The Regressed Mercenary's Machinations

Chapter 398

When capturing a fortress through direct assault proved too difficult, the classic strategy was to surround it and starve the defenders into submission.

But for Rodrick’s army, even that option was out of reach. Their supply situation was so dire that they risked starving before the defenders did. All the provisions they desperately needed were locked inside the very fortress they sought to retake.

The surrounding vassal lords had already been stripped bare. There was nothing left to plunder, and the only way forward was to reclaim the fortress at all costs.

“Find a solution! Anything!” Earl Glasgow barked, his voice filled with desperation.

One of his officers hesitantly offered a suggestion. “My lord, we must secure siege weapons. With proper equipment, we can target the enemy forces on the walls, destroy their catapults, and widen the breaches to make better use of our numerical advantage.”

“And where exactly do you plan to find such weapons?” Glasgow shot back.

“We could requisition equipment from nearby estates. If that’s insufficient, we’ll have to build what we need using local resources.”

“Ugh... Do you really think that will work against that fortress?”

“We have no choice but to try, my lord.”

Left with no alternatives, Glasgow reluctantly nodded. “Fine. Search the surrounding territories for siege weapons and provisions. Promise the lords that the Marquis will compensate them generously.”

Following his orders, small detachments were sent to nearby territories to gather what they could.

Several days later, the soldiers returned, their faces pale. They presented their findings: three dilapidated catapults and a single battering ram.

Glasgow clenched his fists in frustration. “Is this all? What about the food supplies?”

“My lord,” one of the officers explained, “most of the surrounding lands have already been looted by Fenris’s forces and rogue bands of thieves. Whatever was left has been conscripted for our use. The other territories are starving as well.”

“Ugh... Ughhh!” Glasgow ground his teeth in anger, unable to form a coherent reply. It was true that the Marquisate had already requisitioned vast amounts of resources from these lands to fund their campaign.

He had expected Fenris to pillage the western estates, but the fact that roving bands of thieves remained a problem only deepened his frustration.

“Fine! Use what we have to attack the fortress,” Glasgow growled, though even he doubted it would make a difference.

The battering ram was deemed unusable. It would be destroyed long before reaching the gates. That left the three catapults, the remnants of a desperate plan.

BOOM! BOOM!

The first stones launched fell short of the fortress walls. The old and poorly maintained catapults lacked the range and power to threaten Linderstein.

“Move them closer and use lighter stones!” Glasgow ordered, clinging to hope.

The adjustments allowed the projectiles to reach the walls, but they achieved little. The impact of the lighter stones wasn’t enough to cause any significant damage.

CRACK!

One of the stones was shattered mid-flight by a lance hurled from the walls. Fenris’s knights, equipped with exceptional skill and reflexes, made short work of the feeble attacks.

With only three catapults and such inadequate firepower, the assault was laughable at best.

“Ugh...” Glasgow could only groan in despair, his options dwindling by the moment.

Watching the pitiful display, Ghislain Fenris chuckled. “Show them the difference in technology.”

With a signal from Ghislain, Fenris’s mobile forces reloaded their own catapults. This time, they opted for smaller, lighter projectiles.

THUNK! THUNK! THUNK!

The stones arced through the air and landed squarely in Rodrick’s camp.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

“AAARGH!”

“They’re firing their catapults at us now!”

“We need to pull back further, my lord!”

Caught off guard, Rodrick’s soldiers were struck down in waves. Glasgow watched helplessly as his men fell, powerless to retaliate.

“Fall back! Retreat further!” he shouted, his voice filled with frustration.

Rodrick’s forces scrambled to retreat, abandoning their positions in panic. In the chaos, the three makeshift catapults were destroyed.

Glasgow’s despair deepened as he realized the truth. This wasn’t just a battle of strength or numbers. It was a war of technology. The difference in engineering, strategy, and preparation was overwhelming.

Even with the numbers on their side, Rodrick’s army was at a crushing disadvantage.

Glasgow chewed his nails, his mind racing. “What do we do? How do we win?”

When this campaign began, he had felt nothing but confidence and pride in leading such a massive force. Fenris had been a mere afterthought, overshadowed by the greater goal of defeating the Grand Duke’s forces and securing glory for the kingdom.

Now, he had lost 10,000 soldiers in a single engagement. And worse, he saw no clear path to victory.

He couldn’t retreat. Failure to reclaim the fortress would mean the complete collapse of their supply lines, dooming the rest of their forces.

“No, no... Fenris has supplies,” Glasgow muttered to himself. “The main force will capture their lands and resupply with ease.”

