Chapter 88: Blood and Fire in Platinum City (Part 4)
With just a single bolt, the giant, looking as if it had stepped straight out of an ancient mural, was shot down as easily as a bird with a broken wing.
Charlotte had heard that in some parts of the Eagle Continent, people called the dragon-slaying crossbow the "Angel of Destruction." Now, she truly understood why it bore such a name.
There was more than one dragon-slaying crossbow atop the towers of Platinum City. Being targeted by them from such a high vantage point, one could only imagine the horrifying casualties the tribesmen attempting to storm the city would suffer.
However, Charlotte wasn't particularly inclined to sympathize with those tribesmen.
When Baxia's tribal army emerged from the Kanpei Mountains, they carried only essential weapons and rations for two or three days. Although they acquired some "food" during the attack on the Silver Wing Camp, they had avoided attacking any large towns afterward to conceal their movements, naturally capturing no further supplies. By now, the tribesmen had likely consumed all the food they carried.
Baxia ordered his troops to replenish their provisions. How else could they supplement their diet? Naturally, by following the glorious tradition of the tribesmen – plunder.
Numerous villages, manors, and farms surrounded Platinum City. Of course, it was winter, so there wouldn't be fresh fruits or vegetables in the fields, but the tribesmen weren't picky eaters. The villagers, serfs, and slaves in those villages, manors, and farms were already acceptable ingredients for them.
Charlotte suspected the tribal warriors might even find the flesh of nobility more palatable. Otherwise, it couldn't explain the ever-increasing number of tribesmen gathering around them.
"Ahhh, help me..."
A strong young laborer was caught off guard, ensnared by a sticky, fleshy tongue, and dragged out of the defensive circle formed by the knights and squires around the convoy.
A horde of starving tribesmen swarmed him. With sharp claws and teeth, they tore open the laborer's belly, digging out the fresh, tender small intestines and liver to devour first.
"This really doesn't seem like a group of tribesmen," Charlotte murmured to herself, scrutinizing the surrounding warriors.
"This... this... this isn't like tribesmen?" André stammered, his face pale as he pointed at the scene of living humans being dismembered and eaten.
"I'm not talking about that, brother. Look..." Charlotte raised her hand, pointing as she spoke. "The closest ring of tribesmen consists of those Lizardmen with hard scales... hmm, let's tentatively call them Lizardmen. Behind the Lizardmen are the Halflings, who favor bows and slingshots. Further out, the agile Centaurs are patrolling. And up in the sky, there are Birdmen constantly monitoring our movements."
"These races have clear roles, each performing their duty. Although their coordination is still a bit rough and lacks perfect synergy, they already show the rudimentary form of an excellent army. It's hard to imagine they are the same disorganized mob that the knights of the Green Plain Duchy claimed couldn't even manage a proper robbery."
Charlotte folded her arms, sighing with feelings. She certainly didn't believe the knights of the Green Plain Duchy were collectively lying; the scene before her could only mean that the tribesmen had made tremendous progress in the past two years.
"We're surrounded! How can you be in the mood to talk about this?" André was on the verge of tears.
"Whether I'm in the mood or not, we're still surrounded, aren't we?" Charlotte replied calmly.
Charlotte knew André's reaction wasn't due to cowardice; the sight of tribesmen devouring humans was simply too horrifying.
Although the circular formation of knights and squires continued its slow but steady advance towards the northeast, the slightest gap appearing in their ranks prompted an immediate attack from the tribesmen. They would strike unexpectedly, snatching one or two people from the convoy to be torn apart and eaten.
Some didn't care for raw meat. They set up fires right near the convoy to cook. When the savory aroma of roasted meat drifted over, someone finally lost control...
But it wasn't André.
A young squire broke down emotionally. He dropped the spear in his hands and ran howling from the formation.
Count Philip, commanding the circle, frowned. But upon seeing the position the squire had abandoned, he didn't immediately reprimand him.
Seeing this, Charlotte's expression changed instantly. She shouted without hesitation, "Knight Garcia!"
Jarrod Garcia understood immediately. He drew his bow from his saddle and shot the fleeing squire down with a single arrow.
