Chapter 47
Chapter 47
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Righteous Rebellion
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“Advance! Advance!”
Bwoooo-
With the massive trumpet blasts overwhelming the battlefield, the archers stepped forward. At the same time, boulders the size of a man's body began hurtling overhead from improvised trebuchets.
“Trebuchets!!”
“Take cover!”
The soldiers atop the walls, staring down at Cligrove's army in terror, ducked in panic as the rocks rained from the sky. The boulders hammered the battlements mercilessly, as if eager to give the defenders a taste of their brutal power.
Under that overwhelming assault, the shields they held did little more than shamefully cover their own bodies.
“Archers! Where are our archers? Stop them from getting closer!”
As the count's soldiers failed to mount any real resistance, Cligrove's archers sauntered leisurely into range, as if out for a stroll. Then their renowned longbows were drawn back in unison toward the sky.
Kreeeak!
The longbows, carved from entire yew logs, bent with a chilling groan. Arrows leaped from the archers' fingers, streaking skyward, filling the air with a sound like a massive serpent flicking its tongue.
Nearly a hundred shafts twisted like serpents through the air, pouring down on the soldiers beyond the walls.
“Shields up! You bastards! Shields!!”
Veteran soldiers hastily raised their shields at the officers' desperate shouts, but the fresh recruits—clueless conscripts—held theirs awkwardly or simply hid behind the walls. And then... the rain of death began to fall upon them.
Thud! Thunk! Thunk!
“Aaaagh!”
“Urk!”
Screams erupted here and there amid sounds like rain pattering on stone and wood. Even inside the walls. Arrows that overshot the battlements showered into the civilian homes. In a single volley, the walls turned into a field of gore.
“Fire back! Shoot, damn it!”
Only after the arrow storm ended did the officers bellow at the top of their lungs. And so the siege began as a one-sided onslaught from Cligrove.
“Is the battering ram ready?!”
“Yes! We've soaked it thoroughly with water!”
Once enough suppressing fire from the archers had been laid down, Lady Lenia ordered the battering ram being held in reserve to advance. Its leather-and-wood roof had been drenched to protect against fire arrows.
“Push!”
The soldiers grunted beneath the roof as they heaved, and the massive ram slowly rolled toward the castle.
Time constraints had prevented them from building siege towers or other massive engines, but Sarisa Castle wasn't all that large anyway—no need for such things. Siege towers were tricky to construct regardless.
Watching the ram's progress from behind, Lenia at last gave the order to advance.
“Glory to Cligrove!”
“Avenge Sir Lucas!”
Morale sky-high, the soldiers roared as they advanced behind the ram, spears, swords, axes, and shields at the ready. Their weapons gleamed in the sunlight, water dripping from the wetted shields in preparation for fire attacks.
Moreover, Sarisa Castle was just a simple hilltop fortress without a moat. There was a river out front, but it was too far to serve as any real defense. The initial assault proceeded smoothly.
“Order the soldiers to raise ladders when fire concentrates on the ram. And halt trebuchet fire once our troops close to a certain distance.”
“Understood!”
Lenia lacked siege experience but possessed knowledge. She aimed to take the castle by the textbook. At her command, a knight spurred his horse forward to relay orders to the advancing troops.
“Shields up, you maggots! Don't wanna die to blind arrows?!”
“One shield down means the guy behind eats it too! Hold 'em right!”
Veterans barked at the recruits as the walls drew nearer. At last, the trebuchets and archers ceased fire.
"..."
Only then did Sarisa's soldiers dare raise their heads. Seeing this, Cligrove's troops thrust their weapons skyward in unison.
“Fire's done! Charge!”
“Let's go! Offer the count's head at Sir Lucas's grave!”
“Waaaah!”
The main assault had begun.
“Bring boiling oil!”
“Arrows! Hurry with the arrows!”
Chaos reigned inside the castle. No one knew exactly how the lady outside was pressing the attack, but even near their hiding spot in the alley, rocks and stray arrows occasionally thudded into the streets.
The roads were filled with civilians fleeing deeper into the castle and soldiers dashing about with arrows and supplies.
