Inside the gatehouse, the defenders were desperately jabbing their spearpoints at the townsfolk crowding the entrance, trying to drive them away and make room for the portcullis to fall.
They showed no mercy, attacking the panicked townsfolk with swords, knives, and spears. If the gate failed to close, they were as good as dead.
The winch creaked loudly as it turned.
The battle had reached a stalemate.
Standing on a raft, Suleiman watched the gate begin to move. At last, his expression shifted slightly.
He knew the outcome would be decided in this instant. A lavish reward would inspire brave men.
He took a deep breath, then let out a thunderous roar that rang across the battlefield with all his strength.
"Whoever takes the gate!!!! Will receive fifty acres of Suleiman Field!!!!"
"Whoever takes the gate!!!! Will receive fifty acres of Suleiman Field!!!!"
"Whoever takes the gate!!!! Will receive fifty acres of Suleiman Field!!!!"
Fifty acres!
The number struck everyone on the battlefield like a bolt of lightning.
The peasant soldiers charging forward stopped in their tracks and turned to look at Suleiman, their eyes filled with disbelief.
Could it be true? Fifty acres of private land! What did that even mean?
The peasant soldiers knew how large a Suleiman acre of public land was! A Suleiman acre was about a thousand square meters! Fifty acres meant fifty thousand square meters!
In Westeros, an ordinary farmer could support a family of three with just five Suleiman acres.
Fifty acres was practically all the land owned by a landed knight sworn to a lord.
Though they couldn't sell fifty acres of Suleiman Field or have tenant farmers work it, they could rent the land out. The rent alone would be enough to live like a noble.
In an instant, every soldier