There were no moats to the southwest of Stone Bridge Town, but there was a fast-flowing river called the Warren River. The orc vanguard chose to launch a frontal assault on the town's east gate.
On the eastern horizon, the sound of war drums rolled in like muffled thunder.
Clad in heavy armor, the orc warriors stood in skirmish lines, each carrying two bulging sacks filled with dirt. Their muscular physiques gleamed in the sunlight, and their steps remained steady despite the weight exceeding three hundred pounds.
"Load explosive shells!" Major Hodgson's roar echoed across the city walls. The artillerymen quickly loaded shells into the breech, the fuses gleaming dangerously in the sunlight.
When the orc mortar crew reached within 500 yards of the walls, the first six-pounder roared deafeningly. The shell traced a perfect parabola through the air, exploding above the orcs' heads, shattering into fragments that rained down like a death storm, instantly felling hordes of orcs below. A soldier carrying sacks of earth suffered a burst of blood from his chest, the heavy sacks crushing him into a pool of blood.
After suffering heavy casualties, the first group of orc soldiers who advanced under heavy fire successfully filled the trenches with sacks.
"Keep loading! Don't stop!" the one-eyed commander roared from behind, brandishing his battle axe.
The second wave of orcs advanced over the corpses of their comrades, throwing sandbags into the trenches. Cannons on the city walls opened fire in quick succession, and the smoke soon obscured the crenellations.
Having conducted previous test firings, the defending artillery had prepared firing tables based on experimental data, recording the required propellant charge and barrel elevation angles for firing at different areas. Therefore, their hit rate was quite considerable, and each explosion unleashed a bloodbath within the orc ranks. Due to the relatively primitive technology of delayed-action fuses, the Northwest Legion's exploding shells could not achieve a 100% success rate in detonating, but even without an explosion, the kinetic energy of the shells themselves could inflict devastating damage.
A particularly burly orc warrior with a red feather on his helmet charged forward carrying three sacks of earth. When a cannonball exploded at his feet, the giant staggered forward a dozen steps before collapsing with a thud, the three sacks rolling right into the deepest part of the trench.
Several small hills made of corpses and sacks of earth had been piled up along the edge of the trench, and dark red blood had seeped into the soil, staining the ground an eerie ochre color.
Major Hodgson put down his binoculars and found that his palms had been rubbed raw by the rubble of the city wall—the orcs' madness far exceeded his expectations, and at this rate, the first trench would soon be filled in.
The garrison at Stone Bridge Town at this time numbered approximately five thousand men, including two battalions of regular infantry and three thousand Militia.
Major Hodgson keenly noticed that the Militia on the city walls were turning pale, and the knuckles of their fingers gripping the firearms were turning blue.
A young tailoring apprentice even began to gag—when he saw a cannonball cut three orcs in half at the waist.
The major strode toward the northern section of the city wall where Militia was stationed, his military boots stomping heavily on the stone bricks.
"Look at what you've got!" He suddenly snatched a Militia rifle and held it high above his head. The brand-new barrel gleamed blue in the sunlight. "Do you know how many lords' soldiers outside Northwest Bay are still using swords and spears?"
The Militia instinctively touched the standard bayonets and ammunition pouches at their waists. This equipment was indeed far superior to the "lord's army" described by their fathers, and if used properly, it could take the lives of enemies from afar.
"Perhaps some of you know that His Majesty the King of Crystal Radiance trained an army modeled after the Northwest army, and this army quelled the rebellion in the southern border of the kingdom in less than a year. And you, though merely Militias..."
Hodgson emphasized his words.
"But the live ammunition you Militia have fired during training," the major said, patting the ammunition box beside him, "is more than the Royal Capital's new army is rationed for a year!" He deliberately kicked over a wooden box, and round bullets clattered and rolled all over the ground.
An officer next to him, who had once been in charge of Militia training, suddenly burst out laughing. His rough hands steadily raised his rifle: "Kids, remember the target practice? Those orcs all looked like this..." He gestured exaggeratedly, "They were easier to aim at than moving targets!"
Several Militia laughed along, their tense shoulders gradually relaxing.
Major Hodgson seized the opportunity to leap onto the ramparts and pointed to the orc troops regrouping outside the city: "They rely on brute force, we rely on this—" He tapped his temple and then knocked on the bolt of his rifle, "and this."
Around noon, the eastern trench was finally filled with corpses and sandbags, creating a three-yard-wide passage.
A wild horn sounded from the orc ranks, and archers clad in light armor immediately crouched and charged out, carrying six-foot-long beast-horn warbows and quivers filled with burning arrows—to suppress the firepower of the city walls.
"Archers, take your positions!" The one-eyed commander's roar echoed across the battlefield.
But just as the first group of archers rushed through the passage, a sharp whistle suddenly rang out from the city wall.
"Fire!" Major Hodgson's sword slashed down from the sky, and the twelve Cannons in the middle of the city wall opened fire simultaneously, the shrapnel exploding into a deadly metal storm in the air.
The orc archers at the forefront were instantly riddled with bullets, and the burning arrows scattered all over the ground, which instead set fire to the sacks used to fill the trench.
The surviving archers frantically sought cover, but all objects that could be used for cover on the outskirts of the town had already been cleared away. Suddenly, plumes of smoke erupted from the battlements, and the defending soldiers calmly opened fire on them with firearms.
Lead bullets pierced the orc archers' thin leather armor, continuing to reap the survivors after the bombardment.
"Retreat! Retreat quickly—" Just as a Centurion orc raised his bone whistle, he was shot through the chest by a sniper. His body swayed and fell into a trench filled with blood.
In the end, less than half of the archers stumbled back to their base, leaving behind a blood-stained tunnel and the twisted corpses of their comrades.
A terrifying red light flashed in the orc commander's single eye as he snapped the command flag in his hand: " Glaeman bastards... this doesn't look like a poorly defended town!"
The Orc vanguard launched three assaults east of Stone Bridge Town, each time repelled by dense cannon and rifle fire. A horrifying low wall of corpses had formed along the edge of the trenches, the blood soaking the soil into a dark red swamp. The one-eyed commander's eyes gleamed with a somber light in the smoke; he was forced to order a halt to the attack.
"Turn southwest!" The one-eyed commander spat out a mouthful of blood, pointing his battle axe towards the Warren River. "The river can't be deep everywhere!"
His orders were carried out, and the orcs, dragging their weary bodies, circled around to the southwest of the town. Sure enough, they found a shallow crossing point in a river bend. They raised their weapons above their heads and began to wade across. The icy water reached their waists, and the swift current made progress extremely difficult.