Chapter 406 - 277: Want Money, Want Meat

'The spoils from two major cities combined... wouldn't it be reasonable to add three or four manors to my fiefdom? That would be enough to support a small town!'

'A harvest that would normally take two or three years could now be obtained in a matter of days. Who could possibly pass that up?'

Across the entire battlefield, the pace of the assault quickened. Wave after wave of serfs, carrying Cloud Ladders, charged toward the city walls, attempting to set them up and climb.

However, Akakarat City's defenses were exceptionally strong, far more durable than Odoche's. The soldiers on the walls mercilessly repelled them.

Spears thrust out from behind the crenellations, picking off the serfs who tried to climb. Rolling logs and stones rained down from the walls, crushing the attackers below into a bloody pulp.

And just like that, the intensity of the war was cranked to the maximum on the very first day!

A master of lethal tempo!

The ground below and the top of the walls were soon covered in corpses. Blood flowed down the cracks in the stonework, staining the once-sturdy ramparts a deep crimson.

Yet, the nobles seemed to care little for these sacrifices. They were only concerned with whether they could rake in enough military merit in the shortest time possible.

That evening, Henry gathered with Boman, Fass, and the other nobles to discuss the battle.

Henry's gaze swept over the group as he said in a low voice, "We need to find a way to make those serfs last longer, to force the men on the walls to use their iron-tipped arrows."

"I won't go back on what I said before, but if you can't manage to take the walls or breach the gate,"

Boman frowned, mulling over Henry's words. Fass, on the other hand, looked bewildered, not quite understanding Henry's intentions.

Henry continued, "We can use vines, leaves, and other materials as padding. We'll wrap the serfs in a layer of it. That way, when they're shot with sharpened wooden arrows, it won't be so easy to kill them."

As soon as he said this, everyone's eyes lit up.

Boman was the first to nod in agreement. "That's a good idea. Vines and leaves are everywhere, and they'll be easy to gather."

It was summer, and the eastern grasslands were not entirely prairie; there were also dense forests, mountain ranges, and hills.

Fass chimed in, "Exactly! This way, we can make the people of Akakarat City use up more of their iron arrowheads, and our serfs will have a better chance of getting onto the walls."

The two of them sang the same tune, which set off alarm bells in the minds of the other nobles. 'Those two are already close to Henry. We can't let them monopolize all the glory.'

Thoughts aside, everyone deeply agreed with the plan. They immediately gave orders for men with torches to work through the night, preparing the vines, leaves, and other padding.

There was no other reason than this: they had plenty of men and no shortage of manpower.

「The next day.」

As the sun rose once more, a tense atmosphere filled the battlefield.

Amidst the roars of the nobles, the serfs shouldered their Cloud Ladders, their bodies wrapped in thick layers of vines and leaves, and charged toward the walls of Akakarat City.

The soldiers on the walls drew their bowstrings, and a rain of arrows poured down as usual.

This time, however, many of the sharpened wooden arrows that struck the serfs were stopped by the layers of vines and leaves, failing to pierce their bodies and kill them outright.

The serfs seized the opportunity to quicken their pace, rushing the wall. They soon had the Cloud Ladders propped up and began to climb.

'Just get to the top. If I can get to the top, I won't die...'

Seeing this, the men on the walls had no choice but to quickly draw iron-tipped arrows from their quivers, taking aim at the serfs climbing the Cloud Ladders in an attempt to drive them back.

Henry stood in the distance, watching the scene unfold. The corner of his mouth tilted up slightly. 'My plan worked. Blue-skinned rat, did you see that?'

Boman, Fass, and the others were also ecstatic. They saw victory on the horizon and relentlessly urged the serfs to quicken their attack.

As their supply of iron-tipped arrows dwindled, the defenders of Akakarat City began to feel the mounting pressure. The archers' arms grew weary from overuse, but they continued to resist stubbornly, trying to repel Henry's army.

Soon, boiling oil was poured down, setting the Cloud Ladders and the serfs on them ablaze.

