The grey-green city walls of Katushir now stretched like a taut bowstring.
The bricks on the city walls, dampened by the morning dew, gleamed with a cold, hard light. A hundred City Defense Forces soldiers, clad in bright silver chainmail, ran along the top of the wall, their iron boots clanging "thump-thump" on the stone surface, like a rapid drumbeat pounding in everyone's heart.
In the arrow towers, crossbowmen bent over, inspecting the ballistas—the bronze barrels polished to a shine, the bowstrings drawn taut, and the arrow grooves lined with a row of arm-thick crossbow bolts, their tips poisoned black; soldiers on the watchtowers waved red and yellow flags, each wave signifying "Beastmen are still approaching," the shadows of the flags flickering on the city walls like dancing flames.
On the inner walkway of the city wall, seven or eight soldiers formed a group, armed with long spears, muskets, and halberds, forming a neat defensive line.
The musketeers had their priming caps ready, the spearmen's spear tips pointed diagonally skyward, and the halberdiers gripped their long shafts, their eyes vigilantly fixed on the area outside the city—these were Katushir's elite, usually stationed at the east and west gates, but now all deployed to the north gate, as the beastmen were surging from the northeast.
On the streets further away, large numbers of Militiamen carried planks, stones, and arrows, running towards the city walls under the guidance of soldiers.
Most of them were blacksmiths, carpenters, and merchants from the city, urgently conscripted three days ago. Their faces still showed terror, but they dared not stop—the horn blasts from the city walls, the shouts of the soldiers, and the faint roars from outside the city whipped them forward like a lash.
A young Militiaman, carrying a wooden plank, stumbled and almost fell to the ground. A nearby soldier reached out to steady him, saying in a deep voice, "Quick! Any slower and it'll be too late!"
The Militiaman gritted his teeth and quickened his pace.
He looked up towards the outside of the city, and his heart suddenly constricted—
Outside Katushir, it had long since become a living hell.
The dozen or so villages and towns that once surrounded the city were now nothing but ruins.
Thatch roofs were burnt to black char, emitting wisps of smoke; wooden palisades lay on the ground, adorned with tattered clothing and bloody, mangled corpses; on the dirt roads, blood had formed small streams, flowing downhill with the terrain, dyeing the roadside wild grass red.
Several crows landed on the corpses, pecking at the rotting flesh, letting out harsh caws that sounded particularly grating.
The beastmen, like a swarm of black locusts, rampaged through the ruins of the villages and towns.
Great Horned beasts carried massive axes, splitting open the wooden doors of farmhouses and tossing grain and cloth onto their backs; Gors dragged captives, their necks chained, herding them towards the camp like livestock; Gors, meanwhile, lay on corpses, tearing at them frantically, their mouths stained with blood, their eyes filled with chaotic fervor.
A villager in tattered burlap crawled out of the ruins, trying to run towards the city gate, but was spotted by an Angor beast.
The Angor beast, wielding a wooden spear, quickly chased after him, its spear tip piercing the villager's back and pinning him to the ground. The villager let out a shrill scream, his fingers desperately clawing at the dirt, until the Angor beast pulled out the spear and delivered another blow, finally silencing him completely.
In an open space further away, dozens of captives were tied to wooden stakes, mostly women and children.
A Great Horned beast walked up to a little girl, who trembled with fear, tears streaming down her cheeks, but dared not cry out.
The Great Horned beast bared its sharp teeth, extended a furry hand, and pinched the little girl's chin, seemingly assessing whether she was "qualified"—qualified captives would be taken back to the tribe as slaves, while unqualified ones would become their food .
All of this had happened in just three short days.
The beastmen, using tunnels dug by the ratmen, bypassed the defenses of Khyprian road and suddenly attacked from the Red Copper Slope Copper Mine, catching Katushir off guard.
The villages and towns outside the city, unprotected by walls, became the first victims. In just one day and night, a dozen villages and towns were looted clean. Thousands of villagers were either killed or captured, with only a few escaping into the city, bringing the grim news of "Beastmen besieging the city."
Inside the council hall of Katushir Castle, chaos reigned.
The carpet in the center of the hall was crowded with various merchants—human merchants in brocade robes, dwarf blacksmiths carrying iron hammers (who had come to the city to sell ironware), and elf merchants carrying exquisite birdcages (mostly there to trade silk and jewelry).
They surrounded the main seat, complaining vociferously, their voices filled with anger and anxiety.
"Escoville! Why did we only find out about the beastmen besieging the city now?" A fat merchant pointed at the Lord's nose, shouting, his face red, "My caravan is still outside the city! Thirty carts of silk were all stolen! You have to compensate me!"
"Exactly! My iron mine is still at Red Copper Slope! Now the mine is occupied by ratmen, and I can't get a single penny!" The dwarf blacksmith echoed in a booming voice, his iron hammer striking the ground heavily, making the stone slabs tremble slightly.
"And me! All my goods are in the warehouse west of the city. Now the city gates are closed, the goods can't get out, and I'm losing gold coins every day!" The elf merchant frowned, his tone full of displeasure, "Not only do you not compensate us for our losses, but you also want us to donate goods to defend the city? Why should we?"
The merchants all agreed, and the noise in the hall grew louder, like a swarm of angry bees.
Several soldiers stood nearby, trying to maintain order, but were pushed and shoved by the merchants, unable to get a word in.
Escoville sat in the main seat, wearing black armor with gold trim, and the ruby-encrusted longsword at his waist.
His face was ashen, his fingers gripping the armrest so tightly that his knuckles turned white—he knew this day would come when he received news of the beastmen siege three days ago.
