Inside the castle, all the guards had taken positions on the walls. Along the wall facing the Hafdans, about 200 meters long, there was just enough room for Gwenis's 100 guards and 100 archers. The remaining 500 conscripted soldiers from Targas and 300 from the recently gathered noble coalition were on standby in the courtyard. To make room for the soldiers, the civilians were instructed to stay indoors.
The combatants on the walls gripped their weapons tightly, while the civilians inside began to pray. The conscripted soldiers in the courtyard, having never experienced real combat, were visibly shaking, still seeing themselves more as farmers than fighters. In this battle, they likely wouldn't be of much use.
However, the guards and archers trained by Gwenis had gradually become accustomed to warfare. Although nervous in the face of the impending enemy attack, they were focused, their minds on the battle rather than succumbing to fear.
The Hafdans were steadily advancing. Despite probably facing their first siege of this kind, their extensive combat experience led the shield bearers in the front to instinctively slow down, slightly raising their shields to protect their comrades carrying ladders behind them, and guarding against anything that might come from the walls.
Under Gwenis's direction, his second-in-command, Ceddis, took control of the archers.
"Stay calm," he ordered.
The battlefield quieted down, with no superfluous noise. The archers, without needing any prompt from Ceddis, were already calculating angles, lead, and drop in their heads, mumbling to themselves.
Soon, the Hafdans entered a range of 300 meters. The archers began taking long, heavy arrows from the quivers propped against the barricades on the wall, readying their bows.
At 250 meters, the archers raised their arms and took a deep breath. The Hafdans below, noticing movement on the walls, became increasingly vigilant.
At 200 meters, Ceddis glanced back at Gwenis, who gave no verbal command but simply lowered his eyelids in acknowledgment.
"Get ready!" Ceddis shouted.
"Prepare—" As his command rang out, the archers on the wall drew their bowstrings. Though not practiced intentionally, their movements were remarkably synchronized.
Ceddis widened his eyes. There were no rulers on the battlefield; all distances had to be judged by experience and mental calculation, but he was confident in his assessment.
At 180 meters, he yelled, "Fire!"
A hundred long, heavy arrows, nearly 90 centimeters in length, flew in unison, hurtling towards the Hafdan forces below with unstoppable momentum.
At 180 meters, it was visibly clear something was descending from the walls. The Hafdan warriors, seasoned in battle, instinctively raised their shields for protection.
The next moment, over thirty spurts of blood erupted among them. Indeed, the frontline Hafdans were battle-hardened, familiar with various weapons, but what were these long, heavy arrows that could penetrate shields at 180 meters?
The arrows' formidable power, enhanced by gravity from the high vantage point of the walls, caught the Hafdans, facing such weaponry for the first time, off guard. The arrows pierced through the shields and penetrated five to six centimeters into the bodies behind them. The Hafdans were left questioning the utility of their shields.
Along with the pain came a strong sense of humiliation. Their efforts seemed in vain, as they felt mocked by those on the walls for their futile actions. Furious roars erupted from the Hafdans, reminiscent of their rage on the hillside the day they were first struck by arrows.
The Hafdans, consumed by their sense of dishonor and perceiving the use of long-range weapons as a lack of honor, were infuriated. They couldn't understand why anyone would use such a "dishonorable" weapon, striking enemies from nearly two hundred meters away who had no means to retaliate. In their view, such tactics were shameful and cowardly, unworthy of warriors of true honor.
In a frenzy, the Hafdans, roaring furiously, instinctively rushed towards the city walls, quickly outpacing their comrades carrying ladders. Confronted with this situation, Ceddis, momentarily overwhelmed, hesitated about which group to target first.
Under the mounting pressure, his mind became muddled until Gwenis, from his vantage point in the tower, issued clear instructions: "All units, focus fire on the siege team, target those carrying the ladders!"
With Gwenis's decisive order, Ceddis quickly regained his composure and took command again. "Prepare for the second volley!" he commanded, and the archers readied their bows in unison.
"Fire!" The second volley of heavy arrows was released, targeting not the enraged Hafdan frontliners but the slower-moving siege team carrying the ladders. Without any cover, another twenty to thirty Hafdans fell, causing several siege ladders to tumble to the ground.
Despite their elite status, the most valiant Hafdan warriors continued their headlong rush towards the front. Gwenis, however, paid them no attention.
The third volley was again directed at the now-chaotic siege team. Several Hafdans carrying ladders fell under the barrage, unable to support the weight on their shoulders, causing even more disarray and dropping more ladders.
Most importantly, they were left completely exposed to enemy fire, unable to flee or seek cover, dealing a severe blow to their morale and fighting spirit.
After the fourth volley, the Hafdan siege team finally collapsed. Even the bravest among them realized the futility of their advance and started to retreat or pick up discarded shields for some measure of protection.
Those in a frenzied state, who had reached the front of the walls, found themselves in a predicament. What could they do now? They were not equipped to scale the high stone walls or jump over the deep moat lined with sharp stakes.
Refusing to admit defeat, they screamed and attempted to leap across the moat, reaching the base of the walls and trying to climb up using the smallest cracks in the stones. Others, following along the wall, found themselves behind the drawbridge, only to be stopped by another gate, unable to enter.
Frustrated and gnashing their teeth, some Hafdans hung their short axes at their waists, jumped up, and grabbed the iron chains of the drawbridge, attempting to climb up to the castle's gatehouse.
Faced with these Hafdans, now driven by rage rather than reason, Gwenis rolled his eyes. With their shields discarded and both hands occupied with climbing, they were in no position to fight.
"Switch to shortbows for close-range shooting," Gwenis ordered, preparing his archers for the imminent close-quarters combat.