The morning sky glowed a dull, coppery hue as the sun struggled to rise through a thick curtain of smoke. Along roughly constructed earth mounds, cannons were positioned like blunt fangs, their muzzles blackened from repeated volleys.
The dull thunder of artillery rolled over the plain, shaking the earth with a rhythm as steady as a heartbeat. With each discharge, soil leapt from the dry ground, and the distant stone walls of the city shivered beneath the barrage.
Victor's cannons were showcasing their full strength as the Xiangyang garrison scrambled to return fire. They were outgunned and lacked the experience the Luxenberg artillerymen had. It was unfair that they had to go up against over 1,000 cannons when they only had a quarter of that number.
Victor's obsessiveness with the preparations resulted in well-positioned cannons that could keep up a monstrous barrage. They had not needed to use the rocket artillery, since the Luxenberg battery was doing a remarkable job.
All of the Luxenberg commanders gathered outside, across from the main gatehouse and watched the orchestra of cannons in action. With each cannonball hitting its mark, the walls' durability wavered.
Xiangyang's walls might have been formidable, yet they were receiving an absolute bollocking from the Luxenberg cannons. King Gu Tian and his remaining loyal advisors could only listen to the deafening symphony that was heard throughout the land.
Broken palisades and splintered ramparts lay twisted like bones on a battlefield. What remained were grim-faced men lining the walls, their uniforms torn and stained with dust and blood, their eyes fixed on the horizon where movement meant death—or worse, a breach.
The day persisted with this exchange. Xiangyang's garrison was tired by day's end, and the unrelenting bombardment caused them to use a fair bit of ammunition and powder. The casualties remained relatively low for the defenders; they had lost two dozen cannons and their crew. In comparison, the Luxenberg Army had lost 150 cannons.
The aim of the Luxenberg Army was to collapse the walls and use their superior numerical advantage to swarm the city. It was the exact same tactic Crown Prince Gu Lintian was trying to execute at the siege of Hunyuan.
Outside the city walls, a siege camp sprawled like a city of its own: rows of tents, cooking fires spreading warmth while scores of infantry mingled with one another. Engineers worked with quiet efficiency, inspecting all the cannons, searching for any structural damage. Occasionally, the whine of musket balls would arc from the parapets, crashing into the earth a couple of meters before the artillery positions.
In Xiangyang, no wind stirred the banners hanging limp above the battlements. The fires along the wall burned low, casting long, flickering shadows across the worn stone. In the stillness, even the creak of a boot leather or the snap of a torch felt deafening. The men stood spaced apart, muskets in hand, eyes searching the darkness beyond the moat.
Out there, past the jagged palisades and shallow trenches, the enemy waited. No drums, no horns—just silence, deep and full of teeth.
A soldier shifted and peered through the murder hole in the gate tower. Beyond the brush, he thought he saw movement—nothing clear, just the faint suggestion of shifting shape, as if the earth itself were breathing. He tightened his grip on the musket and held his breath. He was convinced that the Luxenberg Army was trying to do something sneaky. His watchful gaze darted around the vicinity.
The soldier's suspicions were useless; he spent the entire night fixated on that position, and there was no surprise attack. His restlessness would cause him to perform poorly during the next day of the siege; so much so that the tired fool fell from the walls and plummeted to his death in the streets.
The second day of the bombardments was more of the same. Stone was chipped away at, as the walls withered with each blow. Victor was hesitant to use his rockets today. They were only to be considered a last resort.
Xiangyang was a pivotal location to capture and govern. Victor could not afford to use fear and cruelty to incite rebellion in the hearts of the citizens. Instead, Victor had to hope that his artillerymen could breach the wall without the assistance of their special weapon.
Multiple engineers reported that the walls of Xiangyang would collapse in two days if the bombardment remained consistent. The Luxenberg cannons were giving their all to destroy the city's walls. For Victor, this timeline estimate was satisfactory news, but for King Gu Tian, it was a grim countdown.
Inside the city, the streets were deserted. Shops stood shuttered; temples were silent. Horses whinnied nervously in courtyards where once merchants had bartered, and mothers whispered lullabies to children huddled in cellars.
For a city that could be considered the most illustrious in the world, it failed to live up to its reputation. The once bustling and vibrant streets that caught the attention of the Luxenberg delegation were a fading memory. People huddled with their loved ones, praying that the siege was soon over.
While the citizens were cowering in their homes, garrison soldiers began to gradually abandon the walls and prepare the streets for an assault. The city was filled with many winding streets, check checkpoints would be created as they converged on the Gu Palace. All of the Veiled Soldiers manned the thick stone walls surrounding the lavish palace. This would be where they would have to make their last stand.
Since it was almost certain that the wall would collapse, King Gu Tian ordered the walls to be fully abandoned. All remaining pieces of artillery were brought into the city. Soldiers began pushing carts to clog any side streets. They would try to funnel all the Luxenberg soldiers into kill zones.
If the garrison could inflict major casualties upon the Luxenberg Army while funnelling them into congested areas, there was a slim chance that they could force the invading army to break off their siege due to extreme loss of life.
Nevertheless, the time to fight in the streets was nearing. On the tenth day of the siege, the walls on all sides finally collapsed.