"Fire!"
All at once, the archers of House Sutton drew their bows back, wooden bow limbs bending as their bowstrings were pulled up. Upon hearing the order, the men released the bowstring, causing the nocked arrows to fly through the air.
Swish! Swish!
As the arrows split the air, the archers, lined up in a crescent arc, reached into their quivers, drawing a new arrow and nocking them onto their bows. With another command from Knight Gene, the men released their bowstrings, sending a new wave of arrows forth.
As the arrows descended on the walls of Greendale, the men guarding the walls scrambled, hurriedly raising their bucklers and finding shelter behind the crenellations. Raising their relatively weaker but faster shortbows and crossbows, they aimed out of the crenels, releasing their retaliatory volley.
Unfortunately, the longbows of House Suttons archers, which were slow and unwieldy to reload, possessed much more power behind their arrows, allowing the archers to pepper the walls with arrows while simultaneously out of range of the defenders.
------
"Shit! We can't hit them!"
Atop the wall, the 25 men of the Garrison and a couple of retired soldiers who had volunteered realised their efforts at returning fire were futile. Holding his shield over his head, Riley, the Garrison team leader, felt thoughts whirl through his mind as the endless cycle of arrows thudded against the stone wall and the shields of the defenders.
Remember Sir Terry's words. We just need to hold out until they send their men in.
Infusing his Low-Iron rank spiritforce into his throat, he yelled at his men, encouraging them to hold out and hold on to Sir Terry's plans. Quickly spinning out from the crenellation he was hiding behind, he roughly aligned the tip of the loaded bolt of his crossbow in the direction of the Viscounts archers, pulling the trigger in hope of a lucky hit.
Just as he was ducking back under cover, an arrow embedded itself into his shield, numbing his entire forearm.
Damnit, their archers are actually able to infuse their battleforce into their arrows
Due to the fact that arrows and crossbow bolts were used in conjunction with bows and crossbows, not many people were able to infuse their spiritforce into projectiles and sustain them throughout their flight. Usually, such talents would be assigned to the House's archer platoon, leaving the defenders at a disadvantage due to the fact that most of them were neither at the Iron level, nor able to send spiritforce into their projectiles.
"Arg-urkK"
"Joshua!"
The first casualty arose. Splayed out on the rampart just a few meters away from Riley, a young recruit lay on the ground, pinned by an arrow that seemed to have obliterated his shield. Judging that the arrows owner was probably at the Medium-Iron level and were capable of infusing spiritforce into their arrows, Riley ordered his men to stay away from the body, lest more of them die to the archer.
Returning fire with a vengeance, Riley watched as another powerful arrow, infused with Low-Iron spiritforce, scattered stone debris and dust all over his body as it embedded itself into the wall.
Contemplating calling a retreat, Riley ducked back behind the wall, leather armour heaving up and down in tandem with his chest.
We might not be able to hold on if this barrage persists. The fact that only one person has died is mostly due to the walls, but if we stay here, eventually all of us will die.
"Jax!"
Another one dead
Looking at the body of the second unlucky man, Riley saw the arrow sticking out of his head, not even giving its victim time to cry out as he slumped lifelessly against the wall, shortbow falling from his grip.
That's it. Time to go.
"Retrea-"
Clomp Clomp Clomp Clomp
"Hiiyah!"
A loud cry came from the bottom of the walls, accompanied by the shaking of the wall. Risking a look down, Riley saw a group of 12 men, fully armoured and mounted, retreat from the gates galloping off a fair distance before turning around and charging towards it again.
Feeling the wall vibrate once again, Riley immediately called for a retreat, seeing the massive two-headed battleaxe covered in a silver aura in the hands of the lead horseman.
A Silver-ranked Knight
------
"They're descending the wall."
Behind the line of archers, Vincent watched as the figure atop the wall disappeared from view.
Signalling Knight Gene, the archers ceased their fire, causing the seemingly endless cycle of loading and releasing arrows to finally come to an end.
Faster than I expected.
Initially, he had expected that it would take at least half an hour of bombardment to suppress and push the defenders off the wall, but barely 10 minutes had passed and the enemies had retreated.
I underestimated the power of our archers.
Indeed, the archers of Phoenix Legion were all specially selected for their talents wielding the bow. Additionally, their spiritforce were all at the High-Copper level and above, granting them increased arm strength and eyesight, making their shots more powerful and accurate when they pulled back the bowstring. More importantly, the Iron ranked archers had the ability to infuse their spiritforce into their arrows, increasing their power.
