Ch - 25 Will he die?

The royal knight paced furiously as another fruitless week dragged on. "Nearly seven days and we've made no progress against this pathetic hovel!" He vented his frustration on the cringing commanders.

"Apologies, ser, but the walls are high and well-defended," his commander replied nervously. "And the men of House Alyn have proven equally useless in breaching them."

The royal knight spat in disgust. Those arrogant fools from House Alyn had boasted of a swift victory, yet their siege towers lay smashed and burning outside the walls after each failed assault.

"I swore to the king I would take Witton in a day. Now he mocks my confidence and threatens to strip me of lands and titles if I do not deliver it to him." The knight clenched his fists. "I must find a way to make good on my vow."

He stared darkly at the battered walls of Witton, where defiant banners still flew proudly over the ramparts. There must be some weakness, some strategy yet untried that could crack those stubborn defenses wide open.

"Tell the sappers to begin digging tunnels under the northwest tower," he commanded after a moment's consideration. "And gather all the stonemasons and engineers. I want siege engines constructed that can withstand the enemy's arrows and reach higher upon those walls."

His commander bowed. "Yes, ser. We'll undermine the foundations and build towers tall as giants."

The royal knight allowed himself a cold, grim smile as he imagined those banners being ripped down at last.

"One way or another, I will make this little runt rue the day he dared defy his king."

The Royal Knight summons Ser Bors, the young knight leading the forces of House Alyn.

"Ser Bors, take 100 of your best men at once. Ride out and convince the nearby minor lords to raise armies for the king. Promise them great rewards of land and titles if they join us swiftly."

"It will be done, m'lord," replies Ser Bors as he departs to carry out his orders.

The Royal Knight then turns his attention to the two prisoners - Dell and Sickwid, former friends of Lewis who abandoned Witton a week prior. Fearing interrogation, they were quickly captured by royal scouts.

"You two know the defenses of Witton well. How long can the fortress withstand a siege with the supplies they have stored?"

Dell swallows hard and answers, "Witton has enough stored grain, meat and vegetables to sustain the garrison for six months, m'lord."

The Royal Knight looks concerned by this news. "Half a year? Curse that runt! No matter. Hunger and the coming winter will force him to yield soon enough."

Ser Bors departs from the siege of Witton several hours past noon, the midday sun beating down on his contingent of 100 seasoned soldiers. They ride hard through the countryside for a few leagues before Bors calls for them to make camp for the night.

As the men busy themselves erecting tents and preparing a meal, the thunder of approaching hoofbeats rumbles in the distance. Bors stands to alert his men, but too late. Suddenly, the hidden cavalry of 500 elite horsemen that Lewis had concealed beyond Witton's walls descends on the camp in a tidal wave of steel and hooves.

"Rally to me!" Bors bellows, drawing his sword. But Lewis's cavalry crashes through their unfinished defenses before his men can react. The surprise attack throws Bors' encampment into chaos. Horses trample tents, men scream and dive for cover from slashing blades all around. Bors clashes briefly with a pair of riders, his sword sending one to his death before he's pulled off balance from his terrified horse.

Within moments, Bors and his 100 men are annihilated by daring ambush. Only smoking ruins of the camp remain amid scattered corpses in battered armor. With this cunning trap, Lewis has struck the first unexpected blow and taken a small measure of vengeance. But the tide of war remains against him as the siege of Witton continues.

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As Lewis anxiously studied maps in the dark war room, a huge crash echoed through the halls. Running outside with sword half-pulled from its sheath, he stared open-mouthed upwards - a massive oak siege tower had smashed against Witton's impressive walls. The tower creaked, wedged awkwardly between towers as fiery projectiles began flying over the ramparts from the invaders above.

Snapping out of his shock, Lewis yelled "Attack! Drive back boarders and set that cursed tower on fire!" His rallying shout was nearly drowned out by the sudden noise of battle stations springing to life across the yard. Archers already lining the nearby towers shot arrows point-blank into the leaning wooden giant. Streams of oil poured over its slanted roof before Lewis' men threw torches that found their target.

Flames burst across the old timbers as frightened screams came from inside. Coughing invaders flooded out the side doors like ants from a kicked nest, easy targets for Witton's defenders. Spears took half while gravity claimed more, dashed screaming against the fortress stones far below.

Lewis felt briefly relieved, but that feeling quickly turned to worry as he heard shouts announcing new attacks. Before the fires had even finished burning down the first fallen tower, there was a loud crash as a second huge attack tower battered the wall next to it. Then a third attack tower slammed against the ramparts further down, spilling more invaders onto the blood-stained walls. Lewis' small number of tired defenders were still struggling to contain the first attack.

"Damn!" Lewis exclaimed angrily over the chaos, wiping sweat from his brow. "We might have withstood one attack. But three towers at once could mean this is our final hour!" Wounded defenders cried out in dismay as endless enemy fighters slid down ropes and ladders from the attack towers. Lewis' remaining troops formed messy lines with their pikes pointed outward to meet the attack.

Lewis rushed to direct the fire crews who were desperately trying to control the multiple threats, even as enemy archers laid down heavy cover fire against his overwhelmed men. Messengers reported that Alyn was gathering a fourth huge tower to strike the previously untouched east gate next. Lewis felt creeping numb despair in his guts. Surely no fortress or defenders could hold out long against such an overwhelming series of attacks crashing against them from all sides without pause. For Witton, the end seemed dangerously close...

Lewis grimaced as the third siege tower crashed against Witton's walls, allowing more enemy soldiers to pour over the ramparts. He could see his outnumbered defenders being gradually overwhelmed despite their valiant efforts.

Realizing traditional defenses would not be enough, Lewis turned to Ser Green. "Sound the horn! It's time to unleash our riders."

Ser Green's eyes widened in understanding before he cupped his hands to his mouth and let out a reverberating blast on the signal horn. The deep tone carried across the battlefield.

Outside Witton's walls, Lewis' force of 500 elite cavalry had been lying in wait for this very moment. At the horn's call, the skilled horsemen kicked their steeds and charged out from their hidden position. They crossed the open field at a thundering gallop, headed straight towards the exposed rear of the royal army.

The assault came as a complete surprise to the attackers, whose forces were concentrated on the assault against the fortress. Lightly-armed archers and support troops were stationed in the back and utterly unprepared for the heavy cavalry smashing into their ranks.

Lewis' horsemen were like a steel-tipped lance piercing into the soft underbelly of the besieging army. They cut through the rear lines with ease, scattering equipment, supplies and panicked men in their wake. Within minutes, the ordered ranks had devolved into bloody chaos as the cavalrymen wheeled about for pass after pass into the undefended support forces.

On the walls, Lewis could see the effect of the cavalry charge as the pressure on his men temporarily lessened. Soldiers from the siege towers paused their advance, confused by the sounds of battle emerging from their rear.

The respite was only temporary, however. Soon the disciplined commanders of the royal army began to regroup and turn their defense against this new threat. But Lewis had achieved his aim - the cavalry had broken the momentum of the attack and bought his warriors some precious time.

Yet even as his outriders began taking heavy losses from concentrated archer fire, Lewis could see additional siege towers being rolled forward. The attackers had the numbers to resume their relentless assault.

With a final nod to Ser Green, Lewis prepared his remaining soldiers for what would likely be their last stand against the breach. Despite the successful cavalry charge, the defenders of Witton still faced steep odds against the overwhelming enemy force. The battle was far from over.