“Big bro!”
While quietly observing from the alley, a familiar voice called from afar. A brown-haired man with green eyes—Cutter. Trailing him came a horde of elite swordsmen in full armor, along with my own men.
“Big bro! Or... Baron Lucas, sir!”
“Cutter... You're alive?”
He flushed at my words.
“You thought I was dead...? Nah, I was drinking at the tavern when things got weird, so I slipped away. Then I ran into these guys.”
Sarisa's swordsmen chuckled at that.
“We pulled him out when he got caught hiding in the stable hay. Lucky we knew he was your knight's servant.”
I laughed along and eyed the swordsmen behind them. About twenty of my men, fifteen elite swordsmen. Not a huge number, but in quality, it was substantial.
Three swordsmen per knight? That made this force equivalent to eleven knights. Even if every knight in Sarisa was guarding the count, we could take them.
“Sir, I picked the most reliable ones. Skipped the iffy sorts entirely. But the numbers are a bit low.”
Eriksen looked troubled, but I clapped his back with a grin.
“No, this is plenty. Good work.”
Plenty for the decisive moment—to seize the count or open the gates. Open the gates? Or grab the count? I mulled options, but to end the siege in one stroke, we needed the count.
Last war, failing to nab him would've dragged things out.
“Where's the count now?”
“The count, sir?”
“To end this war at once, capturing him beats opening the gates. And in a siege like this, his guard will slack.”
Eriksen nodded.
“Then when...”
“When he retreats to the keep. He's out there now, but that coward won't last. Probably hunkered in his manor by tomorrow.”
The swordsmen snickered at my jab. Eriksen had chosen men brimming with grudges against their old lord.
“Waaaah!”
The next day, the first day's probe felt tame by comparison—shouts from outside swelled, arrows and rocks pummeling the interior harder.
“The assault's fierce. Lady Cligrove seems set on a quick win.”
A swordsman reported after scouting. Quick siege? Not ideal. Sarisa's forces were far weaker, sure, but sieges favored defenders the longer they dragged.
Each failed assault boosted defender morale, sapped attackers'. Best to prepare meticulously for a knockout blow. The lady must be furious over nearly dying.
“Not great. Too hasty. Even proper prep would suffice.”
As I spoke, a returning swordsman added,
“But... Cligrove's troops are shouting odd things.”
“Odd how?”
“Avenge their knight... Offer the count's head at his grave...”
Me, alive and well. Baffling, but whatever—if my “death” boosted their morale, fine. Bigger fish to fry.
“The count's position?”
“No sign of him. Probably in the keep...”
“Perfect!”
I stood. Hiding in his “safe” hole by day two. He had no clue it spelled his doom.
We had to move fast—only time while Cligrove pressed the attack.
Fail to grab him before the siege ended? Swordsmen hanged, me a bargaining chip.
“Rally the swordsmen. Now.”
He dashed out. Barely time for a quick meal before he returned with the others.
“You called, sir!”
They assembled swiftly— they'd feigned siege duty in assigned zones. My men holed up here.
Outside, assaults continued—shouts and trumpets echoed.
“The moment's here. Cligrove attacks, count's barricaded like a rat. No better chance to snag him.”
“Why now?” one asked.
“Prolonged siege favors Sarisa if Cligrove fails assaults. Starve 'em out? Sure win, but townsfolk starve too.”
They nodded. Tales of besieged castles resorting to rats, leather, cannibalism weren't rare.
“To spare your families that hell, we act. Not for me, not Cligrove—for your kin. Draw swords as heroes saving Sarisa Castle.”
Their faces burned with resolve. True for me and Cligrove too, but reframing made starvation the count's fault, rebellion righteous.
Keep or manor? I split into two strike teams: Eriksen's elites to the manor; my vanguard swordsmen and I to the keep.
“Spot him first? Assess foes, fight if viable—but one man breaks off to alert the other. Not doubting you, just in case. Clear?”
“Clear!”
Rebels turned revolutionaries in an instant. Their eyes gleamed through helmet visors.