This was why spiritforce was valued on the battlefield. At the Copper rank, spiritforce could be injected into certain parts of the body to 'buff' that certain part. At the Iron rank, spiritforce could be injected into weapons or armour to reinforce their durability and hardness. At Silver, injecting spiritforce into weapons or armour resulted in silvery-grey aura around the object, greatly increasing cutting power and sharpness of the weapon and the defense and toughness of armour. Injection of Gold rank spiritforce into weapons and armour formed a dark-gold aura, which possessed more fluid properties, able to be manipulated into specific shapes such as barbs and thorns. Radiant aura could be detached from the object it formed on, allowing blades to perform ranged attacks while armour with aura in the shape of thorns/spikes became able to launch them.
Thinking of the massive impact that high-rank spiritforce could have on the battlefield, Vincent watched as Knight Oz, leading the cavalrymen, battered the gate, cleaving scars into the wood with his massive axe.
They retreated the moment they saw the cavalry. There's probably an ambush hiding behind the gate.
"Instruct the escalades to advance. Tell the archers to gather behind the siege engines."
"Yes Milord."
Turning around, he addressed Blake. The young Knight mounted his horse, legs tightening around the midriff of the horse as he sped off towards where the escalades were stationed, infantrymen standing ready beside the large wooden frames of the siege machines.
Within minutes, even as the cavalrymen continued their half-hearted attacks on the gate, the siege machines started off, lumbering their way across the field as the soldiers advanced alongside them, shields held at the ready in case the defenders realised their plan.
Led by Knights Sharon, Oxford and Gene, the escalades and their escorts split off, heading towards different sections of the wall as the archers tailed behind.
As his forces crossed the halfway mark, Vincent felt tension build up, stirring up a feeling of dread within the pit of his stomach. Scanning his eyes over the battlefield, he searched for the source of his gut feeling, hands constantly clenching and unclenching in worry.
------
"Sir Terry! The cavalry's here!"
Scrambling down a ladder set into the wall, Riley approached the merchant, who had been waiting at the bottom of the wall.
Dressed in leathers with a sword at his side, Terry looked nothing like a successful businessman and merchant, giving off the air of an experienced adventurer. Hearing the Garrison squad captains report, he frowned.
Something's off.
Looking at the trembling gates, shaking as if they would fall at any moment, and turning to observe the ambush he had set up, a voice nagged at the back of his head.
Positioned along the main road of the Town near the gate, the men of the Garrison and various volunteers, numbering over 40 in total, hunkered down behind crates and within buildings, ready to pelt whoever broke through the gate with arrows and bolts. In fact, four large tree trunks had been cut and positioned at the side of the road, two just after the gates, and two more about 20 metres down the road, ready to slide into place and block off any intruders.
Terry's eyes widened.
That's it. We're positioned along the gates, ready to ambush the Viscounts forces. I anticipated that the Viscount would take the retreat from the walls as a sign of victory and recklessly send his men in, but what if he didn't? Shit! The walls are scalable!
Whirling around, his eyes located Riley, crawling beneath an overturned carriage with his crossbow. Yelling at the top of his voice, Terry shouted at the squad captain to gather his men and return to the walls.
His heart pounding furiously, Terry watched as 20-odd men followed Riley back up the wall.
Shit! Shit! How could I not think that the Viscount might try to scale the wall!
I was blinded by my overconfidence and greed. I wanted to defeat the Viscount on the battlefield. I'm a merchant, not a general.
The mere 20 men Riley has isn't enough to overcome the Viscounts forces if they decide to storm the walls. If the walls are taken, the rest of the men here are sitting ducks. But if I send the men here up the walls, once they realise that all our forces are on the walls, the Knights will just break through the gate.
Cogs turning within his head, Terry searched for a solution.
The situation is turning bad. I should never have tried organising the townsfolk against the Viscount.
The Viscount's victory over the defenders is already set in stone.
"Sir Terry! The Phoenix Legion are wheeling along some contraptions!"
Hearing Riley's shout, Terry put aside his thoughts temporarily as he clambered up the ladder.
I should flee the battlefield. I still have that backup plan.
As he reached the top of the ladder, he saw men looking at him, he saw the faith in their eyes.
Fools. Not only did you get scammed by me into going against the Viscount, you can't even discern that the situation has devolved to such an extent.
I'll make myself scarce at the first opportunity and initiate my backup plan.
Looking at the cloth covered contraptions, he brushed the men's enquiries off, stating that they were most likely to be ladders and all they needed to do was kick them off the walls to stop the enemies from scaling the wall.
As he descended the wall with the excuse of 'organising the men' Terry smirked to himself.
I bundered in trying to oppose you with force. But if I focus on hiding myself away and escaping, how will you have the time to catch me?
The moment his feet touched the ground, Terry took off running, avoiding detection by the men by the gate as he disappeared into the maze of buildings.