While the maid and the young lady were fleeing for their lives, the joint northwest army marched with uniform strides toward the King's lands. They passed through the no man's land quickly, arriving at a grassland dotted with sparse trees.
Murphy appeared more tourist than tactician, his novice mage apprentice Pepe in tow. They were flanked by the personal guards of two dukes, treated less like prisoners and more like guests of honor.
"This fits my idea of a borderland," Murphy said as he looked out over the vast plains.
The once tranquil cattle and sheep grazing, along with horses, had been scared off by the approaching formidable army.
Worth noting, the "sheep, horses, and cows" of this world differed from those Murphy knew well.
In Murphy's world, mutton had a unique taste, attributed here to the sheep grazing on magical herbs, absorbing magic into their meat.
As for the horses, in this world, it wasn’t that they ran too fast; it was more like they flew too low. Their stamina and speed far surpassed those of horses back in Murphy’s home.
Then there were the plowing oxen in the villages—lumbering yet powerful, reminiscent of low RPM, high-torque diesel engines from Murphy's world. Such strength demanded a hefty appetite, so most villages kept only one or two.
This close-to-nature lifestyle was rare. As for the underdeveloped demons, savage fauna and malevolent flora made them less "natural" in Murphy's opinion.
At noon, a small city appeared in the distance. Murphy knew the significant part was upon them.
Using his eagle-eye spell to scout the city, he mused, "Who planned this? A town without water defenses."
Murphy's guards didn’t grasp his slang, assuming it to be cryptic mage-speak for an insight beyond their understanding.
The dukes, after strategizing at a distance, slowed their horses to join Murphy.
"Ha ha ha ha," the Northern Duke's laughter reached Murphy before he did, his face ruddy with mirth. Murphy mused that a laughing man couldn't be too bad off. And despite the Duke nearing sixty, Murphy reckoned, a man remains a boy till his dying day.
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"What are you gawking at, lad?" Arwin's voice was as steadfast as ever. Both dukes had previously underestimated Murphy, but after he had pinpointed the commander's identity and provided a bargaining chip, their regard for the young mage had grown a notch.
"I'm looking at that city up ahead."
"Oh?" Arwin perked up. "You mean the little Bris town? Spot anything interesting?"
"Not much, just seems to me that defending the city here would be tough," Murphy postulated, drawing on his extensive gaming experience.
The dukes shared a look of surprise. "The lad's got some insights. So, how would you say we take it?" Old Raventa inquired.
Murphy was momentarily flummoxed. Where were your military strategists, and why come to me?
Reading the old men's eyes, Murphy realized someone was angling for his allegiance, hinting at a potential job offer.
Regretfully, Murphy knew little about sieges, at least not in this world. In his own, sieges were all about battering rams, siege towers, and catapults—stuff seemingly absent given the logistics of the 200,000-strong army marching behind them...
As for this world's siege tactics, Murphy only knew how demons did it: overwhelming their foes with sheer numbers.
Typically, once an army's losses reached twenty percent, morale would plummet. But this rule didn't apply to demons, with their command-obeying instincts and nearly thoughtless minds, making low-tier demons the perfect cannon fodder.
In a demon king's archives, Murphy read of a siege led by the previous Demon King a century ago, comprising three steps:
First, gargoyle hulks hurled slimes into the city, causing chaos as the creatures devoured everything, magic-infused or not.
Then brainless skeletons and zombies charged without end. The deceased paved a ramp of bodies straight to the city walls for their comrades.
Finally, the mid-tier demons would rush in, take the city, and plunder it dry.
Sadly, demons nowadays couldn't pull that off.
Murphy sighed internally and voiced his uncertainty, "I know that siege requires equipment, but I haven't spotted any in the support train, and trying to make do with local timber..." He gestured to the nearly treeless plains they were on.
The dukes laughed off Murphy’s concerns. "Lad, you do know a thing or two, and you aren't wrong, but only if the sides are evenly matched does one resort to laying down lives in siege. As for that little city ahead, it doesn't even qualify," Raventa clapped Murphy's shoulder.
Murphy then recalled something crucial. The former Demon King detailed his sieges not tearing down the walls with abyssal magic because he was entangled with a hero at the time.
From this perspective, the world seemed oddly harmonious. Ordinary soldiers fought the demon grunts, human elites battled demon lords, with heroes squaring off against top-tier demons. The chosen hero and demon king would duel in their own royal rumble—a neat arrangement beyond reproach.
While there might be the occasional steamrolling or a one-sided fray, the general rule held true. After all, each side only had one hero or Demon King, leaving their elites firefighting along a grotesquely long front.
In theory, if most on both sides did their duty, the century-long war would have ended ages ago. Alas, humans were never truly united, and demons lacked brains; a symphony of ineptitude, leading ultimately to a cacophony of mutual pecking.