Chapter 6: The Peace of God

“Come over here! This way!”
Enrique stood atop the city wall, directing the Corsican light infantry as they shifted positions in accordance with his orders.
Despite their shabby and broken equipment, their movements revealed that these men were veterans of countless battles.
Leo picked up another arrow and fitted it to his bowstring.
He had already exhausted the quiver at his side. The rebels, carrying their ladders, had reached the base of Canossa’s walls.
Their equipment was even poorer than that of Leo’s light infantry, ragged and almost devoid of armor. The only real protection they possessed was their battered shields.
“Leo, arrows!”
Matilda, the Duchess, suddenly appeared on the wall.
She wore heavy armor and carried a bundle of arrows, setting them into Leo’s quiver.
Leo was startled at first but immediately pressed his hand against Matilda’s back, pushing her down.
An arrow whistled past above her head, causing the young woman to break into a cold sweat.
“What are you doing here?”
Squatting, Leo began to scold Matilda, disregarding the difference in their stations as he criticized her reckless behavior.
Matilda made no reply; instead, as if conjuring magic, she produced a helmet.
She placed it on Leo’s head without caring whether it sat straight.
“Be careful on the battlefield, Sir Leo!”
With that, Matilda ducked and hurried away from the wall. Leo glanced after her, then returned his gaze to the battle.
As the rebels reached the wall, they finished deploying their ladders.
The Canossa family’s household knights and Leo’s light infantry waited for the rebels to climb.
The rebels below were not foolish.
Hesitating, they huddled near the base, unwilling to be the first up and risk the defenders’ blades.
But the defenders gave them no time for contemplation.
“Bring the stones! Quickly!”
An old knight directed the soldiers, who hoisted the rocks atop the wall.
The rebels realized something was amiss.
Looking up, they saw the stones begin to fall from above.
Suddenly, chaos erupted as the rebels scattered, fleeing from the base of the wall, only to be met with a hail of arrows and javelins from above.
Yet even then, most of the rebels were reluctant to ascend.
Under such repeated attacks, a small group of elite rebels decided to lead the charge.
These squires, clad in what armor they had, received special attention as they climbed the ladders.
Leo drew his bow and aimed at a rebel scaling a ladder.
The arrow struck, and the rebel fell into the heap below.
But such shooting could only slow the enemy, not stop them entirely.
As the enemy drew nearer, Enrique gripped his mace tightly.
“Prepare to engage!”
His cry, tinged with despair, signaled the start of a brutal melee.

The first rebel to reach the battlements did not even have time to raise his head before Enrique’s mace struck.
The supposedly solid helmet caved in, and the rebel’s body went limp, tumbling from the ladder.
This scene played out across several battlements simultaneously.
The rebels were throwing themselves into the breach, desperate to create an opening in the wall.
But the household knights and light infantry gave them no such chance.
Occasionally, a rebel managed to reach the top, only to be swiftly pushed back down.
Despite their numbers, the rebels’ crude and scarce siege equipment, coupled with the towering walls, put them at a disadvantage.
Blood blossomed atop the wall like crimson flowers, a deathly symphony consuming what few elite soldiers the rebels had.
The rebels were brave, but courage could not fill the gulf of the high wall.
Vittorio watched this scene below, growing ever more anxious. He knew that if his men could not take Leo in one push, morale would soon collapse.
“Quick, keep pressing forward!”
Vittorio waved his longsword, driving the soldiers onward.
Fear compelled the ragged conscripts to join the assault.
They climbed the walls in hopeless desperation; even if they survived the arrows, it was unlikely they would survive the ruthless defenders above…
Vittorio understood that he was gambling everything.
If he won, he would have it all; if he lost, he would be left with nothing. Thus, no matter the cost in lives, he must take Canossa Castle.
Leo sensed Vittorio’s desperation.
Initially, the main force had at least some armor. Now, only a band of peasant conscripts ascended.
Did this mean Vittorio’s offensive was waning? Though more soldiers appeared to be attacking, it was merely the last gasp of their strength.
Opportunities on the battlefield vanish in an instant, and Leo was determined not to let this one slip away.
He set aside his bow and ran down from the wall.
Within Canossa Castle stood a small chapel. Nearly every noble kept a chapel in their castle for prayer and worship.
This gave Leo his chance.
He burst into the chapel, startling the priest at prayer.
“This is the Lord’s domain! You cannot enter!”
The priest, thinking Leo was a marauder, fell to the floor and scrambled back in fear.
Leo quickly identified himself: “I am an envoy of the Holy See! Give me your cross—your largest one!”
A cross?
The priest took a few seconds to regain his composure, realizing Leo was not here to rob but to borrow a cross.
He stumbled into the sacristy and, after a brief search, emerged with a cross.
A long wooden staff bore a gilded cross, a symbol of devout faith.
Exactly what Leo needed.
“Thank you,”
Leo offered a perfunctory thanks, shouldered the cross, and dashed out.
Returning to the wall, he surveyed the rebel assault once more.
Still just those conscripts.

It seemed Vittorio truly had no soldiers left.
His troops’ morale and cohesion, battered by heavy losses, must now have reached their nadir.
This was Leo’s moment.
“Enrique! Come help, hold the cross!”
Hearing Leo’s command, Enrique turned sharply.
Seeing the cross, he dropped his sword and rushed to Leo’s side, grasping the cross firmly in both hands.
With the holy relic’s appearance, the battlefield’s clamor fell suddenly silent.
The fierce combat stilled, replaced by calm.
Both Vittorio’s rebels and Matilda’s household knights gazed at the cross, wondering why such a sacred symbol had appeared amid the carnage.
The moment was ripe. Leo took a deep breath and stepped to the most prominent spot on the wall, letting his white robe show.
“Fellow countrymen! I speak for God: lay down your arms! Do not shed blood for pointless disputes!”
Leo’s voice echoed across the battlefield, clear in every soldier’s ear.
“Vittorio, blinded by the devil, has come to attack me—the Pope’s envoy! He is the true sinner! I implore you to seize Vittorio! If you do so, I will, as God’s representative, as the Pope’s envoy, grant you absolution!”
“Don’t believe him! He’s the devil—he’s the one…” Vittorio raised his sword and shouted at Leo.
But before he could finish, he felt a tug from behind.
His vision darkened, and everything seemed to vanish.
The rebels below the wall, without warning, fell into panic and infighting. Vittorio, once visible, disappeared amid the crowd.
The nobles scrambled to seize him, as if the old man had become a bargaining chip.
As for the conscripts, some climbed atop the wall, threw down their weapons, and surrendered to the defenders inside.
With morale shattered and their leader gone, the conscripts had no reason to continue the fight.
Leo finally breathed a sigh of relief, turning to Enrique at his side.
“At last, it’s done.”
Leo closed his eyes, as if giving thanks for surviving the ordeal.
At that moment, the system appeared before Leo once more.
[Mission “Defend Canossa Castle” completed]
[Reward acquired: 300 Prestige, 1 Knight]
[Ongoing missions: “Seize Cardinal Power” “The Road to St. Peter's Throne” “Restore Papal Authority”]
[Personal Information]
[Name: Leo]
[Position: Third-rank Exorcist]
[Money: 0]
[Prestige: 340]
[Devotion: 190]