... cold...”
“Gonna see ghosts at this rate. Not a soul on the streets.”
Unlike the ramparts, proper soldiers guarded the manor, fully armed. Likely the minimal force left for order, repurposed here.
Seizing a moment their eyes wandered, he began scaling the manor's walls—slightly taller than a fence—jamming his dagger into tiny cracks.
He scaled the walls and infiltrated undetected. With the manor's watch this lax, the castle's internal security must be a joke.