Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 241

Chapter 241: Siege of Arduronaven(2) Chapter 241: Siege of Arduronaven(2) For a moment, silence reigned.

The refugees exchanged glances, fear and uncertainty written on their faces.

Lucius studied them, his expression unreadable.

Will they follow, or do we have to finish this task alone?

The thought flickered through his mind, the thought scaring him, as he had no confidence in completing the mission with 20 men ,worse once he fell he would certainly be tortured for any information he may have, as he was a spy.

Suddendlly though it seemed that fate took pity on them as from among the crowd someone stepped forward, a boy no older than fourteen.

He moved hesitantly at first but grew more confident with each step.

His thin fingers wrapped around one of the daggers, and he straightened, his gaze meeting Lucius’s.

Following his inquisitive gaze he muttered”I only had my father,” the boy said, his voice trembling but defiant.

“He died defending this city.

But I’m going to starve whether it stands or falls.

I’m done waiting to die.” Lucius nodded, a flicker of approval in his eyes.

The boy’s courage was a spark.

One by one, others began to rise.

A middle-aged man with a limp, wounded from the sortie and forgotten by the city.

A woman clutching her toddler to her chest.

Their numbers grew, and soon the quiet murmur turned to shouts.

“We’re hungry!” one man cried, grabbing a club discarded on the ground.

“We deserve bread too!” More voices joined, a swelling tide of anger and desperation.

Alpheo’s soldiers tossed out more spare daggers, each weapon finding a pair of eager hands.

Lucius raised his blade high above his head, his voice cutting through the chaotic scene like a blade.

“To the gate!” he bellowed.

“Follow me!

Let’s take what’s ours!” Many stooped to pick up the daggers from the ground.

Others scavenged from the lifeless bodies of the guards, pulling their clubs.  Lucius led them, dagger in hand, his stride steady and commanding ,as behind him, the ragtag group grew in number, with more men, women, and even boys clutched whatever they could find.  ————— Vroghio’s pov We’re barely holding on, Vroghios thought grimly, his gaze sweeping over the different sections of the walls.

His soldiers fought valiantly, holding the enemy at bay and ensuring no one gained a foothold atop the battlements.

Arrows flew, spears thrust, and stones rained down, delivering heavy casualties to the attacking forces.

Yet his own men fell too, their bodies slumping against the parapets ..

Still, the losses didn’t weigh on him as they might have.

In his mind, manpower wasn’t the issue-he had enough desperate souls to conscript into the defense of the city.

The real problem was the weapons.

As long as his men died inside the walls, their equipment could be reclaimed and pressed into the hands of another recruit.

So virtually he would lose no soldiers.

“Why are they still there?” he muttered under his breath, his eyes narrowing at the mounted troops positioned outside the enemy’s camp.

They sat motionless, a disciplined and ominous presence on the horizon.

Why the hell would that arrogant bastard keep his horsemen outside the fight?

Did that youngster truly believe a sortie possible?

The thought gave Vroghios pause.

A mounted counterattack against the troops assaulting the walls would indeed be a clever move-if only he had enough knights to carry it out.

But he doesn’t know that, Vroghios reasoned.

Still, the sight of the cavalry gnawed at his nerves, as if mocking his inability to act.

Vroghios’ thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a distant, unified shouting.

The sound grew louder, an unsettling chant that sent a chill down his spine.

He spun around to find a crowd swelling behind him, marching with purpose toward the gate.

Their cries echoed through the air, a mix of desperation and fury: “We need bread too!” “We are hungry!” For a moment, Vroghios stood frozen, overwhelmed by a wave of conflicting emotions-anger at the audacity of the mob, confusion at how this had spiraled out of control, and a gnawing despair of what would happen.

His eyes darted toward the gate, where twenty of his soldiers stood nervously, their spears gripped tightly as they looked up at the advancing crowd.

The mob, a mixture of ragged refugees and civilians, surged forward with growing confidence, their chants growing louder and their numbers swelling.

What in the gods’ names is happening?

he thought, his mind racing.

Do I crush them ?

Do I even have the men for that?

Grinding his teeth, Vroghios barked at a nearby aide.

“You!

Send word to the nearest positions-take men from their posts and bring them here, now!” As the messenger sprinted off to carry out the order, Vroghios tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and descended from the walls.

He could feel his heart pounding as he made his way toward the gate, the chants of the crowd growing deafening.

I need to stop this madness before it spirals further, he thought grimly.

But deep down, a pit of dread had formed.

This wasn’t just hunger-it was rebellion and he knew that the enemy outside had an hand in it.

As Vroghios reached the base of the wall, one of his personal bodyguards approached quickly, leading a horse by its reins.

Without hesitation, Vroghios mounted the animal, his polished armor glinting under the harsh sunlight.

