Starting With an SSS-Rank Swordsmanship Talent

“How certain are you that the Astanian army will not harm our people if we surrender to them?” One of them suddenly asked.

Everyone looked at Marlon when they heard this.

Sensing their gazes, the general’s expression turned serious as he replied. “To tell you the truth, I cannot guarantee whether they are being truthful. However…”

“I’m certain that our soldiers will be annihilated if we choose to fight them. They might even massacre the entire city out of anger.”

Everyone’s faces turned grim upon hearing this.

“So you are saying that if we do not surrender, all of Midgard will most likely perish?” Spoke an aristocrat in a questioning tone.

“Yes.” Marlon nodded.

“If we surrender, there might be a chance for all of us to live.”

One of the aristocrats frowned and mumbled. “So it all depends on what the Astanian troops will do…”

“For things to go smoothly, we must make sure that there will be no accidents…”

“Our first obstacle will be Lord Peterson. You all know what kind of man he is. That guy is greedy, but he is loyal to the imperial family. He will never lower his head to Astania.”

Everyone agreed with this.

Looking at their worried faces, Marlon spoke. “I will take care of Lord Peterson. I just need you all to keep his allies in check. I will handle the rest.”

The aristocrats were taken aback.

Peterson Shakewell had a huge influence over the city’s defense forces. If Marlon were to go head-to-head with him, he would face strong resistance.

“Very well. We will take care of his allies.”

The group discussed their plans for close to an hour before they ended their meeting. They then went their separate ways to do their respective tasks.

Upon leaving the city hall, Marlon summoned his most trusted subordinates, his face looking grim. “My brothers, we are heading to the estate of House Shakewell! Inform the troops that we will march at once!”

“Yes, sir!”

…

Outside Midgard, the Astanian troops had built a temporary camp surrounded by tall logs used as walls.

At this moment, Alaric had received news from Caecus’s assassin unit about the ongoing situation inside the city.

“That Marlon guy is quite the decisive person…” He remarked with a faint smile.

Marlon had some decent attributes so he had piqued his interest. He wondered if the guy could handle a bigshot like Peterson Shakewell.

Thinking about this, Alaric turned his head to Caecus. “What do you think, Caecus? Do you think he can win against Peterson?”

Caecus’s face remained serene with no emotional fluctuations in his eyes. “Based on the information we have on hand, it will be a difficult battle for him.”

“Oh? How so?” Alaric raised an eyebrow.

“Peterson has a strong grip on Midgard’s city defense forces. I believe some of them will betray Marlon.” Caecus calmly responded.

Alaric rubbed his chin with a look of anticipation. “I only gave him a day… We should get our answers before midnight.”

…

When evening came, dark and gloomy clouds hovered above Midgard, as if to warn the residents about an imminent storm.

In the inner ring of the city was a man-made hill where one could see the estate of House Shakewell standing imposingly.

Beneath the hill, an army of over ten thousand warriors was gathered, surrounding the estate with cold gazes.

“General, we don’t have much time. If it rains, our troops will have a hard time climbing the hill.” His subordinate’s worried voice drifted into Marlon’s ears.

Hearing this, Marlon lifted his head to look at the cluster of dark clouds.

“It’s about time…” He muttered.

He then jumped onto his horse, unsheathed his sword, and raised it into the air. “Warriors of Midgard, tonight we will fight for the sake of our families! I know that this is a hard decision to make, but this is our only option to give everyone the chance to live!”

With a fierce look, he roared. “Charge!!”

Marlon kicked his horse’s belly, urging it to charge forward.

The city defense troops immediately followed when they heard his command.

The loud, resonating cries of the warriors echoed across the hill, chilling the hearts of everyone in House Shakewell’s estate.

Thousands of warriors rushed up the hill with their weapons in hand.

Just when they were about to reach the walls of the estate, arrows were suddenly shot into the sky.

Suu! Suu! Suu!

Seeing this, Marlon lifted his shield above his head and shouted to his men. “Raise your shields!”

The warriors of the city defense troops quickly raised their shields, but some of them still failed to react in time.

When the arrows fell, hundreds of warriors were turned into sieves, killing them on the spot.

Although most of the troops had survived, there were arrows stuck on their bodies which brought them immense pain.

How do they have so many arrows?

Marlon’s face fell when he saw his troops dying one by one.

Most of the arrows should have been allocated to the city defense troops, so how did they get their hands on so many arrows?

Suddenly, a thought occurred to him, making his face turn unsightly.

Did someone betray me?

Numerous faces flashed in his mind.

Why?! I only want all of us to survive! Why betray me?!

He felt a wave of anguish at the thought of being betrayed by his subordinates.

“General…”

“General!”

A loud shout echoed in his ears, disrupting his thoughts.

Turning his head, he saw his young adjutant, who had four arrows stuck to his shoulders, staring at him with concern.

“General, please focus on the battle!”

“You… are you alright?” Marlon’s face fell when he saw the adjutant in this state.

“Please don’t worry about me, General! The troops are in disarray! We need to change formation!” The adjutant responded, his face slowly turning pale.

Marlon swallowed hard as he nodded his head.

“Siege units, forward! We must destroy their walls in one push! Shield bearers, protect them! Archers, cover their backs!” He shouted a series of commands.

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