The wounded soldiers were carried back to the camp one by one, and the medics were busy bandaging their injuries. The sounds of groaning filled the makeshift infirmary, and now and then, servants would throw buckets of fresh blood or severed limbs out of the camp.
Inside the central tent, Commander Aodod gathered his officers to discuss their next move.
"You all saw today's situation." Commander Aodod's cold eyes swept across the room like a volcano on the brink of eruption. "It seems this heathen stronghold is more troublesome than we anticipated."
"I've ordered the quartermaster to assemble the trebuchets and battering rams. But even so, taking this fortress will come at a great cost," he continued.
"Perhaps we can feign an attack from the front and send a small team to strike from the rear?" one of the knights suggested.
"The back of the fortress is a sheer cliff. We can't send many men that way. And the heathens are skilled in assassination; a small-scale attack would be suicide," another knight immediately retorted.
"What about using the trebuchets to break down the walls?" another knight inquired.
"It's difficult," explained the quartermaster. "The heathen's fortress is on a mountain, while our trebuchets are below. Even if we can hit the walls, the damage will be limited."
"Siege?" one knight proposed.
"These heathens have raided numerous villages. They have plenty of food stores, and there are two wells within the fortress. They can hold out for a long time," replied Efrede.
"Though we're prepared to die for the cause, storming that fortress with crossbows and fire oil seems…" someone murmured nearby.
"Perhaps we can destroy their crossbows." Otto, standing at the edge of the group, suggested.
"With trebuchets? Those things can't hit anything reliably," someone immediately countered.
Aodod glared at Otto, his expression darkening, seemingly upset by such a simplistic suggestion.
"The heathens' crossbows are mounted in makeshift wooden watchtowers. We just need to use the trebuchets to douse them in fire oil," Otto explained, remembering the layout of the fortress.
Aodod turned to the quartermaster.
"The idea is feasible, but..." the quartermaster spoke meekly, "We're out of fire oil."
Aodod's eyes burned with fury as he slapped the table.
"We might still have some," Otto recalled, his eyes brightening. "Before he left, my nephew, Mike Bai, gave me something called kerosene, saying it could serve as fire oil."
"Then let's use it!" Aodod pointed at the map with renewed determination. "In five days, we will attack this fortress! No matter what, we must take it!"
Five days later, Yibixin stood on the battlements, watching as siege weapons were erected in the enemy camp. His once fervent heart was now filled with deep anxiety.
"God, have you forsaken us?" Yibixin sighed inwardly. Polluting the water supply, ambushing along the way, burning supplies, launching nighttime raids—he had used every method he could think of, but none had stopped the Crusaders from launching their siege.
He looked down at the 200-odd Hasasin followers still working tirelessly, then shouted, "My people!" They all paused and turned to face him.
"Soon, the infidels will climb this mountain. If they breach the walls, both you and your families will be lost!" Yibixin shouted. "Twenty years ago, they slaughtered our kin, plundered our wealth—now they want to do it again!"
"I believe we can defeat them here! We will avenge our families!" he roared.
"Revenge!" The Hasasin followers raised their weapons and shouted in unison.
Yibixin nodded in satisfaction, but just then, a sharp whistling sound cut through the air. A stone projectile screamed past his head.
"Take cover!"
The followers scattered, each man finding his position. Yibixin crouched behind the battlements, observing the Crusader camp, and gestured to his trusted aide.
"Hide the women and children in the dungeon," Yibixin whispered.
"The Hundred Faces will protect our last flame," he thought to himself, offering a silent prayer.
The massive stones were once again placed in leather bags, and with a heavy swing of the hammer, the final restraint was released. Four trebuchets hurled the stones high into the air, but they shattered uselessly against the fortress's thick walls.
The sound of the horn rang again. Nearly 150 mercenaries, carrying large shields and ladders, began sprinting toward the castle, driven by the promise of gold. Deadly arrows rained down from the walls, but the mercenaries had learned to form small shield formations, using the large tower shields for cover.
Even though the crossbow bolts didn't inflict much damage on the scattered mercenaries, they had managed to get closer to the walls, attempting to set up their ladders. The Hasasins on the walls fought fiercely to repel them, and soon, a stalemate ensued.
"Have our people climb the walls! Prepare to engage!" Yibixin barked. He sneered, watching the enemy's scattered infantry. "This force may keep my crossbowmen at bay, but they won't be able to take the walls."
He turned and gave orders. "Concentrate the fire oil on the front battlements. If the enemy sends reinforcements, we throw it at them."
Below the mountain, Commander Aodod stood emotionless, gazing up at the fortress crowded with defenders. The horn sounded again, deep and resonant, as the green flag was raised in a sweeping circle.
The quartermaster saw the signal and shouted, "Switch to fire oil!"
Muscular soldiers replaced the stones with pungent barrels, and the winch groaned as it hoisted them into the air.
"Release!" The heavy hammers fell, and the barrels crashed onto the fortress, splintering on impact. The foul-smelling liquid sprayed across the walls.
Yibixin's eyes widened in horror. "Fire oil!"
Before his followers could react, the sound of rushing wind signaled something worse than just barrels or stones—this time, it was a bundle of red-hot stones, larger than a fist.
The burning stones ignited the spilled fire oil, and flames erupted throughout the fortress. Even a watchtower was engulfed, and several of the Hasasin followers were consumed by the flames.
Below, Aodod smiled. "Order the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd regiments to advance. Crossbowmen, provide cover."
Three formations of nearly 300 soldiers surged forward at the sound of the horn. Behind them, infantry and mercenaries pressed forward, using their crossbows to suppress the fire from the walls. Though the Hasasins fought fiercely, the raging flames obstructed reinforcements from reaching the frontlines.
The mercenaries, outnumbered but resolute, began to push the siege ladders up the walls. The Hasasins responded with their pikes, trying to halt their advance, but the siege had begun to turn.
"Get more of our people on the walls! Prepare to face them!" Yibixin shouted, watching the enemy's reinforcements climbing steadily.
Though the Hasasins fought valiantly, it was clear that the Crusaders were gaining ground. The air was thick with the scent of blood and smoke as the two sides clashed in a bloody struggle.
Amidst the chaos, Aodod's forces slowly overwhelmed the defenders. The final battle was joined on the castle walls, where the knights fought with the fervor of religious zeal, cleaving through the Hasasin defenders with skill and precision.
As the battle raged on, Yibixin, surrounded and bloodied, realized that his time had come. He raised his curved blade, charging into the fray like a moth to a flame.
A heavy thud rang through the air as the castle gate slammed down. The knights roared in triumph, and more white-clad soldiers surged into the castle. On the opposite side, the Hasasin followers fought to the death.
Amid the carnage, Otto charged into the fray alongside the soldiers, cutting down three of the Hasasin fighters. But then a massive curved sword came for him, and he barely managed to block the blow with his sword.
His opponent, a skilled Hasasin warrior, pressed the attack relentlessly, swinging his blade in a flurry of strikes. Otto parried and countered, but his sword was beginning to show signs of wear, his hands aching with each block.
More knights joined the fray, and together, they began to close in on the Hasasin warrior. Finally, in a moment of distraction, Otto found his opening and struck the assassin down.
Yibixin, wounded and gasping, knew the end was near. The world around him was fading into darkness, but he felt no fear.
"Perhaps… you were right, Bai." His last thought was for his god, the Hundred Faces, as he succumbed to the final blow.