Chapter 499: Siege Plan

As Crown Prince Garrett’s orders reached the various nobles, they, like Ronin, chose to advance the following day.

Along the roads leading from each encampment toward Misthaven City, over a hundred thousand troops gradually took position beyond a kilometer from the city walls before noon.

Ronin’s warhorse stood atop a hill, overlooking the coalition of Oduin Kingdom’s noble forces—this was the first time he had seen such a vast army assembled.

Before him, Misthaven City loomed with gates sealed and drawbridge raised, clearly prepared for a siege.

Yet along the battlements, few soldiers were visible—how well-prepared could they truly be?

Odro approached to report: “My lord, a messenger from the crown prince has arrived, requesting your presence at the main tent to discuss siege strategies with the other nobles.”

Ronin gave a slight nod, gently nudged his horse’s flanks, and rode toward the prince’s pavilion.

Inside the grand tent, the atmosphere buzzed with boisterous energy—not from strategy, but from men boasting of yesterday’s battlefield exploits.

Viscount Willis of Blackjade Bay punctuated his tales with swigs of wine, his face flushed crimson, voice growing louder with each word.

When Ronin entered, the clamor briefly stilled.

“Hah! This must be Lord Ronin of Moonlight Valley!”

Willis rose and strode over, inspecting Ronin up and down with a broad grin. “Not bad—resembles Rulans a bit, but far more impressive than that old codger!”

Ronin smiled faintly, offering polite greetings. “You seem well acquainted with my grandfather, Viscount Willis?”

Blackjade Bay’s famed blackjade ore was essential for crafting supernatural weapons—Ronin would surely do business with them in the future. Meeting now under such circumstances wasn’t unwelcome.

Willis gulped another mouthful. “Your grandfather was once a force to reckon with—bold, fierce! Pity we only met at banquets, never fought side by side. Is he not coming this time?”

Ronin shook his head.

Misthaven was a place of sorrow for the elder man. With Ushan now guarded by Melonika, and Radal and others at Ronin’s side, the old lord had chosen peace over war.

Thirty years of torment had dulled his edge; now, he preferred the quiet comforts of old age.

“Ronin, come sit here.”

Mountgu beckoned, gesturing to a seat at the right of the central throne—one clearly reserved for the military advisor.

“We heard Westwind Hill suffered minimal losses yesterday. Tell us, what truly happened out there?”

Iben, Count of Twinpeaks and commander of the Gryphon Knights, nodded respectfully toward Ronin.

“I’ve long heard your name, though never had the chance to meet. After Misthaven falls, if opportunity allows, I’d welcome your counsel.”

“Count Iben is too kind,” Ronin replied, taking his seat. “If fame is measured in legends, then *I* grew up hearing *yours*—a man I’ve long admired.”

Though courteous, the words weren’t mere flattery.

Beyond Crown Prince Garrett, no figure in Oduin commanded greater renown than the Gryphon Knight commander.

As the four conversed, the tent’s lively mood returned.

Ronin learned the basic details of yesterday’s skirmish.

The heaviest losses had fallen upon Garrett and Mountgu’s forces.

Though the outpost camp hadn’t been reinforced, its garrison far outnumbered Watchtower Fortress’s, making casualties inevitable.

With so many soldiers stationed, the number of prisoners taken was also substantial.

Notably, to ease the burden of holding captives, Garrett had ordered the execution of thousands—common-born soldiers and noble honor-knights alike.

This act unsettled the gathered nobles. Nobility traditionally enjoyed certain immunities; ransoming them through family payments of gold or supplies could yield profit.

More crucially, every man in that tent *was* nobility—each shielded by privilege.

Garrett’s actions threatened their very rights.

Who could guarantee they wouldn’t one day fall into enemy hands?

If captured, and the foe followed Garrett’s example—killing without trial—where then was justice?

Yet with Misthaven’s assault imminent, none wished to press the matter now.

To Ronin, the prisoner issue *was* indeed troublesome.

This was a world of the extraordinary.

Low-tier captives could be bound with hemp ropes or iron chains, but Gold-rank and Star-rank knights required specialized restraints.

Fortunately, such high-level knights were rare. Chains forged from Blackjade Bay’s ore could contain them.

But as prisoner numbers grew, so did the manpower needed to guard them.

During forced marches, detaching troops just to escort captives became a logistical nightmare.

Thus, behind every war, slave-trading syndicates thrived.

Most prisoners were handed over, converted into slaves.

