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◈ The Medieval Heretic King is Too Good at Developing ◈

Chapter 11: The Siege of Sternberg (5)

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Dawn broke.

Beyond the castle walls, the Hussite camp had changed completely overnight.

Soldiers wrapped head to toe in bandages, their bodies burned, stood in formation with steel-like discipline, their bloodshot eyes gleaming.

A low song flowed from their lips. Hundreds of voices overlapped as it crossed the walls and rang out in an ominous chorus.

"Ktož jsú boží bojovníci a zákona jeho..."

(Who are God's warriors and follow His law...?)

It was the Hussite battle hymn, "Ye Who Are Warriors of God."

The humiliation of defeat seemed to have turned their faith into even more fanatical rage.

Sternberg, on the other hand, had won a miraculous victory, yet it looked like the fortress of a defeated army.

The walls were broken and scorched in places, while the buildings in the courtyard had been torn into ugly ruins to make makeshift defensive palisades and stones for throwing.

Above all, the defenders on the walls looked miserable. Most of those filling the walls were peasants dressed in filthy rags caked with dirt instead of gleaming armor.

Openly contemptuous laughter erupted from the Hussite camp.

"Ha ha ha! Look at that pathetic sight! Those things dare stand against God's army? A rabble armed with stones? Even bones thrown to dogs would be more threatening than them!"

The enemy commander's words drew laughter from the Hussite soldiers. There was none of yesterday's fear in their voices.

They had reason to laugh.

All the defenders had were rusty sickles, crudely carved wooden spears, and stones clenched in bare hands. Hunger had hollowed out their cheeks, and their eyes were sunken from working through the night.

Yet there was something unusual in their eyes.

Their fear had not vanished, but beneath it burned a fierce resolve to fight to the death.

"All troops, advance!"

At the enemy commander's roar, a thunderous rumble shook the ground once more.

Rumble... crash!

The enormous Siege tower[1] the Hussites had built overnight emerged. It was clearly rushed work, but it looked more than capable of fulfilling its sole purpose: getting over the walls.

They had also prepared thoroughly for fire attacks. The tower's outer walls were layered with thick wet hides, and soldiers carrying sandbags stood at various points along it.

Shield-bearing soldiers formed dense ranks on either side to escort the Siege tower, constantly firing at the castle walls to keep the defenders pinned down.

'This won't be easy...'

Once I saw the enemy approaching, I shouted.

"Fire!"

The fire catapult hurled another burning jar. The jar traced a precise arc before striking the Siege tower's outer wall.

Crash! Whoosh!

The same inferno as yesterday rose up, but the result was different. The flames only writhed across the wet hides before dying uselessly as soldiers quickly threw sand over them.

Sir Kuno cursed beside me.

"Damn it! Those bastards came prepared!"

The enemy commander's voice rang across the battlefield, full of confidence in victory.

"Ha ha ha! Brat! Your tricks end here!"

I immediately gave the catapult crews a new order.

"Change targets! Behind the Siege tower! Fire over the infantry!"

The firebombs changed targets. Instead of striking the Siege tower, the burning jars now sailed over it and rained down on the infantry following behind, as well as the Wagenburg.

Boom!

"Aaargh!"

"Fire! That cursed fire again!"

Terrible screams and chaos erupted in the rear once more. Several soldiers rolled on the ground engulfed in flames, while one Wagenburg wagon caught fire and sent up black smoke.

The enemy commander did not even twitch an eyebrow. He used the casualties in the rear as bait and barked at his men not to slow the Siege tower's advance.

'He's ruthless. Does he intend to cross these walls today no matter how many of his own soldiers die?'

The enemy commander's eyes were fixed solely on the enormous Siege tower advancing toward the walls. At last, with a heavy mechanical groan, it crossed the moat and stopped directly before the castle walls.

Screeeech!

As a massive drawbridge began to lower from the top of the tower, the Hussite soldiers let out a roar that seemed to tear open the sky.

Across from them, our soldiers gripped their weapons tightly and watched the descending bridge, ready for battle.

'Now.'

At that moment, I stepped out from behind the castle wall, where I had been hiding all along.

I held a ceramic jar in my hand, its fuse already burning fiercely.

The enemy commander spotted me and pointed as he shouted.

"That's him! Kill that brat!"

Ignoring the shouts and arrows pouring toward me, I hurled the jar with all my strength. I aimed for what looked like the Siege tower's weakest support.

A sneer appeared on the enemy commander's lips.

"Idiot. Is your final struggle really just throwing one firebomb?"

Before his sneer had even faded, an unimaginable sight unfolded.

"Grenade in the hole!"

As I shouted and threw myself behind the wall, the nearby soldiers and farmers instinctively ducked and covered their ears as well.

The ceramic jar I had thrown did not burst into flames with the familiar crack of a firebomb.

Instead, the moment it struck the ground.

Flash!

A great burst of light and smoke erupted, followed by a deafening roar that seemed to rip through everyone's eardrums.

Boom!

The shockwave spread in every direction, making the castle walls tremble.

The trump card I had concealed until the very end.

The black gunpowder bomb had finally revealed its power.

Boom! Boom!!

The Siege tower's lower supports shattered, and it collapsed beneath its own weight.

A piercing ringing filled my ears.

For one brief moment, there was silence.

The battlefield, which had been filled with noise, fell quiet as though it had all been a lie.

Unable to believe what they were seeing, everyone could only stare blankly at the pillar of white smoke rising below the walls.

The Siege tower the Hussites had believed was their only hope had been destroyed.

Then.

"W... Waaaaah!!"

A farmer raised a weapon and cried out. It was the signal.

All those who had awaited death atop the walls erupted into cheers at once.

