Chapter 370: Everyone Can Hold Out, Right? (3)

Howard, the commander of the army stationed outside the castle, smirked as he watched the gates close.

"Fools, you've finally taken the bait."

To ensure the enemy stayed put, Count Fenris's other raids had been deliberately left unchallenged. The strategy was to refrain from applying any pressure until the army had gathered and the Count was lured to this very location. 

Sure enough, just as the strategists of the Marquis's household had predicted, the enemy had boldly marched in and seized the castle.

"Still, it's impressive. Only 400 or so of them, yet they captured a fortress defended by 3,000."

He had briefly entertained the possibility that the Dacre forces might hold, but it turned out that a castle without knights stood no chance. For such reckless foes, they possessed considerable strength. Engaging them carelessly might even put an army of 10,000 at risk.

Of course, unlike Dacre's troops, his own forces included numerous knights and were far better organized. But the real issue was Count Fenris's prowess.

"It seems the rumors that he's near the level of a master were true. He's at least equivalent to a high-level knight."

Capturing the Count could lead to devastating losses. Even with 10,000 troops, if too many died, it would be a disgrace for a commander of his rank. 

No matter how skilled Count Fenris might be, Howard could not afford any excuses. After all, the Count had yet to establish a reputation as one of the kingdom's legendary figures.

"We planned to starve them for a week, but that feels too risky. Maintain the siege for at least a month."

Howard was a cautious leader. He decided to prolong the siege to minimize losses. Even someone on the master-level would weaken significantly after a month without food. While the Count might still retain some of his strength, his subordinates would undoubtedly be too exhausted to fight effectively.

After some thought, Howard issued additional orders.

"Request more catapults from the surrounding regions."

There were already catapults in place, but having more wouldn't hurt. They could be used to force the enemy out of the castle or bombard them if they attempted a sortie. 

Howard was determined to ensure victory with as little risk as possible. His meticulous planning was why he had earned the Marquis's trust as a commander.

For weeks, neither side engaged in battle. One week passed, then two, and as the siege reached its third week, Howard allowed himself a grin.

"Still no response. They must be terrified, scouring the castle for any remaining food."

The besieged hadn't even attempted to flee. They likely understood that escaping would only lead to their capture by the surrounding army. To ensure no one slipped through the cracks, Howard had bolstered perimeter patrols and instructed every soldier to memorize Count Fenris's face.

"The Count might attempt to escape alone. Maintain a vigilant watch and ensure everyone knows what he looks like."

Howard was nothing if not thorough. By the time a full month had passed, with the castle still eerily silent, Howard let out a derisive chuckle.

"Idiots. If they were going to fight, they should have done it on the first day. By now, they're probably gnawing on rats."

Given the lack of activity, he assumed the defenders had collapsed from hunger. Even if the Count retained his strength, he wouldn't dare emerge alone. Sensing that the time was right, Howard ordered the full army to prepare for an assault.

Catapults were moved into position, and soldiers lined up in formation.

"The so-called saint of the North, the great lord of Fenris, will fall here, pitifully."

Howard allowed himself a pleased smile. This victory would cement his reputation across the kingdom. 

Count Fenris might have been a renowned figure in the North, but here in the more developed and powerful West, his limits had been exposed. They were nothing more than brute warriors with no understanding of advanced strategy.

"Begin the attack… hm?"

Howard turned to see new troops approaching, bearing the flag of the Marquis Rodrick. He halted his orders and waited as a knight galloped up to him, bowing deeply.

"We've come on orders from Lord Tenant to provide reinforcements."

"Reinforcements? How many?"

"Ten thousand."

The new force, even at a glance, seemed to rival the size of the current army. Puzzled by the need for such overwhelming numbers, Howard asked,

"They've been starving for a month, and there are only 400 of them. Isn't this excessive?"

"We received new intelligence," the knight replied, his expression tense.

"New intelligence?"

The knight hesitated before revealing the news.

"Count Fenris killed the Crimson Magic Tower Lord, a 7th-circle mage, single-handedly."

Howard's expression hardened.

