From his vantage point, Allen could see the entire battlefield below. After watching for a short while with a heavy heart, he knew that this journey had most likely been in vain.
As the Easterlings launched their massive assault, the defenders on Ironwall Town's walls soon began to buckle. Those stationed near the siege towers were the first to collapse.
Besides facing an endless stream of Easterling soldiers, they constantly had to guard against volleys of arrows from below the walls. The superbly equipped elite troops at the front could shrug them off, but those elites were few. The many militia supporting them with spears soon suffered devastating casualties under the arrow fire and retreated from the walls.
Without the militia's support, the elite defenders were soon driven back by the tide of enemies. Even their fine chainmail, purchased from the Iron Hills, could not withstand the relentless onslaught.
Many elite defenders were tackled outright by enemies with madness in their eyes. Even when the defenders drove their weapons into vital spots, those frenzied attackers refused to release their grip, even in death. Trapped by the bodies clinging to them, the defenders were immediately overwhelmed by several more enemies and met gruesome deaths beneath knives or clubs.
No matter how fine their equipment or how powerful an individual fighter might be, unless they had surpassed a certain threshold, formations remained the key for ordinary soldiers to defeat an enemy and overcome superior numbers.
Now, with Ironwall Town's militia routed, the elite formations were swiftly scattered and swallowed by the Easterlings. That section of the wall had fallen.
The defenders elsewhere on the walls now had to contend not only with enemies climbing scaling ladders, but also with attacks launched directly along the battlements. With such an enormous disparity in numbers,