King of the North: My Lord's Diary Weekly Summary

Chapter 220, Ninth Watchtower, Battle Preparation!

Simply put, a watchtower is a tower surrounded by a wall, with a maximum of about a hundred people stationed there.

The fortresses are different:

The city wall is about ten feet high, or five or six meters high, and is made entirely of huge stones with a treated surface.

The city gate was so thick it seemed it could hold back a herd of mad elephants. Every so often there was an arrow tower on the city wall, and the shadows of sentries could be vaguely seen behind the crenellations.

When the garrison at the south gate saw Wayne's troops, they cautiously raised their bows. Only after seeing the banner given by Angelo and the face of the man at the front did they lower their weapons and open the city gate.

The captain of the South Gate was a veteran with a scar on his face that stretched from his forehead to his chin. He stood at attention and saluted when he saw Wayne.

"Viscount Wayne! Chief of Staff Wesker is waiting for you in the conference room!"

Wayne nodded and led his team into the fortress.

The fortress was larger inside than it appeared from the outside. Barracks and stables were neatly arranged, and the air was thick with the smell of iron and blood.

Chief of Staff Wesker was waiting in the main hall.

He was an old general, around fifty years old, with gray hair and deep wrinkles on his face, as if carved by a knife.

His left eye was covered by a black cloth, but his right eye was very bright. He wore a suit of iron armor, and a short sword hung at his waist, the hilt of which was...

It's been polished smooth.

Commander-in-chief type of general.

When he saw Wayne come in, he stood up, his gaze lingered on him for a few seconds, and then he nodded.

"Viscount Wayne, I've long admired your name."

His voice was hoarse, as if it had been smoked.

"Chief of Staff Wesker, you're too kind."

Wesker didn't exchange pleasantries and went straight to the map.

Wayne followed and saw that the map was covered with dense markings—finer and denser than Angelo's map.

"The current situation."

Wesker drew an arc in the northwest of the map with his finger: "The main force of the Boar Clan is here, about five hundred, with at least ten Tier 2 combatants."

Wayne's eyes narrowed.

"Ten?"

"right."

Wesker nodded: "That's a conservative estimate. They've only seen five Tier 2 wild boars so far. In previous years, they would have at least eight by January or February."

He added, "Those big wild boars are stronger than the usual Tier 2."

A frontal charge; even stone walls cannot stop it.

Wayne paused for a moment, quickly calculating in his mind—his side currently had five Tier 2 soldiers and several dozen troops.

The gap in strength is huge.

Wesker continued, "During the day, the boar tribe breached another camp in the north."

Currently, in the mountainous area, only the Dongshan Fortress, three watchtowers, and six camps remain.

He pointed to several locations on the map with his finger.

"Among them, the No. 9 watchtower is located on the far west side, and it no longer has any camps for cover. It is on the front line."

I'll temporarily deploy Sir Rachel there.

He looked at Wayne.

"Viscount Wayne, I want you to go to Watchtower Nine."

The pressure is greatest there, and that's where they need your strength the most.

Wayne glanced at the location of Watchtower No. 9 on the map, standing alone in the northwest, with barbarian markings to the north.

Rachel will cooperate with you.

Her cavalry has expanded to eighty men, all veterans. I have two hundred regular troops on my side, patrolling the various camps and ready to provide support at any time.

Wesker's voice was heavy, and Wayne could tell the weight behind it—this was all the money he could muster.

"Also, be careful of the boar tribe soldiers. They have thick skin and tough flesh; ordinary arrows can't penetrate them, and ordinary knives can't cut through them."

Wayne nodded; his ballista and repeating crossbow should be able to break through defenses.

"Understood—but I need two sizes of iron arrows."

Wesker looked at him, a complex light flashing in his single eye.

"Is it for that deadly weapon? Don't worry, we've already prepared it for you."

And, Viscount Wayne, I know you've won some brilliant battles. But the Gorges are different—the terrain here, the barbarians here, are far more treacherous than the Hills.

Don't underestimate our enemy; we don't have much room to maneuver.

Wayne met his gaze and nodded solemnly.

"Rest assured, Commander, I will not underestimate the enemy."

Wesker paused for two seconds, then nodded.

"Alright, go ahead and get the bows and arrows, and the arrows for that big guy should have been delivered to your troops by now."

Wayne accepted the order and led his team out of the main hall, through the north gate of the fortress, and continued northward.

The roads in the gorge area were wide and flat, but the mountain walls on both sides made it feel like they were getting higher and higher, and the sky was getting darker.

The wind rushed in from the valley entrance, howling as if something was crying.

After walking for about an hour, the valley ahead opened up, and a watchtower came into view.

Watchtower No. 9.

It was smaller than the No. 12 watchtower, and the city wall was also shorter, but it was built very solidly.

Several sentries stood on the city wall, bows hanging at their sides, their eyes fixed on the north.

As soon as Wayne's group arrived at the south gate, the gate of the watchtower opened.

Rachel came out from inside.

She had lost a lot of weight since the last time we met, her facial features were more defined, her cheekbones were more prominent, and she had deep dark circles under her eyes.

Her hair was casually tied back, with a few stray strands hanging down from the edge of her helmet, fluttering in the wind.

There were several freshly ground marks on the leather armor, and the nail plate on the left shoulder had been replaced; its color was lighter than the one on the side.

Upon seeing Wayne, she hurried over to meet him.

"Viscount Wayne!"

Her voice was a little hoarse, but she still had a strong voice.

Wayne dismounted, walked over, and patted her on the shoulder.

"Good job, Rachel Knight."

Rachel shook her head, her gaze sweeping over the group behind him: Ronald, Wright, Sean, Kasha, Annie, Raymond, and the militia and wolf warriors.

"Great, let's go inside and talk."

The inside of the watchtower appears more spacious than the outside.

The first floor was a large hall with several long tables and benches, and grain sacks and weapons were piled up in the corners.

The second floor is the command center, and the third floor is the observation tower.

Rachel led Wayne up to the second floor and pushed open the door to the command room.

"Please sit down."

Wayne sat down at the table, and Rachel sat down opposite him and poured two glasses of water.

"The conditions here are basic, please don't mind."

Wayne picked up the cup and took a sip. The water was cold and had a slightly rusty taste.

"Sir Rachel, tell me what's going on."

Rachel nodded, pulled a map from under the table, and spread it out.

"Number Nine Watchtower is now on the front line."

Five or six miles to the north lies the barbarian camp: about five hundred boars, over a hundred fire crows, a hundred lynxes, and a small number of other small tribes.

Her finger was pointing at the map.

"They come to harass us every day, sometimes a small group probes, sometimes a large force attacks."

We fought several battles, but after losing the pass, we haven't won a single battle.

Wayne looked at the map and began to mentally simulate the defensive line.

"Where are your cavalry?"

Rachel said, "Eighty people, divided into three teams."

One team patrolled the front line, one team stood by at the watchtower, and one team rested in the rear.

They take turns, ensuring they can be deployed at any time.

Wayne nodded, then asked, "What about the supplies?"

"We have enough provisions for half a month, and enough arrows as well."

Wayne thought for a moment, then looked at his subordinate who had followed him in: "Raymond, Annie."