Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 160 Melee
Thirty-one years ago, a baby boy named Hed was born in a tent.

The baby boy's mother died that very night. According to the customs of the Hed people, the baby boy who caused his mother's death should also be abandoned—the underlying logic of the custom is realistic and cruel: a newborn who loses his mother cannot be raised.

The baby boy's father was away fighting with Queye Khan. His grandmother took pity on him and brought him back to the tent, where she placed him in the hot sawdust.

For the first three days, they used two rolls of cowhide to invite another woman who had given birth to breastfeed him. Later, they fed him with cotton cloth soaked in mare's milk.

Two months later, when his grandfather was certain that the dark-skinned child could survive, he took him to the shaman.

The shaman named the child Koshhachi—a child raised on mare's milk.
……

Thirty-one years later, Koshhachi, who remained on the hilltop, was surprised to find that the group of Paratu people on the opposite hillside had not only not been lured away, but had instead formed a formation and launched an attack towards the bottom of the ravine.

The baby boy who survived by drinking mare's milk is now Turukota of the Badlands.

The shouts of battle and the stench of blood made the warhorses restless, and they stamped their feet uneasily.

The young red-feathered rider beside him asked anxiously, "What do we do? Koshhachi? The two-legged man has come down! Quickly call Mangtai and the others back!"

Koshhazi frowned: "Mangtai has already charged over there. They're all easy targets. How could he possibly come back? Besides, he never listens to me. I'm not his leader."

"What should we do then?"

"What do we do?" Koshhazi glared at him. "Fight."

……

The 100-person team maintained its general formation even while running at full speed, thanks to their training.

Although he was extremely anxious, Winters did not lead them headlong into the battle, because more than half of his men were crossbowmen and musketeers.

A dozen meters outside the melee zone, Montagne's 100 men came to a halt.

"Spearmen! Hollow squares! Musketeers and crossbowmen! Double ranks!" The lieutenant's command came from inside his helmet, sounding muffled: "Fire at the Heds behind you."

Winters knew all too well how poor his men's marksmanship was; they were aiming at the enemy, but they were more likely to hit their own men.

The only option is to have them fight towards the rear of the battlefield, where there are more Hud people.

Amidst the sergeant's shouts, the spearmen formed a small square formation only eight men wide, while the archers hurriedly ran to the front.

"preparation!"

The shooter held his breath.

"Fire!"

Gunshots echoed through the valley, bullets and crossbow bolts flew in unison, and more than a dozen Hart cavalrymen fell from their horses at the rear of the battlefield, causing both sides to pause involuntarily.

After a volley of fire, the musketeers and crossbowmen began firing freely.

The enemy also noticed Montagne's 100 men, and several of Hart's cavalrymen broke away from the battlefield and charged toward the militia archers who were loading their guns.

Winters drew his wheel gun from his holster and aimed it at the approaching figure.

The first shot missed.

The second shot also missed.

Enraged, Lieutenant Montagne threw his gun to the ground, drew his saber, and spurred his horse toward the Herd.

Leading the group was a strong and fierce Hedman, who had already noticed the silver-gray horse and the Paratul officer on the saddle.

This was a classic cavalry charge; life and death could be decided in the blink of an eye.

The two approached each other from their right sides, desperately extending their sabers forward, neither willing to back down.

They were only two horse lengths apart, and it seemed they were about to perish together.

At the critical moment, Winters suddenly pulled on the reins, and Qiangyun, as if by telepathy, leaped to the right front.

At the same time, Winters deftly switched the saber from his right hand to his left.

Before the astonished eyes of the Hed, Winters' saber had already slashed at the man's left shoulder.

This move was taught to Winters by Gerard Mitchell; it was Old Dussac's signature technique. For right-handed cavalrymen who wield swords, the left side is an absolute weak point in defense.

After dealing with the leading Herd men, Winters was surrounded by several other Herd cavalry regiments.

The barbarians under Hed were numerous, but the lieutenant was wearing three-quarters armor. Several men fought fiercely on horseback, their blades clashing and sparks flying.

The musketeers and crossbowmen, hesitant to fire, were afraid of inadvertently harming the enemy. The spearmen, without orders, dared not disperse.

Winters tried to reach for the nails, but only found a metal plate—the pocket containing the nails was inside the armor.

Winters, outnumbered, was at a disadvantage as scimitars came flying at him from all sides. The Heds targeted the back of the thighs and joints—areas where the armor was thin or unarmored—and he could only parry with all his might.

Qiangyun neighed and tried to bite Heder's neck, kicking desperately with its hind hooves.

Another powerful slash struck, and Winters' spine felt like it had been whipped by a vine. The scimitar hadn't pierced the iron plate, but it still hurt terribly.

But the next moment, his pressure suddenly eased.

The Hart cavalryman in front of him was knocked off his horse by a heavy halberd, and Heinrich stepped on the fallen man's chest. Berleon swung his warhammer and smashed it down on the Hart man's head with all his might.

The fallen cavalryman twitched a few times and then stopped moving.

Meanwhile, Charles, wielding a halberd, was already locked in combat with another of Hart's cavalrymen, shouting as he engaged in battle.

With the help of his three bodyguards, Winters quickly dealt with the other Heds.

"Back to formation," Winters said, panting heavily. The battle, which had lasted only a few minutes, had left him feeling utterly exhausted.

Two bugle calls, one long and one short, came from the hillside.

More of Hart's cavalry broke away from the melee and regrouped, bypassing the battlefield and flanking Montagne's 100.

