Chapter 410: The People Miss the House of Thyssen
Left with no choice, King Rhaed and King Ead had to continue their desperate flight.
Half a day later, having finally shaken off the pursuers from Lan Exeter, Rhaed and Ead were left with only a dozen or so attendants between them.
"How could this happen…"
King Ead, exhausted and with the insides of his thighs rubbed raw, was helped off his horse by his attendant. He sank to the ground, his face a mask of utter despair.
Next to him, King Rhaed's expression was equally grim. He already sensed that everything that had happened to the House of Thyssen decades ago was likely about to repeat itself with him. This caused the usually stoic King Rhaed to rare into an uncharacteristic fury:
"No! This isn't over! I haven't lost! There's still a chance to recover everything!"
King Ead looked at him hopelessly. "Accept it. We've lost. If we surrender to Istrad now, perhaps we can still—"
It took all of King Rhaed's effort not to draw his sword and cleave his ally in two.
"You useless fool! Idiot! Even if Istrad is fast, we can at least retreat to Poviss! We can make it to Rákverellin!"
Rákverellin was once an ordinary city, but it had become the capital of Poviss after the split. King Rhaed had given lands near Rákverellin to his most loyal vassals. Before this campaign, sensing ill omens, he had not conscripted those loyalists, but had instead hired a mercenary company called the Feral Cats.
"Rákverellin must still be holding. If we can reach that place…" Rhaed flipped onto his horse. "Get up, quick! We must move immediately! We'll go to the nearest port town and take a ship back to Poviss!"
King Ead, remembering how quickly Lan Exeter had fallen, shook his head violently. "A ship? No! I'd rather take the small roads. What if the port town garrison has also betrayed us? We'd be walking right into a trap!"
"Suit yourself, then."
Under normal circumstances, King Rhaed might have patiently tried to reason with Ead. But he lacked the patience now.
Let the fat pig die on his own. It's his own fault, King Rhaed thought, and rode off quickly toward the nearest port town with his remaining subordinates. He genuinely left King Ead behind.
Two of King Ead's attendants silently followed Rhaed. The rest hesitated for only a moment, but by then, Rhaed's party was already far away. Helpless, the remaining attendants stiffly asked, "Your Majesty, what should we do?"
King Ead glared, grinding his teeth at the sight of Rhaed having actually abandoned him. After cursing venomously, he managed to clamber to his feet.
"We walk."
Before becoming the ruler of Kovir, King Ead had been one of its nobles. Fortunately, this particular area had once been his territory. He knew a small woodland path that bypassed cities and fortresses and led directly to Poviss.
I can't stay in Kovir any longer. The hounds who miss the House of Thyssen are probably all rebelling. I can only make it to Poviss and find a way to take a ship to Toussaint.
Go to Rákverellin? I'm not that stupid. Since the Kovir nobles have already rebelled, the Poviss nobles turning against me is only a matter of time. Why go to Rákverellin? To wait for death?
Still, if that fool Rhaed decides to hold Rákverellin, it won't be a bad thing. At least he can draw Istrad's hounds to him.
A day later.
King Ead, with his few remaining attendants, galloped down the small forest path.
Just through this trail, and we'll be in the kingdom of Poviss.
I hope the nobles of Poviss haven't revolted quite yet.
If Istrad wants Kovir and Poviss so badly, I'll just give them back to him.
King Ead was lost in his thoughts, utterly failing to notice the eyes watching him from ambush on both sides of the road.
"Do you think those are King Ead and his attendants retreating from the front line?"
"How could the odds be that good?"
"Never mind the odds. The crests on their surcoats mark them as knights serving King Ead, right? Ead's regime is collapsing anyway, and Kovir is returning to the House of Thyssen. So what if we kill a few of his men?"
"Look at those warhorses. And the armor! They'll fetch a fine price!"
"Then what are we waiting for? Get moving!"
A scream snapped King Ead back to reality. A slender tree suddenly fell across the path ahead. It happened so fast that the attendant leading the group couldn't avoid it, and the falling tree struck him squarely on the head, crushing him and his horse beneath it. The fallen tree not only killed an attendant instantly but also blocked the path.
"We're under attack!"
"Protect the King!"
The attendants reacted quickly, forming a ragged circle to shield King Ead. Then, their faces paled when they saw hundreds of farmers emerging from the woods on both sides of the road, brandishing pitchforks and hoes, rushing them with reckless abandon.
Moments later, King Ead was dead.
Meanwhile, Istrad's main army faced no further obstacles after defeating the forces of Kings Rhaed and Ead. The entirety of Kovir had defected, and wherever the royal army went, the common people came with baskets of food and drink to welcome them.
Since they met no resistance along the way, the army didn't pause. Upon hearing that only Rákverellin, King Rhaed's personal domain in Poviss, was still resisting, the army marched straight toward it.
As Istrad's army advanced on Rákverellin, King Rhaed was, against all odds, fortunate enough to return to the city. His party, having discarded their armor and disguised themselves as merchants, successfully chartered a boat, which brought them back to Rákverellin.
Yet, King Rhaed could not be optimistic. According to reports from his subordinates, all of Poviss, save for Rákverellin, had also surrendered to Istrad. His loyal vassals had brought their troops from their own lands into Rákverellin, and together with the five thousand hired Feral Cats, his total force numbered ten thousand. The city's stored food supplies could allow them to hold out for a year.
As long as we can hold on, there will always be a way.
Clinging to this desperate hope, Rákverellin awaited the arrival of Istrad's massive army.
