Chapter 444: The Northern Gate

The battle was over.

Once the shield protecting the southern wall of Rockhold Fortress was gone, the heavy magic crystal cannon shells pounded it relentlessly. It turned out that against a solid, rigid target like a fortress wall, these cannon shells were far more destructive than the calibrated energy beams. Sir Mariland had believed that even after the shield fell, Rockhold could hold out for at least several dozen minutes. But in the end, he had underestimated the difference between cannon fire and energy beams—the wall only stood for sixteen minutes before crumbling.

The fortress’s massive gate had been completely destroyed by the bombardment, along with hundreds of meters of adjoining walls. Within that stretch, every arrow tower, prism, and external mage tower was reduced to rubble and dust. The outer city and southern inner city behind the walls suffered varying degrees of damage, and the barracks and armories concentrated between the first and second walls were utterly leveled.

Such devastation was unheard of in traditional noble warfare. Cecil’s army had effectively shattered the fortress’s defenses before ending the battle, leaving no room for prolonged resistance or negotiation within Rockhold.

After the bombardment ceased, Sir Philip and Sir Walder Perich led the First and Second Combat Corps of Cecil’s forces forward, arriving at the now-defenseless fortress by evening. What struck Sir Walder Perich most was that the time spent marching to claim the victory was longer than the time it took to destroy the fortress’s defenses.

Once inside Rockhold, the First and Second Corps met virtually no resistance—indeed, there was none at all. The only “enemy” encountered was a panicked dwarf pony that suddenly bolted out from the ruins.

On the evening of the 58th day of the Fire Moon in the year 736 of Ansu, the royal banner of Ansu was lowered from the flagpole before Rockhold’s castle, replaced by the Cecil family’s sword and plow emblem fluttering proudly over this fortress of great significance.

Gawain’s boots trod the stone path of the fortress, still warm and trembling from the recent battle. On either side lay ruins and smoldering buildings. Fortress soldiers, their faces etched with fear and soot, stood along the road. As Cecil’s banner passed before their eyes, they dropped to their knees in submission.

“Detain all prisoners temporarily in the dungeons beneath the castle. If there isn’t enough space, use the sturdy buildings in the inner city,” Gawain quietly instructed Sir Philip. “Strictly forbid any mistreatment of prisoners or harm to the wounded. Send medical teams to treat them—these people will become part of Cecil.”

Philip saluted crisply. “Understood.”

Sir Mariland, disarmed and looking haggard, walked beside Gawain under the watch of several Cecil soldiers. Hearing Gawain’s orders, he looked up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to still uphold the noble code…”

“Prohibiting the abuse of prisoners has nothing to do with so-called noble spirit,” Gawain replied, glancing at the former commander. Though a respectable knight, Mariland was clearly a traditional noble. “The prisoners I forbid mistreatment of aren’t just knights and nobles.”

Mariland opened his mouth but said nothing, bowing his head again.

Gawain then turned to Sir Walder Perich and nodded. “You and your men will search the entire inner city and the secret tunnels beneath the castle. Sweep the whole town to prevent anyone from hiding. Also, coordinate with Sir Philip to inventory the city’s supplies and buildings, and report promptly. Don’t forget to enforce military discipline: no hoarding of spoils, no looting, theft, or concealment.”

Walder Perich returned a solemn knight’s salute. “Yes, sir.”

The veteran knight understood well that leading the Second Corps to search the fortress city was not only an honor but a test. This battle marked the Second Corps’ first active role as a formal army unit, but whether these soldiers from the Kant region could become a trusted force for their lord depended on their discipline after entering the city. For a corps originally formed from noble private troops, this test was no less daunting than their first time on the battlefield.

Gawain then reached the castle district of Rockhold—the castle itself spanned between the first and second walls, its main structure part of the second wall. Once the grandest and tallest building in the fortress, it now stood at less than two-thirds of its original size.

The entire top floor and all attached towers had been destroyed by the calibrated beams.

The Cecil banner had already been raised on the flagpole in front of the castle by the first troops to enter. Beside the flagpole stood a slender woman in a light noble gown—Lady Ropeni Grant.

She stood quietly, accompanied by her loyal middle-aged steward. Behind them were a hundred steadfast guards who had followed the lady from the Grant lands to Stone Ridge, then from Stone Ridge to Rockhold Fortress, unwavering in their loyalty.