It was not so much a cry of victory as the roar of survivors who had overcome overwhelming terror.

"Long live the lord!"

"For Sternberg!"

The Hussite camp, in contrast, fell into complete silence. Their hymn had stopped, and their banners hung limply.

The soldiers stared in stunned disbelief at the ruins of their Siege tower.

There was no longer rage or conviction in their eyes. Only primal fear of something they could not understand remained.

Having already lost their will to fight, the soldiers began to slowly back away.

"W-we must retreat! Mikuláš of Hus!"

Another commander, the first to regain their senses, grabbed Mikuláš of Hus by the shoulder and shouted.

But Mikuláš of Hus did not hear them. Or perhaps he heard but could not understand. His empty eyes reflected only the pillar of white smoke and the wreckage of the Siege tower.

"No... no... This can't be..."

His muttering as he stared at the wreckage with bloodshot eyes soon became a crazed shout.

"Attack! All troops, attack! Set the ladders and climb the walls!"

"Mikuláš of Hus!!"

"Kill every last one of those demons! God's warriors do not lose!"

It was an order stripped of reason. Still, the soldiers reluctantly picked up ladders and charged toward the walls again.

From then on, it became a desperate melee without strategy or tactics.

The men atop the walls swung spears and old farming tools, the women poured down boiling filth, and even the children threw whatever stones they could find.

I drew my sword as well and raced across the walls. I ran toward the fiercest fighting, pushed away ladders, and stabbed enemies climbing over the battlements in the throat.

Before I knew it, my armor had been stained so red with the blood of friend and foe that it was impossible to tell whose was whose.

How long had we fought like that? The endless Hussite assault began to thin as though it had all been a lie, because the voice that had been crazily shouting encouragement from below the walls had fallen silent.

The enemy commander had been struck squarely on the crown of the head by a roof tile hurled with all the strength an old farmer could muster.

Thud!

Without even a cry, he fell from his horse and did not move.

The absurdly futile death of the commander leading God's army shattered what remained of the Hussites' will to fight.

They threw down their weapons and fled back the way they had come, screaming.

"Gasp... gasp..."

"Did we win...?"

The battle was over.

Yet no cheers of victory rose anywhere on the walls.

Clang.

A weapon slipped weakly from someone's hand and struck the ground. Then, one by one, the survivors collapsed where they stood.

"Sob..."

"Sniff...!"

It was not the joy of victory.

It was silent weeping, mixed with deep exhaustion, relief at having survived, and grief for those who had gone before them.

Children burst into tears in the arms of their bloodstained parents, while wives beat their chests and wailed beside the cold bodies of their husbands.

A sorrow too heavy to bear settled over the walls, the price left behind by victory.

"..."

Holding my bloodstained sword, I silently took in the terrible sight before me.

'This is real war...'

It was not a story from a movie or drama. They had truly died, and they would never open their eyes again.

We had lost too much to call this a victory, and that loss could never be undone.

My gaze stopped in one place. A woman lay dead with an arrow lodged in her neck, while a child clung to her body and sobbed.

I recognized her face. She was the woman I had given water to in the church.

I stared blankly at the sight, then slowly climbed to the highest point of the wall. Facing the sobbing people of my domain, I spoke.

"Raise your heads."

The crying gradually died down. Bloodshot eyes turned silently toward their lord.

"We fought. We endured. And at last... we survived."

Forcing myself to hide the trembling in my fingers, I pointed the tip of my sword at the bodies sprawled across the walls.

"But remember! This victory was never given to us freely!"

Not only enemies lay there, but Sternberg's own people, who had breathed and fought beside us only moments ago.

"Look at them! Those brave people who were our fathers, husbands, and sons! We must never forget, not for a single moment, that we stand upon their sacrifice! We cannot let their deaths be in vain!"

Without realizing it, my voice gradually grew stronger, as though I were pouring out the emotions knotted tightly in my chest.

"Remember today's tears, this tearing pain, this bone-deep anger! We must use all of it as nourishment and rise again from the ashes! We will build the broken walls higher and the ruined homes stronger! With our own hands, we will raise a Sternberg that no one will ever dare threaten again!"

I raised my bloodied sword high into the sky.

"This is not the end! This is Sternberg's new beginning! Today, upon these ashes, we are reborn!"

My voice rang across the battlefield, loud enough for everyone to hear, not only on the walls but in every corner of the castle.

"History will remember us, and it will remember this day! Those who fell today are not dead! They will become Sternberg's history and breathe with us forever!"

I looked at my people one last time.

"So raise your heads. We won. We survived! Rejoice and cheer as much as you wish! That is the duty of those who survived!"

Yes. We had won. Those who had survived deserved joy more than sorrow.

They had the right to rejoice, and they had more than earned it.

The moment I finished speaking, the dam holding back their emotions burst.

Their sobs became a tremendous roar.

"Waaaaah!!"

"Long live Sternberg!"

"Long live Lord Ulrich!"

The roaring cheers filled Sternberg Castle.

Footnotes:

[1] It was typically a large, multi-level rectangular tower mounted on wheels. Its height was designed to be roughly equal to or taller than the enemy's walls to allow attackers to gain a height advantage. Inside, the tower offered several platforms to house soldiers, such as archers, crossbowmen, spearmen, and swordsmen, who could fire upon defenders from a protected position. When the tower was moved into position against a wall, a gangplank or drawbridge was lowered from the top, allowing troops to rush directly onto the wall and into the castle or city. Besides serving as an "assault bridge," the towers were used as artillery platforms for suppressing enemy defenders with missile fire and sometimes housed battering rams at the base to break through walls or gates. Due to their massive size and the difficulty of moving them, they were usually constructed on-site rather than transported.

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