The witchers followed Foltest forward, and Victor found the feeling rather peculiar, because even though there were countless soldiers not far away, within ten paces, there was no one else beside the king, as if a sword drawn now could be thrust straight into his back.
Of course, Victor had no reason to do that, and even if he tried, Geralt would draw his blade in time to stop him. Still, for a man to expose himself to danger like this, either he had another card up his sleeve, or he trusted that Victor would not attack him.
"You two arrived later than I expected. You should know, while you were tangled in the royal advisor's bed, the traitors had already boiled the tar on the walls!" the king walking ahead complained in a relaxed tone.
Exchanging a glance with Victor, Geralt answered, "Your Majesty, how may I be of service?"
The morning sun shone on Foltest, making his crown gleam even brighter. "For some time now, my mercy toward traitors has been taken for weakness. So we are going to launch an assault and solve every problem once and for all. Today, you will remain at my side at all times!"
The moment he finished speaking, a ballista bolt suddenly flew in from the distance and slammed straight through a nearby wooden wall with a heavy thud, blasting up a cloud of smoke and dust from the collapsing cover.
"Your Majesty, I thought you just said we were out of range?" Geralt's face looked none too good after that close call, while Victor was not surprised at all.
"Impossible. That was a ballista. Its arms are reinforced with bronze plates, and it uses a string made of horsehair. It can shoot a heavy bolt a mile away, a deadly and extremely expensive weapon. A seasoned operator can load and fire two bolts per minute. It has only one flaw!"
"Your Majesty, before you continue the explanation, perhaps we should find cover?"
"The powerful recoil of its arms after firing shifts the weapon's position. It simply cannot hit the same spot twice!"
Just as the king finished speaking, a second bolt landed roughly ten yards away from them, once again tearing up a fierce cloud of dust.
"So Your Majesty is a learned military engineer as well?"
"Of course not. But I gave those ballistae to the baroness two years ago on her birthday!"
Taking fire without returning it was not Foltest's style. He stepped into the ballista position with the two witchers and immediately began berating the crew. "Idiots, where in the hell are you aiming? Soldier, give me a spyglass!"
The king took the spyglass, observed the opposite wall for a moment, then lowered it. "Damn bastard! It's Count Etcheverry!"
Noticing the keen interest in Victor's eyes beside him, he tossed the spyglass to the witcher. "I hear you have spent quite a bit of effort on these things in the last few days. Look at that villain with the red feather stuck in his hat. Less than half a year ago, he swore eternal friendship to me! You command the ballista. If you can hit that treacherous piece of filth, I'll pay you five hundred orens!"
Foltest's generosity was indeed hard to refuse. Victor was not short of orens, but who could dislike gold coins? Besides, he was genuinely interested in verifying the power of this ancient and formidable war machine in actual combat.
The witcher caught the spyglass and began observing the distance and wind direction. Over the past half month of the siege, he had spent quite a lot of time studying all manner of siege engines. Now, the moment had finally come to test the results.
Bang! Thud! Crash! Boom! The sounds of ballista bolts exploding across the position rose one after another, each producing a different noise depending on what they struck.
Locking onto the distinguished count atop the battlements, Victor silently calculated force and angle, then shouted with full confidence, "Two and a half turns on the winch, elevation thirty-seven point five degrees!"
The witcher was so focused on observation that he failed to notice King Foltest wave aside the soldier in charge of the winch, personally draw the ballista, and adjust the angle by hand.
Then the soldier brought the raised wooden mallet down hard onto the pin, and the ballista fired with a roar.
The result was clear even without a spyglass. The bolt traced a beautiful arc through the air and struck the protruding tower with perfect precision. The count wearing the red feather had surely been smashed to pieces.
"Ha, well done. A fine performance!" Foltest clapped his hands. "An accurate ballista can do more than break an enemy's wall. It can also crush their morale. Viscount Corion, the king is very pleased with your service."
"It is my honor."
Sure enough, after that, the rebels' ballista fire slowed. Temeria's ballistae and trebuchets, meanwhile, swelled in force and prestige, beginning full suppression.
"Gentlemen, keep moving. Do not waste time!" With that said, the king led the way onward. The direction he advanced in was, astonishingly, toward a siege tower.
A "siege tower," as its name suggested, was a special siege weapon used to cross fortified walls.
Its height was usually equal to or slightly higher than the wall. Its exterior was wrapped in iron plating to prevent burning, the inside was hollow and held soldiers, and iron wheels were installed underneath for pushing it forward.