But that thought offered little solace. If the main force succeeded, Glasgow would still be remembered as the fool who squandered his troops against Fenris. His honor—and possibly his life—hung in the balance.

He gritted his teeth and barked, “Prepare the cavalry and shield-bearers! Equip the cavalry with shields as well!”

“My lord, it’s too dangerous!”

“We have no choice! If we can just push through the range of their catapults, the shield-bearers and cavalry can block their arrows while the rest of our forces break into the fortress.”

“But the losses will be enormous!”

FLASH!

Every swing of his spear left a streak of crimson in the air. Soldiers who had only just managed to escape the hail of arrows were now caught off guard by Ghislain’s ferocious assault.

BOOM! BOOM!

Ghislain’s spear tore through the ranks, scattering soldiers like leaves in a storm. The sudden and overwhelming attack left Rodrick’s forces in disarray.

“AAARGH!”

“Enemy forces have engaged!”

“Fight back! Fight him!”

Despite their attempts to regroup, Ghislain cut through their ranks with ruthless efficiency.

Seeing his soldiers falter, a knight from Rodrick’s forces raised his sword and bellowed, “It’s just one man! Everyone, attack him together!”

The knights, hardened by training, evaded the catapult fire and arrows as they rushed toward Ghislain. But even they were no match for the Fenris commander.

CLANG!

One by one, they fell, their attacks countered with ease.

Meanwhile, atop the walls, 200 Fenris knights grabbed ropes and began descending rapidly.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

“OW! That was too fast!”

“Damn it! I think I broke my arm!”

“Ugh, my ribs...”

The walls were so high that the descent was far from graceful. Many of the knights hit the ground hard, cursing as they struggled to recover.

Spotting their vulnerable state, Rodrick’s soldiers seized the opportunity.

“They’re down! Get them while they’re still on the ground!”

“Kill them now! They’re defenseless!”

“This is our chance!”

The desperate soldiers charged at the fallen knights, determined to reduce their numbers.

But their hopes were dashed.

SWISH! SWISH!

Kaor, one of Fenris’s most ferocious warriors, sprang to his feet like a beast unleashed. His sword flashed with deadly precision, cutting down soldiers in a frenzied blur.

“Get up, you idiots! Are you planning to die lying down?” Kaor roared at his comrades.

Inspired by Kaor’s tenacity, the other knights quickly regained their footing and joined the fight.

“AAARGH! They’re fine! They’re not hurt at all!”

Rodrick’s soldiers screamed as the Fenris knights tore through their ranks with brutal efficiency. Exhausted and demoralized, the soldiers had no hope of matching the knights’ ferocity.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Screams echoed across the battlefield as Rodrick’s forces continued to fall. The soldiers who had survived the onslaught of arrows and catapults now faced a slaughter at the hands of Fenris’s elite.

“Retreat, my lord!” one of Glasgow’s advisors shouted desperately. “Fenris is holding the line. We can’t break through!”

“No... No! We’ve made it this far! If we can just get past him, we can take the fortress!” Glasgow screamed, his voice laced with desperation.

“It’s impossible! At this rate, he’ll kill them all! Unless we encircle the fortress with overwhelming numbers, we’re only sending men to their deaths!”

“AAARGH! Fenris! Fenris!” Glasgow roared, tears of frustration streaming down his face. He had already lost over 10,000 soldiers in this battle, and the casualties were only climbing.

Without multiple siege towers or a well-planned strategy, breaching the fortress was a pipe dream.

“Retreat! Retreat now!” Glasgow finally screamed, his voice cracking.

TOOOOT!

The retreat horn sounded, and Rodrick’s soldiers turned tail, relief flooding their expressions. Even as they fled, they faced a hail of arrows and the occasional catapult strike. But retreating was still preferable to advancing.

The Fenris knights began to give chase, but Ghislain’s booming voice stopped them in their tracks.

“Hold!”

At his command, the pursuit halted. The catapults and archers atop the walls ceased their fire.

Ghislain, his armor slick with blood, took a deep breath and bellowed a single word:

“Fenris!”

The name echoed across the battlefield, striking fear into the hearts of the retreating soldiers. Ghislain raised his spear and pointed it toward the fleeing army.

“Charge!”

THUD, THUD, THUD!

The ground trembled as Fenris’s cavalry stormed out of the fortress, galloping through the open gates and breaches in the walls. Mounted soldiers poured onto the battlefield like an unstoppable tide, their war cries ringing loud and clear.