Chapter 122: Siege

  Within the borders of the La Duchy, Trow City.

  This was ohe fief of the legendary General Turner La.

  The city is also known as the "City of Valor," housing over ten thousand people. As a military stronghold defending Northwind Fortress in the northern part of the duchy, Trow City has loed invasions from the north. Its people are resilient and brave—in other words, full of "martial spirit." For turies, they have endured invasions by frost giants, orcs, and even white dragons, yet none have crushed them.

  These S people are like a nail, firmly rooted in the tral northern part of Aa.

  However, now, ay fills the city.

  The dark, oppressive army of monsters has besieged this city for a full seven days. Traffic has been cut off; water, people, and food ove in or out of Trow City.

  Yet, the she of supplies isn’t the most terrifying part—the greater fear stems from the u it incites in people's hearts.

  The people of Trow, who haven’t faced war for decades, have grown somewhat x. They seem to have fotten the glory of their aors, immersed in this long-standing peace. Meanwhile, their enemies are the spirited and watchful Ember Ss.

  Many of the elite forces of the allied army came from Trow City. After that battle, wails filled the city, and it could be said that Trow City’s bae was broken.

  Wyvern Knights roared overhead, dropping tless surrender leaflets uhe horrified gazes of the residents.

  "Will they massacre the city?"

  "What should we do? Should we just surrender?"

  "Even the elite allied forces were pletely wiped out."

  "How could we possibly defend against su army?"

  Such whispered versations tihroughout the city.

  However, the city's defense forces had already implemented martial w. The ey was urict military trol; anyone who publicly expressed ses that could shake morale would be arrested by the city’s defense forces as a traitor.

  The tall walls of Trow City have withstood the passage of time, bearing wito turies of glorious history.

  The city defenders stood ready at their posts, but they could not unch attacks, for the monsters were too far away, even beyond the range of the city's ballistae.

  The current lord, t Dawson Viller, stood atop the wall, gazing down at the monsters surrounding the city with a heavy expression.

  "My lord, we caught anroup of traitors."

  A captain of the defense forces reported hurriedly.

  Dawson's tone was resolute: "Execute them all; don’t give these people any leeway."

  The captain shuddered before quickly replying, "Yes, my lord!"

  "Again, the same thing."

  "Have they fotten the glory of their aors?"

  Dawson ched his fist, muttering to himself.

  He turo look at the adjutant beside him and asked, "How long the food and water ihe city st?"

  The adjutant paused before responding,

  "Three days, at most three days."

  "Retly, some people have died of thirst, and their families brought the bodies to the square to cry, but uards temporarily detaihem. However, the situation is getting out of trol; more people are causing trouble, and we're running out of troops iy."

  A heavy gloom settled over Dawson’s face—was surrehe only option?

  No, surrender was absolutely uable.

  This was for his honor, for Trow's turies of struggles, for the glory of their forefathers.

  Thinking this, t Dawson’s face hardened, and he said to his adjutant, "Go gather the citizens; I have something to say to them."

  "Yes, my lord."

  Soon, uhe urging and herding of the defense forces, the hungry and thirsty, endlessly pining citizens gathered below the city walls.

  "I’m so hungry…"

  "Is the t going to offer relief?"

  "These defense dogs—my family died of hunger, and they took the body away."

  "Let this end soon…"

  At that moment, a steady and powerful voice echoed from the city wall, causing the residents—or rather, the refugees—to look up.

  They saw t Dawson with a grim face, standing oy tower, delivering a speech from on high.

  "Citizens, Trow City is at a life-or-death moment, fag the greatest crisis in nearly a tury!"

  "But do not fear, do not retreat. Our aors lived here, in this magnifit city. Look at these t walls that once repelled tless fearsome enemies—giants, orcs, dragons—and none could quer us! This time will be no different!"

  A refugee below gathered the ce to ask, "But what about food? And water?"

  "My lord, with all due respect, our ce needs a material foundation."

  Dawson's expression froze, but he tinued firmly, "Ce and will are your sharpest spear and sword!"

  "No food and water?"

  "How could that be! Citizens, put on your armor, take up your ons—they’re right outside the city, waiting for you to cim them with sword and shield!"

  ………

  As t Dawson delivered his impassioned speech, he was unaware that, hundreds of meters away iskirts, someone was secretly him.

  "Boss, are you sure this mortar will work?"

  "It looks so crude to me."

  Battlefield Wheelchair preteo calibrate it, saying to Iron Frenzy beside him.

  Before them stood a two-meter-loal smoothbore on, but it had ne and was held up by a tall, sturdy ogre sitting on the ground, using his shoulder as a makeshift gun carriage.

  Iron Frenzy leaned in, whispering, "It should work, at least it shouldn’t blow up. The ount budget went to the Gundam. But…do you really know how to use this thing?"

  "Alright, then I’ll give it a try."

  Battlefield Wheelchair focused his gaze on the distant city wall, where t Dawson was delivering his rousing speech, and said excitedly, "Judging by his attire, he must be a big boss!"

  "Big-Head, a bit to the left."

  The ogre impatiently leaned left.

  "Too much, back about… a steak’s distance."

  Battlefield Wheelchair thought hard, ing up with a unit the ogre could uand.

  "Wait, no, that’s too much!"

  "Yes, right about there."

  "Load the ammo—"

  Anre picked up the heavy shell, clumsily loaded the fuse, and stood ready.

  Battlefield Wheelchair had calibrated for so long without any clear idea, so he decided to leave it to d shouted:

  "Ready—fire!"

  "Boom!"

  A thunderous on shot echoed across the field.

  The shell arced high through the air but nded on the moat in front of the city walls, bsting a huge pit into the ground.

  "Damn it, what’s going on?"

  In the middle of his speech, t Dawson suddenly felt the ground tremble. He staggered, mud spttering onto his ornate armor.

  "Was that thunder?"

  "Could it be the enemy attag?"

  "Run for your lives—"

  The refugees panicked, a wave of chaos breaking out as they crowded and cmored to escape.

  FAL