Is This the End of the Cycle?

The group obeyed and left. The heavy oak door slowly closed behind them with a muffled thud, completely cutting off the faint sounds of hurried footsteps and suppressed conversations that could be heard from the corridor outside.

The Council Chamber fell silent instantly, with only the occasional crackling of the torches stuck in the walls serving as a reminder that time was still passing.

The vast Lord's Hall was now empty except for Karl.

He leaned back in his chair, raised his hand, and rubbed his throbbing temples with his knuckles, lost in thought.

Contrary to the outside world's expectations of tension and fear, Karl was unusually calm at this moment, and as the commander-in-chief, he had to remain calm.

His decision to delegate such extensive authority at the military conference just now, completely delegating the power to promote officers to the three men and even encouraging them to make their own decisions based on the battle situation, was by no means a spur-of-the-moment impulse.

Power, at this moment, has lost all meaning for him.

After this inevitably brutal city defense battle, it was uncertain how many people would survive. The positions of those squad leaders and Platoon Leader were truly insignificant.

As for whether they can ultimately hold onto Carnford, Karl is uncertain and the hope is slim.

Outside the city, Harald led a massive Sauron army, not including the 100,000 slave cannon fodder they drove ahead of.

On our side, at most, we only have a little over two thousand people who are capable of taking up arms and fighting.

The ratio of fifty to one is like a cold, imposing mountain, making it hard to breathe.

Any purely military textbook would conclude that this was a battle with no suspense whatsoever.

But Karl also had a glimmer of hope, as Carnford now possessed all the advantages.

In terms of location, Carnford has almost every advantage. Backed by steep mountains, with only a narrow passage leading to the top, it is truly a natural fortress that "cannot be breached by one man," far superior to the conditions of many plain cities.

Even with an army of 100,000, the Sauron were helpless against this terrain. Unable to deploy their forces, they could only attack one wave after another, like adding fuel to the fire, as they climbed up the narrow mountain path.

This will undoubtedly greatly diminish their numerical advantage and turn the battle into a war of attrition that is extremely advantageous to the defenders.

With each wave of attack, the Sauron paid a price several times that of the defenders.

In terms of supplies, the situation is better than initially expected.

Thanks to advance preparations and long-term support from Fran City, the castle's granaries and armories were replenished to a considerable extent.

While the reserves of gunpowder, lead bullets, and arrows were not inexhaustible, they were sufficient to support a prolonged and intense defensive operation.

All kinds of defensive equipment, such as siege stones and rolling logs, have been reinforced and repeatedly inspected.

At least, before their weapons ran out, the defenders had enough power to make the Sauron bleed profusely beneath the city walls.

In terms of winning hearts and minds, this may be Carnford's most powerful weapon at present.

Now everyone in the castle, from soldiers to civilians, clearly understands one fact: behind them lies an abyss with no way back.

The Sauron' reputation for brutality and their massacres of cities had long been known Northern Territory.

Surrender means death, resistance may offer a glimmer of hope.

This "do-or-die" will that arises when one is forced into a corner is more resolute and powerful than any morale-boosting speech.

These are trapped beasts fighting for survival, and the power they unleash should not be underestimated.

In contrast, his opponent Harald's current situation is probably far less glamorous and carefree than he appears on the surface.

Harald went all out to attack Carnford, seemingly with great momentum, but in reality, he also had his unspeakable weaknesses.

He could not possibly keep an army of 100,000 men bogged down beneath a fortified hilltop for the sake of Carnford, a barren hilltop fortress with little to no profit to be made.

He had just led the Sauron to plunder the kingdom's rich inner regions, looting mountains of spoils.

These riches needed to be sent back to the northern tribes as soon as possible for division and assimilation, in order to consolidate his personal authority and satisfy the greed of the various tribes.

Time was not entirely on his side.

More importantly, the mentality within Sauron army has undergone a subtle change.

They were no longer the penniless, fearless desperados who had nothing to lose when they first stormed into the interior.

After repeated raids, even ordinary Sauron soldier made a fortune, their bags stuffed with loot, and perhaps followed by slaves chained in iron chains.

Once people acquire wealth, they begin to cherish their lives and fear losing what they have already obtained.

If they were to risk their lives at Carnford, a formidable obstacle clearly a meat grinder, for a hard nut to crack even if they were to take it down, would they truly retain the same fervor and fighting spirit they initially displayed?

Today's Carnford is like an incredibly tough bone; there's not much meat to chew through, but it's very likely to break all the attackers' teeth.

Harald might be able to use his strict military orders and prestige to drive his army to launch one or two fierce attacks.

However, if the war becomes stalemate, the offensive falters, and the number of casualties continues to rise, as soldiers watch their comrades fall one by one on narrow mountain paths, and victory seems far away, the resentment, war-weariness, and fear of death that have accumulated in the army will inevitably spread like a plague.

At that time, Harald will face enormous internal pressure.

The more Karl thought about it, the stronger his belief became. All the analysis ultimately pointed to the same conclusion, which was also his only choice:

"Hold on! Only by holding on! Time is on our side. Every day we hold on increases Harald's pressure, lowers the morale of his army, and increases the chances of a turning point for the kingdom in other directions!"

As he pondered, Karl's gaze unconsciously swept over the heavy, high-backed chair beneath him, his fingers gently stroking the smooth, warm oak armrests worn smooth by time.

A thought suddenly and without warning entered his mind.

Perhaps Lord Marcus once sat in this very chair, years ago, when the Sauron banners appeared for the third time beneath the Carnford City. Did that late Lord Marcus, just as he does now, sit alone in this same empty and silent Council Chamber, facing almost the same desperate situation?

He could almost see that figure, also shrouded in heavy pressure, perhaps just like him, alone in the flickering firelight, staring at the spread-out map, racking his brains for every possible chance of survival, weighing every decision that concerned life or death.

History seems to have formed a cruel cycle here, placing different commanders in almost the same seats, facing similar enemies and suffocating disparities in troop strength.

However, the end of that cycle was cruel.

Lord Marcus ultimately failed; Carnford fell, and blood stained the steps.

And what about himself? Sitting here now, repeating the position of his predecessors, bearing similar responsibilities, will all his thoughts and schemes ultimately lead to a different ending, or merely become the prelude to another tragedy?

This weighty question has no answer; it can only be answered by the blood and fire that are about to come.