Ronin possessed neither blackjade chains nor slave traders trailing his rear. Had Prasido not surrendered willingly, he wouldn’t have known how to handle Watchtower’s prisoners.

Recalling this, he turned to Willis, intending to purchase several sets of professional blackjade restraints.

Willis narrowed his eyes, smiling broadly—business had come knocking.

Once blackjade chains were sold, soon would follow blackjade ore, weapons, shields.

The Blackjade clan gained another commercial ally.

“You’ve all arrived!”

Garrett strode in with confident steps, his gaze settling on Ronin—a rare nod of acknowledgment.

“Excellent. Ronin is here. With him, I suspect this afternoon’s battle will be won with ease.”

Whispers stirred among the nobles—surely Bruno had pressured Garrett into softening his stance.

Ronin said nothing, merely returning a symbolic nod, preserving appearances for both sides.

Garrett took his seat at the center and cut straight to the point.

“For over thirty years, Misthaven has been a stain upon every noble house present. Today, we erase that shame!”

His voice rang clear: “No idle talk. Misthaven has four gates. Aside from the southern gate, east, west, and north all connect directly to our positions. I propose dividing the coalition into three forces, attacking simultaneously! As for the south…”

He turned to Ronin.

“Ronin, you shall take your dragon and strike the southern gate.”

Ronin frowned slightly. “Four gates breached at once—impressive in theory.”

After a pause, he continued: “I agree with simultaneous assaults on east, west, and north. But the southern gate—I see no strategic value.”

“Oh?”

A flicker of irritation crossed Garrett’s face, yet he refrained from snapping as before. “Explain.”

“What use is breaching the south gate on dragonback, when our armies cannot circle around to enter from that side? I suggest focusing on a single primary front—concentrate our strength for a decisive blow!”

Ronin’s voice remained calm, firm. He swept his gaze across the noble commanders.

“Misthaven’s terrain is unfamiliar. Its walls are strong. If we divide our forces, we invite the enemy to exploit gaps, defeating us piece by piece.”

“As for the southern gate—like I said—it offers no real advantage. Unless we can swiftly channel reinforcements there, it becomes nothing more than a hollow display of power.”

Lord Rowan continued, “I propose we make full use of the dragon’s superior agility and aerial dominance to deliver devastating strikes against the enemy’s weak points at critical moments, thereby creating favorable conditions for the allied forces to break through.”

The nobles and generals present silently nodded in agreement as they listened.

Viscount Willis’s eyes flickered with admiration. “Lord Rowan’s insight is truly remarkable. Indeed, if we can maximize the dragon’s effectiveness, our chances of victory in this battle will increase substantially.”

Count Gushan pondered briefly before speaking. “I concur with Lord Rowan. Dividing our forces carries considerable risk. We should concentrate our superior strength and focus our main assault on a single front.”

As though mindful of Prince Garrett’s dignity, he added,

“Still, the Crown Prince’s suggestion holds merit. Perhaps we could deploy smaller contingents at the East and West Gates to draw away the enemy’s main forces—after all, Misthaven’s army is outnumbered.”

Count Eben also voiced his approval. “That is a sound strategy. Should the North Gate prove unexpectedly difficult or encounter unforeseen circumstances, Rowan could use the dragon’s mobility to redirect toward either flank, breach the city from there, and then strike inward toward the North Gate.”

He went on, “Though Misthaven has its Wyverns, my Gryphon Riders will support you.”

Wyverns—legendary creatures said to carry a trace of true dragon blood—were the signature flying beasts of Trisia, standing equal in prestige to the Oduin family’s gryphons.

It was natural for a border count like Ural to command a small wyvern squadron.

But without royal reinforcement, just how many wyverns could Ural truly muster?

Garrett watched the others exchange opinions, feeling a quiet frustration welling within him, yet he refrained from voicing opposition.

In his view, simultaneous assaults on all four gates would sow chaos among the defenders and disrupt their deployment, giving their offensive a decisive edge.

Moreover, assigning Rowan to attack the South Gate would effectively remove him from the central battlefield, keeping more people from witnessing his brilliance and the awe-inspiring might of the dragon—thus diminishing Rowan’s presence and achievements.

Yet now it seemed no one else shared such thoughts.

“Then let us proceed as Gushan and Eben suggest,” Garrett took up the discussion, “focusing our primary assault on the North Gate, with supporting attacks on both flanks.”

“Now,” he continued, “let us discuss the allocation of forces across these three fronts.” (End of Chapter)