Nearby stood High Ranger Solderin and the dozens of Steel Rangers under his command.

A shadow flickered swiftly through the air and solidified into the amber figure of the half-elf Miss Amber, who beamed proudly, tilting her head up. “Hey, I helped hang the flag up, you know!”

Gawain casually patted Amber’s shoulder—too formal a setting for a head pat—and then approached Lady Ropeni Grant. Seeing the calm expression on the noblewoman’s face, he knew her revenge was complete.

“Your contribution is irreplaceable, my lady,” Gawain said earnestly. “Patty will be glad you’ve returned home safely.”

He knew what weighed most heavily on Lady Ropeni’s heart.

At the mention of Patty’s name, Ropeni’s expression softened, a faint smile touching her lips. She bowed deeply to Gawain. “Allow me to pay my respects. This fortress is yours now—and please allow me to pledge my loyalty once more. The Grant family will forever be faithful to Cecil.”

“I accept your loyalty,” Gawain nodded slightly. “But do not be loyal only to me or my family—be loyal to the great cause.”

Sir Mariland watched this exchange, his expression shifting several times, emotions swirling within. In the end, all he could do was let out a long, complex sigh.

He found himself unable even to call Lady Ropeni a traitor—her loyalty was unwavering, only pledged to Cecil…

“Sir, don’t be so quick to sigh. Though Rockhold has fallen, at least it’s in my hands, not in the hands of the Eastern rebels someday in the future,” Gawain said quietly, meeting Mariland’s gaze. “You may be full of regret now, but one day you’ll be grateful.”

The upper halls and military chambers of the castle had been crushed by collapsed ceilings, and other areas were unstable due to the upper floors’ collapse. So Gawain led his men into the castle’s lower-level dining hall, making it a temporary post-battle command center to coordinate wartime control, reconstruction, and ongoing management.

Capturing Rockhold Fortress was only the first step. The more important task was to rearm and reinforce it, transforming it into Cecil’s strong northern gate.

Of course, before all that, Sir Mariland and all captured officers were sent to a temporary POW camp, held separately under heavy guard. Gawain provided decent living conditions but maintained strict security. Though he didn’t believe Mariland would attempt escape, he couldn’t be sure about the old commander’s subordinates.

In Gawain’s view, a man like Mariland Onar, steeped in knightly spirit, might not be popular in some noble circles but could easily inspire fiercely loyal followers. Under such circumstances, isolating and closely guarding all officer prisoners was necessary.

In the command hall, Gawain surveyed the gathered group: Sir Philip and Sir Byron of Cecil, Sir Walder Perich and Lady Margarita of Kant, Steel Ranger commander Solderin, Lady Ropeni Grant, and Amber as the guard. These were all present for the meeting.

“Everyone, we have won. Rockhold Fortress is now Cecil’s northern gate. But before we revel in victory, we must remember there is much work ahead. Solderin, please report what you know.”

“Understood,” Solderin stood, his expression grave. “The capital will soon learn of Rockhold’s fall. After the fortress’s magical shield went down, the commanders inside immediately released all griffon messengers and carrier pigeons, and sent a suicide squad out the northern side gate. We intercepted some, but the rest vanished over the Holy Spirit Plains. It was my fault we didn’t destroy the griffon nests sooner.”

“No,” Gawain interrupted. “Your forces were limited. Your priority was destroying the mage towers, not the griffon nests. This was expected. The capital will know of Rockhold’s fall—whether or not the garrison got the message out, Count Pompey will detect the situation quickly and send word. His lands have griffon messengers too, and possibly magical communication.”

He paused. “Therefore, the first thing we must do is reinforce and completely remodel the northern walls of the fortress. In fact, regardless of when or if the capital receives the news, this is our top priority.

“Rockhold was originally designed to defend against the southern Cecil family. Its northern walls are much weaker and lower than the southern ones. Though the fortress’s fall shows that relying solely on walls and magical shields is outdated, these defenses still have their place. We will first thicken and raise the northern walls, even if it means slowing repairs on the southern walls. Next, we will retrofit the northern walls with a magical network, install magic crystal rail cannons atop them, and eventually mount calibrated beam weapons as well. Finally, the entire fortress will be transformed into a heavy industrial and military stronghold, with the plains extending southward incorporated into this fortress city’s domain…”

(End of chapter)