The orc army surged into the streets like a tidal wave, only to find that the garrison had retreated to rows of gray-black brick towers.
These towers are arranged in hexagonal or circular shapes, each resembling a lurking steel hedgehog.
"boom!"
Suddenly, a cannon atop a tower spewed flames, and shrapnel swept across the entire street, instantly felling the orc warriors at the forefront, their blood pooling into streams on the cobblestones.
"Watch out for the right!" Aijile, who was overseeing the battle from a distance, had just shouted when more than a dozen tongues of fire shot out from the firing ports on the second floor of another tower on the west side.
Lead bullets clanged against the heavy shields, but several orc warriors were still felled by bullets that pierced through the gaps.
Aijile immediately moved to a safe distance, surrounded by guards.
These buildings were designed ingeniously. The ground floor was made of thick stone, so that when the orc warriors who rushed to the front tried to strike it with their battle axes, they could only produce sparks. The firing ports, arranged in a honeycomb pattern on three to five layers, allowed the defenders' firearms to fire from 360 degrees without any blind spots. Lightweight cannons were mounted on the platform at the top, which could bombard distant orc gathering points at any time.
The most terrifying thing is the coordination between the towers. They are staggered, so when the orcs concentrate their attack on one tower, the other nearby towers immediately provide crossfire support.
Centurion, an orc, finally managed to break down the wooden door of the South Tower with his men, only to find a deep tunnel inside. The intruders were quickly killed.
This tower was designed by Paul and was inspired by the Japanese pillboxes during the War of Resistance against Japan.
Although the Northwest Army did not have rapid-fire weapons such as machine guns, the orcs on the other side were only using melee weapons.
Aijile organized assault teams to try to capture the tower directly in front of him, but all of them only resulted in more casualties.
"Your Highness!" A soldier, his face covered in blood, ran up. "The fifth assault team has been forced to retreat! Half of them were killed, and those who survived are all wounded!"
In the past, Aijile might have offered words of encouragement to those who failed, but with each defeat, all he feels now is anxiety.
Aijile slammed his fist into the wall beside him. Looking at the towers spitting fire, he suddenly understood why the defenders had willingly abandoned the city walls—these damned fortresses were the real meat grinders.
"Go outside the city and gather materials to build new city rams!" Aijile's voice roared like a horrifying cry from hell. "Smash these turtle shells one by one!"
The siege equipment prepared earlier had been destroyed by the defenders' cannons during the attack on the city walls.
When Aijile looked back, he saw weariness in the eyes of the soldiers. These once fearless warriors of the steppe had begun to lose their fighting spirit after repeated setbacks.
Abar stood on the high ground outside the city, the Great Chieftain staring with a somber gaze at the smoke-filled Stone Bridge Town. Every burst of gunfire from within the city lashed at his heart like a whip.
"Something's not right," he said, stroking his battle axe. Suddenly, he looked at Otasi beside him. "I suddenly have a feeling we might have been tricked!"
The old shaman's bone staff trembled slightly: " What does 'Great Chieftain' mean?"
" That fox, Glaeman!"
Abar slammed his fist on the chariot's armrest. "He used Acosta's words to deliberately make the letter look like a trap, so that we would think Laois was his main force."
He pointed to the towers still spitting fire within the city, "But... but look at the resistance in this town, how tenacious their fighting is. If it weren't for Glaeman's main force, how could they have such fighting power?"
Abar's analysis gradually made those around him realize the truth.
"Cunning humans!"
"Damn Glaeman!"
Curses and curses erupted.
"Bring Acosta here!" Great Chieftain roared angrily.
Inside the golden tent, the flames from the bronze brazier illuminated Abar's ferocious face, making him appear like a demon from hell. When two orc warriors dragged Acosta into the tent like a dead dog, everyone heard the thud of the viscount's kneecaps hitting the ground.
" Great Chieftain." Acosta's lips were split and bleeding. His expensive silk shirt was already tattered, revealing the bloody welts on his back from being whipped. His right eye was swollen shut, and his left leg was twisted unnaturally—clearly, he had already received special treatment from the orcs before being brought here.
Acosta's face still showed confusion and fear.
"Great… Great Chieftain?" he asked in a trembling voice, his throat hoarse from thirst. "Have I done something to offend you?"
Abar slowly rose to his feet, each thud of his boots sending shivers down Acosta's spine. The orc chieftain walked up to him, grabbed the viscount by the hair, and dragged him to the tent entrance, forcing him to look up at the fierce battle raging in Stone Bridge Town in the distance.
"Look!" Abar roared, his eyes burning with rage. "My attack was met with fierce resistance! Glaeman's main force is stationed in Stone Bridge Town! That damned letter of yours was no false intelligence at all! It's a trap, a trap, and you played a part in it!"
Acosta's face turned deathly pale. "No, this can't be!" He shook his head violently, his voice shrill with fear. "Father would never lie to me! He clearly told me it was fake, that I was to trick you into it."
"Shut up!" Abar, enraged, delivered a powerful punch that knocked him to the ground. The Viscount lay curled up on the ground, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, yet he still muttered to himself, "Father wouldn't... He wouldn't hurt me."
Abar's voice was like sandpaper rubbing against pig iron, "My warriors could fill the moat of Stone Bridge Town three times over because of your blood!" He slammed Acosta's face to the ground, "Tell me! What did Glaeman give you in return?"
The viscount's teeth struck a hard rock, blood dripping from his chin: "I swear I really don't understand what happened."
"Slap!" Abar's eyes flashed with ferocity in the firelight, and a slap sent Acosta flying to the corner of the tent. The Viscount knocked over the weapon rack, and several battle axes grazed his scalp and were driven into the ground.
"Still acting?" Great Chieftain pulled a red-hot branding iron from the charcoal brazier. "Do you know why I spared your good-for-nothing father's life back then?"
The branding iron shone in front of Acosta's eyes, the heat making his eyelashes curl. "It was all so that one day I could chain all of you Bradleys to a stake! Too bad he got away!"
Acosta suddenly broke down in tears, his luxurious riding breeches soaked with urine: "Spare me! I can take you to the real traitor... right here... right here..."
He couldn't come up with anything else.
Suddenly, a rapid horn sounded outside the tent. When the messenger rushed in, the branding iron in Abar's hand was still smoking.
" Great Chieftain! Urgent report from the scouts—a large army is moving towards Stone Bridge Town from the north!"