As it advanced, archers could stand on the top platform to attack. Once it approached the wall, the "crow bridge" would be lowered to connect the siege tower to the battlements, delivering soldiers onto the wall in an endless stream.
Naturally, this sort of machine exerted an extremely strong taunting effect on trebuchets and ballistae, so it would certainly suffer attacks during its advance. For that reason, with Victor's simple understanding of war, it was very hard to understand why Foltest had to personally take the field and supervise the first wave of the siege tower assault.
Not long ago, the king had said the witchers were to guard him at his side. Victor had nearly thought they would spend the day moving through safe places. Now it seemed he had indeed been far too naive. Perhaps this was exactly why Foltest had served as commander many times and was known as the Siegemaster.
The inside of the siege tower was a large troop transport space. Once the soldiers were in position, the king also began climbing upward along the wooden ladder.
"Vic, you don't mind if I call you that, do you?"
"Of course not, Your Majesty."
"Do you know? I am prepared to forgive Louisa. She only needs to kneel before her king."
"Your Majesty is truly merciful!"
The ballistae and trebuchets on the wall had been completely suppressed, and the siege tower slowly advanced with a rumbling roar. As the three of them climbed upward, the soldiers along the way knelt one after another to pay homage to the king.
"Heh! Are you mocking me? I thought you should be the least surprised person here. Back then at La Valette Castle, didn't you and Keira listen for quite a long time? Louisa was merely deceived by others. She will soon understand the mistake she has made, and most importantly, the children still need their mother."
"Deceived by others… Your Majesty means?"
"It is very simple. Louisa and I had a small disagreement. She made a demand I could not fulfill… you understand, don't you?"
After the many secrets the sorceress had explained to him, combined with his understanding of this king, Victor could guess that Louisa's demand was to become queen. Unfortunately, for this baron's widow to change careers into queen, the resistance she faced would be no less than that faced by Adda the White's mother back then, when she wanted to go from sister to queen.
Back when Foltest was young and impetuous, he had still failed to do that for his sister on the matter of crowning a queen. Now that he was mature and steady, it was even less possible for him to damage the foundation of his authority for the sake of a widow.
Without waiting for Victor to answer, he continued, "The Count Etcheverry who just died, along with those other hyena-like nobles, immediately leapt out full of sympathy. They claimed the wicked king would take away her children, but they would protect the children, even put them on the throne… and so Louisa was deceived. Her motherly love was used by others. In truth, they merely wanted to gain power and weaken the king's strength!"
A small stone from a trebuchet struck them, smashing through the iron plating and leaving a dent. Several unlucky soldiers on the third level died there and then. But the main structure of the siege tower was not damaged, and its advance did not slow.
"Your Majesty is truly merciful. I sincerely think so."
After that, the king rambled on about his troubles and conflicts, and Victor did not answer again. He knew Foltest was merely speaking from emotion, and Victor's circumstances just happened to make him a suitable listener.
At last, they climbed to the fourth level. This was the starting point of the crow bridge, so it seemed especially wide and open. Soldiers knelt across the floor, waiting for the king to deliver his pre-battle encouragement.
Foltest raised both hands and shouted, "Gentlemen, you look full of spirit!"
"Salute the king!" After the uniform cry, the soldiers stood at the same time, their armor clacking and grinding together.
"Where are we going?"
"Battle! Battle! Battle!"
"What do we want?"
"Victory! Victory! Victory!"
"Well said. I like it!" Foltest clenched his fist and swung it into the air.
The armed soldiers let out blood-boiling roars one after another.
A Temerian officer on the lower level shouted loudly, "Attention! We are about to lower the bridge. Soldiers, prepare your weapons!"
The thunderous crash and shaking came from the front edge of the siege tower striking the base of the wall.
Then the crow bridge was lowered. Sunlight poured into the siege tower's interior. Before them lay a clear path straight to the battlements, and the panicked, terrified faces of the rebels could be seen distinctly.
Amid a chorus of "For the king!" the battle began. What Victor found laughable was that the other side was also shouting, "For the king!"
This was indeed a war for the king. The two sides represented the king's upper half and lower half respectively!
…
As an important military stronghold defending against Redania to the north, the walls of La Valette Castle were quite thick, wide enough to allow several carriages to travel side by side.
This sort of chaotic battlefield was exactly where witchers could show their worth. The king waved and had them serve as the assault spearhead, no longer requiring them to stay by his side.
Victor and Geralt fought shoulder to shoulder.
