When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#408 - Massacre

"Bang, bang, bang!"

The oak door, secured with iron chains, rattled violently.

"Who is it?" Several soldiers dozing in the winch room were startled awake, retorting with irritation.

"It's the Catherine Edict! It's me, you bunch of idiots! Open the door, winch room duty!"

"Oh, oh, oh." Hearing the gatekeeper's voice, the militia captain in the winch room finally sat up from the table, rubbing his eyes as he walked to the door.

"Hurry up, what's taking so long?"

"Sir, I'm opening it right now..."

"Bang!"

Only a crack appeared when the iron-banded door was unchained, then the person behind it kicked the door panel with immense force.

The soldier opening the door was immediately knocked backward, his forehead hitting the back of his head, stumbling three steps before landing on his rear.

He stared at the bloodstains on his pants, blankly wiping his nose.

The crimson blood on his fingertip was painfully bright, and the opening soldier's anger ignited, he abruptly looked up: "You goat-humping son of a... gurgle, gurgle, gurgle—"

Before he could finish his sentence, his eyes widened in horror as a crossbow bolt pierced his throat, the fletching still quivering.

"You..." Another soldier, just rising with a shocked expression, was struck through the forehead by another bolt, collapsing to the ground.

Two crossbowmen retreated as seven or eight burly men in chainmail surged into the room, immediately throwing their hand axes.

The spinning hand axes flew with deadly accuracy in the cramped space, sinking cleanly into the collarbones, chests, and foreheads of the defending soldiers; screams and blood filled the air.

Mirroring the scene in the winch room, muffled groans and screams echoed from the city gate tunnel.

The screams from the winch room served as a signal; a dozen of the city's soldiers, who had been standing in formation, suddenly turned violent, drawing armed swords and attacking their comrades.

As the armed swords cut through their skin and slashed their throats, those loyal to Catherine turned in disbelief.

Only when they saw their former comrades pointing their swords at them did they accept their fate.

"What are you doing?"

"You traitors!"

A few soldiers, who had not been killed in the initial surprise attack, also drew their armed swords and raised their spears, rushing towards the betraying soldiers.

Unfortunately, they barely took a few steps before being overwhelmed by a barrage of crossbow bolts.

Arrows rained down upon them, and the charging soldiers fell one after another at the feet of the traitors, groaning.

With the city gate soldiers cleared, the sound of rattling chains echoed from the winch room.

Accompanied by this sound and the curses of the wounded soldiers on the ground, a young man with a stubbled beard and graying hair walked over.

"Rial!" Looking at the betrayer's distinctive two fingers, a seriously wounded militiaman lying in a pool of blood roared in disbelief, "Why?"

Rial's face was terrifyingly pale, he didn't look at his old friend on the ground, but stared straight ahead.

Only when a group of workshop owners appeared did a glimmer of understanding dawn in the eyes of the captured or fallen soldiers.

"Just to protect your little bit of property in the city?" The militiaman yelled at Rial, "I knew it, that woman is a devil, she has corrupted your soul!"

"That is my wife, and she and I are both devout followers of Messala!" As if his tail had been stepped on, Rial glared at his old friend, "The real devil is that witch with the vampire whip, your most loyal Catherine!

She is a witch, she never tells us anything, I suspect Marlock and the others died from witch disease.

Using vampire things, every day on the edge of madness, I don't want to die in the hands of a mad witch.

Following behind her, my soul will be corrupted and never be able to go to heaven."

"Doesn't her Majesty Catherine always wear cloaks and capes, and gloves?" The citizen clutched the wound where the arrow had pierced his intestines, "Even if it was sweltering, she wouldn't take them off, we were wondering why at the time, do you remember?"

"Of course, she had to do that." In the grating friction of the winch and chains, Rial was as cold as another person, "Otherwise, wouldn't her being a witch be exposed?"

"Rial, what are you arguing with him about?" A workshop owner behind him nimbly darted forward, Rial subconsciously reached out to pull him back, but failed.

The longsword pierced the citizen's chest, and when it was pulled out, he couldn't say anything, just stared wide-eyed, leaning against the wall, slowly falling to the ground.

Rial's hand, with only two fingers remaining, trembled.

