From midnight to 1 AM, the battle for the arrow tower and the front gate lasted for a full hour before a temporary truce settled in.

When Chabot, disheveled and reeking of champagne, finally arrived at the scene, he was greeted by sheer chaos.

Wounded soldiers leaned against trees, painfully carving out rotting flesh.

Lead was embedded in the cracked walls, arrows fired from the tower fell onto the citizen square.

His hired soldiers, however, were merely hiding behind the arcade, waiting for the enemy to finish shooting before retaliating.

Bear in mind, when he left, Knight Hall had been assaulted and its front gate broken, the arrow tower was seized early thanks to traitors’ assistance.

The entire defensive system of Knight Hall was destroyed, leaving only the final halls unsecured.

Yet now, upon his return, not only was Knight Hall intact, but both arrow towers and the front gate of the wall were gone too.

His trembling hands beneath the silk robe shook, uncertain from champagne or from ire, Chabot found himself momentarily speechless.

Gazing at the regained tower, the militia and guards behind iron railings holding long spears, and the extending spring guns...

Chabot felt as though darkness swept over him, one wave after another.

"What happened? What happened?!"

The mercenary captain beside him cautiously stepped forward to explain.

With Knight Hall virtually in his grip, it was supposed to be captured within an hour, yet they battled from ten till midnight without taking it.

Just as capture seemed assured, a group of Holy Alliance knights suddenly emerged, recapturing both the tower and the gate.

The five-hundred-strong besieging rebels, upon inspection, numbered only about three hundred, with others trickling back into formation.

The stunning reality buzzed in his head.

"Where did these Holy Alliance knights come from?" Chabot turned, questioning the bewildered leader of the Shadowless Man, Fubole.

Fubole was even more perplexed than Chabot, as he had personally confirmed, the Holy Alliance convoy was still in Brook Creek Town, unmoved.

Yet evidently, this contradicted the fact of these knights appearing now.

With a bit of thought, it was clear the Holy Alliance reinforcements had split into two groups.

Previously, a strike on their camp at Brook Creek was the best timing.

But it was now too late.

More than fifty cavalry—no, more than fifty foot soldiers mounted on horses—dared to charge at an ambiguous, unclear situation within the city? 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

"Damn, how did the Holy Alliance discover this?" Chewing on his nails, Fubole simply couldn’t figure it out.

Of course, Fubole’s confusion was natural, since Jeanne didn’t anticipate this either at first.

She had arrived outside the city, finding the gate guards actively letting vagrants in.

After her accompanying Cheka seized and interrogated a gate guard, they realized something was wrong.

A coup had occurred at Longbow Castle!

Jeanne quickly concluded that the most critical point was the Knight Hall.

Whoever controlled the Knight Hall held the initiative.

Judging by the current situation, the Knight Hall had not fallen; otherwise, the guards at the city gate wouldn’t still be stationed there.

She incited chaos among the vagrants, sneaking into the city amid the confusion, then seized the city gate.

Subsequently, some Holy Alliance monks were dispatched to communicate with the guilds and oligarchs, while others followed her to reconnoiter near the citizen square.

They managed to converge at the final decisive moment when Knight Hall was being seized.

Not only did they boost morale, they even recaptured two arrow towers and the courtyard gate of the Knight Hall.

The courtyard walls and the arrow towers were built to fend off attacks from mobs.

The angles were cunning, the walls sturdy.

There was no time to assemble large siege equipment, let alone bring it in; the Knight Hall even had spring guns for defense.

As Chabot took his final step, Jeanne successfully severed his leg.

"Speak up, tell me the Thousand River Valley people are in Brook Creek Town."

"Nonsense, just ask the soldiers. They sent just fifty people, two-thirds of whom didn’t even look like knights, breaking through forces ten times their size, and even counterattacked!"

Though Fubole was technically Chabot’s superior, under such questioning, he naturally retorted back.

"They have a Wizard!"

"We also have a Priest and monks, where are they? Where are your people? Why weren’t they mobilized?"

