Dismount and Fight on Foot
"Let's begin the report." Karl's voice was a little hoarse, but unusually calm.
Edgar was the first to stand up. His voice was hoarse, but he still began to report clearly, holding a scroll of parchment covered with hastily written numbers, "My lord, gentlemen, a preliminary count... the total population of the inner city, including all the soldiers who have retreated, the people, women, children, and the elderly... is less than a thousand."
"Among them, there are about five hundred confirmed wounded who are still able to move, most of whom are seriously injured." His voice was low, and each number felt like a heavy stone hitting everyone's heart.
Karl listened quietly, his face revealing neither joy nor anger, only nodding slightly.
This number actually exceeded his worst-case scenario.
Under the relentless, day-and-night onslaught of Sauron's 100,000-strong army, the fact that nearly a thousand people were able to evacuate from the outer city was a stroke of good fortune amidst misfortune.
This rekindled the faint flame of hope in his heart. Perhaps, with the inner city's stronger fortifications and the unwavering resolve of these last thousand or so men, they could truly create another miracle?
Edgar paused, then continued his report, his tone tinged with barely concealed excitement. "Furthermore, based on battlefield traces and rough estimates, our army inflicted heavy losses on the enemy during the nearly ten days of siege!"
"The casualties of the Sauron are conservatively estimated to be between four and five thousand! Of these, about three thousand were driven slaves who were cannon fodder, while the actual Sauron Combatant, including their elite Heavy Armor Infantry and knights, are expected to suffer between one and two thousand casualties!"
This news finally stirred a tiny ripple in the otherwise lifeless hall.
A glint flashed in the eyes of Brendan, Richter, and the others.
Regardless of the final outcome, the defenders of Carnford paid a heavy, even crippling, price with their blood and lives against the once-invincible Sauron army!
This victory is enough to terrify any enemy and to bring peace to every fallen warrior.
However, the harsh reality quickly dampened this enthusiasm.
Brendan took a deep breath and stood up heavily. As a military commander, his report was more direct and brutal, "Sir, Steward Edgar's statistics are based on the total population. In terms of combat-ready soldiers... our army currently has fewer than two hundred soldiers with full combat capability, including all the lightly wounded. Even if we include all able-bodied men who can take up arms, the total number... is less than a thousand."
Karl's gaze swept over the crowd, his voice calm. "There is no longer a distinction between soldiers and civilians, Brendan. Immediately organize the distribution of all weapons you can find! Spears, pitchforks, cleavers, anything will do!"
"Women, children, the elderly—anyone who can still move and lift a stone must prepare to fight! After the city falls, the Sauron will not distinguish between men, women, and children. We have nowhere to retreat; we will either fight to the death or be killed."
"Yes! I understand!" Brendan pounded his chest, pain flashing in his eyes, but even more so, resolve. "I will gather all the remaining gunpowder and make it into Gunpowder pack and Molotov cocktail, which will be distributed to the suicide squad. Also... that Six-pound Cannon is out of ammunition. I suggest... that it be destroyed at the last moment. It must not be left for the Sauron!"
"Okay," Karl uttered a single word.
At this moment, Lyon, who had been sitting silently in the corner, suddenly stood up. He knelt on one knee, his voice trembling with excitement. "My Lord! Please order the cavalry brothers to dismount and fight! Our warhorses are useless in street fighting; they are merely a burden! But we riders are also warriors who have seen bloodshed! We are familiar with swords and are not afraid to fight to the death!"
His voice grew louder, filled with long-suppressed grief and pleading. "We can't... we can't stand by and watch our infantry brothers fight desperately on the front lines while we can only hide and beg to join the fight! Even if it means waiting to die in the rear, just as ordinary soldiers filling the lines! We are willing to shed our last drop of blood for Carnford! Please, sir, grant our request!"
Before Lyon could finish speaking, Thorsten, who was sitting next to him, also suddenly stood up and knelt down on one knee beside Lyon.
The former Soren Battle Group's face no longer showed any hesitation or wavering, only a do-or-die loyalty and resolute determination:
"My lord! We are here too!" Thorsten's voice was hoarse but firm. "We, the brothers who have surrendered, have long been prepared! We know better than anyone what kind of person Harald is! He is vengeful, and if Carnford falls, he will never let us 'traitors' go! The day the city falls will be the day we die!"
He looked intently at Karl, his voice burning with the fervor of someone who had found a home. "We are deeply grateful for your mercy in sparing our lives, and even more so for your trust and kindness, which has allowed us to be reborn in Carnford and live like human beings!"
"Now is the time for us to serve! We are willing to live and die with Carnford! We beg you, sir, to allow us to go to the front lines and settle things with Harald! We will prove our loyalty with the blood of the Sauron!"
Looking at Lyon and Thorsten kneeling before him, their expressions filled with excitement, and at the surviving cavalrymen waiting at the door behind them, their gazes equally resolute, Karl was overwhelmed with mixed emotions.
He was well aware of the value of these cavalrymen, and he longed to preserve these last seeds. But with such overwhelming numerical superiority, any attempt to preserve them was futile.
Karl sighed softly and said in a low voice, "Very well, Lyon, Thorsten, in the name of Lord Carnford, I grant your request. The entire cavalry unit shall, from this moment forth, be incorporated into the infantry ranks, under the unified command of Brendan, and be issued weapons to prepare for the decisive battle."
"Thank you, sir!" Lyon and Thorsten responded in unison, kowtowing heavily before rising. Their eyes held no regret, only the calm acceptance of death.
Karl nodded, his gaze sweeping over each familiar yet resolute face at the long table, and said in a deep voice, "Gentlemen, the situation is clear. No need for further words. Go back, reassure your men, check your equipment, and get some rest."
"Tomorrow... may be the last day, or there may be a turning point, but in any case, I, Karl, stand with you all, with every citizen of Carnford!"
There were no grand pronouncements, no dramatic embellishments, only the simplest promises and unwavering resolve.
The crowd rose, bowed to Karl, and silently left the hall one by one. Each person's back looked unusually heavy, yet carried an unwavering resolve.
Soon, only Karl and Konrad, who remained seated in the same spot and showed no sign of leaving, were left in the hall.
In the flickering candlelight, the two brothers sat in silence.
After a moment of silence, Konrad spoke first, his voice calm and even. "Lina and Morian have exhausted their magical power and suffered a significant mental shock while treating the wounded. They will be unable to cast any spells for the time being."