Chapter 1130: Chapter 1067
Gazing at the hordes of vagrants and quite a few Robber Knights passing through the city gates, Xabo, his face hidden behind a mask, turned and asked, "Have the other seven families believed it?"
A man dressed as a servant bowed his head in response:
"They’ve believed it, all thinking it was the Forty-Five Association’s negligence in guarding the gates that let the vagrants kill their way in.
Those few parasites have sealed their watchtowers and are guarding the street entrances, likely preparing to act after dawn."
Confirmed that the other seven merchant oligarchs of Longbow Castle were still in the dark, Xabo’s tightly furrowed brow relaxed.
Having mingled in Longbow Castle for decades, Xabo knew these Council of Sixteen members all too well.
He knew that these council families would certainly retract.
They might even secretly laugh at the Forty-Five Association for being ineffectual, needing them to come to the rescue tomorrow.
The so-called Council of Sixteen actually divided the entire Longbow Castle into eight districts or wards.
Each district elected two council members, but everyone knew these council seats were virtually hereditary.
At most, they would switch districts, and yet the same eight traditional merchant oligarchs would be put forward.
Thus, the politics of Longbow Castle was essentially the most classic merchant oligarchy system.
Originally, they were controlled and protected by the church, providing wealth and regional influence to the church.
But now with Holy Seat City fallen and the Leia Church leaderless, fires have sprung up on all sides, leaving them unprecedentedly weak.
Causing church forces not only unable to protect the city but also to cooperate with Leia’s regency to oppress the city.
This led to the Council of Sixteen having no choice but to expel the bishop and place the mayor under house arrest.
But they were still too timid to take absolute actions, not daring to kill the bishop nor touch the noble mayor.
They claimed to confine them in the dungeon of the Knight Hall, but in truth, it was more of a luxurious political prison library named a dungeon.
This gave Xabo his opportunity.
First, he coordinated with the already persuaded Tuco family, which used its control over the Ward Captain to open the city gates at night.
After luring the vagrants’ army into the city, it would inevitably cause chaos, though on a manageable scale.
Though weak, the citizen-formed militias were perfectly matched to the vagrants’ level.
Amidst the nighttime chaos, he could truly conceal his actions.
To storm the Knight Hall and rescue former Mayor, Baron Stuhl.
Bear in mind, the mayor’s role in Longbow City was not to manage politics but the military!
The Guard of Longbow Castle had long been under this Baron’s control, up and down filled with people promoted by the Baron.
With Baron Stuhl in hand, he could convince the Guard to defect, cooperating with the Shadowless Men who had already recruited the Robber Knights.
By the time the oligarchs realized at dawn, it would already be too late.
Of course, the oligarchs gathered quite a number of Mercenaries and thugs, but as long as the city gate stayed controlled for three days.
In just three days, Knight Commander Gun’s cavalry would arrive.
With Knight Commander Gun’s arrival, Longbow Castle would be liberated.
With Knight Commander Gun’s arrival, honor and wealth would be achieved.
Amidst his excitement, Xabo did not forget about those striking at the Saint League reinforcements: "Has Drake succeeded?"
"He has not, the Saint League’s defenses are tight, but aside from Drake, the other core figures have not been caught."
"What are their movements?" Xabo’s eyes narrowed first.
"Seems they haven’t done much, just strengthened their defenses and dispatched more Rangers for intelligence scouting."
"Then it’s fine." Xabo turned and walked, "Changes in Longbow Castle won’t concern them; they’re just a hundred or so men. Even if they want to act now, it’s already too late."
"Understood."
Having arranged everything and communicated with the contact, Xabo patted his grumbling stomach and waved to a servant: "Go to the wine cellar, get me a bottle of champagne."
As Xabo was halfway through popping the champagne, inside the Knight Hall, Bradak with Tuora and other "Saint League faction" members were already considering whether to strike.
The ironclad oak doors shuddered with the orange glow of the firelight slipping through the cracks.
With the battering ram’s pounding, it seemed all the Knight Hall was shaking.
On the terraces and by the windows, elite militia or Saint League faction guards and Armed Monks in leather and chainmail armor wielded crossbows, continually shooting outwards.
