Sigvald watched as the enemy rushed for their wounded--for moral reasons he couldn't order the soldiers to target them. He noticed the figure that stood out from the rest. Their commander in red emanated a strange aura, something the black knight could only describe as something sinister and oddly professional. Yet he couldn't let himself get distracted -- not at this hour. He looked at the soldier asking for orders and grabbed his shoulder "Scrounge up any ammunition that you can find; arrows, debris from the walls and use it against the enemy. In fact--I suggest you use the debris first and use the arrows when you get an opening."
"And what of the remaining siege tower? It might have slowed down but it's still advancing." the soldier inquired.
The man was right, the remaining siege tower still posed a great threat. If left unchecked, it could easily over run the walls and leave them at a massive disadvantage. But they had to buy time. "Await further orders, keep the siege tower in check! Don't waste ammunition on it unless you scrounge up more fire arrows!".
The soldier saluted the black knight and replied with a steady "Yes, sir!" before running to his comrades to spread the new orders.
He looked out into the field once more to observe the situation. The wounded were still being dragged to safety. Yet the musketeers were prepping another volley. Just as Sigvald was about to warn about another hail of pellets. The commander in red raised his fist fist into the air and yelled something that sounded like "HALT!". Without hesitation, the musketeers hesitated, the enemy commander then raised ‚four fingers on his left arm and the soldiers began to move. They hid their muskets behind their shields--shields which they now raised to form an impregnable shield. Or so it looked. Their formation began to shift. It slowly began to thin out, instead of being a wide position, they moved until it was a long line of four columns stretching from far away from the keep, up all the way close to the gate. It didn't make sense to Sigvald. This way, the enemy sacrificed all of their offensive potential, giving him and his men free control of the situation. The black knight could now easily order his troops to assault them and the siege tower. Except he had a feeling only of the two would be harmed, and yet it was hard to tell which.
"What in hell's name are they doin'?" asked one of the soldiers.
Another soldier quickly responded with "It don't matter, they be givin' us time fer' a breather!".
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Meanwhile, Vorsen and Gin still fought at the gate against the advancing infantry units. The enemy sent decently armed sword and shield infantry that posed a surprisingly lesser threat than they expected. The enemy fell before them, but they weren't pushovers either. They knew how to fight and didn't have too much trouble killing the keep's guards. The more Vorsen thought about it, the more the battle seemed to be based around attrition rather than a continuous assault.
In the midst of the chaos and the colliding of steel swords and shield, Vorsen could see the figure of the commander in red over the waves of moving helmets. His menacing aura ever present.
Out of nowhere, the unmistakable sound of a war horn blared through the battlefield. The melee infantry quickly responded to this sound, by slowly but surely giving up their positions in the gateway. The bodies of friend and foe being revealed as they did so. Before a moment longer , the enemy retreated. Giving up their position entirely, the melee infantry regrouped closer to the commander in red. What were they doing?
"Ha! We got the better of them!" Gin cheered on, and so did the others next to him. The ones who didn't were barely on their feet to begin with. Laying down in their own wounds.
Unfortunately for them, their silver leader didn't share their enthusiasm "If you truly believe that was our victory, you are utter fools!" Vorsen barked out at Gin and the other men. "Be ready for more, this battle is far from over!".
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On the wall was a different situation. SIgvald and the shaman stood next to each other as they stared at the Idle enemy. "Something is brewing, and I don't like it..." he whispered "What do you think?" he asked the shaman.