Manifestation of the Holy Light, the Siege

At the first hint of dawn, the villagers of Tewain Village were already sweeping and sprinkling water outside the north gate. Old Hoyd and his son were among them, and this time they were working especially hard.

Although more and more outside troops had gathered in Tewain Village, there had been no further disturbances. The grain that had been forcibly requisitioned had not been returned, but at least no more women had been violated.

Moreover, Sir Davis Tevalin, the baron's nephew, had led the villagers in repairing the watchtower. If pirates came again, the villagers, young and old, would have somewhere to hide.

They did not understand the knight's plans for training knights, but as farmers, they understood that he had repaired the village roads. The rugged path up the rear mountain had made it very difficult to transport the fruit from the orchard halfway up the slope every year. Now, horses had trampled it flat.

In just a few days, one good deed after another had been done for them almost without anyone noticing.

Even without mentioning how the knight had saved his wife and daughter on the day he arrived, everything he had done over the past few days was enough to make Young Hoyd grateful from the bottom of his heart.

The army was setting out today. The villagers were both grateful and relieved. To be honest, this was the first time these lords and nobles had made the villagers feel that having them around was actually a good thing.

"Finish up quickly. Once it's light, the army will be setting out."

"The army is almost all here. Can the provisions and pay from the rear keep up?"

In the besieging camp outside Tevalinburg, the overall commander of the Swedish forces, the count's younger cousin, Viscount Green Kabor Tervain, peered outside through a gap in the tent.

He held a hand warmer and breathed into his hands in the thin morning mist.

Someone naturally answered his question. A fair-skinned man who was putting on his uniform while making the bed picked up a large fur cloak whose hem dragged on the ground and wrapped it around the viscount.

"It's cold. Don't let the wind get to you. The supply route will definitely hold. We can travel over the marshes by land and take the upstream branch of the great river by water."

The viscount handed the warmer to the fair-skinned man. His smile looked both indulgent and handsome. With a sweep of the fur cloak, he pulled the man against his chest, then closed both sides of the cloak, leaving only two heads pressed close together visible.

The viscount rubbed the short beard on his chin against the man's neck, teasing him. The man dodged shyly, but could not escape the viscount's embrace despite his feigned resistance.

"Stop it. You're scratching me."

"With you as my quartermaster, I've never had to worry about anything behind me. Those fools of House Tervalin are chasing the bait I gave them, and what delicious bait it is!

"By the time they bite down on it, I'll already have emptied their lair. Don't move. Why are you in such a hurry to get dressed..."

The viscount was eager and thoroughly enjoying himself. He made the quartermaster hold the fur cloak closed while, at the half-open tent entrance, the man struggled to pull down his loosened white shirt. Through the mist, the viscount watched his army through the tent opening and got busy again.

"It's wet and uncomfortable. After sleeping all night, I feel like I nearly choked myself to death."

Strangely enough, although it was only two or three days' journey away, Tewain Village had not been foggy. Even though it was near water and damp, after coming here they had barely seen any morning mist like that around Tervain Village, which lay in a dry climate.

"You slept all night. The young master and I ran around all night, while you snored away."

William mocked Adamson as usual. He envied Adamson for having grown up surrounded by familial embraces, so he was always the best at needling him, though he genuinely cared about him too.

"You went to contact those nobles last night? Then why didn't you call me?"

"Why would we call you? To scare them with the two tufts of black hair in your enormous nostrils? You're the tallest one here. Couldn't you spare a thought for how nauseated those of us shorter than you feel when we look at you? How are you ever going to find a wife like this?"

"I'm wearing this T-shaped horned great helm. Only this slit is exposed. Who could see my nose hair?"

William could always drive the honest Adamson into depression. "Taking you out only embarrasses our young master. When you get a wife, you'd better sleep with your helmet on too. Be careful not to stab your own wife to death with one of those horns."

"I..."

"That's enough!"

Ergons, who was sitting in a chair with his head tilted back, removed the hot towel covering his face and threw it to Little Flax, who was standing nearby, stifling a laugh as he watched the two argue. (He was one of the three soldiers recruited at the city gate. I kept getting confused because I had given them too many names, so I'll just call him Little Flax.)

"Get ready. Looking at the activity in the Swedish siege camp today, I'd say they're preparing to attack."

The moment Ergons Tevalin moved, the knights under him rose as well. When they walked out of the barracks, the forces of the other four landed knights gathered around them immediately began to move too.

Of the seventeen court knights guarding outside the baron's tent, eleven had abandoned their posts and joined his side.

Before they had even gone to assemble at the north gate, the situation within the watchtower camp had already become clearly divided.

Such a commotion naturally brought out the two landed nobles beside the baron, as well as the baron himself.

The two landed nobles broke into a bit of a cold sweat when they saw this scene.

Their gazes kept shifting between the baron's and the knight's faces. To be honest, they were afraid a bloody clash would break out right then and there.

The baron merely smiled. "David, my nephew, you're certainly eager. I thought I said we would depart after breakfast."

Ergons, however, did not look amused. He had one of his men bring over a cage containing two wild birds.

