Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 143 Walking Around

In the following days, Pierre, bruised and battered, was still resentful but dutifully continued his duties on horseback without slacking off.

No one else—neither the coachman nor Dusak—dared to slack off anymore.

As they drew closer to home, everyone was eager to return, and they unconsciously cracked their whips with greater force.

With the rains ceasing upstream, the Pangtuo River had returned to its usual water level. The convoy then opted for the shortest route, crossing the river via Tushechang, instead of detouring through Xiaoshi Town.

……

"One!" the old driver shouted hoarsely, "Two!"

The young men around the wagon gripped the vehicle and desperately tried to lift it up: "Three!"

Accompanied by shouts, the cart, which was stuck in the cracks between the stones and unable to move, was forcibly lifted up.

Seeing this opportunity, the old driver quickly cracked his whip, and the three mules, in pain, dragged the cart rumbling towards the other side of the river.

Unlike crossing a bridge, for large vehicles to wade across shallow water is a troublesome and arduous task.

The riverbed wasn't a paved road, but rather smooth pebbles. Not only could the wheels not get a firm grip, but the hooves of livestock also couldn't keep their footing and were particularly prone to injury.

When they reached the edge of the riverbank, the caravan untied the animals from the yoke and used several horses to pull one cart across the river at the same time.

Besides the coachman who drove the horses, the younger Dussacs and hired laborers also had to take off their shoes, roll up their trousers, and shout slogans as they pushed and helped the cart.

This job is too hard; older people can't handle it, only young people can do it.

Pierre had only pushed the cart back and forth a few times in the wading field when his whole body was soaked with sweat mixed with river water.

The autumn river water was icy cold, instantly stealing all warmth from a person. After his feet got cold, Mr. Little Cher felt an unbearable bloating and pain in his lower abdomen.

The caravan lit several fires on the shore, where drivers and Dussac were drying their clothes and warming themselves.

Pierre wanted to go and rest, but remembering old Mr. Mitchell's exasperated scolding and beatings, his stubbornness kicked in, and he gritted his teeth and endured the pain to continue helping push the cart.

After several hours of work, only half of the convoy had passed.

After discussing it, Gerard and Winters decided that Winters would lead a few riders to surround the large wagon in front, choose a place to set up camp, and prevent them from getting separated.

Girard then led another group to the back of the team to urge them to speed up.

After crossing the Pangtuo River, it was less than a day's journey to Wolftown. Winters and Girard were worried that some drivers might be too eager to get home and abandon the caravan to return to Wolftown overnight.

Not only is it dangerous, it could even break up the entire convoy.

The two teams of riders raced ahead and behind, respectively, and with half of the wagons already crossed the river and gone far away, the fording area became much quieter.

Exhaustion and cold made the people lifting the cart in the river too weak to even shout their work songs.

Pierre's pain below his navel intensified, feeling as if a thousand tiny knives were cutting and stabbing him. He gasped for breath in the river, supporting himself on his knees.

"Kid, are you alright?" Sergei waded over and put his arm around Littlecher's shoulder. "What happened?"

"It's nothing, just a stomachache," Pierre said, trembling.

"Come on, let's go to the shore to warm ourselves by the fire and have some hot soup."

The two walked together toward the other side of the river when Pierre suddenly grabbed old Sergei's arm: "Uncle, isn't something wrong on the other side?"

Even while he was working, Pierre had already sensed something was amiss because he kept glancing at the fire.

Among the people warming themselves by the fire on the shore were several unfamiliar faces.

Little Cher's memory is like his mother's; while he doesn't have a photographic memory, he can at least retain some impressions, a skill he himself is well aware of.

But he had no recollection of the unfamiliar faces on the shore; he had never seen those people in the convoy before.

However, it's quite common for strangers to ask for a bowl of hot soup when they're out and about. The unfamiliar faces didn't stay long; they sat by the fire for a while and then left.

Therefore, Pierre didn't do much, but he kept a watchful eye on things.

But at this moment, Pierre discovered that those "familiar" strangers had not only returned to the campfire, but even more strangers had appeared on the shore.

Pierre leaned close to Sergei's ear and told him everything in a rapid-fire manner.

Sergei's expression darkened, and old Dusak, gripping his saber, shouted towards the shore, "Hey! You guys, what are you doing here?"

The unfamiliar faces on the shore initially pretended not to know they were being called, but old Dussac called several more times, leaving them nowhere to hide.

“We drive carts,” the men replied.

The others gradually noticed the unusual atmosphere, and several quick-witted Dussacs quietly approached their warhorses.

"How come I've never seen you before?!" Sergei demanded sharply.

No one answered.

The area was deathly silent, save for the gentle murmur of the river.

"Kill!" A stranger threw off his cloak, turned around, and stabbed the coachman next to him in the stomach.

The driver's eyes were wide open in terror, and he made a "hoarse" sound in his throat. For a moment, he couldn't even scream.

