Chapter 46: The Second Assault

At the break of dawn, more than two thousand gnolls, having finished the last of their meat, assembled into orderly ranks at the command of their chieftains.

Rogus rode upon the back of a gnoll, flanked by two sturdy warriors who bore his chain hammer, serving as his temporary weapon rack.

"Commander, the assembly is complete and awaiting your orders," one of the gnoll chieftains approached and said respectfully.

As sunlight touched the outer walls of the castle, Rogus dismounted, took up his weapon, and shouted, "Attack!"

A tidal wave of gnolls surged toward the fortress, their howls echoing through the air.

Rogus, chain hammer in hand, followed close behind, ready to intervene should the need arise.

Other silver-ranked gnoll warriors hid within the ranks, prepared to climb the walls and launch a surprise attack at the opportune moment.

Just as the day before, three heavy crossbows on the battlements unleashed their fury first, iron bolts streaking toward the attackers.

A bolt whistled past Rogus, piercing two of his bodyguards who followed behind.

"Danger—spread out!" he barked.

The remaining guards scattered, no longer clustering around him.

Within five minutes, and at the cost of over a hundred gnoll lives, the horde closed the short two-kilometer gap and reached the outer wall.

The gnolls split their efforts—some hurled stones and weapons to disrupt the defenders, while others began scaling the walls.

The battle quickly reached a fever pitch—blood sprayed, screams filled the air, and the clash of weapons resounded along the battlements.

Many silver-ranked gnolls broke through, ravaging the defenders, but soon met resistance from the silver knights.

Rogus moved among the throng, his gaze locked on the young human noble atop the castle.

With his keen senses, he was certain: this was the castle's most formidable and highest-ranked adversary. Slay him, and the stronghold would fall with ease.

"Chieftain." A gnoll brought forward a bloodied iron arrow, presenting it to Rogus with deference.

Weighing the arrow, Rogus sought the right moment.

Then, with a surge of strength, he hurled it straight at the human noble atop the castle.

Standing sword in hand, Verin saw the arrow arcing toward him. In a flash, he drew his blade and sliced the missile in two, his gaze immediately finding Rogus among the besiegers.

Man and beast locked eyes, each reading the other's intent.

With a roar, Rogus abandoned disguise, climbed swiftly over his kin, and mounted the wall in mere moments, chain hammer swinging. He sent a dozen soldiers hurtling from the ramparts, their fates uncertain.

Verin's eyes sharpened. He leapt from the platform, landing firmly on the outer wall.

"Human, today, it's either your death or mine," Rogus said, wariness tinging his heavy voice.

"Then let us see who survives," Verin replied, his focus unwavering. His foe was strong, but he was undaunted.

Blade and chain hammer clashed, their battle-energies—green-blue light and fiery red flames—colliding with destructive force, shattering the battlements around them.

Minutes passed, the two locked in stalemate, neither able to best the other.

Suddenly, Orlando appeared at Verin's side. Taking advantage of Rogus's complete focus on the fight, he struck from the flank.

With a dull thud, an arm was severed, tumbling to the wall.

"You despicable humans," Rogus howled, clutching his wound in fury.

"Against monsters, all means are permissible," Verin answered coolly, intent on ending this chaos once and for all.

Seeing two silver knights closing in from either side, Rogus did not hesitate—he leapt from the wall, ordering his guards to hold off pursuit.

Verin followed, springing down in pursuit, with Orlando close behind.

A phalanx of towering gnolls formed a crude defensive line, barring Verin’s path to the fleeing Rogus.

"Kill them!"

But these gnolls were mostly of the lower bronze ranks—no match for two silver knights. In less than ten minutes, they were cut down to a beast.

Yet this bought Rogus the precious time he needed to escape.

Soon after, the sound of retreat was signaled. The surviving gnolls dragged their comrades' corpses away, withdrawing from the field.

The siege had lasted less than two hours, but its ferocity dwarfed the previous day’s. Blood stained the outer walls, and the corpses of gnolls and defenders lay intermingled.

Once safe, Rogus convened what remained of his chieftains. Days ago there had been seventeen; now only nine, each bearing wounds.

All faces were grave, Rogus's included—gone was any former ease.

"In this battle, the humans proved formidable. Fifteen silver knights—a powerful force indeed.

"I suspect this is a human outpost; beyond lies the true territory of their nobility. Therefore, I have decided to bypass this place and strike deeper into human lands to recoup our losses."

"Yes, Commander," the nine surviving chieftains replied, eager to escape this place of death.

To avoid further sorties from the castle’s defenders, Rogus immediately ordered fires lit for cooking. His gnolls ate their fill, then prepared to depart without delay—hoping to avoid unforeseen disaster.

Meanwhile, Verin tallied the casualties and compared them to the spoils, seeking some consolation.

This battle claimed a hundred and seventeen lives—thirteen from the regular army, the rest serfs. Another two hundred and twenty-six were wounded.

In return, they took six hundred eighty-seven common gnoll heads, one hundred sixty-seven bronze-ranked, and five silver-ranked. The rest of the bodies had been reclaimed by the enemy.

"Belde, prepare a force for tonight—"

At that moment, Knight Randolph entered, knelt on one knee, and reported, "My lord, scouts report the gnolls have vanished, likely heading east."

Verin swallowed his words, then said, "Take care of the corpses. We must prevent an outbreak of plague."

"Yes, my lord."

After Belde departed, Verin propped his chin in thought.

"So, they head east. That means they'll return eventually. We'll intercept them on the road, seize what we can, and offset our losses."

As for what losses might befall the eastern nobles, that was not his concern.

He had held the gnolls here for a day and a night, slaying over a thousand—by any measure, he had done his duty for both the kingdom and its nobility.