One of the kingdom's only two 7th-circle mages—individuals considered superhumans—had been slain by this man? 

Being near the level of a master and being an actual master were worlds apart. If the Crimson Magic Tower Lord and his disciples had been defending the castle, not even Howard's 10,000 troops would have dared to engage.

"Why didn't they attack on the first day?"

If the Count's forces had launched a surprise attack immediately, it could have been disastrous. Reports indicated that the enemy included at least 50 knights and an elite force of soldiers. 

Each knight could kill ten soldiers, meaning they could have decimated 4,000 troops. And if the Count truly was a master, he could have slain thousands on his own.

'Starving them out before they could act was the best decision, but… why didn't they act sooner?'

Howard was left bewildered by the enemy's inaction. The knight who had delivered the news interrupted his thoughts.

"It's fortunate we arrived before the attack began. Should I order the troops to prepare for immediate combat?"

Howard stared at the castle, lost in thought, before replying.

"If he truly killed a 7th-circle mage, we're not ready yet. Let them starve a little longer."

With two armies totaling 20,000 troops, the odds were overwhelmingly in Howard's favor. Even if the Count was a master, victory seemed assured. 

However, minimizing casualties was another matter. Losing even half of his forces would be unacceptable.

Ever cautious, Howard decided to let the trapped rats weaken further before striking.

***

"Well, they're not complete fools."

Watching the reinforced army outside, Ghislain clicked his tongue.

An additional 10,000 troops in such a short time? The West was truly a different beast. Even Desmond's forces, when he mustered every vassal, had barely reached 30,000. Here, armies grew by the tens of thousands as if by magic.

"This is why people say Marquis Rodrick's power rivals that of the entire kingdom."

Gillian, his face tense, voiced his concern.

"Twenty thousand troops… it won't be easy to survive this."

He was being tactful. Against 10,000, they might scrape by with heavy losses. But 20,000? It was almost unthinkable. Even if Ghislain survived, the rest of them might not.

Ghislain nodded in agreement.

"You're right. They're smart enough to play to their strengths. They must have heard about what happened with Delmud."

"What do you mean?"

"That I killed him. As soon as they got that news, they must have scrambled to reinforce. That's why they arrived just in time."

"That makes sense. They realized 10,000 wasn't enough."

Gillian had witnessed Ghislain's fight against Delmud. His growth since then was staggering. It was hard to believe how quickly he had become this powerful. 

Ghislain had ascended to the level of the kingdom's few recognized masters, joining an elite group of only four.

The Marquis Rodrick would stop at nothing to crush him now.

"They might even be gathering more troops. We should strike before they do."

"You're right. If they bring another 10,000, it's over. But charging out now won't help. Even 20,000 isn't a joke."

"What's your plan?"

Gillian's question was heavy with concern, but Ghislain only smirked.

"We should call for reinforcements of our own."

"Reinforcements... you mean?"

Gillian tilted his head in confusion. From the start, Ghislain had only brought knights for the purpose of raiding, stirring up trouble across the region. 

Naturally, there was no established supply line, and it was far too late for reinforcements from the North to arrive.

Ghislain, however, spoke in a nonchalant tone.

"We've got our mercenaries stationed nearby, don't we?"

"Oh!"

The mercenaries had been transporting looted goods from nearby territories. There was no local army left to stop them. 

Dominic, operating from the east, had also returned to the west with the Drake Mercenary Corps. After all, no one understood this region better than they did.

Additionally, many mercenaries hired from the North and East had followed the Drake Mercenary Corps to the West.

"By now, their numbers should have grown. The amount of loot to transport keeps increasing, so I've told them to keep reinforcing as more contracts are fulfilled. I'd say there are at least 3,000 to 4,000 of them by now."

Currently, the Fenris Mercenary Corps boasted nearly 10,000 members—a result of consistent recruitment from various regions. Initially, only about 500 had participated in the raids, but as each new territory was plundered, more reinforcements had been requested.

If those mercenaries could converge on this location, victory was possible. They could strike the enemy's rear or even just establish defensive positions to scatter the enemy's forces.

