The Siege

Within the Principality of Lakeman stood Teluo City. This had once been the fief of the legendary General Turner Lakeman. Also known as the "City of Valorous Might," it housed a population of over ten thousand. As a military stronghold guarding the principality's northern flank at Northwind Keep, Teluo City had repelled incursions from the north for years on end. Its people were resilient and fierce—in other words, rich in martial spirit. Over the centuries, they had faced wave after wave of invasions by frost giants, orcs, and even white dragons, yet none of it had broken them. These Scanrans were like an iron nail driven deep into the earth, tenaciously rooted in north-central Anzeta. Now, however, panic swept the city. A dark, writhing army of monsters had kept the city under siege for seven full days. All roads were severed. Water, people, grain—nothing could enter or leave Teluo City. Yet the shortage of supplies was not the most terrifying thing. Far worse was the unrest stirring in people's hearts. Having faced no warfare for decades, the people of Teluo had grown lax. They seemed to have forgotten the glory of their ancestors, having grown accustomed to years of unbroken peace and stability. Meanwhile, their enemies were the fierce, ambitious Cinder scions, riding a tide of soaring morale. Worse still, many elites of the coalition army had hailed from Teluo City. After that catastrophic battle, wails of mourning had filled every street, snapping the city's very spine. Wyvern knights roared overhead, scattering countless fluttering surrender notices beneath the terrified gazes of the residents. "They won't slaughter the whole city, will they?" "What should we do? Maybe we should just surrender." "Even the coalition's elites were wiped out..." "How could we ever hold out against an army like that?" Whispers like these spread ceaselessly through the city. Yet the city defense force had imposed martial law, placing the entire populace under strict military control. Anyone daring to openly utter defeatist remarks was dragged away as a traitor. The towering walls of Teluo City bore the weathered scars of centuries of turbulent history. Soldiers of the city defense force stood at their posts on high alert, but they could not attack. The monsters were too far away, well beyond the reach of even the defensive ballistas. The current lord of the city, Count Dawson Vileir, stood atop the ramparts, his expression grim as he looked down at the monsters encircling the walls. "My lord, another band of traitors has been arrested," a defense captain reported hurriedly. Dawson's tone was sharp and unyielding. "Execute them all. Give those bastards no leniency." The captain shivered before hastily replying, "Yes, my lord!" "Again..." "Have they forgotten the glory of their ancestors?" Dawson clenched his fists and muttered under his breath. He turned to his adjutant and asked, "How many days can the city's food and water hold out?" The adjutant hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Three days. At most three days." "People have already begun dying of thirst. Their relatives dragged the corpses to the plaza to weep and protest, and our guards had to detain them. But the situation is slipping out of our control. More and more rioters are gathering, and our garrison... is running out of men." A heavy shadow fell over Dawson's face. Was surrender truly the only option left? No. He could never surrender like this. This was for his honor, for the centuries of struggle endured by the people of Teluo, and for the glory of their forebears. Steeling his resolve, Count Dawson's face turned cold. He said to the adjutant, "Assemble the townsfolk. I have something to say to them." "Yes, my lord." Soon, urged and herded along by the city defense force, a crowd of parched, starving, and grumbling citizens gathered beneath the city walls. "I'm so hungry..." "Is the count finally handing out relief rations?" "Those garrison dogs... my family starved to death, and they even dragged the bodies away." "Just let this end..." At that moment, a steady, powerful voice echoed from atop the wall. The citizens—or rather, the refugees—looked up one after another. Count Dawson stood tall on the barbican, looking down with a stern countenance as he proclaimed in a ringing voice: "Citizens, Teluo City has reached a juncture of life and death! This is the most perilous crisis we have faced in a century! "But do not fear, and do not retreat! Our ancestors lived here for generations, dwelling within this mighty city. Look upon these walls! These towering ramparts once withstood countless terrifying foes—giants, orcs, dragons—yet not a single enemy could conquer us! And this time will be no different!" From down below, a refugee plucked up the courage to shout, "What about food, then? What about water?" "My lord, with all due respect, our courage needs a foundation of bread and water!" Dawson choked for a heartbeat, but he quickly pressed on with fervent force: "Courage and willpower are your sharpest spears and swords! "No water, no food? "How could there be none! Citizens, don your armor and take up your weapons! They lie just outside the walls, waiting for you to seize them with your blades!" ... While Count Dawson was delivering his impassioned speech, he had no idea that several hundred meters away in the countryside, someone was quietly watching him. "Boss, will this mortar really work?" "Why does it look so shoddy to me?" Zhandi Lunyiren fiddled with an aim adjustment in an exaggerated manner, turning to Gangtie Kuangchao beside him. Before him lay a smoothbore metal cannon over two meters long. It had no proper gun carriage; instead, making use of materials at hand, a tall and burly ogre sat on the ground, serving as the mount by bracing the barrel on his broad shoulder. Gangtie Kuangchao leaned close and whispered, "It should work. At least the barrel won't burst. I spent the gun carriage budget on building a Gundam instead. But... do you actually know how to use this thing?" "Fine, I'll give it a shot." Zhandi Lunyiren stared at the impassioned Count Dawson atop the distant wall, his expression lighting up with excitement. "Looking at his gear, he's got to be a major boss." "Datou, tilt left a little." The ogre tilted impatiently to the left. "Too much, too much! About... uh, the width of a steak." Zhandi Lunyiren racked his brain to come up with a unit of measurement the ogre could understand. "Wait, that's way too much!" "Yeah, right about there." "Load the shell—" Another ogre lifted the heavy shell, clumsily primed the fuse, and stood ready at the side. Zhandi Lunyiren adjusted the aim for quite a while, but having no real idea what he was doing, he decided to just try his luck and hollered: "Ready—fire!" *Boom!* A thunderous blast echoed across the wilderness. The shell traced a high arc through the air, only to plunge into the moat before the city wall, exploding into a massive crater of churned earth. "Damn it, what's going on?" Mid-speech, Count Dawson felt the ground tremble violently. He swayed, stumbling to keep his footing as flecks of dirt spattered across his ornate armor. "Was that thunder?" "Are the enemies attacking?" "Run for your lives!" The refugees panicked, erupting into chaotic clamor as they shoved and scrambled to flee.