Chapter 301 - 229: You Finish Your Act, I Take the Stage

"They’ve begun their attack."

Baron Regulo stood on a platform before a window in the Baron Castle, a place that offered an unobstructed view of the battlefield ahead.

Iron Armor-clad infantry advanced slowly, while archers fired high-arcing shots from a distance to suppress the guards on the walls. This tactic had no particular weaknesses, but also no particular strengths.

He happened to recognize the two banners in the rear; they were the family crests of two Counts from the Northern Territory.

This meant the enemy had at least two Counts leading the vanguard to attack the small town of Kalia.

However, once the enemy’s attack became a certainty, his heart paradoxically grew calm.

"Father, are we going to win?"

The one who spoke was Baron Regulo’s attendant and apprentice knight, his only son, Beck.

The fourteen-year-old boy wore an Iron Helmet that was clearly a size too big. He watched the slaughter unfolding on the walls, his expression tense. His knuckles, gripping his sword, had turned white—whether from the cold or something else, it was hard to say.

Regulo glanced at his only son and patted him on the shoulder. "Beck, you are a man now, and my sole heir. Though you still have much to learn, I hope you will remember our family motto—Never Give Up. The moment you fear losing, you have already lost."

"The Northern Lands Barbarians will definitely break through that weak wall. When that happens, the fighting will move to the alleyways leading to the castle."

"We can arrange for soldiers to lie in ambush in the houses on both sides, have archers hide on the rooftops, and also have a cavalry unit lie in wait at the training grounds behind the castle."

"Go and relay the orders."

The latter immediately gave a solemn nod.

"Remember, come straight back here after you’ve delivered the orders."

"Yes, Father." A hint of disappointment showed on Beck’s face.

He had wanted to command the warriors against the enemy, to show his father that he was no longer the clueless little brat he used to be. But clearly, that plan had gone up in smoke.

"Your arrangements don’t seem to embody the spirit of ’Never Give Up’ at all."

Beside Regulo was a stooped figure in a brown hood. As he pulled the hood back, he revealed a face with a white beard and hair. He leaned on a Magic Staff, a half-smile on his face.

"Hmph. All I know is that death is the end of everything. As long as you’re alive, the possibilities are endless. ’Never Give Up’ also means you can regain everything even after losing it all." Regulo snorted coldly and glanced at the old man beside him. "Besides, Damon’s so-called reinforcements still haven’t arrived. What in the name of the Undead is he playing at?"

"Heh heh." The old man chuckled twice and offered no reply.

"In a moment, it will be time for you to put on a show." Regulo couldn’t be bothered to ask more; such questions were pointless now. He might as well have asked what these Northern Lands Barbarians liked to eat.

"As you wish." The old man inclined his head slightly.

Most people in Debei believed in the Three Gods of Justice. The Northern Territory worshipped the Ice and Snow Goddess, the Royal Court and the Eastern Territory believed in the Holy Light Goddess, and the Southern Territory, naturally, worshipped the so-called Earth Mother Goddess.

This old man was a member of the Clergy from the Southern Mother Goddess Church, and also a Caster.

The three who had come as reinforcements were all Casters from the Mother Goddess Church. Stationed here alongside Kalia’s soldiers, they were the source of Regulo’s confidence.

Mages were no common rabble. Aside from the wandering illusionists with no backing who only knew a few tricks, ninety percent of Mages came from the Church.

As the most powerful and wealthiest noble family in the Southern Territory, the Iseley Clan had the main cathedral of the Mother Goddess Church built in Kolon. The Casters within were a veritable gathering of elites.

However, these Mages enjoyed a considerable degree of freedom. Even the Duke of the South couldn’t claim to be able to mobilize half of the Casters.

Their power was beyond question. With three Casters now gathered in the small town of Kalia, they were sure to produce an unexpected result.

It was just that Regulo liked to leave himself an escape route.

The Northern Territory’s attack was swift. Infantrymen raised their shields to form a Shield Array, blocking the Javelins and Arrows from above and providing cover for a dozen or so burly men who were shouting in rhythm.

A thick log, hastily cut down, had been sharpened to a point. The Northern Soldiers, roaring, held the log and rammed it again and again into the small, seemingly fragile town gate.

If they had been facing Kolon’s gates—which stood dozens of blades high, were forged from Refined Gold, and were fabled to be impregnable—then their actions would undoubtedly be like ants trying to move a mountain that lay before them.

But now, they were facing the gate of a small town, made entirely of hardwood and merely clad in a layer of copper.

Therefore, this crude siege method was more than sufficient.

As the defenders, however, Kalia’s soldiers had a natural advantage. Archers stood in the most favorable positions, raining down waves of arrows upon the enemy from above, reaping the lives of soldiers without armor.

But even the infantry in Armor were not entirely safe. Positioned at the base of the walls, they had to endure the cold water being constantly poured down from above.

Their shields could block falling rocks and their armor could stop arrows, but they could not stop the water that seeped through the cracks and soaked their bodies.

In this season, when the world was a vast expanse of white, the bone-chilling water seeped through the gaps in their armor, making their cotton under-padding as heavy as lead and greatly slowing their movements.

What was even more deadly was that this cold water was no different than being forced to sleep while hugging a block of ice. Once the cold water seeped into their armor, some unlucky souls would soon find their faces turning blue and their bodies stiffening from the cold.