Steel, Guns, and the Industrial Party in Another World-Chapter 568: The Siege
Chapter 568: The Siege
TL: Rui88
Queller Foster carefully wiped his longsword. This weapon, given to him by his father, was finally about to be put to use…not for sparring with others, but for taking the lives of the enemies he was about to face.
Yesterday afternoon, the supreme commander of the Alliance army, General Sharuba Basques, had issued the order to attack. That night, oxen and sheep were slaughtered in the camp, and all the officers and soldiers feasted heartily. After a night of rest and recuperation, the battle began at the crack of dawn.
The first obstacle the Alliance army had to overcome was the three trenches surrounding the Crusader fortress. For this purpose, they had specially prepared war carts for filling the trenches with earth. The front of the carts was fitted with defensive shield plates, and the sides and top were covered with cowhide to protect the soldiers from enemy arrows as they pushed the carts forward. Once they reached the edge of a trench, the earth and stones loaded on the carts would be tipped into it. A total of twenty such carts had been prepared.
The enemy defenders, of course, would not stand by idly and wait for their defenses to be breached. A large number of arrows, ballista bolts, and catapult stones were shot at the advancing fill-ditch carts. The attrition of the carts exceeded the Alliance army’s prior estimates. By the time the first trench had been filled with earth and stones to create three wide passages, 8 carts had been lost. By the time the second trench was passable, only two fill-ditch carts remained, and there had been several hundred casualties.
General Basques, with a dark face, ordered the execution of the second plan. A large number of prisoners (as well as many unlucky civilians) conscripted from the rear were made to charge towards the third trench, carrying sacks filled with sand and earth on their backs.
Queller looked with pity at those poor souls, not knowing if they would survive. Like a swarm of ants carrying things, they desperately ran towards the trench in groups. Along the way, people were constantly being hit by arrows or stones. After falling to the ground, some never got up again, while others struggled to avoid being trampled by their comrades behind them.
Finally, some lucky ones reached the edge of the third trench. They threw down the bags of sand they had carried all the way and then, without hesitation, started running back. These were the fortunate ones; throwing one sack meant their sentence would be reduced by one degree.
While the defenders concentrated their fire to prevent the third trench from being filled, Basques organized men to widen the passages through the first two trenches. Eventually, a section of the trench in front of them, about 200 yards long, was wide enough for large formations of troops to pass through.
“It’s our turn to go up!”
Queller’s expression hardened, and he pulled his visor-style helmet down over his head.
“My boy,” General Basques was right beside Quik. He placed a hand firmly on Quik’s shoulder, then gave him an embrace. The iron armor on their bodies clashed with a loud sound.
“Both your father and I will be proud of you.”
Basques had known Queller’s father, Marquis Foster, for a long time and looked upon Queller as if he were his own nephew.
Queller looked at General Basques, nodded silently, and turned to find his long-prepared subordinates. He quickly joined them and set off with the siege tower assigned to him. The target of their team was a spot about twenty yards to the right of the fortress’s main gate.
The troops responsible for storming the walls were all clad in fine armor and carried their most proficient weapons. They were all skilled sons of nobles or professional fighters. Although they were assigned a siege tower, they were not required to push it. A group of auxiliary soldiers did that work. They shouted loud chants, pushing the siege tower step by difficult step towards the target.
The siege towers equipped by the Horn Bay Alliance army were tower-like structures with three wheels on each side at the bottom to allow for movement. Although the auxiliary soldiers had no proper protection, the push-bars on the sides of the siege tower were fitted with shields to block incoming arrows for them. As for Queller and the others, they crouched behind the tower, holding up their round shields, and followed the tower’s advance step by step.
The path was littered with those who had died filling the trenches earlier. Some of the people lying on the ground seemed not yet dead and reached out to the attacking troops for help, but at this critical moment, no one paid them any mind.
Queller tried his best to ignore the wails he heard along the way, concentrating his energy on the path ahead. The arrows shot from the fortress made a clanging sound on the siege tower, striking fear into the heart of everyone behind it.
‘If it weren’t for that tall tower in front blocking the way, my comrades and I would be shot into a group of hedgehogs, right?’ Queller thought.
The terrifying battlefield environment made it impossible to calmly estimate the time. After an unknown period, a loud bang was heard. It was the ramp at the top of the siege tower falling. The bottom of the ramp had a pickaxe-like device. When the ramp fell, this pickaxe-like object firmly hooked onto the crenellations, and also held the siege tower tightly against the city wall. In this state, the enemy would not be able to get rid of the siege tower in a short time.
“Kill!” The moment he heard the sound of the ramp hitting the city wall, Queller immediately drew his longsword and shouted.
“For victory! For the Alliance! For all who suffer the injustice of the Church, charge!”
Before the sound of his own words had faded, he was the first to leap onto the ladder of the siege tower, holding his shield and brandishing his sword, with a look of someone ready to die. Inspired by the atmosphere he created, Queller’s subordinates also surged forward with their weapons raised.
The top of the siege tower had a square opening connected to the ladder below. Queller passed through this opening to reach the top level of the tower-like structure, and then in a few steps, he crossed the ramp that was already laid on the city wall. He soon encountered someone trying to stop him, a Crusader soldier holding a long spear, its sharp tip thrusting fiercely towards him.
With room to spare, Queller had little desire to proactively test the defensive capabilities of his armor. He sidestepped the spearhead, then pressed his shield against his chest and charged forward rapidly. His own weight plus his armor was about two hundred and fifty or sixty pounds. The impact generated in this situation was terrifying. The Crusader soldiers gathered near the landing point were almost scattered by his charge. One soldier directly in front, who was hit by the shield, even fell down unconscious.
Taking advantage of this precious opportunity, Queller immediately pushed forward to make space for the brothers following behind him, only this time he brandished his own longsword. In the space of a few breaths, he had inflicted terrible wounds on at least three men.
The defending soldiers were not all weaklings who had almost been scattered by the charge. Soon, elite Crusader soldiers, as well-equipped and no less skilled than Queller’s men, rushed over and engaged in a chaotic battle with the New Protestant army that had already scaled the walls.
For a time, the sounds of battle cries, screams, and the clash of swords and armor filled the entire section of the city wall, a deafening bedlam.
Chapter 568: The Siege
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