CH870 · Rewrite
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Chapter 870: Siege

The brass trumpets sounded from a distance and broke the silence of noon. In the castle courtyard, the birds stopped calling—a small cessation, like an intake of breath before something large and irreversible.

Duke Wilion Berger stood in the hall and looked from the portrait of the former king Timothy to the suit of full armor on its stand—his grandfather’s armor, patched and re-patched over the years, polished until every piece wore a skin of compressed grease that had become, through decades of care, nearly part of the metal itself. On the right arm, his family’s motto was engraved.

Undying loyalty.

In this armor he had ridden through rain and arrows to take a rebellious old duke alive on the battlefield. Timothy had given him the Eastern Region for that. Timothy was gone now. But the duty of a lord did not end because the king who had bestowed it was dead.

He had made his decision. He would keep his honor.

A servant entered and bowed. “My lord, Prince Roland’s army is approaching Valencia. They carry no cannon.”

“Good.” Wilion nodded. “Tell the others to make ready. I will come shortly.”

“Yes!”

He shed his coat and walked to the armor. “Help me dress,” he said to his Chief Knight, Galina.

“Yes, my lord.” She rolled up her sleeves and began. Her hands were calloused and rough—the hands of a woman who had put a spear through armor on dozens of battlefields—but they moved now with a gentleness that belied everything they had done. Wilion watched them work and felt the familiar mix of things: admiration, gratitude, the particular loneliness of having led a person into a situation from which you could no longer protect them.

“Do you regret it?” he asked.

“No, my lord.” Her voice was even. “The moment you made me your Chief Knight, I decided to remain with you. Whatever comes next, I will do my duty.”

“But the enemy we face this time is stronger than any before. If it’s possible—”

The belt drew tight around his waist, cutting off the sentence.

“Then why did you refuse to ally with the King of Dawn,” Galina said, her hands still moving through the fastenings, “if you believed the opponent that strong? You kicked his messenger out of Valencia personally. When word reached Glow, Appen Moya must have concluded you couldn’t appreciate a favor.”

“I doubt the City of Glow could hold against Roland’s army regardless.” Wilion curled his lip. “And Appen Moya asking for harbors and permanent military bases—what is the difference between him and Roland Wimbledon? The former king granted me the Eastern Region. If I had accepted Appen’s terms, I would have failed my king from a different direction.”

“Then my answer is the same as before,” Galina said, without hesitation or performance. “The Berger family is not alone in placing loyalty above convenience. My lord, please don’t say that anymore. It sounds like you are trying to give me a way out, and I find that insulting.”

Wilion went quiet.

After a moment: “Most nobles have forgotten this. I know.” He breathed out. “Then we go to war together. The enemy is strong—I won’t pretend otherwise—but I will not surrender Valencia without making them earn every step of it. I have been waiting for this battle.”

“Yes, my lord.” Galina smiled.

“Bale!” He called for his Clerk.

A bald middle-aged man appeared promptly in the doorway. “My lord, what do you require?”

“Write down what I say. After a full night’s rest, the kingslayer Roland Wimbledon’s forces intend to formally assault Valencia today. Duke of Valencia, Wilion Berger, resolves to oppose them in the name of the former king. His Chief Knight, Galina Wynne, has chosen to ride with him without hesitation. May the deities bless them.” He paused. “If that seems too subjective—you may omit the last sentence.”

Bale’s charcoal pen moved steadily across the page. “I believe I’ll keep it, my lord. There is no perfectly objective record in this world. Since I am the Clerk of Valencia, my favor toward this city is part of the reality I am recording. No apology is needed for that.”

“Then keep it. But whatever happens next—record it faithfully. The outcome, the full process, the reasons. All of it.” Wilion held the clerk’s eyes. “That is your purpose here.”

“You have my word, my lord.” Bale bowed. “The people will remember this.”

Without further ceremony, Wilion took his sword from the wall and walked out of the castle without looking back.


By the time the duke and Galina climbed the lookout tower above the city gate, the preparations were fully visible below them: bonfires lit, oil boiling in iron pots, the air sharp with its pungent smoke. Soldiers moved up and down the wall, hauling stones and lengths of timber to the battlements.

Wilion had done his research on Roland’s methods. He knew from the king’s city how the campaign had gone there—that the most devastating weapon in a siege had been the cannon, the snow powder launcher that could reach far beyond any mangonel’s range. Timothy, in his final months, had managed to get the design to Wilion: the formula, the manufacturing process, the schematics.

Wilion had invested heavily. And in the process, he had learned the cannon’s weaknesses. First: it was extraordinarily heavy, requiring level ground and a stable mount to perform fully. Second: it was slow to deploy—the assembly process required covering fire from flintlocks. It was a weapon built for defense, not maneuver.

He had adapted his preparations accordingly. The city wall had been thickened. Iron barbs had been installed across its outer surface. Every road in the suburb had been broken or flooded, the farmland turned to marshland by diverting river water. Stumps had been sunk into the Sanwan River to block large vessels. None of these measures were cheap. The destruction of the farmland had driven out population; the broken roads had killed the trade that Valencia had been built on. But the duke had accepted those costs, because the result was exactly what he needed: no cannon could be dragged to his walls through flooded field and demolished road without first constructing the road itself, which would take weeks and provide ample time to respond.

And the army approaching now carried none.

He had won the first exchange before a shot was fired.

Roland’s soldiers were equipped with flintlocks, he knew—rapid, deadly at medium range. But flintlocks could not conceal men at a wall’s base, and they could not assist someone climbing a surface covered in iron barbs. Meanwhile Wilion had four mangonels and two cannons of his own positioned in the city, capable of reaching a thousand steps. The equation had tilted.

“They’re coming,” Galina said.

A detachment of soldiers in brown moved out of the main formation—deliberate, unhurried, holding their spacing. Their advance slowed as the ground turned soft beneath them, the flooded farmland doing its intended work, breaking their column into small groups of two and three. They carried something on their backs: dark grey cylinders, long, paired with barrels about the thickness of a man’s thigh. Light. Not cannon—much too light for cannon. The duke studied them and could not immediately place what they were.

He estimated the distance, raised a red flag, and swept it toward the wall.

“Rock cannon—fire!”

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