“Next time,” he said, “we burn the sultan’s palace instead.”
“Let the Crusader build his cathedral of rock,” Zhao smiled. “We will water it with his tears.” Castellan’s first attack was methodical. A trebuchet flung barrels of burning pitch at Zhao’s northern rice field. The flames turned green to black. Zhao’s peasants fled. Castellan grunted approval. “He will starve before he storms my gate.” stronghold crusader 2 vs warlords
The Crusader stood on his battlement. Below, his knights were saddled. His crossbowmen had fresh bolts. His trebuchet was loaded with burning stone. He could crush Zhao’s army in the open field. He could burn the oasis to deny it. Or… “Next time,” he said, “we burn the sultan’s
Castellan took a drink. “Agreed.”
Castellan smashed his gauntlet on the table. “He fights like a serpent. Bite the tail, and he spits venom in your face.” Sir Roderick returned with news: Zhao was building a Mangonel —a traction catapult lighter than the Crusader’s trebuchet, but faster. Worse, the Warlord had tapped an underground spring. His rice was regrowing. The flames turned green to black
But the bombs were useless. And the Greek Fire? It was salt water.
But in the burning wreckage, Warlord Zhao crawled from under a dead horse, his face black with soot. He had one Thunder Crash Bomb left, clutched to his chest like a child.