Chapter 92
Chapter 92
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 92
Chapter Title: The Spy and the Anthem
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Three more days had passed since the enemy offensive ground to a halt.
Thanks to the Black Arrows sniping countless commanders and veteran soldiers, the mercenary corps had lost all momentum to press their siege.
But the enemy wasn't completely foolish. They began responding more systematically, so I judged it too risky and pulled the Black Arrows back inside Sodom.
With the sniping attempts gone, other Redskin mercenary battalions started massing, joined by dozens of small affiliate groups.
The camp rearrangements and forward deployments that began at dawn today signaled that a total assault with every available force was imminent.
Now, only the war that would change the fate of the East remained.
Scanning the enemy lines from the ramparts, I turned my head to watch the militia training.
"One! Two! Three, push?"
"P-Push, don't shove!"
The Crow members, who had learned pike tactics and formations from me, were now drilling their assigned militia groups at a crash course pace.
But with such low morale and limited time, they could barely manage a sloppy circular formation, let alone weapon proficiency.
Was this okay? Was this the right way?
Both the trainers from the unit and the militia clumsily shoving their pike shafts couldn't help but feel a heavy doubt amid the sweat-drenched training.
Of course, they wouldn't know.
That the formation visible from atop the walls, though a bit ragged, was finally starting to take the shape I envisioned.
What they needed from the start wasn't fancy weapons, but the courage to stand and fight.
I quietly felt optimistic about the shifting landscape of the East that this war would usher in.
"Captain."
I had been watching the situation outside the walls for a moment.
Then Richard climbed up to the ramparts, his face caked in sweat and dirt.
The mud-caked prince.
The refined look from our first meeting was gone, but he radiated an indescribable aura.
He's growing up.
Filled with pride, I asked Richard,
"How's the training?"
"They all have some riding experience, so they're picking it up pretty well. They could sortie and fight right now if needed."
While the militia trained on pike formations, Helena and a few senior members had begun proper cavalry drills.
Not just basic riding or trotting, but genuine charges straight into the enemy lines.
Richard's face lit up as he added,
"Helena's outstanding, especially. Being from the North, she understands weapons intuitively too."
"Helena? You two on first-name terms now?"
"Ah, uh. Well, that..."
He used to address her so formally when they first met, but now "Helena" rolled off his tongue naturally.
And seeing him blush and stammer at my casual question, it seemed they'd grown close while he taught her riding.
"Training together, we found we click more than expected. Our ages are similar too, so we dropped the formalities."
"I see."
Who could've predicted it?
Just days ago, they saw each other as enemies, and now they were casually using names.
Young as they were, they bonded quickly, and misunderstandings melted away just as fast.
Deciding it wasn't my place to interfere, I walked alongside the maturing young man.
"Sir Ronald?"
"Joined us last night."
Thanks to the time bought by the Black Arrows, we got Ronald and all the refugees waiting outside into Sodom.
When every fighter counted, adding a knight like Ronald expanded my strategic options considerably.
This meant preparations were nearly complete.
As we walked shoulder to shoulder, I made one final request of Richard.
"If you see Helena on the way back, pass on a favor. Ask if we can borrow any unit members skilled in acting, just for tonight."
"Acting, you say...?"
"Yeah, I need them for something crucial."
The Crows excelled at political intrigue and covert ops.
To turn this war into a victory, their skills were essential.
Dusk was beginning to fall.
I stepped down the rampart stairs with Richard, who nodded in understanding.
Unaware of the battle unfolding tomorrow, the faded twilight at the edge of the East slowly merged with the starry night.
"Hey, you! No slacking!"
"Damn rookies!"
As Broken Sword had foreseen, the mercenaries finished assembling their forces and spent the night preparing the assault.
The attack was set for dawn tomorrow, with the goal of completely taking Sodom.
Once the war ends, we'll chew up every soldier and civilian alike.
The furious orcs sharpened their axe blades for tomorrow's bloodbath.
But unlike the bustling camp, the main command tent was shrouded in a silence so thick no one dared swallow.
All because of one Eastern human who had slipped out of Sodom two hours ago.
Glattan, the mercenary captain thrust into unwanted command, finally spoke.
"So, you'll open the gates during the siege?"
"Y-Yes! Exactly...!"
This Eastern human, who escaped the city at midnight, claimed to be a native of Sodom.
