The Fall of a Warrior
Translator: Cinder Translations
...
"The city has fallen!"
The collapse of the watchtower sent out a thunderous roar, and all the defenders on the city walls realized the disastrous reality before them.
Cries of terror erupted one after another, spreading panic uncontrollably.
An assault team selected from the Royal Infantry First Regiment had already charged up the collapsed slope toward the ruins of the city wall.
"Quick, stop them! Drive them back!"
The defense commander near the watchtower decisively mobilized the elite forces nearby—warriors clad in heavy armor and wielding sharp blades. They swiftly converged at the breach, engaging in fierce combat with the attacking Royal Army's assault team.
After an intense melee, the commander of the First Infantry Regiment, Levin, ordered a temporary retreat while the artillery advanced.
As soon as the soldiers withdrew, the deafening roar of cannons followed. A devastating storm of metal engulfed the small battlefield, scattering deadly shrapnel in all directions. The defenders holding the breach suffered heavy casualties under the relentless bombardment.
Levin immediately ordered a second wave of assault. The retreat had left the Royal Army's soldiers seething with frustration, and they charged forward with renewed fury. This time, the defenders, shaken by the earlier barrage, could not hold their ground. They crumbled under the attack, retreating in disarray until they completely lost control of the collapsed section of the wall.
The sight of the Aldor Royal Banner fluttering over the city wall sent a surge of determination through the First Regiment's ranks. The entire unit surged forward, securing and expanding the breach. Artillery continued to bombard the adjacent sections of the wall, preventing enemy reinforcements from closing in. At the same time, ten "Grasshopper" light cannons were pulled into the city, supporting the infantry's advance.
"It's over!"
With the Royal Army breaching the city, the defenders—including the elite troops—completely collapsed. Morale plummeted. Soldiers scattered like headless flies; some surrendered on the spot, while others discarded their armor and weapons, fleeing desperately into the city.
In this era, urban warfare was an alien concept. Once an army breached the city, the battle was essentially decided.
The First Infantry Regiment swiftly secured the city gates and threw them open. Five more regiments surged into Five Goats City, splitting into designated groups according to the pre-planned assault strategy. All units shared a single objective—the Ducal Manor of Giles.
"The Royal Army has broken through!"
Samal, responsible for defending the northern gate, had already sensed disaster the moment the Royal Army cleared the path with cannon fire and launched their second assault. Without hesitation, he abandoned the walls and rode at full speed toward the Lord's Mansion.
"How is this happening so fast?!"
Giles shot to his feet, his eyes wide with disbelief. Even in his worst predictions, he had expected Five Goats City to hold out for half a month. Yet, it had only been one day!
"They brought in over a dozen unknown cannons and concentrated fire on a single watchtower. It completely collapsed."
Samal, still shaken by the scene, could hardly suppress his fear.
City walls—fortifications that had safeguarded civilizations for millennia—couldn't even last a single day against these cannons. If this continued, who could possibly resist the Aldor Army?
"Your Highness, we must flee!" Wendell urged, holding out a set of civilian clothes.
"You... you dare suggest I run?" Giles glared at him. "Five Goats City is my last stronghold. I would rather die in battle than abandon it!"
"Your Highness, please stay rational! As long as you're alive, there's still a chance to turn things around!" Wendell pleaded.
"He's right!" Samal added desperately.
"Damn it!" Giles clenched his teeth, his face flushed with rage, as if he wanted to devour the two men before him.
At that moment, a commotion grew louder outside.
"They're coming! Your Highness, change quickly and escape through the back gate! Follow me—I know a safe place where we can hide for now!" Wendell shouted urgently.
Giles let out a deep sigh and snatched the civilian clothing from Wendell's hands.
Hearing the growing chaos outside, Samal steeled himself. "You two go—I'll hold them off!"
Without waiting for a reply, he dashed outside.
Giles hesitated only briefly before unfolding the commoner's attire and hastily changing.
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Bang! Bang! Bang!
When the volley of gunfire ceased, Sir Samal's silver-plated shoulder armor had three lead bullets embedded in it. His cape was in tatters, much like the Giles family banner fluttering over the crumbling castle.
"Come on, cowards!" Samal roared, blood spraying from his visor. He staggered forward, stepping over the corpses of three Royal Army soldiers. One of them still clutched an unlit match cord, and the gunpowder-soaked ground beneath them formed eerie black streams of liquid death.
Twenty paces ahead, the Fourth Squad, having reloaded, stood in formation.
Samal suddenly charged. Despite his 200-pound full plate armor, he exploded forward with astonishing speed. The morning light reflected off the dents in his breastplate, faintly revealing his family crest.
As gunfire rang out ahead, he instinctively turned his body, raising his sword. Bullets skidded off the blade, creating brilliant sparks, yet several still punched through his leg armor.
The knight crashed onto his knees, but his greatsword dug deep into the damp earth, holding him upright.
He saw the second row of musketeers scrambling to reload. Using his sword as support, he pushed himself up. Blood dripped from his visor, streaking crimson patterns across his breastplate.
"For honor!" Samal roared. He resumed his charge, dragging his wounded leg, leaving a trail of blood in the grass.
He couldn't run anymore.
He had fled once before, during the Eagle's Beak Pass battle—though that time, he had simply followed Giles.
He had fled again just earlier—though that was to warn Giles.
Seeing their foe still moving despite his wounds, the Royal Army soldiers hesitated for a brief moment.
But the third volley was inevitable.
A barrage of bullets tore through his chestplate, shattering the family crest into twisted shards of metal.
Samal suddenly felt his lungs fill with molten iron.
His ancestral greatsword slipped from his fingers and flew through the air...
(End of the Chapter)
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