"Kill!!!" Seeing that they could not get away with it, the other unfamiliar faces simply tore off their disguises and drew their weapons to slash at the surrounding wolf villagers.

The sudden killings, bloodshed, and death caught most of the coachmen and Dussac off guard.

The shouts of battle sounded like the bugle call to attack, and more figures were rapidly approaching the ford in the woods on both sides of the Pangtuo River.

"They're bandits!" Sergei yelled at the Wolf Village men who were still standing there, "Damn it! Get your weapons! Dusak! Get on your horses!"

Pierre was about to take a step when a sharp pain in his lower abdomen rendered him unable to move.

Sergei, who had run a few meters away, turned back and, with Little Cher, ran towards the place where the horses were tied up on the shore.

"Mount up! Mount up!" Old Sergei shouted as he ran, and the Dusaks in the river rushed toward their warhorses.

Several coachmen frantically whipped their horses, trying to force their way through the ford. Others tried to turn back in their panic, but were unable to move.

The scene inside the wharf was in chaos. Only a few drivers and laborers jumped onto the wagons to search for weapons, while the rest were running away.

The sound of bowstrings vibrating came from the bushes on both sides of the riverbank, accompanied by sharp whooshing sounds as arrows flew wildly across the water.

"Archers!" someone cried out.

"There are crossbowmen in the woods!" someone shouted.

A coachman had just retrieved his longbow from under his seat when, before he could even string it, a short, thick crossbow bolt pierced his neck. The brave Wolf Town man clutched his neck and plunged from the cart into the knee-deep river.

Sergei pointed to both banks of the river and roared, "Thieves are coming again!"

Pierre saw bandits, armed and dressed in tattered clothes, emerge from the bushes, and for a moment he couldn't count how many there were.

Some bandits ran toward the wagons to steal the various valuable goods they had bought from Gévordan. Others went to steal Dussac's warhorse, which was tied up on the shore—the warhorse was more valuable.

There were also bandits who specialized in chasing and capturing horsemen dressed in fine clothes. These men were plantation owners who not only carried large sums of money but could also kidnap people and demand ransoms.

Even a well-trained army would struggle to mount an effective counterattack if caught off guard, let alone the fact that most of the Wolf Town caravan members were just tenant farmers.

The command structures of both sides have become ineffective in the melee.

But the bandits had clear objectives: they wanted money and goods, and they would kill anyone who resisted. They were more proactive.

The people of Wolf Town, however, were a disorganized bunch, each fighting their own battles and having their own plans, with only a few brave individuals attempting to retaliate.

But while most people were fleeing, the brave became the most conspicuous targets and were often killed by the bandits. Many bandits' attention was drawn to Sergei's warhorse, Red Sun, and several thugs with spears had already run up to Red Sun's side.

In desperation, Sergei released Pierre and roared as he charged at the spear-wielding thugs.

"Ah!" The bandit who was lagging behind was caught off guard and was slashed hard on the shoulder by old Dusak.

Sergei kicked aside a thug whose shoulder had been nearly chopped off, not even glancing at the doomed man a second time, and then swung his saber at several other bandits.

Even though he grew up listening to war stories, Pierre never imagined that his uncle, who was over fifty, would be so fierce.

He gritted his teeth and endured the pain to pick up the spear that the thug had dropped on the ground, and rushed forward as well.

Hearing his companion's screams, the bandits turned around and saw old Dusak, and thrust their spears at the old man.

Sergei seized the opportunity and grabbed the spear shaft with his left hand. He then dragged the enemy behind him and killed him with a single blow.

But two fists can't fight four hands. When Sergei grabbed the spear shaft and slashed one man, another bandit, holding a long spear, yelled and stabbed at old Dusak.

Just as the bandits were about to succeed, Pierre, who had caught up, stabbed him in the back. He fell to the ground, and old Dussac swung his head away with a powerful chop.

The remaining two robbers were so terrified by the god of death, Old Dussac, that they threw down their weapons and fled in panic.

Sergei quickly helped Pierre up to the Red Sun: "Come on! Go to the back! Go find your father!"

“I’m not leaving!” Pierre shouted.

Old Dussac didn't waste any words: "Not leaving? Then stay and fight the enemy. Follow me along the riverbank and kill those archers!"

The scales of victory had tipped completely in favor of the bandits, and the situation had become a one-sided pursuit.

The archers on the shore fired indiscriminately at the people of Wolf Town, the bandits in the ford were chasing the coachman, the Dussacs fought each other, and the Dussac who had regained his horse fled to the front and back of the caravan.

Some plantation owners, in their panic, ran headlong into the woods, unaware that they were falling into a bandit's trap. Running along the road offered a sliver of hope, while fleeing into the forest meant walking right into their trap.

At this point, anyone who still wants to resist is left with only a deep sense of powerlessness and despair.

An old driver with gray hair tumbled and scrambled up to the riverbank and stumbled as he ran toward Wolf Town.