Chabot suddenly didn’t know what to say—should he say he went to pop champagne? After the champagne, he got tired and went to sleep?

After all, the tasks he needed to accomplish were done; it didn’t matter if he was present or not.

By the looks of things now, Fubole seemed set to pin all the blame on him?

Chabot wanted to argue but shivered under the moonlight at Fubole’s sinister gaze.

He now deeply regretted it; he was foolish, really. How could he believe collaborating with the church would yield good results?

The church only allowed sharing the sweet, not the bitter!

If successful, he’d surely profit, if not, he’d be the first sent to court and the gallows.

"All we can do is continue the assault, charge fiercely, open the city gate, call in the nearby vagrants..." Chabot, like a gambler red-eyed, immediately ordered, "Bring out the vine oil, set it ablaze!"

A double loss was better than a sole win!

The soldiers weren’t locals and naturally held no affection for Longbow Castle.

Upon receiving orders and rewards, they happily ran towards the vine oil depot.

Chabot shouted vigorously, "Five hundred pounds to the one who breaches the courtyard gate, three hundred for the arrow tower, eight hundred for the Knight Hall’s main door, one thousand five hundred for protecting Baron Stoll!"

If the coup succeeded, the city hall treasury, Chabot wouldn’t enjoy it alone!

With the promise of rewards, the soldiers launched another offensive, leaving Chabot restless as he watched.

Minute by minute, gunshots and the whistling of arrows filled the air, wave after wave of assault met with wave after wave of retreat.

With the guild militia and other citizens joining in support, no progress was made.

Even the fire couldn’t be lit for a long time, and just as Chabot sent more men to urge them, they brought back an earth-shattering message.

"... Dispatched their private soldiers?" Hearing the news, Chabot reflexively repeated, "The other seven oligarchs sent their private forces... and it’s not even three o’clock."

"Do you need to ask?" Seeing the militia and valiant citizens streaming from alleys, Fubole could even deduce with his little head that the Holy Alliance had contacted the local guilds.

A successful coup lay in controlling key figures, isolating inside and out, making it an established fact, achieving 80% of success.

Because, at any time, neutrals and the average populace are always the majority.

With things settled, representatives of the Holy Alliance apparently dead, and Mayor Baron Stoll released, the guards returned to the mayor’s control.

Even if the other seven oligarchs disagreed, they couldn’t undo anything and had to accept it.

However, only a few Holy Alliance representatives were either assassinated or captured, while significant figures like Baron Stoll remained in Knight Hall.

Isolation was also breached.

Just from the emerging militia and armed citizens, and the urgency and fluctuation visible as the torches moved, it was clear the oligarchs were rushing at full speed.

Terrified that the Knight Hall wouldn’t withstand and the capture of Baron Stoll would spell the end.

Chabot panicked instantly, searching for Fubole with his gaze.

But no matter where he looked, he couldn’t find a trace.

Not only was Fubole gone, but even his core accomplices disappeared into the night.

The surging flames made Chabot feel cold all over.

......

Seeing the private soldiers under the Holy Alliance flag approaching at the street’s corner, both Tola and Bradak sighed in relief.

One had an arrow in the knee, the other in the elbow.

Yet they persisted, supporting each other, limping over to thank an officer seated on a wooden crate resting.

After a night of fighting, they learned it was this tall officer who laid the groundwork for everything.

"Thank you for your rescue, sir." Diplomat Bradak naturally inquired, "May I have the honor of knowing your esteemed name?"

Under the orange glow of fire, the girl removed her helmet, her golden locks shimmering brilliantly: "I am Joan of Gallar."

"...Who would have imagined Lady Joan to be a female, it truly shames us." Tola said, smiling wryly.

"Being rescued by a woman makes you feel ashamed?"

Tola immediately realized he misspoke, casting a pleading glance toward Bradak beside him.

However, to his surprise, Bradak did not smooth things over, but instead stared intently at the female officer’s face.

His expression a mix of fear, confusion, and joy—unspeakably peculiar.