At around ten in the morning, on an open stretch of ground inside Taiwei Four, a group of bare-chested militiamen trained in formation, sweat pouring from them. At the front of the formation, several militiamen formed a circle. Inside stood the equally bare-chested Ronan, facing several more militiamen.
The sweat had the effect of olive oil, giving Ronan's sharply defined muscles a faint sheen beneath the sun and making their contours even more pronounced.
Ronan held a wooden staff in both hands, while the militiamen opposite him carried wooden swords and shields. He was testing the results of their training through sparring, taking on three militiamen at once.
Spinning the staff in his hands, Ronan took the initiative to attack. After several days of practice bouts, they no longer dared attack him first. Ronan always keenly seized upon their openings, dodging their attacks before knocking them down hard.
Ronan charged forward with his staff. The militiaman opposite instinctively raised his shield to block, but Ronan suddenly planted the staff against the ground and launched himself into the air, driving both feet into the shield. He kicked the militiaman backward several staggering steps before sending him crashing to the ground.
Seeing this, the other two militiamen tried to take advantage of the opening and attack Ronan. But Ronan had been prepared. The moment he landed, he crouched low, gripped the end of his staff with both hands, and swept it along the ground, tripping one man. He then turned, flicked the wooden sword aside with an upward strike, and cleverly twisted his staff, knocking the sword from the other man's hand.
The first militiaman to fall had struggled back to his feet by then. He raised his shield and charged at Ronan with his head down. Ronan shook his head slightly, spun aside to evade the impact, and struck him in the backside with the rear end of his staff, sending him face-first into the ground.
After swiftly dealing with the other two militiamen in the same manner, Ronan shook his head and beckoned to several others gathered around, signaling for them to take their turn.
These men were somewhat better than the previous group. At least they knew to support and protect one another. They held out under Ronan's attacks for a while before he found an opening and cut into their formation. Once the formation fell into disorder, they no longer knew what to do. Their ability to adapt was still lacking.
After sparring with several more groups of soldiers, it was time for lunch. Ronan accepted the towel handed over by an attendant and wiped away his sweat, then sat directly on the ground and took some bread and meat soup. The dried meat in the soup had softened somewhat after stewing. At least it would no longer chip someone's teeth. Some of the sharper pieces of dried meat even seemed capable of stabbing someone to death.
After a simple lunch, drowsiness began to overtake him. Ronan instructed the Nord guards and Vigyan Knights to take over his work and spar with the militiamen, then returned to his room for a nap.
He had not slept long before a horn blast jolted him awake. The castle was filled with the clamor of hurried footsteps. With no time to put on his cumbersome plate armor, Ronan quickly donned light armor, grabbed his greatsword and katana, and pushed open the door. He did, however, put on his iron gauntlets.
Inside the castle, squads of soldiers were racing toward the walls. Ronan followed them toward the section of wall under his command. Outside, the sounds of catapult stones smashing into the walls and wounded soldiers screaming had already begun to rise and fall without end.
By the time Ronan reached the wall, Valantis soldiers had already rushed through the arrowstorm and begun setting up ladders. In the distant Valantis camp, massive siege towers were also slowly approaching the walls as soldiers pushed them forward.
These siege towers were made entirely of solid wood and stood slightly taller than Taiwei Four's walls. They were long rectangular structures with four thick wheels beneath them, requiring soldiers to push them. The towers were hollow inside, with a platform at the same height as the wall. It was already packed with soldiers, and stairs behind it allowed more soldiers to quickly climb onto the platform.
At the front of the platform was a broad wooden bridge, currently raised upright before it. Once the tower drew close enough to the wall, it would be lowered onto the battlements so soldiers could cross over. Its advantage over ladders was that it could carry a substantial number of soldiers at once, allowing them to climb the walls faster and more easily secure a foothold.
The soldiers were also less easily stopped by arrows and stones. The front of the siege towers had even been coated with fireproof paint, so Rexa's plan to repeat his old tactic of using oil and Fire Arrows to ignite them was immediately rendered useless.
At that moment, the stone-throwers Rexa had ordered the craftsmen to build in advance finally came into use. They were pushed into suitable positions and loaded with stones. Under the commanders' orders, they repeatedly adjusted and calibrated their aim before opening fire, hurling massive boulders.
The boulders smashed into the siege towers, gouging out hole after hole. Amid flying splinters, one siege tower had its supports blasted through and broke apart. The soldiers atop it screamed as they fell. Even those fortunate enough to survive were mostly left paralyzed from the waist down. But Valantis was never troubled by the treatment of wounded soldiers. Lightly wounded slave soldiers were treated if possible, while the severely wounded were left to endure on their own. Valantis would not even bother with cripples like these, let alone give them food, considering it a waste.
Although most of the siege towers were destroyed, two stubbornly made it to the wall. Their drawbridges dropped and landed upon the battlements, and the soldiers within surged out with furious roars.
Ronan took up his bow and fired repeatedly, landing consecutive headshots on several soldiers from the side. One slave soldier leaped high just as he neared the wall, landed behind the defending soldiers, and drove his sword into one defender's lower back. The guard struggled to turn and strike back, but his throat was swiftly cut open.
Another militiaman raised his spear and viciously thrust it into a slave soldier's chest, then forced him down to the ground. But he had clearly forgotten Rexa's teachings: do not attack blindly; calmly observe the situation around you and the enemy's movements, and use your shield to protect yourself.
He pulled out his spear and wanted to stab the man again, but an enemy soldier rushing up behind him immediately smashed his head open. Ronan recognized him as one of the militiamen who had sparred with him that morning. A lively young man in the morning, headless by the afternoon. But war was that cruel. Anyone could die the next second.
Shaking his head, Ronan tossed aside his bow, drew his two-handed greatsword, and charged forward with his men. These militiamen had trained for too short a time. Driven by their burning hatred for the invaders, they had courage to spare but lacked defense, and they suffered the heaviest casualties. Yet the enemy vastly outnumbered Taiwei Four's defenders. Even trading one for two was too costly.
Ronan brought his sword down with all his strength. The enemy reacted quickly and raised a round shield to block, but Ronan's immense force drove him down and carved a deep gash into the shield. Ronan swung his greatsword down again. This time, he split the shield in half and severed half of the man's left hand holding it.
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