These merchants, who usually profited handsomely from Katushir's trade routes, thought first of their own interests when danger struck, completely disregarding the fate of the city.
"Silence, all of you!" Escoville suddenly slammed the armrest, his voice like a clap of thunder, and the hall instantly fell silent.
He stood up, his sharp gaze sweeping over the merchants present, and said in a deep voice, "Now the city is under siege, there are thousands of beastmen outside, and the City Defense Forces have suffered heavy casualties. If we cannot hold, your goods, your money, and even your lives will become the beastmen's spoils of war!"
He paused, his tone becoming even more resolute: "I am asking you to donate goods not for myself, Escoville, but to defend Katushir! If we hold this city, you still have a chance to recover your losses; if we don't, you will have nothing!"
The merchants exchanged glances, but no one spoke.
They were all self-interested, calculating in their minds—if they donated goods to defend the city, and it held, who would cover their losses? If it didn't hold, the donated goods would be for naught.
rather than that, it would be better to hide their goods; if the city fell, they might still be able to negotiate with the beastmen using their goods.
"Lord, you can't say that." The fat merchant spoke again, with a hint of sophistry in his tone, "Our goods were bought with real gold and silver. Why should we just donate them? If you can guarantee to hold the city and compensate us for our losses, then I'll donate!"
"Right! Compensate for losses!" The other merchants chimed in, starting to clamor again.
Escoville's face grew even uglier.
He knew that reasoning with these merchants was useless; he could only appeal to their "interests."
His gaze swept over the crowd, finally landing on a man in a dark blue brocade robe in the corner—Antonio.
Antonio had been standing in the corner, silent, toying with a jade thumb ring, as if it had nothing to do with him.
His Golden Rose Merchant Guild was now Katushir's largest local merchant guild, with trade routes spanning the south, and he held more goods than any other merchant present.
As long as Antonio took the lead in donating goods, the other merchants would not dare to refuse.
Feeling Escoville's gaze, Antonio looked up, meeting his eyes.
He knew very well what Escoville was thinking—Katushir could not fall. If it did, the Blackrock Clan's trade route would be cut off, and his cooperation with Kurzadh would also fall through.
Moreover, donating goods would not only gain Escoville's favor but also allow him to consolidate the Golden Rose Merchant Guild's position in Katushir. This was a profitable deal.
Antonio was silent for a few seconds, then slowly walked forward and bowed slightly to Escoville: "Lord, I am willing to donate two-thirds of the Golden Rose Merchant Guild's goods, including twenty carts of iron ore, fifty bolts of silk, and one hundred barrels of ale, all for the defense of the city."
At these words, the hall instantly fell silent. The merchants were stunned—two-thirds of his goods? Was Antonio mad?
Escoville's eyes lit up, and a satisfied smile appeared on his face: "Mister Antonio is truly enlightened; I will remember this! Once the siege is lifted, Katushir will certainly not treat you unfairly!"
The fat merchant frowned, tugged at Antonio's sleeve, and whispered, "Are you crazy? Donating so much?"
Antonio smiled and said nothing.
He knew that these merchants would soon understand—now was not the time to be concerned about goods; saving their lives was the most important thing.
Sure enough, before Escoville could urge them, a merchant in purple brocade stood up and gritted his teeth, "Since Mister Antonio has donated, I will too! I'll donate half my goods!"
With the first, came the second. The dwarf blacksmith said in a booming voice, "I'll donate two-thirds of my ironware!" The elf merchant frowned, reluctantly saying, "I'll donate half my silk."
Seeing this, the other merchants could only follow suit—some donated one-third, some half, and some even followed Antonio's example, donating two-thirds.
They knew in their hearts that Antonio was the leader of Katushir's merchant guilds. If he donated so much and they didn't, they would not only incur Escoville's resentment but also lose their standing in Katushir.
Escoville watched the scene before him, a sigh of relief in his heart.
With these goods, the City Defense Forces' weapons and food could be replenished, increasing the hope of holding the city. He nodded to the merchants: "Very good! Katushir will forever remember your contributions! Now, go to the warehouses to inventory the goods, and have the soldiers transport them to the city walls!"
The merchants all assented, and although their faces still showed some pain, they dared not delay any longer and turned to leave the hall.
The fat merchant walked last, and as he passed Antonio, he couldn't help but ask again, "Do you really think we can hold it?"
Antonio looked at him, smiled, and said calmly, "Don't worry, we will hold it."
He knew very well that it wasn't the City Defense Forces, nor the merchants' goods, that would hold Katushir, but the "green reinforcements" that were on their way—Kurzadh, with over eight hundred greenskins, should already be en route to Katushir.
Those beastmen probably wouldn't expect a group of even fiercer greenskins to suddenly charge from behind while they besieged Katushir.
Escoville walked over to Antonio and patted him on the shoulder: "Antonio, this time, we owe a lot to you."
"You are too kind, Lord," Antonio bowed, "I merely did what needed to be done."
Escoville looked at him, a hint of doubt in his eyes—he still didn't know who truly stood behind Antonio.
But at this moment, he had no time to ponder; he could only trust this mysterious merchant.
Outside the hall, the horn sounded again, more urgent than before.
The soldiers on the watchtower waved their flags, and this time, the flags waved even faster—the beastmen had begun their assault on the city.
Escoville suddenly drew the longsword from his waist and shouted towards outside the hall: "Everyone! To the city walls! Defend Katushir!"
The shouts of the soldiers came from outside, mixed with the roars of the beastmen outside the city and the booming of the ballistas.
Antonio stood in the hall, watching Escoville's retreating figure, his face expressionless.
He knew that an even greater chaos was about to unfold outside Katushir.