Late at night, Qin Ran and Mary arrived before Thunder Fortress.
By then, Thunder Fortress had long since lost its once-daunting appearance. All that remained were makeshift defensive works pieced together from hastily gathered timber and stone.
And there was only one line of them.
Simply put, it faced only the Steppe People's camp.
Once that line of defenses was breached, the Steppe People could charge straight toward Lerdri.
As for the Warren defenders behind the fortifications?
Though they still numbered three thousand, they were no longer the three thousand professional soldiers permanently stationed at Thunder Fortress.
The Warren Royal House's Imperial Guard, private troops, and some city guards had been mixed together.
Less than a third of the original professional soldiers remained.
Mary had told Qin Ran that. There could be no mistake.
Thinking of Mary's earlier description of Thunder Fortress, Qin Ran could not help sighing.
The Thunder Fortress rebuilt upon scorched earth was not merely as fragile as paper; more importantly, nearly every soldier was low in morale and devoid of fighting spirit.
Even those elites were no exception.
From the speed at which the sentries before him reported their arrival, Qin Ran could fully imagine Thunder Fortress falling in a single wave once a siege began.
Of course, even so, Qin Ran did not regret what he had done in the slightest.
He knew very clearly what he had wanted then.
Just as he knew what he had to do now.
Tap, tap, tap.
The footsteps of several people sounded in succession.
A group holding high torches appeared, led by James VIII.
Unlike in Qin Ran's memories, this king had aged further in just a few days, as though he were already at death's door.
He even needed an attendant's support to walk.
Yet his gaze