Wounded soldiers were carried back to the camp one by one, where busy priests constantly bandaged them. The infirmary was filled with moans of pain, and occasionally servants would throw out buckets of blood or severed limbs.
Inside the central tent, Grand Master Odod convened a meeting.
"Everyone has seen what happened today," Grand Master Odod said, his eyes cold like a volcano about to erupt. "It seems this infidel castle is a bit more troublesome than we imagined."
"I've already ordered the quartermaster to assemble catapults and battering rams. But even so, taking this castle will come at a great cost," he continued.
"Perhaps we could feign an attack from the front and send small units to strike from the rear," one knight suggested.
"The rear of the castle is all cliffs; we can't deploy many troops there. Besides, the infidels are skilled at assassination; small-scale attacks would be suicide," another knight immediately countered.
"What about using catapults to breach the walls?" another knight asked.
"Difficult. The infidels' castle is on a hill, and our catapults are at the base. Even if we could hit the walls, the impact wouldn't be strong enough," the quartermaster explained.
"How about a siege?" another knight proposed.
"The infidels have plundered many villages and have ample food supplies. Plus, there are two wells inside the castle; they could hold out for a long time," Everard responded.
"Though we are always ready to sacrifice ourselves for the Lord, the idea of taking this castle with ballistae and fire oil seems a bit... excessive," someone muttered on the side.
"Perhaps we could take out those ballistae," Otto suggested from the edge of the crowd.
"Use catapults? They're not accurate enough," someone nearby retorted.
Grand Master Odod looked at Otto with some displeasure, as if scolding him for such a naive suggestion.
"The infidels' ballistae are housed in hastily built wooden watchtowers. We just need to douse them with fire oil using the catapults," Otto said, recalling the castle's layout.
Grand Master Odod looked at the quartermaster for his opinion.
"The method is feasible, but..." the quartermaster hesitated, "we're out of fire oil."
Under Grand Master Odod's piercing gaze, the quartermaster explained, "I was about to report that our latest supply convoy was attacked by the infidels, and the fire oil was among the lost items..."
"Damn those mountain rats!" Grand Master Odod slammed his fist on the table.
"We might still have some fire oil!" Otto remembered what his nephew Norn had given him before leaving. "Before he left, my nephew Norn handed me a batch of something called kerosene, saying it could be used as fire oil."
"Let's give it a try then!" Grand Master Odod pointed at the map with satisfaction. "We'll attack in five days! We'll take this castle no matter what!"
Five days later, Ibrahim stood on the battlements, looking at the camp where siege weapons had already been set up. His originally frantic heart was now filled with deep anxiety.
"God! Are you forsaking us?" Ibrahim sighed inwardly. He had tried everything he could think of—polluting the water sources, ambushing along the way, burning supplies, and night raids—but none of it had stopped the Crusaders from launching their assault.
He looked at the more than 200 Hashashin followers who were still working busily and shouted, "My people!"
Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked over.
"Soon, those infidels will come up the hill. And once the city falls, you and your families will surely meet your end!" Ibrahim roared. "Twenty years ago, those infidel scum slaughtered our kin and plundered our wealth. Are we going to let it happen again today?"
"I believe we can defeat the enemy here and avenge our loved ones!"
"Revenge!" all the Hashashin followers roared, raising their weapons high.
Ibrahim looked at his people with satisfaction, but the next moment a gust of wind came, and a stone ball whistled past his head.
"Take cover!"
Everyone scattered and ran to their firing positions.
Ibrahim hid behind the battlements, observing the Templar camp. He called over his confidant and whispered to hide the women and children in the dungeon.
"Bai Mao will protect our last spark," Ibrahim thought to himself.
Boulder-sized stones were once again placed in the leather slings by burly soldiers. With the heavy hammer's fall, the final restraint was released. Four throwing arms successively traced arcs, launching the stone projectiles high into the air. The projectiles whistled towards the castle but shattered into pieces against the thick castle walls.
The horn sounded again, and nearly 150 mercenaries, holding the tower shields they had been issued and carrying ladders, jogged towards the castle once more, driven by the lure of gold coins. Deadly arrows flew from the castle walls, but the mercenaries, having learned their lesson, formed small shield formations in groups of three or four, using the tall tower shields for cover.
Faced with the scattered mercenaries, the ballistae bolts were not very effective. Four consecutive shots only hit one ladder. The fire oil pots thrown by the defenders were also dodged by the mercenaries who had been alerted in advance.
Although many mercenaries were killed by arrows as they got closer, more of them still managed to approach the castle walls and began to try to set up their ladders. The Hashashin followers on the walls started to use forked poles to prevent this, and for a while, both sides were locked in a stalemate.
"Call the clansmen to the walls! Prepare to engage the enemy," Ibrahim said, looking at the infantry approaching in a skirmish line. He thought to himself with a hint of disdain, "Although this formation can prevent my ballistae from killing the soldiers, this number of troops is not enough to take the walls."
Ibrahim turned again to give orders, "Concentrate the fire oil on the front wall. If the enemy sends heavy reinforcements, throw the fire oil immediately."
At the foot of the mountain, Grand Master Odod, looking at the bustling castle on the hilltop, gave a nod to his herald.
This time, the deep horn sounded, and a green signal flag drew a circle in the air.
The quartermaster, seeing the signal flag, shouted, "Switch to fire oil!"
The burly soldiers replaced the stone projectiles with foul-smelling wooden barrels. The sour winch sound rang out again as the counterweight boxes were hoisted into the air bit by bit.