This drastically slowed the serfs' assault, but it was merely a stalling tactic.

Trading hot oil for wood and serfs was a losing bargain no matter how you looked at it. Even using boiling feces would be a case of the losses outweighing the gains.

Henry's army could return to camp after their assault, but the defenders couldn't run. A boiling pot of feces was just a bit smelly, but if they were to pour it out, those defending the walls would face both a physical and psychological ordeal!

The intensity of the war did not diminish. Thanks to the protection of the vines and leaves, Henry's army gave the serfs more opportunities to reach the top of the walls and engage the defenders in close-quarters combat.

The entire battlefield was saturated with the stench of blood and smoke. An even fiercer battle was now in full swing.

The city's defenders didn't last long. After just two days, they were exhausted, and the force of their resistance had dropped significantly.

Now, driven by the nobles, the serfs surged toward the walls like a tide.

Their bodies were wrapped in thick layers of vines and leaves. They looked pathetic, yet they exuded a fierce determination. Though the rain of arrows from the walls was still dense, a surprising number of serfs miraculously made it to the base of the wall, propped up their Cloud Ladders, and began to climb, gritting their teeth.

On the walls today, the defenders' morale was clearly much lower. Their movements were also much slower than before. The men were still there, but that "defend the walls to the death" spirit had been completely beaten out of them.

'No one can withstand a ceaseless flood of serfs attacking four or five times a day! They're just animals!'

Watching the serfs set up their Cloud Ladders and begin to climb, the officer in charge of the defense was hopping mad. But his soldiers seemed to have been drained of all strength. Their hands trembled as they drew their bows, and the arrows they loosed lacked their former power.

There was one serf, no older than sixteen or seventeen, with a still-childish face. But his eyes held a ruthless, do-or-die determination.

He carried a Cloud Ladder, and after setting it up, he was the first to climb.

Arrows rained down, and he was hit in several places. But he gritted his teeth and refused to let go. The blood on his hands dripped down the ladder, glowing with a faint red light in the morning sun.

'Climb... I have to get up there! If I make it, I can stay in the army! I won't have to be a serf anymore! Yesterday, my lord Boman really gave us surviving serfs money and meat!'

He wanted money! He wanted meat!

The defenders' spears thrust out from behind the crenellations, trying to pick him off, but he kept climbing as if he couldn't feel the pain.

In the end, he was finally impaled by a spear and fell from the wall. But his hands remained locked onto the Cloud Ladder in a death grip, refusing to let go.

Seeing this, the defenders felt a strange tightness in their chests. They had wanted to mock the serf's foolishness, but seeing his hands that wouldn't let go even in death, they found they couldn't laugh at all.

Under the serfs' desperate assault, a few of them finally broke through the defenders' line and scrambled onto the wall.

Immediately after, more and more serfs swarmed the wall and engaged the defenders in fierce combat. For a time, the sounds of slaughter shook the heavens both on and below the wall, and the nauseating stench of blood filled the air.

And just then, Boman, Fass, Edmund, and Calvin, having already donned their armor, stood behind the ranks of serfs with their Attendants and Personal Guards, rubbing their hands in anticipation.

They were just waiting for the serfs to open a breach on the wall so they could charge in, smash through the defenses in one fell swoop, open the city gates, and conquer the city.

Calvin raised his blood-soaked battle-ax high and roared at the defenders on the wall, his voice filled with savagery, "Soldiers, charge! Take this city, and we'll be heroes!"

His Personal Guards, their eyes red with excitement from the bloody scene, raised their weapons and charged recklessly after Boman.

Not to be outdone, Boman brandished a massive Two-Handed Sword, its blade still dripping with the blood of a serf who had tried to flee. He swung the sword and charged toward the defenders on the wall, cursing, "You sons of bitches! Today, I'll show you what a true Warrior is!"

His Attendants and Personal Guards also charged after him, their posture suggesting they meant to slaughter every last defender on the wall.