The white-haired witcher's swordsmanship was like dancing, combining splendor, speed, and practicality. Or rather, elegance, swiftness, and lethality.
By comparison, the blond witcher seemed extremely plain. He adhered to the teachings of Vesemir and Eskel, striving for simple and practical techniques, advancing and retreating along the shortest path. Flashy moves were impossible. He would never be flashy in this lifetime. But in terms of killing efficiency, he was not much inferior.
Severed limbs swept through the air, blood splashed everywhere, and before long, the rebels had been slaughtered into retreating step by step. Once control over this stretch of wall was confirmed, soldiers began pouring steadily from the siege tower.
"Vic, are you all right?" the White Wolf suddenly asked amid the fierce battle.
Viscount Corion was in a cheerful mood. "Why ask that all of a sudden? I'm fine!"
"No, you don't look too good. Your eyes are red, and you seem overly excited. Do you need to fall back and rest for a bit? Killing requires attention to one's state of mind. I heard Lambert say that a year and a half ago, you still hesitated even when killing men. With a scene this intense, are you truly all right?"
Victor blinked, knowing that the White Wolf was talking about the state of his fiery-red eyes. In this highly focused mental condition, he could bring out his strongest swordsmanship, though it did indeed look quite frightening.
Victor did not try to explain why he had hesitated against bandits back then. Their thoughts were reasonable and understandable. Forcing proof of Corion's existence would only be very troublesome.
"Trust me, I'm truly fine. Better than ever, in fact. We can even continue the conversation that got interrupted just now! White Wolf, when facing the generous Foltest, what reason makes you think you should leave?"
Seeing that the blond witcher's words and bearing were as usual, the white-haired one set aside his concern. "There are many details. For example, what we are doing right now. Haven't you noticed the king's attitude when assigning tasks to us, as if he were treating us like another school?"
"You mean the School of the Cat?"
Among the many witcher schools, when their attitude toward humans shifted from closeness to hostility, the School of the Cat had undoubtedly been the first to adjust its business policy. They accepted employment as killers, or rather, assassins.
"At first, it was merely protecting his safety. That was nothing. But now, some of the king's demands make me feel less than comfortable, and Foltest is not a man skilled at accepting refusal."
His steel sword swept across a rebel's throat, and the man fell as blood sprayed wildly.
"Hahaha, actually, I have no real objection to the School of the Cat. Even if monsters have become fewer, people still can't starve to death. They still need to earn money and eat.
"I just left Toussaint not long ago. Even the noblest knights are not forbidden from killing. Are witchers more exalted than they are? Moral restraints that are too lofty bind your hands and feet. They amount to self-castration!"
"Forgive my frankness, but that sort of 'flexible' thinking of yours is very dangerous. No assassination of any kind should be forgiven!"
"The times have changed, and ideas must change with them. Those things they never taught you in the schools are precisely what witchers of the new era ought to learn. For instance, 'How to Avoid Being Morally Blackmailed,' 'The Art of Negotiation,' 'On Communicating with Nobles,' and 'A Few Things to Know Before Armed Debt Collection.'"
The key words struck something in him, and Geralt suddenly found himself speechless.
Victor continued, "In my view, you are exactly the sort of person most easily blackmailed by morality. As long as someone has righteousness and justice on their side, they can press you into sacrifice and dedication. That is actually very bad, especially for the many people who care about you."
The White Wolf's sword dance stopped, because the surroundings had temporarily been cleared. As for the rebels who were about to charge from the next tower, they were, astonishingly, carrying a banner whose coat of arms belonged to House La Valette.
He sighed. "Thank you. After today, I will have plenty of time to consider your advice. Next is your time to perform."
Victor also wanted to sigh. Beneath the banner opposite them, a young man in bluish-green armor wore a face so haggard and savage that it was hard to believe. He must have been suffering terribly during this time.
After several soldiers charging forward were shot down by crossbow bolts, King Foltest's shout rang out. "Aryan La Valette, surrender at once. As king, I promise that you will be treated appropriately!"
"Damn your king! You will never break through my line!" Aryan's indignant roar could be heard far and near.
Foltest shook his head, then turned toward the witcher with whom he had made an agreement.
Sensing the king's gaze, Victor bowed slightly. "Your Majesty."
"You heard what he said. Now tell me, Victor, has a reward I offered ever disappointed you?"
"Never."
"Then this time will be no exception. Go! Take men up there and force him to surrender, or kill him. Either way, you will receive my reward."
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