He vented his grievances against the arbitrary leadership and volunteered to open the gates.
"J-Just spare us! Please! Most of the citizens are innocent!"
Such surrenders happened often.
Traitors always emerged from under commanders bent on desperate resistance.
Thinking the humans' morale had finally broken, the orc captains chimed in, relieved things were going smoothly.
"Lucky break. Our losses have been heavy."
"Ours too."
A proper army aiming for victory might have eyed the offer warily.
But these mercenaries, through and through, craved not just victory, but the "ultimate win" with minimal losses and maximum loot.
Why refuse when they offered to open the gates themselves? Especially mid-battle, with no room for tricks.
The sturdy walls were all that kept the humans holding; once inside, victory was assured.
"Hmm..."
Glattan furrowed his brow, pondering long.
It was a sweet deal he should snap up, yet a nagging unease pricked his mind, making him hesitate.
But the orc captains pressed him regardless.
Glattan lacked the charisma to fully command the entire mercenary corps yet.
"No reason to refuse."
"If you won't, we'll do it ourselves."
The captains' clamor grew.
Finally, Glattan stood and accepted, issuing a final warning.
"This war's ours anyway, human. Lie, and you'll regret it."
"Ugh..."
It just made an easy war even easier.
The defector trembled before Glattan, who was already certain of victory.
"Get out before I change my mind."
"Th-Thank you!"
The deadline was tomorrow.
The defector bolted from the tent and raced back to Sodom.
But as the city neared, his ragged breaths steadied, and his snot-smeared dirty face returned to normal.
"Tch."
The traitor's true identity: Crow member Jackson.
He never dreamed his con artist past would come in handy here.
Thank you, dear audience, for taking the bait.
Having pulled off his brief act flawlessly, extra Jackson slipped into the endless darkness with a satisfied grin.
Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong!
A somewhat late morning arrived.
The orc mercenaries, who had prepared all night, finally advanced to the beat of war drums.
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
Raaaaagh!
The scale was incomparable to before.
The Redskin mercenaries, reinforced through rallies and mergers, bellowed huge roars while clanging their weapons to show off their might.
Clangclangclangclangclang!
Pale-faced sentries rushed to the watchtowers inside the city, ringing the emergency bells frantically.
The militia grabbed their weapons and hurried to the walls, while the unarmed hauled the last of the battlefield supplies.
Repeated drills paid off; the militia finished defensive preparations faster than before.
But facing the even larger enemy host, their morale plummeted from the start.
At this point, all morale-boosting measures lost meaning.
The commander's speech, the heart-pounding war drums— all just noise.
Instead, I taught the resting unit members a song in bits and pieces.
It was a famous Golden Age folk tune I knew by heart, banned by the orcs who conquered the Eastern kingdoms: the "Eastern Anthem."
A song often sung to forget fatigue.
Passed mouth to mouth, it had spread until every citizen hummed it.
And now, when they needed that final spark of courage, it began with one young militiaman licking his dry lips.
"Commander?"
"Shh. Let them sing."
A poignant, heartfelt lament.
In a low-morale battlefield, it might backfire.
But I stopped the worried unit members and let them pour out their homeland's song freely.
The song drowned out warring hegemonies and enlightening ideologies alike, melting powerlessly before homesick melody.
Starting from the right ramparts, the tune soon filled Sodom, as Easterners belted out the mournful anthem.
As the final verse faded, the militia fell into solemn silence, citizens wiping choked tears and straightening disheveled collars.
In that moment, I felt it.
Something indescribable filling the void where will to fight had been empty.
Clop, clop, clop.
Snort!
I patted the approaching White-Horned Deer, then mounted up.
My companions and the unit members, holding position, spurred their horses as if waiting.
Bwooooooo—!!
Uraaa—!!
The orcs finally charged.
A massive battle horn blared with roars, and the grimacing militia fired arrows and hurled stones from the walls with all they had.
Now it was our turn.
Gripping the reins, I gave my final order to the riders, including my companions.
"Stick to the plan! Keep your eyes on the lead and don't fall behind!"
"Understood, sir!"
Shing!
Yanking the reins sharply, the White-Horned Deer reared on its forelegs before pounding forward at speed.
Drawing my keen blade, I gladly took point and charged straight ahead.
"Raise the flag!"
Flutter!
The riders proudly hoisted the banner.
The cavalry, a sharp diagonal line, melted into the battlefield like water.