Chapter 59: The Siege

The enemy was in plain sight, while we lurked in the shadows, vastly outnumbering them. We only needed to wait for the ladders to reach the city walls, and then we could all storm up together. Brock could never have imagined how he might lose this battle.

Indeed, the Hafdan's approach had completely baffled Gwenis.

It must be said, the Hafdans, though lacking in culture and often hot-headed, always thinking of smashing others' heads, were not fools. They learned from combat, adapted their strategies, and used every means to achieve their goals.

For many Hafdans under Brock's command, this was their first experience with siege warfare.

Initially, they relied on instinct, sending shield-bearers to cover the siege teams' advance, only to be repelled.

The second time, they thickened their shields and sent bowmen and shield-bearers to advance within eighty meters of the city walls for a shootout with the defenders, while the siege team continued forward. Again, they faced setbacks.

The third time, the Hafdans thought to fight in the dark, avoiding the enemy's strengths and attacking their weaknesses. Now, it seemed to be working effectively.

If there were to be another time, Gwenis was sure the Hafdans would come up with even more methods. Whether it was exploiting the defenders' shortage of men to disperse their siege efforts or using their numerical and physical superiority to dig tunnels for an attack, they would become increasingly difficult to deal with.

But now, there was no time to admire the enemy's ingenuity. The Hafdan siege team, under the barrage of arrows from the defenders, desperately set up the ladders against the city walls.

The next moment, battle cries thundered like roaring thunder.

Numerous Hafdans emerged from the darkness, rushing towards the ladders.

The leading Hafdan wielded a shield in his left hand, an axe at his waist, and his right hand gripped the ladder, climbing upwards.

The six or seven meters of the ladder were not long; in a few strides, they could reach the top, victory within sight.

But as soon as a Hafdan's head appeared, an iron sword stabbed from the side. The sword bypassed the shield and struck the leading Hafdan in the face.

The blade sliced through his face, tearing open a large chunk of flesh, then plunged into his eye socket.

The severely wounded Hafdan screamed, his right hand slipping, and he fell from the tall ladder.

"Kill them all! Whoever dares to climb up, kill them all!" shouted Gwenis, stabbing a rapidly ascending Hafdan.

Under his leadership, the city's defenders began to fiercely counterattack, greeting the Hafdans appearing on the ladders with their weapons.

As more and more ladders were set against the walls, the defense on the city walls became increasingly precarious.

"Those in front, block them! Those behind, throw everything you've got at them!" Gwenis roared.

Under his command, the previously prepared resources now came into play.

The guards, working together, lifted a large log and placed it across the ladder, rolling it down, crushing a swath of people below.

Some guards stood right in front of the ladders, armed with shields and long swords, stabbing each Hafdan as they climbed up. Nearby defenders switched from swords to spears, the four-meter-long spears greatly extending their reach, allowing them to stab at Hafdans stuck in the middle of the ladders.

In addition, whatever they had—stones, tile pots—was hurled down upon the Hafdans on the ladders. The most brutal attack was the scalding molten metal, previously boiled and heated all afternoon, which was brought up in buckets and poured mercilessly over the Hafdans' faces.

Imagine you're a Hafdan warrior at the forefront, about to climb up the city wall via a ladder, ready to fiercely strike down the defending soldiers. Suddenly, a scalding dark yellow liquid is poured onto your face. What would that experience be like?

Caught off guard, many Hafdans had their eyes, nostrils, and mouths covered in molten metal, experiencing intense, piercing pain. Instinctively, many released their hands, toppling backwards in an attempt to flee the danger, only to fall down, crushing many of their comrades climbing behind them.

Under such an attack, the few Hafdans who managed to instinctively hold onto the ladder without falling were rare and showed remarkable willpower.

Then, a long spear thrust downward, piercing through their chests.

Cries of agony rose and fell around the city walls.

But the Hafdans weren't content to be beaten one-sidedly. Archers lurking in the shadows beneath the walls continued to shoot at the defenders.

In the chaotic environment, the defenders desperately tried to prevent the enemy from scaling the walls, now too preoccupied to dodge. Amidst the indiscriminate shooting, some were hit and fell.

Some died on the spot, while others, not yet dead, were dragged down the walls for treatment by Rosalyn.

The number of defenders on the wall able to continue fighting was dwindling.

Worse still, there were thousands of Hafdans and only twenty ladders. Many attackers crowded beneath the walls, unwilling to wait idly. They tried every means to break into the castle.

Some bit short axes in their mouths, trying to climb up the cracks in the stone walls; others climbed up the drawbridge chains like monkeys; still others bypassed the drawbridge, approaching the tightly closed gates, hammering at the wooden doors with their axes, attempting to split them open.

In response, Gwenis ordered more conscripted soldiers waiting in the courtyard to join the defense on the walls, thrusting long spears at the Hafdans trying to climb up.

These conscripts, mostly farmers, were facing such brutal combat for the first time. Many had been trembling with fear in the courtyard, but after a short time on the walls, they were completely overtaken by the cruel atmosphere of battle, almost bloodthirsty.

The conscripts, though perhaps faint-hearted, were effective in their role. They might not dare to face the Hafdans one-on-one, but they were invigorated when poking at defenseless enemies from the safety of the walls.

Seeing the increasing number of Hafdans gathering beneath the walls, Gwenis ordered the use of the prepared oil jars.

At his command, dozens of oil jars were hurled down the walls, dousing the Hafdans in oil. The oil made the ground beneath their feet slippery, causing many to fall.

As the Hafdans puzzled over this seemingly harmless oil attack, more than ten torches were thrown down.

With a "boom," the torches ignited the oil, turning the area below the walls into a sea of flames.

Many Hafdans, packed tightly beneath the walls, were unable to escape, effectively trapped in a blazing inferno.

Fueled by the oil, the fire raged fiercely, even burning several ladders.

The intense blaze illuminated the surroundings, glaringly bright against the dark night.

From afar, many Hafdans, hearing their companions' screams and smelling the peculiar fragrance of burning plant and animal oils, felt the urge to retreat for the first time in their battle-hardened lives.

The scene before them was like something out of a mythological hell: darkness pierced only by the sounds of screams and the sight of flames, and the smell of roasting flesh – coming from their own comrades.

Many Hafdans shivered on the spot.

But their moment of fear was short-lived.

Gwenis's side, limited by numbers and continuously weakened by Hafdan archers, was gradually losing ground on the walls. In front of the relentless stream of Hafdans climbing the remaining ladders, the defenders were becoming increasingly overwhelmed.

Finally, the first Hafdan warrior successfully scaled the wall. Although the nearby defenders continued to fiercely resist, the Hafdans had managed to secure a foothold on the wall.

These barbarians from the north, once their feet were firmly planted, were ready to spring into action.

Their eyes wide with rage, a cruel smile on their lips.

For everyone involved, the real war had just begun.