The thugs chasing behind shouted menacingly, "Don't run! We'll kill you if you run again!"

In a panic, the driver turned to look at the bandits, but lost his footing and fell heavily to the ground. He was unable to get up for a long time, and the bandits laughed and caught up with him.

"Please, don't!" the old driver pleaded, kneeling on the ground.

The thugs walked over and kicked the old man hard in the stomach, causing him to curl up like a shrimp in pain.

However, the bandit seemed to have no mercy in the first place. He stepped on the old man's chest and raised his spear with a sinister grin.

The old coachman closed his eyes.

The thunderous sound of hooves approached, and a rider instantly rushed to the side of the coachman and the bandits. A scimitar flashed, severing the spear shaft along with the bandit's neck.

The warhorse's speed did not decrease at all, and it continued galloping towards the ford.

Following the lead rider, more Dusaks brandished their sabers as they swept past the headless corpses of the old coachman and bandits.

A thunderous shout exploded across the training ground, startling everyone so much that their hearts seemed to stop for a moment.

The roar was heard even by the convoy a hundred meters away, and the people in the training ground were so shocked by the sound that they felt dizzy and had ringing ears.

A magnificent silver-gray warhorse stood on the riverbank, and everyone in the wading arena saw it, as well as the rider on its back.

"Reinforcements have arrived!" Pierre recognized the newcomers and couldn't help but shout, "Ura!"

Dusak, who was still alive, recognized the newcomer and roared, raising his saber: "Ura!"

"It's Lieutenant Montagne!" the coachmen shouted excitedly. "The garrison commander is here!"

The disorganized Wolf Town people finally found their leader, their morale soared, and the situation suddenly reversed.

"Don't run away! There are far fewer thieves than we are! Come this way!" This time, Lieutenant Montagne's voice wasn't as startling as before, but it was still loud enough for everyone in the trekking area to hear.

As soon as he finished speaking, the people of Wolf Town rushed towards the riverbank, and the bandits who still wanted to give chase were killed by them in a coordinated effort.

One by one, the people of Wolf Town climbed onto the riverbank, and the suspicious bandits dared not give chase.

The two sides were locked in a subtle standoff.

The bandits wielding crossbows certainly wouldn't miss the Wolf Town leader riding a fine horse, and several arrows were immediately aimed at the rider of the silver-gray steed.

Few bandits could draw a hard bow; the heaviest bow in the hands of the bandits who ambushed Wolf Town was a waxwood bow, or simply a tree branch with a string.

The arrows flying from the riverbank toward the rider of the silver-gray horse were all weak and feeble; the man easily deflected them with his sword.

"Hahaha! Is that all you've got?" The rider of the silver-gray steed mocked the bandit archer. "Again!"

Seeing the garrison commander's bravery, the people of Wolf Town couldn't help but cheer again. They also began to realize that the arrows flying from the shore weren't as terrifying as they had been before.

"That must be the new officer from Wolf Town, right? He's got something going for him." The gloomy man with an oval-shaped scar on his face, emerging from the bushes, stared intently at the rider on the silver-gray horse. "Bring me the crossbow!"

The man with the oval scar on his face was the leader of the gang of bandits. Upon hearing this, the skinny bandit next to him immediately handed him a huge steel crossbow.

The bow was just for show; the bandit leader knew perfectly well that the real weapon he had to kill was the crossbow, especially this heavy steel crossbow that required a cocking mechanism.

The bandit leader observed carefully but made no further move, patiently waiting for his opportunity.

Several more limp arrows flew toward the garrison commander of Wolf Town, but the rider of the silver-gray steed deftly deflected them all in a few swift movements.

"It's now!"

In the moment when the town's resident official was distracted, the bandit leader pulled the trigger.

Heavy steel crossbow bolts streaked across the field like meteors, flying toward the rider of the silver-gray steed.

"What?" The bandit leader couldn't believe his eyes.

The crossbow bolt, seemingly determined to strike, traced an arc in the air, making a slight turn to bypass the target.

……

Lieutenant Montagne used amplification to sarcastically remark, "The crossbow is good, but the person is not. Your shooting skills are truly terrible."

The mocking words reached the ears of everyone in the training ground, and the people of Wolf Town cheered once again.

"That's it!" The lieutenant pointed his saber in the direction the crossbow bolts were coming from: "Kill all the crossbowmen on the shore first!"

Even while in Palatour, Winters Montagne never neglected his magical training for a single day.

Just now, he completed his first practical application of the [Christian Huygens version] deflection technique.

——Cut——

WM's Spellbook

Entry: Deviance
Difficulty: S (Original Version)
A- (Improved by Christian Huygens)

Note: The key point is not the lateral acceleration, but the rotation, which Professor Christian calls eccentric motion.

If Winters had been there, he would have discreetly alerted everyone after noticing something amiss. Sergei Molotov, though valiant, was ultimately limited in his intelligence.

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(End of this chapter)