After watching the siege for a while, Chris grew bored.
There was nothing new about it. The Inquisitor began with suppressing fire, then sent the infantry forward in orderly stages to push Shield Wagons, lay bridges, and prepare explosive charges to blast the castle's gates and walls.
Ancient knightly castles were, after all, built for wars fought with cold steel. Once cannons and muskets appeared, they were no longer quite so useful.
In a day at the earliest, or two or three at the latest, the castle would fall. Everyone inside would die, without exception. The only difference was whether they would be cut down by swords, shot with muskets, or sent to the gallows and hanged.
There was nothing new to see, and probably no surprises in store either. Besides, Chris had real work to do. He still needed to inspect farmland and irrigation in many places and had no time to waste here.
Today, however, apparently was not a good day to go out. Chris and his entourage had not gone far before the cavalry clearing the way ahead stopped, setting off a commotion.
Chris also heard the clang of swords from farther back. That piqued his curiosity, and judging by the guards' reactions, there seemed to be no danger, so he rode forward.
At the front of the procession, Chris saw an old man in a coarse brown shirt and baggy trousers, dueling a guard with a classic knight's longsword.
As he watched, Chris realized that this white-haired, wrinkled old man, who looked like an ordinary farmer, was quite a formidable swordsman.
The old-fashioned Bastard Sword, its blade covered in tiny nicks, whistled through the air in his hands. His swordsmanship was traditional yet powerful, clearly a style intended for fighting in full armor. It was highly