Knight: Becoming King of the World

But being on constant alert meant they couldn’t rest. With the enemy holding back, this war of attrition was simply agonizing.

They even suspected the enemy was already fast asleep—perhaps after having a good laugh at what idiots they were.

Time ticked by, and the soldiers’ stamina and energy drained away. Their eyelids grew heavy, and their bodies began to sway.

But just as they were about to collapse, they would recall the terrifying legends of Henry’s army, remembering the scenes of stone shot falling like rain. They had no choice but to rally their spirits and continue to stand fast.

Rumor had it that Henry and his army ate human brains. They would supposedly chop off their enemies’ heads, scoop out the brains to eat, and then pile the empty skulls into a mountain of trophies.

There were many such legends—the kind that could stop a child from crying at night.

Enduring this torment, the soldiers grew increasingly agitated.

They began to complain—about Henry’s cunning and the cruelty of this war.

They even began to wonder if they could hold out until reinforcements arrived, should the enemy keep this up day after day.

They were still pinning their hopes on phantom reinforcements. Not even their ample food supplies, their vast numbers of comrades and citizens, or the high, thick city walls could give them any sense of security.

But despite it all, they chose to endure.

And so, the defenders of Odoche passed the entire night in a state of exhaustion and bewilderment.

Meanwhile, Henry’s army rested quietly in their camp, conserving their strength and preparing for the next day’s main event.

This tactic of Henry’s had undoubtedly placed immense psychological pressure on the defenders, causing them to expend vast amounts of stamina and energy without even realizing it.

John slept fitfully that night. His dreams were filled with images of stone shot raining down, fiery explosions lighting up the sky, and Henry’s cold, ruthless face.

When he awoke at dawn, he was greeted by a splitting headache and a profound sense of fatigue. His eyes were bloodshot, and he felt utterly wretched.

He rubbed his temples, forcing himself to become more alert, and silently cursed Henry’s treachery.

’These academy-trained nobles fight so dirty!’

Initially, no one had paid any mind to the current emperor’s academy. The prevailing belief was that nobles were forged on the battlefield, not educated in a classroom.

But a few years later, as students graduated class after class and steadily advanced their careers, the nobles were horrified to find... ’Wait a minute! How do these young punks know everything?’

After a hasty breakfast, John immediately climbed the city wall to inspect the defenses.

Standing on the ramparts, he looked out and saw that large sections of the wall were pockmarked and cratered from the previous night’s bombardment. Some areas even showed visible cracks, with stone fragments littering the ground. The once-sturdy wall now looked fragile.

Several arrow towers along the wall had also been hit and looked as if they might collapse at any moment. But when John went over and gave them a few kicks, he judged that they only looked unstable.

The scene inside the city was even more of a headache for John. Some houses near the wall had been struck, their roofs smashed open with gaping holes and their walls collapsed. Bricks and rubble were piled high, the streets were in disarray, and the air was thick with the smell of dust and something burning.

The soldiers standing along the wall were so exhausted they could barely keep their eyes open, which were shot through with red.

They weren’t accustomed to staying up late; they had no ’nightlife,’ so to speak. Pulling an all-nighter was a brutal challenge for their bodies.

Their eyelids felt as heavy as lead. They yawned constantly, fighting to stay vigilant.

Some soldiers could no longer hold their weapons steady, while others swayed on their feet, looking as if they might collapse at any moment.

A young militiaman leaned against the wall, his gaze vacant as he stared toward Henry’s distant camp. His lips were chapped, and his throat felt like it was on fire.

He hadn’t slept a wink all night, having stood vigil at the wall, watching the enemy. Now, he felt completely drained, as if he didn’t even have the strength to lift his hand.

Every time he started to doze off, someone beside him would shake him awake, or an officer would yell at him. This constant cycle of drifting off and being jolted awake left him even more lethargic.

The professional soldiers, who had undergone John’s extended training regimen, were in much better shape. They constantly adjusted their stances, trying to maintain peak combat readiness.

Other soldiers patrolled back and forth along the wall, their steps heavy and slow, as if each one took a monumental effort.

Watching this scene, John shook his head. ’How the hell are we supposed to fight like this? I’m afraid they’ll be asleep by the time the enemy reaches the top of the wall!’

Looking out, he saw that Henry’s army had already begun preparing an attack in an orderly fashion.

The lingering white smoke and the still-smoldering campfires indicated the enemy had finished their meal.

Henry’s army was forming up for battle. Their Cavalry herded large groups of prisoners forward like sheep.

Beside the prisoners were rows of Cloud Ladders. John’s heart tightened instantly. This might not be Henry’s main assault, but for him, the real battle was about to begin.

Prisoners of war equipped with Cloud Ladders—for the besiegers, it was a zero-cost battle of attrition.

John immediately called to the officers and Attendants at his side, his voice laced with urgency. "Quick! Get the men ready for battle!"

The officers snapped to attention and moved quickly to relay John’s commands.

The fighting force currently on the walls consisted of professional soldiers, Militia, Auxiliary Soldiers, serfs, and hastily conscripted adults, in a ratio of roughly 2:2:1:1:4.

The professional soldiers hoped to kill a few more enemies and earn a bonus. The militiamen, being somewhat green, just hoped to survive.

After a period of training, the Auxiliary Soldiers were eager to prove their worth in this war and be promoted to regular soldiers. ’At the very least, I want to become a militiaman,’ they thought.

The serfs were numb, their faces a mask of indifference. Whatever was to come, would come.

As for the hastily conscripted adults, most of whom were ordinary civilians, they were the most terrified and resistant. But under the bellowed orders of the officers, they reluctantly picked up weapons and took their places on the wall.

John looked at these soldiers with a complex mix of emotions. Many of them would not live to see the end of the war; it was very likely they would die today.

John could only try to rally them with a loud cry, "Warriors! Henry’s army is about to attack! We cannot retreat! We cannot let them take our fortunes so easily! For our families, for our honor, we must hold the line to the very end!"

Hearing his words, the soldiers could only brace themselves and nod along.

However, John paid no mind to the soldiers’ response. He immediately ordered the Knight’s Squire at his side, "Bring all those nobles over here! Tell them to put on their armor and prepare for battle!"

The Knight’s Squires exchanged hesitant glances.

’Should we go or not?’ These nobles had brought their Private Armies and, as required, had surrendered command authority. They had already fulfilled their obligations as Vassals.

They had assumed they could hide from the dangers of war in the houses at the rear, enjoying a life of relative safety. No one could have imagined John would order them to the front lines now.

But John’s order was not to be questioned, so the squires had no choice but to brace themselves and carry it out.

A short while later, a group of nobles in ornate armor was brought to the wall. Their faces were etched with displeasure; they were clearly angry and bewildered by John’s command.

"My lord, what is the meaning of this?" one noble demanded loudly. "We are nobles! How can you order us into battle ourselves?"

John shot him a cold glance. "Nobles? You brought your Private Army, so you should have been prepared to fight. The enemy is about to storm the walls, and we need every man. You are no exception!

𝐟𝐫𝕖𝗲𝘄𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝕧𝐞𝚕.𝕔𝕠𝐦

I’ve never heard of a noble who shies away from battle! What kind of noble are you?!"

Hearing John’s words, the nobles all looked troubled, but none dared to openly defy him. At such a critical moment, any resistance could be considered treason.

If John cut them down on the spot, no one would be able to say a word against it.