Thanks to the betrayal of the original Kovir and Poviss noble coalition, Istrad's army had ballooned to a terrifying sixty thousand men. Although half of this force consisted of conscripted levies, the other half was comprised of professional soldiers. After completely encircling Rákverellin, the bloody siege began.
The Rákverellin garrison fought with ferocity. Volleys of arrows rained down from the city walls. The longbowmen of the Restoration Army returned fire, but the defenders had the advantage of height, making downward shots far more effective. When the battering rams approached the city gate, the defenders poured scalding oil from the walls onto the canopy protecting the rams. Then, burning torches were thrown down, instantly setting the rams and the soldiers operating them alight.
The gruesome battle continued from dawn till dusk, and then the next day, and the day after that… A week of high-intensity attacks and defenses left both sides heavily wounded and utterly exhausted.
Even King Rhaed himself barely slept. In just a few days, he seemed to have aged considerably. But mercifully, as the sun set and night fell, the besieging army once again retreated like a tide. King Rhaed handed over the defense to a noble and immediately went to rest. If he didn't, he feared he would leave this world before Istrad's army even breached the city.
The defending soldiers finally sighed in relief. Exhausted, they sat down right where they were, regardless of the dirt and grime. After eating the rations delivered by logistics, many fell into a deep sleep.
Hours later, deep in the night, a dozen figures silently approached the base of the city wall, masked by darkness.
There were guards standing watch and on patrol on the walls, but even if they strained their eyes, they couldn't see the figures below. Rákverellin was the capital of Poviss, but it had only been designated so recently, and since it was far from the original borders, King Rhaed had never reinforced or heightened its walls.
Climbing a ten-meter wall would be basically impossible for an ordinary person without ladders or siege towers. But for the witchers, it was no great feat. The witchers who had undergone the second mutation could easily jump several meters high. With the aid of grappling hooks, scaling the ten-meter wall was a simple task.
The School of the Viper and the School of the Cat, masters of stealth, took the lead. The Schools of the Wolf, Griffin, and the single heavy-armored School of the Bear stayed by the gate, waiting for it to be opened, as their armor would make noise during movement.
The infiltration went smoothly. A week of fierce siege warfare had utterly drained the stamina and focus of the garrison. Furthermore, since the besieging army had consistently retreated after sunset only to attack again the next morning, the defenders had gradually let down their guard. After all, the people of this era are largely blind at night.
The defending side was fine; they only needed to hold their ground and prevent the enemy from climbing their ladders. But the attacking side was at a severe disadvantage. The light cast by a torch wasn't as great as one might think, and the difficulty of climbing a ladder with a torch in one hand was immense. Without a torch, the task was impossible. This is why historical night battles were so rare in this world.
But the garrison could never have imagined that there were beings in this world—the witchers—whose movements were utterly unaffected by the darkness, seeing the night as if it were day.
The few patrolling and standing guards were silently dispatched. The remaining soldiers, lying asleep on the walls, were ignored. The Viper and Cat schools swiftly descended from the walls to the gatehouse. The inner side of the gate was also strewn with sleeping men, who, due to their habitual thinking, had not anticipated any danger and had not even posted a watch.
Thus, the Viper and Cat witchers easily opened the city gates, letting in the witchers from the other schools who had waited outside.
Lynn made a cutting motion across his throat, and the others began methodically clearing out the sleeping enemy soldiers near the gate. He, meanwhile, took out a light crossbow, loaded a signal flare, and fired it skyward.
Shhhwoo—
The flare burst into a brilliant bloom of light in the black night sky.
Many people were awakened by the sound of the flare, and combined with the sounds of fighting near the gate, they quickly realized what was happening.
But it was already too late.
The prepared Restoration Army surged through the opened gate. Although the garrison fought desperately to stop them, lacking preparation and unified command, they ultimately could not stem the tide.
The city, which had resisted a week of furious assault, was now being overrun by the endless flow of the Restoration Army. The various nobles systematically led their troops: some cleared out the immediate enemy, others headed to the other walls, and still others moved into the city to secure key locations.
When King Rhaed heard that the Restoration Army had breached the city, he even changed into women's clothes, intending to blend in with a group of female refugees to escape. Unfortunately, before he could leave the palace, he ran straight into Lynn and the witchers, who were prioritizing the capture of the commander.
Thus, contrary to King Rhaed's expectation that the city could hold out for a year until Istrad retreated, Rákverellin fell after only a single week.
The end of the campaign was followed by a long period of trials and rewards.
The families of King Ead and King Rhaed were utterly rooted out and their bloodlines ended by Istrad. Their loyal vassals were either executed or exiled. The rolling heads on the execution block proved that Istrad was not a ruler who relied solely on winning hearts.
Then came the reckoning for the nobles who had defected to Kings Rhaed and Ead after the House of Thyssen was overthrown, and the rewarding of those who had remained loyal. Given that even the defecting nobles had claimed their actions were for the ultimate return of the House of Thyssen, Istrad strived for an impartial judgment that didn't show favoritism. This process consumed a significant amount of time.
Finally, the time came for the nobles and soldiers who had answered Istrad's call and formed the Restoration Army. Istrad ensured every one of them received a substantial piece of the pie, and even the bravely fighting soldiers were given satisfying compensation. Kovir and Poviss had a rich commercial economy that would quickly recover now that the war was over, meaning Istrad could deliver on all his promises.
And last of all, were the rewards for the witchers.