The residents of Storm's End were awakened by the sudden sound of cannon fire. First, scattered candlelight lit up in the stone houses along the street, and soon it spread out.
Several daring men, still in their pajamas, pushed open the door to peek out, only to be sternly stopped by Bradley knights riding by on horseback.
"Get back home!" The knight slammed his lance on the cobblestone pavement. "Anyone who dares to peek out again will be arrested as a spy!"
After the sound of horses' hooves faded into the distance, Old Tom, the baker on the street corner, saw the boy from next door still peeking through the crack in the door. He quickly made a throat-slitting gesture to scare him away.
In his bedroom in the main tower of the castle, Lemester suddenly sprang up from his feather mattress.
He was awakened by the sound of artillery fire in the distance!
The Duke walked barefoot on the cold stone slabs, the sound of his footsteps pacing back and forth creating an eerie rhythm with the distant cannon fire.
"My lord, please change your clothes quickly!" The servant stood in the doorway in a panic, holding the armor.
Lemester, however, seemed not to hear, his fingers nervously tracing the window frame. Through the stained glass, he could see torches flickering in and out of the city like startled fireflies.
He turned to look at the city defense map hanging on the wall. The defensive fortifications he had been so proud of now looked somewhat ridiculous under the gunfire.
Yurga stood before the gaping opening of the north gate, his cloudy pupils suddenly contracting.
On the distant plain, in the light of the artillery fire, he saw dozens of cannons lined up, spewing deadly flames.
"Quick! Get out of there! This is our last chance!"
He roared hoarsely, his voice drowned out by another round of cannon fire. The muffled thuds of solid shot hitting the city wall mingled with the sharp whistling of explosive shells. An iron ball slammed heavily into the tower to the left of the city gate, and rubble rained down on the orc warriors' leather armor.
Just as Brock drove his wagon loaded with gold coins out of the city gate, a bomb exploded ten paces in front of the horses.
Amidst the shrill whistling of shrapnel tearing through the air, the two packhorses pulling the cart were instantly reduced to mangled, bloody pieces. The wooden cart shaft shattered into pieces in the explosion, and chests filled with gold coins tumbled and scattered across the ground, gleaming alluringly in the light of the artillery fire.
"Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!"
Yurga led his people in a breakout against human artillery fire.
The commotion at the city gate attracted the attention of the Austrian troops in the distance.
"Chief! They're aiming at us!" Goruk's trembling finger pointed into the distance. In the flashes of the artillery fire, the Austrian artillerymen could be clearly seen adjusting their firing angles, with more and more cannons turning towards the city gate.
The firepower suddenly concentrated in this direction, and the cannonballs that had been scattered towards the city crashed down on the orcs. The warriors of the Wugu tribe suffered heavy losses, with cries of agony filling the air and limbs flying everywhere. The short suspension bridge had become a road to death!
For the first time in his life, Yurga experienced true fear.
He witnessed a solid shot cut three of his people in half at the waist. Flesh and blood were as fragile as grass before steel. The flashes from the explosive blast illuminated the streets near the city gate, and the painful howls of orc warriors echoed through the thick smoke.
"Retreat! Close the gates!" Yurga's roar was filled with unprecedented panic.
The warriors of the Wugu tribe frantically pulled on the iron chains, and the heavy city gate slowly closed with a piercing creak. A belated cannonball flew through the gate and bounced across the city streets, leaving a bloody trail.
When the city gates were finally completely closed, Yulga leaned against the wall, a blank look appearing on his soot-covered face for the first time, his rough fingers unconsciously stroking the blade of his battle axe.
Brock was kneeling not far away, frantically bandaging a young soldier with an abdominal wound. The boy was gasping for breath in pain, but he bit down hard on his leather armor straps, afraid to make a sound.
Outside the city, the Austrian army's artillery fire continued.
Yurga stared at a gold coin covered in black ash in his palm—a coin he'd grabbed casually from the scattered loot. He could feel the fine scratches on the coin's edge with his fingertips, much like the inexplicable sense of defeat he felt at that moment.
The city wall trembled slightly under the shelling, and fine stone dust fell from the cracks between the bricks. Yulga recalled the boast he had made in the camp three days ago: "Those iron pipes from humans look scary, but their aim is terrible!"
Brock had laughed along with the other soldiers at the time, but now he realized they were like a flock of lambs who had never seen wolves before, pointing fingers at the barking of sheepdogs.
Since the Wugu tribe had not yet participated in a major battle when they arrived in Aldor, they lacked understanding of the Aldor army's weapons. Tonight, they finally witnessed the qualitative change that could occur when the enemy's weapons reached a certain quantity and were specifically targeted at them.
"Chief, the Bradley family has sent men!" A soldier with a bloody face from shrapnel stumbled in to report. Yulga instinctively tried to get up, but then instinctively ducked to avoid the next volley of shells.
This is not the kind of back-and-forth honor duel on the grasslands. Here, courage is not rewarded with praise, but with a shroud.
Yulga suddenly realized that even if he managed to escape tonight, how would those tribespeople who had lost their loved ones look at him? Their loved ones could have escaped with their lives, but because of their chief's greed and arrogance, they were buried far from home.
"Guard the city gates and don't let those Northwesterners rush up!" Yurga's voice returned to calm.
He stood up and patted Brock on the shoulder. When the young soldier turned around, his face was still stained with other people's blood. "Go and take stock of the casualties. Move the seriously wounded to the cellar."
Brock opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just nodded vigorously.
A rapid sound of hooves approached from afar, and the Bradley family's knights, accompanied by five squires, galloped in. The sound of their iron boots on the stone slabs was particularly jarring in the narrow passageway.
"Orcs!" The knight captain reined in his horse, white steam billowing from beneath his visor. "Who gave you permission to open the city gates without authorization?" His sword was already half-drawn, its cold gleam particularly striking in the dark passageway.
Yurga slowly rose, deliberately dragging his battle axe on the ground with a screeching sound. He grinned, revealing his fangs, but feigned a relaxed expression. "We've discovered chaos in the enemy's position and plan to launch a surprise attack—"
"Bullshit!" The knight abruptly ripped off his visor, revealing a sweat-drenched, furious face. "You almost destroyed the entire north wall!" He pointed to the ongoing artillery fire outside the city. "See those flashes? Every single one is a cannon waiting to reap lives!"
When Abar's main orc force was still around, the Bradley knights had been feeling resentful for a long time. Now that the main orc force was gone, they no longer needed to be polite to these small, isolated groups of orcs.
Yurga caught a glimpse of Goruk quietly kicking a few scattered gold coins into the shadows. "It was my oversight. I'll be more careful next time."
Normally, Yulga would have already swung his axe, but he hadn't decided what to do next yet, so he decided to fool the humans in front of him first.