The thick stench of blood and smoke hovered in the air, while the Forty-Five Association remaining in the Knight Hall were still bickering.
"I told you, that Chabot is two-faced with a heart of a wolf. Who was it that nominated him to the Council of Forty-Five back then?"
"Wasn’t it everyone voting by raising their hands at the time? Weren’t you one of them?"
"I did it out of trust in everyone!"
"Are you sure this is Mr. Chabot’s intention?"
"At this point, you’re still speaking for Chabot. Are you one of Chabot’s accomplices?"
"I’m just saying, Chabot doesn’t seem like someone who would collude with the Church. There might be other reasons!"
"Maybe Chabot is just too good at acting, fooling idiots like you!"
Looking at the group of Holy Alliance members from the Council of Forty-Five arguing loudly, Bradak sarcastically spoke to Tor, who was bandaging his wounds: "You see, even death row inmates agonize over having eaten the wrong breakfast before getting caught."
Bradak’s face was just as dark, as he looked at these noisy representatives: "If only they could come up here and shoot a couple of arrows with us, we might be able to hold out a few more hours."
"You’re giving them too much credit. Look at their bellies, they can’t even see their bird when they pee. They can’t draw the crossbow!"
Tor moved his arm, wrapped in bandages to stop the bleeding, his face looking somewhat pale.
He took up a shield and, under Bradak’s worried gaze, moved over to the window sill to peer outside.
In front of the Knight Hall, the citizens’ square, the century-old trees had been felled to make battering rams.
In the gardens on either side of the hall, vagrants swarmed to attack the corridors of the side wings.
Behind the iron railings, the four arrow towers once used for defending against marauders had fallen into the hands of the chaotic army.
The former kingdom soldiers, the vagrant archers and crossbowmen of the chaotic army, were now skillfully drawing bows and setting arrows.
And then launching volleys at the sharp, steeple-topped Gothic City Hall, dubbed "Knight Kick," some even wrapped in oil.
Arrows smashed through glass, embedding in walls, mercilessly destroying the precious mosaic and artistic paintings.
As for the passage in front of the door, planks and carts formed little barricades, shielding the soldiers breaking the oak door.
Only, they didn’t dare to use all their forces, after all, Tor had just climbed out of the dungeon path, delivering a heavy blow to them.
Almost capturing the arrow towers.
Even though Tor had collapsed the original path using traps, who can be sure there’s not a second path?
Tor gritted his teeth, counting the forces present: "With this motley crew, give me a squad of sergeants, twenty to thirty men could drive them back outside the walls!"
Tor wasn’t speaking out of arrogance, as the attacking rebels outside the gate were decreasing as time and the siege progressed.
Where did they all go?
No need to ask, they went looting.
"But we can’t even gather five sergeants." Bradak held back his fear, leaning closer, gritting his teeth angrily.
Tor looked for a while, still biting his teeth: "If we had more men, we could charge once more, at least seize those two arrow towers, or we’re too passive."
With the iron railings and arrow towers’ protection, they could use long spears to stab enemies from behind the barrier, without being so passive.
Given the current comparison of forces on both sides, Tor had every opportunity, as long as he’s given ten more willing militia.
Currently, Holy Alliance soldiers are spread throughout the districts, unable to be summoned in time, not to mention the merchant oligarchs standing by.
Not to mention as the situation deteriorates, other militia who clearly have strength yet have already gone limp.
Realizing this, despair spread through the hall.
Even the representatives grew quiet, silently watching the shaking door without speaking.
"Anyone still able to move?" Tor looked at the trembling door, suddenly shouting aloud.
"That’s suicide." Bradak grabbed Tor’s hand.
But Tor, eyes reddened, picked up the spear on the ground: "Better than watching my homeland be destroyed!"
Nearly twenty militiamen walked out, picking up spears and crossbow arrows, approaching the door, aiming at the almost falling door.
One, two, three...
A door bolt shot out, brushing past Tor’s cheek, blood slowly trickling down, yet Tor didn’t wipe it away.
"Booming—"
A thunderous sound echoed, and Tor seemingly saw an illusion, the door before him suddenly stopped shaking.
What happened? Is it raining? But wasn’t it moonlit outside!