The soldier's frothing blood flowed out with the slowly rising gate, and sunlight shone through the gradually opening crack onto the despairing faces of the fallen soldiers.

Outside the gate, hundreds of foot knights who had swum across the moat stood dripping wet at the gate, shields raised above their heads.

Along with the city wall's arrow rain, the corpses of soldiers fell from time to time, some masked, some not.

The sunlight shone from behind these foot knights, Rial couldn't see their faces in the darkness, only the blurred silhouettes.

But for some reason, Rial could always feel them smiling, a smile that made it hard to breathe.

"Thump, thump, thump—"

The moat's drawbridge slowly lowered, and in the distant woods, the dust kicked up by the cavalry's galloping began to rise.

"Go to the city wall, control the winch room, armory, and street entrances."

"Destroy all the door bolts, and remove all the chevaux de frise!"

"Control the city wall, be sure to smash the ballista's firing mechanisms."

The leading knight issued three orders in an orderly manner, and the foot knights behind him immediately followed them.

Only then did the leading knight seem to notice the merchants and commoners standing before him.

He slowly walked up to Rial, the sunlight disappeared, finally revealing his face, it was none other than the Edict Company's Captain Ayrad.

"We meet again, Mr. Rial, oh dear, tsk."

He feigned a light pat on his mouth and gave an exaggerated bow, hand on chest: "Or should I call you this, Baron Rial."

Even in the world of nobles, betrayers are the most ostracized.

Although Ayrad was grateful to Rial and the other commoners and merchants, he respected Catherine, who had held on for so many days without running away, even more.

If Rial could use this opportunity to become part of the noble class, he would probably need to spend three generations to wash away the term "descendant of a traitor".

Looking at Ayrad with a mocking expression, Rial was speechless.

The sharpness in his eyes had completely disappeared, although he still maintained that aloof appearance, the aura had disappeared like a deflated ball.

Awkwardly performing the noble etiquette he once despised the most, Rial lowered his head: "Greetings, Sir Ayrad."

"Of course, of course." Ayrad casually walked past the prisoners, perfunctorily addressing Rial, and walked to the dozens of citizens, "I will fulfill your requests, but before that, tell me, where is the witch Catherine?"

"She's on the east wall." A rich merchant eagerly raised his hand, "We poisoned the gatekeeper of the bell tower in advance, they didn't have time to get the message."

"Who told you to kill the bell tower monks?" Ayrad frowned and asked.

"Ah?" The merchants and citizens murmured in confusion, not understanding what Ayrad meant.

Ayrad clicked his tongue: "Go, ring the bell, ring it according to your agreed signal for breaking the gate."

"But..."

"Just go when you're told." Ayrad's voice was calm and elegant, "It's already good enough that you can cleanse your sins, what else do you want?"

The commoners immediately fell silent, they called out someone who remembered the bell ringing signal and scurried towards the bell tower.

Watching their departing figures, Ayrad smiled with undisguised contempt, then shouted to the church guards who had arrived: "After the city is breached, you are allowed to plunder for three days, no quarter!"

Whoever captures the witch Catherine's head will be rewarded with 1000 gold pounds, ennobled as a baron and knight, the prince is willing to be the guarantor, and invites him to join the Order of the Garter Knights!"

The nearly thousand night watchmen and armored soldiers who had arrived all cheered thunderously.

"I've done everything you asked me to do." In the midst of this cheering, Rial staggered to Ayrad's side, "What about what I want?"

Ayrad looked at the other citizens and merchants who were looking at him expectantly: "Go home, I will give you a flag, you can hold it and stand at the door, and no one will plunder or massacre you."

"What about the others? Didn't you say that as long as the city is surrendered, the Holy Lord will forgive the believers in the city?" Rial subconsciously retorted.

"Yes, if they don't go to see the Holy Lord, how will the Holy Lord forgive them?" Ayrad spread his hands innocently.

"One block, at least one block!" Rial's body trembled, pleadingly.

"Will doing this make you feel better? Hmm?" Ayrad leaned close to Rial's ear and said, "Do you think this will wash the blood off your hands? Traitor, the more you flaunt your conscience, the more pathetic you are!"

As if an elder to a junior, Ayrad patted the back of Rial's head, "Remember, you are one of us, what you must listen to is our orders, and that is—massacre the city!"