Siege

Within the Lakman Duchy, in the Troluo City.

This was once the fiefdom of the legendary General Turner Lakman.

This city, also known as the "City of Might," has a population of over ten thousand. As a crucial military stronghold guarding North Wind Fortress Keep in the northern part of the Duchy, Troluo City has long been resistant to invasions from the north. Its people are resilient and brave, or in other words, "Full of martial spirit." For centuries, they have faced successive invasions from Frost Giant, orcs, and even White Dragon, yet none of these could break them.

These Scanlan People are like an iron nail, tenaciously rooted in the north-central part of Anzeta.

However, the city is now filled with fear and unease.

The horde of dark monsters has surrounded the city for seven days. Transportation has been cut off, and nothing—water, people, food—can enter or leave the Troluo City.

However, the shortage of supplies is not the most terrible thing—what is more terrible is the social unrest it causes.

Having not faced war for decades, the Trojans had become somewhat complacent. They seemed to have forgotten the glory of their ancestors, indulging in the peaceful and stable life that had remained unchanged for years. Their enemy, however, was the Embers of the Burned Kin, whose morale was high and who was eyeing them with predatory intent.

Even among the elite troops of the allied forces, many came from the Troluo City. After that battle, the city was filled with cries of agony, and it could be said that the backbone of Troluo City was broken.

The Wyvern Knight swept overhead, dropping countless surrender notices to the terrified residents.

"Won't they massacre the entire city?"

"What should we do? Maybe we should just surrender?"

"Even the elite of the allied forces were wiped out."

"How could we possibly hold out against such an army?"

Such whispers continued to circulate throughout the city.

However, the city's City Defense Army had already declared martial law, and the entire city was under strict military control. Anyone who dared to publicly express such remarks that could undermine morale would be arrested by the City Defense Army as a traitor.

The towering walls of Troluo City have stood the test of time, bearing witness to hundreds of years of tumultuous history.

The City Defense Army stood at their posts, ready for battle, but they were unable to launch an attack because the monsters were too far away, and even the city's ballistae could not reach them.

The current city lord, Earl Dawson Viller, stood on the city wall, looking down solemnly at the monsters surrounding the city.

"Sir, we've caught another group of traitors."

A City Defense Army commander hurriedly reported.

Dawson's tone was resolute. "Execute them all. Leave these guys no chance."

The City Defense Army commander shivered at first, then hurriedly replied, "Yes, sir!"

"It's happening again."

Have they forgotten the glory of their ancestors?

Dawson clenched his fists and muttered to himself.

He turned to his adjutant beside him and asked, "How many more days can the city's food and water last?"

The adjutant hesitated for a moment before speaking:

"Three days, at most three days."

"Recently, some people in the city have died of thirst. Their relatives dragged the bodies to the square and cried out, but our guards temporarily detained them. However, the situation is now getting out of control. More and more people are rioting, and the army in the city is almost out of manpower."

A heavy gloom settled over Dawson's face. Was surrender really the only option? No, he absolutely could not surrender.

This is for his honor, for the centuries of struggle of the Tro people, and for the glory of his ancestors.

Thinking of this, Earl Dawson's expression turned grim. He said to his adjutant, "Go and gather the townspeople together. I have something to say to them."

"Yes, sir."

Soon, urged and driven by the City Defense Army, the hungry, thirsty, and complaining people gathered at the foot of the city wall.

"I'm so hungry..."

"Is Your Earl offering relief?"

"These lackeys of the city defense, my family starved to death, and they even took away their bodies."

"Let's finish this quickly..."

Just then, a steady and powerful voice echoed on the city wall, and the residents, or rather the refugees, all looked up.

Earl Dawson, with a stern expression, stood atop the city tower and loudly proclaimed his authority.

"Citizens, the Troluo City is now facing a life-or-death crisis, the most critical moment in nearly a century!"

"But do not be afraid, do not back down. Our ancestors have lived here for generations, in this magnificent city. Look, these towering walls have withstood countless terrible enemies—giants, orcs, dragons—but none of them could conquer us! And this time will be no different!"

A refugee mustered his courage and asked, "What about food? What about water?"

"My lord, if I may be so bold, our courage needs a material foundation."

Dawson paused for a moment, but still said firmly, "Courage and will are your sharpest spears and swords!"

"No water or food?"

"How could there not be! Citizens, put on your armor, take up your weapons, they are outside the city, waiting for you to seize them with your swords!"

While Earl Dawson giving his impassioned speech, he was unaware that someone was secretly observing him from the countryside hundreds of meters away.

"Boss, is this mortar of yours really usable?"

"It looks so cheap to me."

The Battlefield Wheelchair Man pretended to calibrate it and then spoke to the Steel Frenzy beside him.

Before him was a metal smoothbore cannon over two meters long, but it had no gun mount. Instead, it was made from what was available, with a tall, strong Ogre sitting on the ground and using his shoulder to support it as a gun mount.

Steel Frenzy leaned closer and whispered, "It should still work, at least it won't explode. I used the budget for the gun mount to build a Gundam. But... do you really know how to use this thing?"

"Okay, I'll give it a try."

The Battlefield Wheelchair Man stared at Earl Dawson, who was speaking passionately on the distant city wall, and said excitedly, "Judging from his attire, he must be a big weirdo."

"Da Tou, move slightly to the left."

The Ogre impatiently swayed to the left.

"That's a lot, about the distance of a steak."

The Battlefield Wheelchair Man racked his brains, trying to come up with a unit of measurement that the Ogre could understand.

"Wait a minute, there are too many!"

"Yes, this is about it."

"Load ammunition—"

The other Ogre picked up the heavy shell, clumsily loaded the fuse, and stood ready beside it.

The Battlefield Wheelchair Man spent a long time calibrating the equipment, but couldn't figure it out. So, he decided to try his luck and shouted, "Ready—fire!"

"Boom!"

The thunderous roar of artillery fire echoed across the wilderness.

The shell traced a high arc in the air, but landed on the moat in front of the city wall, exploding and creating a huge crater.

"Damn it, what's going on?"

As Earl Dawson was giving his speech, he suddenly felt the earth tremble. He swayed and lost his balance, and dirt splattered onto his magnificent armor.

Was it thundering?

"Could it be an enemy attack?"

"Run for your lives!"

The refugees were also panicked, and there was an uproar as they crowded and clamored, trying to leave.