Seeing the breach in the formation, the tribesmen attacked again almost without hesitation.
"Hiss... Roar!"
A Lizardman, four wings of light unfurling from its back, led the charge, wielding a crude club.
Actually, this race with hard scales wasn't called Lizardmen. Their tribal name was likely "Hairike," meaning scale, so translated into the Oran language, they should be called "Scalekin." However, Charlotte calling them Lizardmen made sense; they had scales and could flick out their long tongues to attack or hunt, looking very much like lizards.
A tall guard beside Count Philip immediately raised his shield and charged forward. He too was a Four-Winged Sword Adept.
The two Four-Winged Adepts, whose physical prowess surpassed ordinary humans, collided with a sound like an explosion. The terrifying force directly shattered the fine steel shield in the guard's hand.
Fortunately, the breach was plugged in time. The formation didn't collapse due to one man's desertion.
"Hiss Roar!"
The four-winged Lizardman glared fiercely with bloodshot eyes at the nobles in the center of the formation and roared again in frustration. From the direct clash just now, he could sense that this Four-Winged Sword Adept's close combat ability was inferior to his own. However, his opponent was well-equipped. Even with the shield broken, he still had armor and a sharp knight's sword, while the Lizardman only possessed a club.
This "club" was essentially a large wooden stick tied with sharp obsidian shards.
In that split-second collision, the Lizardman, relying on his faster reflexes, had struck first. But his club hit the opponent's armor, not only failing to injure him but also giving the knight an opening to counter-thrust.
If the Lizardman hadn't retreated promptly, he would have been stabbed through the stomach. How could he accept this?
"Whose squire was that?" Charlotte asked, pointing at the fallen squire.
"He was my squire, milady," replied an old knight guarding the carriage carrying Rosie and Sean, bowing his head.
"Will you do it yourself, or shall Knight Garcia do it for you?" Charlotte asked, her voice icy cold.
"I..." The old knight glanced at Rosie's carriage, but there was no reaction from within. He gritted his teeth helplessly. "I will do it myself."
The old knight drew his dagger, stepped forward, and ended the life of the squire who had fled in the face of the enemy.
"This can't go on," Charlotte said, looking up at the night sky that had already descended. "We have too many people, but too few fighters. Uncle, let's find a place to hold out for the night first. We'll continue our journey tomorrow morning."
Count Philip nodded, then pointed in a direction. "I remember there should be a manor over there. We can spend the night at the manor."
The convoy headed in the direction Count Philip indicated. Sure enough, before the sky turned completely dark, they spotted a manor. However, the manor's situation seemed even worse than their own.
The manor walls and most buildings had been breached. A few survivors were holed up inside a granary, making a last stand. Count Philip led a small detachment of knights in a surprise attack from the rear, dispersing the tribesmen besieging the granary.
Inside the granary were only a few knights, a dozen or so youths, and an acquaintance of Charlotte's – the Minister of Finance, Count Ifa, Rade Paste.
"Count Rade, what are you doing here?" Charlotte asked strangely, looking at the dust-covered Rade.
"This is my family manor. Isn't it normal for me to be here?" Rade replied.
It turned out that after leaving Count Philip's manor, Count Rade felt it was too early to return, fearing Dowager Queen Mary might think he hadn't tried hard enough. So, he dawdled outside the city, wasting a lot of time before heading back. But just as he reached the city gates, he found the defenses heavily manned, banners flying, clearly preparing for battle.
Count Rade thought some incident had occurred within Platinum City and, fearing trouble, abandoned the idea of entering the city. He retreated to his own manor to sleep. He had only taken a short nap when he opened his eyes to find an ugly tribesman standing by his bed, holding a blood-dripping weapon.
Charlotte felt a little like laughing after hearing Count Ifa's story. There was always something about this Count that felt familiar to her. It hadn't been obvious before, but now Charlotte was almost certain: it was the aura of a corporate drone trying every means to get by, dodging trouble whenever possible.
Such an aura was practically a breath of fresh air in the treacherous political landscape of the Oran Empire.
Meanwhile, west of Platinum City.