"Fire!" The heavy hammer fell, and the wooden barrels made a dull thud as they flew through the air in a deadly arc. Four barrels landed in various corners of the castle. The powerful kinetic energy shattered the barrels instantly, splashing the pale yellow, foul-smelling liquid everywhere.
Ibrahim's pupils contracted sharply, and he shouted urgently, "Fire oil!!"
Before his clansmen could scatter, the whistling wind came again, but this time it was not barrels or stones, but a large sack of fist-sized red-hot stones.
The red-hot stones instantly ignited the scattered fire oil, along with the fire oil placed on the castle walls. The castle was plunged into a sea of fire in an instant, and even a watchtower was set ablaze, with the raging fire engulfing several followers in an instant.
Looking at the castle emitting thick black smoke, Grand Master Odod smiled and said, "Pass the order down, the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd cohorts will attack. Archers provide cover."
Three phalanxes, nearly 300 white-clad soldiers, charged forward at the sound of the horn. Behind them, a large group of soldiers and mercenaries armed with various bows and crossbows began to advance and suppress the fire from the castle walls. Although the Hashashin on the walls were still fighting desperately, the raging fires scattered around made it difficult for them to send reinforcements.
The archers and crossbowmen below, with their numerical superiority, finally managed to suppress the fire from the castle walls. Although a few ballistae continued to fire intermittently, the soldiers were able to get close to the castle towers and set up more ladders on the walls.
Ibrahim, looking a bit disheveled, watched the enemies climbing up the castle walls and began to order his reserve troops to fill the gaps on the walls.
The flames on the walls were finally extinguished, and the mercenaries who had just climbed up were no match for the Hashashin followers skilled in assassination. Their thrusting swords were dodged at an incredible angle by the opponents, while the curved knives or daggers of the Hashashin followers would bypass the shields and strike at their vital spots. Occasionally, a cold arrow would fly out from the crowd, taking the life of a mercenary.
The mercenaries were tightly pinned down in a small circle. If they had anywhere to retreat to, they might have screamed and fled long ago, but now they could only hold on desperately.
Finally, the Templar knights climbed up the castle tower, and with the fervor of "In the name of the Lord," they jumped right into the midst of the Hashashin followers. Despite being slashed by several curved knives, the heavy helmets and heavy chainmail of the knights protected their bodies well, and only slightly injured, the knights swung their longswords forward, splitting open the chest of a Hashashin follower. He turned his head and looked at the Hashashin follower who was about to strike again through the narrow slit in his helmet.
"In the name of the Lord!"
"For the Hashashin!"
White and black warriors charged for their respective beliefs, both ignoring the weapons of the other, wanting to prove their piety with the death of the opponent.
The longsword pierced through the black chest, and the curved knife shattered the chainmail under the white garment.
The knight threw the longsword and the corpse off, grabbed the curved knife that had been hacked into his waist with his left hand, and smashed the infidel's face with his right hand, clad in an iron gauntlet.
The Hashashin follower who was hit staggered back a few steps, and then a fierce look flashed in his eyes. He pulled out a dagger from behind and stabbed at the knight. The knight dodged hastily, and the swift dagger was deflected by the hard armor. Seizing the opportunity, the knight smashed the follower with a headbutt, knocking him unconscious to the ground.
Looking at the follower struggling on the ground, the knight pressed his left rib wound with one hand and picked up his longsword with the other.
The follower was still struggling, trying to crawl forward to pick up a crossbow, but a pair of cold iron boots pinned him to the ground, immobilizing him.
"In the name of the Lord!"
Gushing blood sprayed out, splashing the knight's white robe with a bright red.
Such scenes kept appearing on the castle walls, and the Hashashin followers, skilled in assassination, were being pushed back by the Templar knights.
Ibrahim, watching the retreating front lines, gradually became deranged. He picked up his curved knife and led the last of his people, charging towards the most brutal spot like moths to a flame, trying to turn the tide of battle.
"Bang!" The heavy castle gate was lowered, and the knights who had taken the castle tower cheered as more white-clad warriors poured in. On the other side were the equally frenzied Hashashin followers. The two sides met and fought to the death in the most lethal way possible.
Otto charged in with the soldiers, fighting fiercely against the opposition. After cutting down three followers, Otto finally drew attention. A massive curved knife came crashing down, and Otto parried to the left with his sword and lunged forward, trying to hit with the pommel but was dodged by the opponent's backward leap.
He looked at the follower, who was clearly a high-ranking Hashashin, and cautiously took a stance. The opponent, however, attacked recklessly, chopping down continuously without pause.
It was clear that the opponent was a master of the blade. Despite the relentless onslaught, his breathing remained steady and his rhythm unchanged. Otto blocked the curved knife repeatedly, his palm tingling with numbness, and his longsword chipped in several places.
Fortunately, the numerous knights completely overwhelmed the Hashashin followers, and several knights rushed over to help Otto break free. Faced with the encircling knights, the Hashashin showed no fear of death but instead attacked even more frantically.
Taking advantage of a gap in his attack, several shields pressed tightly against the Hashashin. The Hashashin, however, laughed wildly, twisted his body into an eerie arc, and slipped past the shields. Appearing behind the knights, he swung his long knife but was blocked by Otto's sword.
Now, the Hashashin was completely surrounded by knights.
The angry knights closed in, and no matter how the long knife was swung, it was ultimately slashed by a well-timed sword. The Hashashin, now covered in wounds, panted heavily, his life force ebbing away with the blood. He knew he would die here today but felt no fear.
"Perhaps you were right all along, Sabbah!" was Ibrahim's last thought before countless swords fell, dragging him into eternal darkness.