Section Thirty-Six: The Day the Star of David Was Raised (Part Two)

Despite everything, the counterattack proved far more difficult than they had imagined. They could not comprehend how the old, once-indolent, poorly trained, and recently mutinous regular squads could now, atop the city walls, display a level of skill and resolve far surpassing their usual training. Time and again, the soldiers of the First Regiment launched assaults, only to be driven back down the narrow corridor, which soon became littered with corpses, blood running in small streams.

The five-man group from the Inspectorate only participated in two attempts before withdrawing from the carnage—not out of fear, but because the white-robed mage Aladdin swiftly realized that these frontal assaults would not yield results anytime soon. Unless they first suppressed the gunfire from above, the bullets, falling rocks, boiling oil, and other defensive measures from the defenders inflicted more casualties on the soldiers squeezing up the corridor than direct combat ever could.

After over a dozen fierce skirmishes for control of the stairwell, the infantry regiment outside the city was finally forced to retreat, battered by the relentless cannon fire from atop the walls.

Hendley and his allies did not yet know that the reinforcements outside the city had already withdrawn, but they were soon to find out. With the enemy outside routed, the cannons shifted their aim, focusing their bombardment anew—not on the streets or civilian houses, but once again on their original target: the Governor’s mansion.

Three more volleys of concentrated bombardment, on top of the earlier shelling, left Hendley’s once-luxurious residence in ruins, not quite razed to the ground, but reduced to little more than shattered walls and broken beams.

"Grant, this isn’t over between us!" Hendley raged, powerless and furious as he watched his home reduced to rubble.

"We must retreat," said Aladdin, the white-robed mage of the Inspectorate’s five-man group, standing beside Smith and Hendley. Hendley was deeply dissatisfied with their withdrawal after only two assaults, but the group operated under direct orders from Wallenheit, and not even Smith could command them. The fact that they had intervened at all was already more than he could have hoped for. Their original mission was to capture Hegel, and if possible, assassinate Grant. Once both proved unattainable, their primary duty became carrying intelligence back to Valencia, not dying in vain here.

"Cowards, the lot of you!" Hendley snarled. He had sacrificed everything for Wallenheit and the nation, even enduring the destruction of his own home in the hopes of killing Grant. Now, with the tide turned, these accursed secret agents wanted to flee. They had less conscience than the politicians themselves!

"It’s time for us to leave," Smith said coldly.

Hendley was stunned. "What? What did you say? Retreat? Why should we retreat? We should keep attacking, keep pressing forward. If we take the walls and recapture the cannons, Gaul City will still be ours!"

Smith sneered. "Are you mad? Can you not see our mounting casualties, while the defenders show no sign of being dislodged? Grant has clearly committed everything to this defense. They’re using the corridor to stall us, while the cannons decimate our reinforcements outside. Now that the enemy has been driven off, it’s our turn to be shelled. Look—they’re already bombarding your mansion. That means the reinforcements have withdrawn. We still have time to escape; if we concentrate on the East Gate, we might break through, though with heavy losses. But if we stay here and wait for the shells to find us, we’ll not even have that chance. Even without the cannons, that corridor is a meat grinder. They have the high ground and the advantage in defense, and with your troops’ betrayal, our numbers count for little. Stay now, and when the cannons turn on us, it’ll be too late to run."

"No! We can’t go. I beg you!" Hendley was on the verge of collapse. Smith and the First Regiment could leave—Valencia could always send more troops to retake Gaul. But Hendley could not abandon everything; if he fled, all would be lost. Even if he reached Valencia, what then? At best, he’d be a pensioner; more likely, he’d be scapegoated for the loss of Gaul, for the real turning point had not been the cannons, but the uprising of those six squads. Without their mutiny, the revolutionaries could never have seized the walls or the artillery.

"Then stay if you wish," Smith replied curtly, no longer interested in Hendley’s pleas. He ordered the retreat.

The musketeers of the First Regiment unleashed a fierce barrage to cover the withdrawal of the soldiers from the stairwell. Once the spearmen and axemen fighting at close quarters had fallen back, the musketeers continued firing as they retreated, concentrating their escape on the East Gate.

The revolutionaries had fewer defenders at the East Gate, and under this sudden onslaught, they struggled to hold. The defense there was commanded by Layard and Gamio, who urgently called for help from the Western Gate.

"I’ll go help them," said Wei Wuji upon hearing the plea from his acquaintances. Without waiting for Grant’s approval, he ran along the ramparts toward the East Gate.

Leonardo quickly dispatched two veteran squads and some old revolutionaries to reinforce the defense. With these reinforcements and Wei Wuji arriving at the end of the stone stairs in the East Gate corridor, Smith’s last hope was dashed. He had planned to withdraw through the East Gate, perhaps even snatch it back and turn the tide, but now those dreams were crushed.

Especially with Wei Wuji blocking the corridor’s end, not even the bravest spearmen or axemen could break through. Crescent-shaped arcs of Xuan Tian Blacksteel swordlight flashed again and again, cutting down any First Regiment soldier who dared advance, painting the corridor red with blood.

Smith was forced to abandon all hope of retaking the city. Gathering his men, they battered down the locked gate with beams torn from nearby houses, all while fighting a rearguard action. The First Regiment retreated from the city, fleeing into the open country.

As soon as they cleared the walls, the city’s cannons thundered again, as if firing a salute—but each round claimed more lives. The revolutionaries’ amateur gunners were using the fleeing First Regiment for target practice, and under Hegel’s expert guidance, their accuracy improved rapidly.

The First Regiment did not stop until they had fled over five kilometers, where they waited to regroup with the infantry regiment outside the city. Smith gazed back at Gaul, torn. If he could reunite with the infantry and the cavalry lured away earlier, their numbers might again tip the balance—should he try to retake the city? But every time he closed his eyes, he heard the recent cannonade anew, and so he abandoned the thought. He decided instead to encamp nearby, gather provisions, and await another opportunity, while sending word to Valencia as quickly as possible.

At that moment, banners rose above both city gates. On the crimson flags, a golden six-pointed star blazed with dazzling light.