End of life (1/3)

It didn't take long for their conversation to run dry. Willian, eager for details, questioned Rafael about his time as a cleric and the rumors surrounding his supposed criminal past.

Rafael, of course, denied everything with a calm demeanor. Soon after, Willian announced that he was going to sleep and closed his eyes, leaning to the side.

Rafael noticed that Eruin had also closed his eyes, so he remained silent, listening to the rhythmic galloping of the horses outside. After some time, he realized that more carriages and horses had joined their group.

Who else is trying to escape with us? Hmm, Bella did mention going with the others; that must be it.

Despite the carriage seat trying to offer some comfort, the ride was anything but smooth. The lack of suspension meant that even the smallest pebbles on the road could shake the entire carriage. Another thing to get rich from: suspensions.

After two hours of travel, the caravan stopped to rest. Rafael took this opportunity to step outside and stretch. There really are more of them. He saw six other carriages lined up behind their four.

Tents were quickly set up for the baron's family, while soldiers and other people found makeshift sleeping arrangements. The priests received their own individual tents.

A bonfire was lit, and some quick food was prepared for everyone. On that cold night, in the middle of nowhere, the warmth of the fire was a welcome comfort. Rafael noticed that the new arrivals were people he recognized.

I get it now. These are the ones who know how to make paper, cement, and other essentials. Those blacksmiths and carpenters might even know how to craft the printing press and crossbow. It's clever of Frederic to save them; they'll be more loyal to us now that we've rescued them.

Damn, who would've thought I'd go from wanting to experience the greatest events in history to being stuck in the past and marrying a noble girl. He sat beside Ella to eat the simple soup he'd been given. She caught him staring and smiled warmly.

It's not so bad, actually. After a brief prayer around the fire at the priests' request, everyone settled down for the night.

At another place, a man ran towards a man. "Chief, our scouts report that a large group escaped eastward last night. They took a good number of forces with them."

"Huh, these worms only know how to run away. Cowards, the lot of them." The burly man with a thick brown beard that covered the lower half of his face and a helmet that concealed the rest, sat on his war horse at the edge of the forest. Before him stretched the open fields of Calistoga, where, in the distance, a wooden wall about three meters high encircled the city.

"Look at them! They even built that pathetic wall to try and stop us. Hahaha!"

"Ahaahha!"

"Hehehe!"

The soldiers behind him laughed in unison. The man turned to his right, where his second-in-command stood. "How's the north side?"

"They're in position, sir. The south is waiting for your orders too."

"Good. EVERYONE, FORWARD!" The troops marched past him, heading toward the open fields. "SHIELDS UP! GET THOSE RAMPS READY!"

Behind the line of soldiers with their shields raised, groups of lightly armored men rushed forward to position ramps against the wall, allowing the soldiers to scale it.

"Archers! Help your brothers in arms by shooting anyone who dares to show their ugly face from behind that wall!" The archers raised their fists in agreement, shouting their readiness.

The man nodded to his left, signaling his second-in-command to blow a war horn.

The sound reverberated across the battlefield, and with a collective roar, the soldiers charged toward the city. Their cries, combined with the slight tremor of the ground from their advancing numbers, struck fear into those behind the wooden wall.

"Do not falter! We must protect our families, our lands, our kingdom! Archers, prepare—fire!" The troop commander's voice rang out, and volleys of arrows arced toward the approaching enemy.

The soldiers outside the wall quickly raised their shields overhead, but some were still hit in the legs, collapsing with screams of pain. The men carrying the ramps used them as large shields, holding them aloft as they advanced.

The seemingly endless wave of men emerging from the forest soon reached the wooden wall. Inside, the defending soldiers were gripped by panic, their faces pale as they realized they were outnumbered at least two to one.

Arrows continued to rain down on the attackers. As the ramps were placed against the wall, some soldiers, in their battle frenzy, tried to squeeze through the gaps between the logs, only to get stuck and speared by the defenders.

Inside the city, Frederic stood on the stone walls surrounding his mansion, watching the battle unfold. A nagging feeling of unease gnawed at him. "This can't be it. My scouts reported at least three to one. Where are the rest?"

He looked pale and frail, his body bound with white cloth around his thigh and torso.

"Sir!" A soldier came running through the houses. "The north side is under attack! There are at least two hundred enemies there!"

"Sir!" Another soldier arrived from the south. "Enemies are attacking the south side of the city too! They've surrounded us!"

"What about the east?"

"I—I don't know, sir," both men stammered.

Frederic got his answer. "Huh, the old trick of drawing attention with a fake full frontal attack. It's old, but it still works." He turned to his son, who stood beside him, his expression grim.

"Do you regret staying behind?" He looked to his right where his oldest son stood.

"I regret not being able to kill them all." Frederic noticed his son's hands occasionally trembled, clutching his sword tightly. Even the slightest sound made him tense up and look around.

"Son. I'm proud of you. I'm proud of how brave you are, so I now give you my final order. Go help the south." He pulled his son into a hug, despite knowing it would worsen his pain. "And my last advice: It's better to live and fight another day than die a fool's death."

Godwin was taken aback. He descended from the wall without a word, mounted his waiting horse, and left the inner circle. He stopped in front of the gates, looking first to the south, then to the west where the main battle raged, and finally back at his father on the stone walls.

Frederic nodded at him.

Godwin pulled the reins and spurred his horse eastward.

"I'm proud of you, son," Frederic whispered to no one.

The main battle, where most of the enemy forces were concentrated, was chaotic. There were few ramps for the soldiers to climb over the tall fence, so fortunately for the defenders, those became the choke points where the enemy funneled through.

The brutes with metal helmets, hatchets, and shields were the prime targets for arrows as soon as they showed their heads above the fence.

The first wave was either killed or incapacitated, but as more and more enemies climbed the ramp and crossed the tall fence, a fierce battle broke out with the spearmen defending the position.

As the enemy poured over the fence, it became clear that holding them off was impossible.

"Everyone! Fall back! Fall back to the inner circle!" The defenders retreated into the city, expecting the invaders to follow, but instead, the enemy allowed them to flee.

Soon, everyone from the other sides of the city regrouped within the stone walls for their last stand. The battle wasn't over. Frederic remained on the wall, watching the enemy march toward the inner circle, encircling it. "As long as he and the others are safe far from here, I have no regrets."

Minutes earlier.

"Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Godwin's mount galloped at full speed, racing past the city and into the forest. He could see the tracks of the carriages that had fled the night before. Tears streamed down his face as a whirlwind of emotions—conflict, sadness, shame, fear—overtook him. I'm sorry, Father!

If I keep this speed, maybe I can reach them...

Suddenly, a rope was pulled taut, tripping his horse and sending him crashing to the ground. "Aaahhh!" His left arm twisted unnaturally, pain radiating through his body. The sound of footsteps emerged from the bushes and trees around him.

"Heheehehe, what do we have here?"

"Hohohoahaha, look at his arm, hahahaha!"

Godwin realized these were the enemy tasked with killing anyone who tried to escape at the last minute. Now that he was on the ground, he noticed traces of blood on the forest floor.

"So many cowards! Unbelievable! And now a soldier! Well, you can't be called a soldier if you run away." Realizing he was surrounded, Godwin got up and began to run. "Please, no! No, no..."

The man slung his hatchet at his waist, drew a bow, and nocked an arrow. He aimed at the fleeing man, made some intuitive corrections, and released the arrow.