However, this was easier said than done.

"If they arrive, it will be a huge help. But aren't they scattered everywhere? To bring them here, we'd need to gather them first, and that's the real problem."

The territories they had raided were relatively small even by Western standards, but emptying out an entire region wasn't easy. 

The mercenaries were divided into groups of hundreds, diligently transporting goods. Reaching them and coordinating their movements seemed impossible. The siege was tighter than expected; any attempt to leave would likely trigger the full wrath of the surrounding army.

Ghislain grinned, nodding confidently.

"Dominic should be around. We'll contact him and have him gather everyone. They're not too far, so they'll arrive quickly."

"But how will you…?"

Ghislain didn't bother explaining further and extended his hand toward the empty air.

Srrrrr...

A dark mist began to swirl and condense. Gillian and the observing knights instinctively stepped back in alarm.

The swirling black mist soon took the shape of a raven.

"Kukuku... Master, so you've decided to borrow my power again?"

When the raven spoke, the onlookers' jaws dropped. They had known Ghislain could use strange magic, but none of them had imagined he could summon something like this. Even the usually stoic Gillian stammered in shock.

"L-Lord, what is that?"

"Hmm, how should I explain it? Just think of it as one of the spirits I can summon."

"A... spirit? Are you saying you can also use spirits, my lord?"

"Uh… it's something like magic."

It didn't seem wise to explain that he was housing a mysterious entity within himself. While Arel knew the full story, the others would likely find it unbelievable. 

Ghislain decided to introduce things gradually, starting with this. As he casually evaded further questions, the raven arrogantly lifted its beak and spoke.

"My name is Dark. You'll be seeing a lot of me, so make sure to offer your reverence whenever you do."

This elicited an eye-roll from Kaor, who muttered dismissively.

"What's with this cocky little thing? A Clpoi knockoff?"

Clpoi was a term coined in Fenris territory—a combination of 'Claude' and 'Alpoi'—used to describe someone particularly arrogant. For Kaor to use it so casually suggested just how haughty the raven seemed.

Naturally, Dark, who had grown bold after taking up residence in Ghislain's body, wasn't fazed.

"If you don't want your soul to be cursed into oblivion, stay quiet. You're Kaor, aren't you? I already know all about you."

Living inside Ghislain's consciousness, Dark had access to all his memories. Of course, Kaor didn't know this and was intrigued.

"You know me? How?"

"You're famous."

"Famous? Me?"

Kaor's grin widened in satisfaction. Being called famous was always a nice compliment. But then Dark added with a smirk of his own.

"Yeah, you're famous for being an idiot."

"You little—!"

Kaor swung his sword in anger, but Ghislain intervened, stopping him. Dark, unbothered, cackled.

"See? I'm an immortal being under my master's protection—"

Keeeaaaak!

Dark let out a pained cry as Ghislain clenched his hand into a fist. The immense pressure made Dark writhe in agony.

"Master! My apologies!"

Dark quickly apologized, having gotten carried away after being out in the world for so long.

Clicking his tongue, Ghislain issued a firm command.

"Enough playing around. Go to Dominic and tell him to gather the mercenaries and bring them here immediately. You can do that, right?"

"Y-Yes. But will he believe me? He might just think, 'What's with this crazy talking raven?' Or maybe he'll just find it fascinating?"

"Describe the loot he's already seen. That'll convince him."

"Got it. I'll be back soon. Everyone, wait for me."

Despite its small size, the raven was brimming with mana provided by Ghislain. Dark immediately set off to relay the message to Dominic in a nearby territory.

Roughly a week later, Howard finally decided it was time to attack.

"This should be sufficient."

Twenty thousand troops had completely encircled the castle. After starving for this long, Count Fenris's forces, save perhaps for the Count himself, would be utterly incapable of resistance. 

The besiegers had eaten well, rested well, and were in high spirits thanks to their overwhelming numbers.

"All units, prepare to attack."

As Howard raised his hand to signal the attack—

Creaaak...

The castle gates began to open first.

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