The tribesmen had unprecedentedly constructed a fortified camp outside Platinum City. This was not only the first time the tribesmen had built such a camp outside Platinum City but likely the first military camp they had built in a thousand years.
King Baxia sat across a campfire from a black-robed figure, enjoying dinner. Baxia's meal was a large chunk of roasted meat of unknown origin, while the black-robed figure ate simple bread and sauce.
"I've already sent men from ten tribes to fell timber and build siege engines overnight according to your designs," Baxia said to the black-robed figure after taking a bite of meat.
The black-robed figure showed little emotion, replying flatly, "You should have set up camp and started building siege engines this afternoon."
"Wasn't I just trying a sneak attack? What if Platinum City was unprepared?" Baxia sighed regretfully. "Unfortunately, Platinum City isn't so easily surprised. The casualties this afternoon were quite heavy..."
"In fact, even with siege engines tomorrow, Platinum City won't be easily conquered," the black-robed figure doused Baxia's hopes again.
"I know, but it will definitely be worth it," Baxia nodded.
The black-robed figure paused in eating his bread. "I still don't understand why you insist on attacking Platinum City."
Hearing this question, Baxia fell silent for a long while before speaking, "What do you think of the current Tribal Alliance?"
The black-robed figure pondered for a moment. "It is very powerful..."
"Haha," Baxia chuckled, shaking his head. "No need for such pleasantries in front of me. The current Tribal Alliance is just scattered sand, a disorganized mob. Those tribal leaders outwardly obey me, but in reality, each harbors their own schemes. I need a hammer, an anvil, to shatter these unworthy stones one by one, then smelt and forge them into a sharp blade."
"So you intend to use Platinum City as your anvil?" The black-robed figure couldn't hide the shock in his voice.
"Not Platinum City, but the Oran Empire. But since we are to be enemies with the Oran Empire, what could possibly anger them more, or boost the morale of the young tribesmen more, than attacking Platinum City?" Baxia said with a smile. "If you pay closer attention in the camp, you'll notice the young tribal warriors are extremely excited, eagerly anticipating tomorrow's formal assault."
After a long silence, the black-robed figure finally said, "You truly are audacious."
"Thank you. Audacious. May I take that as a compliment?" Baxia grinned.
"Of course," the black-robed figure nodded. "After all, we Puppet Masters are also called audacious by the Church."
"Haha, that's quite fitting then," Baxia laughed heartily. "It proves we are indeed destined to become close friends."
The black-robed figure didn't respond directly to Baxia, lost in thought. Suddenly, he spoke, "If you truly intend to take something from Platinum City, you'd best hurry tomorrow. You probably only have this one day to launch an all-out assault. Because soon, the Royal Griffin Knight Regiment will be recalled from the border. Against them, these tribal warriors of yours stand no chance."
"Mm, I am aware of that, of course," Baxia nodded.
Rade Paste's Manor, inside the Granary.
Enjoying the shelter and hot food provided by Count Rade, Count Philip was very grateful. "Tomorrow at dawn, I'll dispatch a few knights to escort you back to Platinum City first, Your Excellency."
"No need," Count Rade shook his head without thinking. "I'd rather go with you to Oriole Fortress."
Charlotte noticed Count Rade's attitude and couldn't help asking curiously, "You really don't want to return to Platinum City that badly?"
Count Rade looked at Charlotte seriously. He felt this daughter of the Green Plain Duchy's Duke possessed wisdom beyond her years. After a moment, he chuckled, leaned closer to Charlotte, and whispered, "Do you think your grandfather, His Majesty Ethel, is the Empire's greatest hidden danger?"
Before Charlotte could answer, Count Rade answered himself, "No. Although he thinks about rebelling all day, His Majesty Ethel isn't lethal enough. A more serious hidden danger than him is currently still inside Platinum City."
"Is that danger Henry Holovin?" Charlotte followed up smoothly.
"Ahem..." Count Rade nearly choked on a sip of water. After wiping his mouth with a handkerchief, he continued, "No, I'm talking about your other grandfather. As long as that man remains in Platinum City, I, for one, dare not go back."
Saying this, Count Rade couldn't help but sigh, looking deeply worried.