"These are the messenger pigeons my nephew keeps. I received word last night that Tervain Village had been surrounded. The letter said there were several hundred people."

As he spoke, he even took out a slip of paper.

The baron looked at the two wild birds, which had clearly only just been caught and were still squawking in fright, and did not know what to say.

He even wanted to tell him outright that inheriting the barony would not be so simple, and that killing him would not let this fake nephew inherit it directly.

"It takes two and a half to three days to get from here to Tervain Village. Assuming there's no problem with the letter you received, will we make it in time?"

"We will!"

Pastor Ramses Bolton stepped out from the crowd. He believed he was inconspicuous and spoke with great confidence.

"The Holy Light has given me guidance. Sir Davis Tevalin is a pure believer in the Holy Light, so the Holy Light is willing to bestow mercy once!"

The baron did his best to make his gaze at the pastor look less like the gaze one gave an idiot, while the knights and soldiers did their best not to burst out laughing.

What had they just heard?

The Holy Light was manifesting and bringing down a miracle that could move them all at once to Tervain Village, a place that would take them nearly three days to reach?

What a joke.

"I'm not joking. As long as you're all sincerely willing to join the force helping Sir Davis Tevalin save the village, that will be enough."

Those were the pastor's words, but they were also the result of what Ergons had tested by running around all night.

He had not been idle the previous night. After contacting those who had once shown him goodwill, he had tried asking them to verbally promise that they were willing to help him.

Then a prompt similar to the one in a game had appeared, asking whether he wanted to help a certain noble fight. Only this time, it asked whether he would accept their help.

Thus, aside from the baron and the two nobles standing with him, everyone else had already been recruited into his party.

The baron nodded, wanting to see what this farce of his nephew's would amount to.

At that moment, the villagers had gathered under the leadership of Servant Hausen, the village headman, preparing to see them off. They had also vaguely learned what was about to happen.

Everyone was discussing it noisily, but these ordinary villagers were instead more willing to believe in it simply and sincerely.

Even the system expressed delight and anticipation.

"Hurry up and teleport back! As long as you truly display a miracle before them, this village's faith will be secure."

Seeing that matters had developed this far, the baron nodded. "Naturally, I'm willing to join the force helping my nephew save the village."

The other two knights naturally followed the baron's lead and gave their verbal assent as well.

Yet a verbal promise was enough. The party could set out.

Ergons did not act immediately, however. On the surface, he was giving everyone time to pack their belongings.

In truth, he was waiting—waiting for the system to issue another prompt. The forces of the County of Tervain that had already entered the siege camp were beginning their attack.

After a night's work, the siege ladders had been assembled. Viscount Tervain watched as infantry behind shield carts pushed siege-ladder carts toward the manor's outer wall.

He was actually waiting for the troops sent or raised by the various minor nobles to assemble. In reality, many of the troops he had brought were armed merchant caravans from the horse-trading guild.

They could provide supplies, assist with the siege, and even stimulate the economy of plunder once the city was taken.

These merchant caravans were the pirates' best companions. Whether raiding the shore or fighting at sea, the people of the County of Tervain had grown accustomed to these comrades who sold their lives for money.

Or rather, all of them sold their lives for money.

Old Adam led the remaining twelve knights, while two sergeants led a group of light infantry. They crouched behind the parapet and watched.

No one was truly nervous, because they all knew that the young master would eventually bring his troops down from the heavens and enter the battlefield from behind the enemy.

This had already been agreed upon before they left. They believed in the Holy Light just as they believed that the young master, a Divine Favor, would not abandon them.

"When the siege carts get closer, pour burning oil over them."

After all the battles Old Adam had fought, how could he fail to arrange something this simple?

The city gate had long since been blocked with sand and earth. The enemy had only one way to attack: climb the walls.

Seeing that all the infantry below were advancing behind shield carts, giving them no chance to shoot, they did not waste any crossbow bolts. They simply waited for the ladder carts to reach the wall before beginning the brutal battle for the city.

Viscount Tervain had not prepared any feints either. In his eyes, this was only a small manor. How high could its walls be?

If he had not been waiting for the troops to assemble, he would have taken it in a single charge on the first day.

"Put some effort into it! We'll be eating a feast in this village this afternoon, so get an early taste. Once we break through Tevalinburg, I'll let you slaughter for three days without sheathing your blades."

Amid the rumble of the heavy ladder carts, their enormous wheels crushing the relatively level ground, the ladder carts finally reached their positions.

The enormous ladders swung over and slammed into the parapet. The soldiers hidden inside the bodies of the ladder carts began charging upward with all their might.

"Throw the burning oil!"

With Old Adam's shout, the siege officially began.

One jar of burning oil after another was hurled at the ladders. Amid sharp cracking sounds, the jars shattered, and the oil flowed down the ladders, splashing onto many of the attacking soldiers as well.

Old Adam personally fired a fire arrow from a heavy siege crossbow. When the burning arrowhead touched the planks soaked in oil, flames whooshed up, and a line of fire raced downward.