The Lord Of Blood Hill-Chapter 7: The Frustrating Siege

Henwell digs into the earth to make a small fire pit and starts boiling water in a little pot.
While waiting, he unwraps the cloth strips from his calves and begins massaging his sore muscles.
Carrying a load of dozens of pounds for an entire day, even if it was just over ten kilometers, is a huge challenge for Henwell's still-developing body.
If it weren't for his past life's knowledge, knowing how to bind his legs properly, he would have fallen behind on the first day.
Three days after Kavize left, the legion set out. Henwell follows the supply convoy, which moves a bit slower than the main legion but is still no easy task.
On the first day, he developed several blisters on his feet and had blood marks on his shoulders from the straps of his pack. By the next morning, his body felt like it was falling apart.
Now, on the sixth day of marching, Henwell is gradually getting used to the pace. During this time, he trades small items with some of the logistics soldiers to get a few supplies.
For instance, he acquired this small pot and an old water pouch, along with a few other trinkets.
Thanks to these, Henwell doesn't have to gnaw on dry rations and can enjoy a warm sip of soup on cold autumn nights before sleeping. It also allows him to soak his feet after a long day of walking, easing some of his fatigue.
Henwell lies beneath a large wagon, his thoughts drifting. He knows the Third Legion is about to attack Wilderness City in the Kingdom of Ika.
This city, located in the southeastern part of Ika, is a major grain hub for the entire region. Capturing this strategic point would secure the coalition's foothold, ensuring their logistics and supply lines remain unthreatened.
However, the Kingdom of Ika is undoubtedly aware of this and will surely dispatch a strong force to defend it.
Although Henwell hasn't seen the real professional army of Ika, he doubts the Third Legion alone can take Wilderness City. These grand matters of state don't concern him much, but the fate of the Third Legion is critical to him.
If the Third Legion wins decisively, escaping becomes impossible. But if they suffer a crushing defeat, that's not good news either.
In the chaos of a retreat, whether from panicked enemy soldiers or pursuing Ika forces, Henwell could easily be caught in the crossfire and killed, a senseless death.
The best outcome for Henwell would be a stalemate, with the Third Legion unable to capture the city and morale dwindling, giving him a chance to escape.
As these thoughts swirl in his mind, Henwell drifts off to sleep. He sleeps until six, waking up from a nightmare just before dawn.
In his dream, he was fleeing, on the brink of rescue, when an arrow pierced his chest. Turning back, he saw Kavize holding a large bow, staring at him with a cold expression.
Henwell uses his still-damp socks to wipe his face. Why socks? Well, he washed them last night—it's not like he has a towel. Among the items Henwell traded for were two pairs of worn-out socks.
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After scrubbing off the bloodstains and scalding them with hot water, they were as good as new. Henwell changes into dry socks every day; otherwise, his feet would be in serious trouble.
Feeling more awake, Henwell mutters a few curses under his breath, reassuring himself that dreams are often the opposite of reality. He's determined to make it out alive.
Two days later, Henwell finally arrives near the battlefield. The military camp here is already set up, and it seems the fighting hasn't started yet.
In the distance, Wilderness City looms like a giant beast resting on the land. The city's sudden emergence in the plains is quite striking.
Henwell remembers visiting Wilderness City once with his father when he was five years old. He recalls the city being quite populous.
Excluding the scattered settlements outside the city walls, the population within the city alone is at least around a hundred thousand, making it a major city in the kingdom.
Wilderness City has stood for over two hundred years, with a rich history. Although it hasn't faced war in recent decades, its walls are well-maintained.
Especially after the start of the Second War, the city underwent more than six months of fortification. Without heavy machinery, capturing such a city would require sacrificing countless lives.
Contrary to Henwell's expectations, it wasn't just the Third Legion involved in the assault; the Fifth Legion from the Duchy of Vorry had also arrived.
Additionally, two legions from the Kingdom of Billie and a cavalry legion from the coalition were present. It's rumored that two more legions are on their way, bringing the total to over forty thousand troops for the siege.
Even so, Henwell doubts the coalition's ability to achieve their goal. Inside Wilderness City, there are at least several thousand soldiers. With the advantage of strong fortifications, they could easily hold out for a year or more.
On the coalition's side, Henwell has roughly calculated the supply consumption. Even with pillaging along the way, their provisions wouldn't last more than three months.
Transporting supplies here is incredibly risky, with a supply line stretching three to four hundred kilometers. Apart from security concerns, the sheer consumption rate is enough to give the coalition a headache.
As Henwell sets up a tent for Kavize, the coalition begins routine negotiations for surrender with Wilderness City. Unsurprisingly, it yields no results; the commanders within the city have no intention of surrendering.
The next day, Henwell watches as the two legions from the Kingdom of Billie launch an attack on the city. What he sees leaves him speechless.
There are no ladders, siege towers, or catapults. Instead, archers line up to suppress the defenders on the walls, while soldiers below, shielded by large shields, push a freshly built battering ram against the city gate, like monks striking a bell.
On the city walls, the defenders have little more than arrows for defense. There are no boulders, logs, or crossbows, and certainly no catapults. As for using boiling oil, molten metal, or scalding water, those tactics are out of the question.
What baffles Henwell the most is that despite the archers having the high ground, the coalition on the city walls isn't gaining much advantage.
Evidently, the defending commanders haven't properly calculated the range for their volleys, and the archers aren't forming strike groups. While free shooting offers high precision, concentrated volleys could inflict significant psychological pressure on the attackers.
War isn't a game; the effective use of formations is crucial. In his previous life, Henwell was a bit of a military enthusiast, and he believes that if he were defending the city, at least half of the attacking soldiers would be casualties.
Henwell feels anxious about the development of military tactics in this world.
It wasn't until much later that Henwell understood why things were this way.
Firstly, his previous world's countries had thousands of years of history, constantly engaged in conflicts, with warfare techniques far surpassing those here.
Secondly, wars in this world are controlled by nobles, few of whom are skilled in, or passionate about, warfare or its study.
Lastly, many commanders in these wars are nobles themselves, and the kind of slaughter Henwell envisions is not something the ruling classes on either side would accept.
If it were, nobles wouldn't be willing to go to war.
In summary, the countries involved in this war aren't centralized states.