Behind him, the banner of his house snapped sharply in the wind.

He spurred the horse forward, weaving through the chaotic press of soldiers scrambling to reinforce the gate.

His steely gaze fixed on the twenty men standing in tight formation before the massive wooden doors.

Their expressions mirrored his-tense and uncertain as the crowd surged closer.

The advancing throng of refugees, their chants still echoing, wavered slightly as Vroghios arrived.

The sight of their lord on horseback, flanked by his banner, seemed to give them pause.

But the momentum of their march carried them forward, a tide of desperation.

“Stop!” Vroghios bellowed, his voice ringing out with authority.

The horse beneath him pawed at the ground, adding weight to his command.

“Go back to your camps!

Return to your homes!

This is not the way!You are going to be fed but not like this” The crowd slowed, their cries faltering as their eyes met the lord’s fiery glare.

But even as they hesitated, a few men from Alpheo’s hidden force at the edges of the mob continued advancing.  Still most stood unmoving on his position, even with Alpheo’s agents pushing them forward.

”Fuck” Lucius muttered under his breath, scanning the crowd for any sign of momentum.

His eyes darted frantically, landing on a jagged stone lying just within reach.

Inspiration struck like a spark to dry tinder.

Without hesitation, he snatched it up and turned to his companions, gesturing sharply toward the stones scattered around.

His comrades immediately caught on, wordlessly picking up their own stones, their eyes hard with determination.

At the forefront of the crowd, Lord Vroghios sat tall in the saddle emboldened that his presence alone enough to halt the refugees’ advance.

His voice thundered over the restless murmurs.

“Go back to your camps!” he commanded, the horse beneath him shifting uneasily.

“I promise forgiveness for those who return.

Think of your families!

Many of them are on the walls now, defending this city from the enemy that wishes to destroy it!” The crowd hesitated, their hunger and desperation warring with the authority of the man before them.

For a moment, it seemed Vroghios’ words might succeed.

Then, from the back of the mob, a voice rang out like a crack of thunder.

“SILENCE, TYRANT!” The shout was quickly echoed by others, all comrades of Lucius , making it appear the refugee’s work.

Before Vroghios could respond, the air suddenly filled with the sharp crack of stones flying through the air.

A hail of rocks struck him and his mount, one glancing off his polished breastplate, another grazing his cheek, drawing blood.

His horse reared in pain and fright, its shrill neigh piercing the chaos.

Hooves lashed out, forcing soldiers nearby to scramble for cover and to get out of the way.

Lucius stepped forward, his voice cutting through the cacophony like a blade.

“There’s no turning back now!” he shouted, his eyes blazing with urgency as he scanned the crowd.

“You think the lord will forgive this?

You think he’ll let you live after you’ve dared to defy him?!” The refugees hesitated, their defiance wavering as the weight of his words sank in.

“The only thing waiting for you if you stop now is death!” Lucius continued, his voice rising with each word.

“But if you push forward, if you fight for your lives, there’s hope!

Food, freedom, a future for your children-it’s all within your grasp, but only if you take it!” The murmurs among the crowd grew louder, anger reigniting in their faces.

Slowly, hesitantly at first, but with growing confidence, they began to surge forward again, stones in hand, their desperation transformed into fury.

Lucius clenched his fists and turned to his companions.

“Let’s show them the way!” he barked, leading the charge toward the gate.

The crowd surged like a tidal wave, their desperation and fury fueling their charge toward the soldiers stationed at the gate.

Stones flew through the air, striking helmets and shields, while the cries of the advancing mass grew louder, drowning out the orders shouted by the soldiers trying to maintain their ground.

On the gate, the twenty defenders wavered.

Some raised their weapons feebly, but others, seeing the sheer numbers pressing toward them, began to falter.

A few dropped their spears, panic overtaking their sense of duty, and turned to flee.

Vroghios reined his horse sharply, the beast stamping and snorting as he wheeled it around.

He cast a desperate glance over his shoulder at the teeming crowd.

Hundreds of them-men, women, even boys-charged forward with a collective roar.

His eyes flicked to the soldiers at the gate, disorganized and crumbling under the weight of the assault.

The lord’s face twisted with anger and despair.

The day is lost, he thought grimly.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed one of his bodyguards by the arm as the man tried to steady his own horse.

“Ride!” Vroghios barked, his voice sharp with urgency.

“Get to the walls and tell every man to retreat to the keep!

Now!” The bodyguard nodded, his face pale as he run forward,reaching the walls to deliver the desperate order.

Meanwhile, Vroghios turned his horse again, spurring it into a gallop as he rode back toward the safety of the inner city, leaving the chaos of the gate behind.

The banner of his house falling down in the ground as hundreds of foot stepped on it , dirtying it with mud , shit and dirt .