Musketeers and crossbowmen quickly took cover in their formation.

"Free fire!" Winters ripped off his helmet—the metal canister was making it hard for him to breathe—and roared, "Hold the line!"

His formation was too small and too thin, with only a row of spearmen around it, and it would scatter as soon as he charged.

It all depends on whether the Hed people are afraid of death and dare to break through a gap.

Will the Heds be the first to be terrified, or the Paratists the first to collapse?
"Grip your spears tight! Hold your positions!" Winters desperately roused the courage in the militiamen's hearts: "Running away means certain death! Protect your comrades!"

The momentum of Hart's cavalry charge was like an unstoppable torrent, and they were about to arrive in the blink of an eye.

"Forgive me, Lord!" The spearman, facing the onslaught, trembled and closed his eyes.

"Boom!"

"Boom!"

A series of rapid gong sounds came from the hillside.

The Hed cavalry charging toward the Montagne Hundred immediately turned around, and not only them, but the other Hed men in the valley also broke away from the melee and retreated toward the hillside.

"We won!" Charles shouted excitedly.

The Parat people cheered and raised their arms. On the hillside, the red-feathered rider angrily demanded, "Why? Why retreat?"

“Let’s wait for Haugkota to arrive.” Koshhazi fastened his helmet. “We can’t win on our own.”

"Who says we can't win?" Hong Lingyu said anxiously.

“I said it. If you’re not blind, you should be able to see it.”

Hong Lingyu was furious: "If we retreat now, won't our men have died for nothing? Hold on a little longer, and maybe our legs will give way."

“If we continue fighting, we’ll only wipe out the men of the Badlands tribe, and we still won’t win.” Koshhazi glared at him and said, “In that case, we should withdraw immediately! What? You disagree?”

Hong Lingyu deflated and whispered, "What could I possibly be dissatisfied with... What about Mang Tai?"

"Go and call him back."

……

The Allied forces have a tradition of “using the large to control the small”, meaning that when two 100-man squads are fighting together, the centurion with the higher rank and seniority is in charge of command.

The Hed people also have a similar custom: when two Turu belonging to the same Haug act together, they will elect the more respected Kota to lead the entire force.

The two Herdberg teams that caught up with the Palatuls were Koshhazi and Mangtai.

Traditionally, Koshhazi was the supreme commander, but Mangtai, who came from the Ula tribe, was not convinced.

Koshhazi's task for Mangtai was simple: to feign an attack on the caravan and lure away another group of Paratu people on the hillside.

However, the group of two-legged people on the hillside did not follow; instead, they rushed down into the ravine and joined the melee.

"Mangtai! What should we do?" Captain Shuerji asked. "Should we go back?"

"Why go back?" Mang Tai gritted his teeth and said, "All of Two-Legged Guy's soldiers are down there, and there isn't a single soldier by the carriage. If they don't follow, we'll feign an attack and then launch a full-scale assault!"

More than fifty of Hart's cavalrymen crossed the hill and charged toward the unprotected caravan.

However, contrary to the Hud people's expectations, the two-legged people did not panic or scatter.

The unarmed laborers and merchants rushed toward several four-wheeled carts, seemingly trying to use them as a fortress to hold their ground.

During the forced march, Lieutenant Bud temporarily modified six four-wheeled wagons to deal with unexpected situations.

The cargo in the modified wagon's cargo compartment was emptied so that more people could stand on it;

The wooden planks around the carriage were also raised, resembling the shape of battlements, to shield it from arrows.

"What should we do?" The cavalryman next to Mang Tai panicked.

"What are you afraid of? You spineless coward!" Mang Tai couldn't help but curse, "You two-legged cowards didn't even form a defensive formation, and a few carriages can scare you?"

Because there were too few large vehicles to modify and not enough time to adjust their positions, they were not connected end to end to form a circle.

The six large carts were arranged in a plum blossom shape. The Parat people, who should have been in the cart formation, instead stood around the carts, surrounding them and forming a strange "cart formation".

The Paratus, holding crossbows, stood inside the carriage, while the Paratus leaning against the carriage were armed with a variety of weapons, including all sorts of things.

The strangest thing was the carriage in the middle: an old man with a white beard was standing on the carriage, holding up a gold-embroidered prayer flag, and shouting loudly.

Because of the language barrier, the Hed people couldn't understand what the old man was shouting.

"Look! Those two-legged bastards over there all have flintlock pistols!" Mang Tai found a weak point and pointed his curved sword at a large cart, saying, "Break them down, and the rest of the two-legged bastards will scatter."

The Hart tribes didn't have many muskets, but that was due to the trade blockade. Even the Harts knew that matchlock guns were obsolete and obsolete.

"That's it, follow me!"

The Hed cavalrymen circled the wagon formation with strange cries, harassing the Paratists with arrows and javelins and putting pressure on them.

Suddenly, Mang Tai charged towards the gunners, with his cavalry following closely behind.

The thunderous sound of horses' hooves crushed the spirits of the musket wielders, and one musket wielder trembled as he lit the musket tucked under his arm.

At the sound of a gunshot, the other gunners followed suit and opened fire, and even the crossbowmen involuntarily pulled their triggers.

However, Hart's cavalry did not charge; they only approached within forty meters before turning around.

The seemingly menacing charge was merely a feint, designed to lure the musketeers into firing.

What followed was the killing blow: the Hed cavalry circled around and charged at the gunners once again.

"[Herd] Slaughter them!" Mang Tai charged ahead, brandishing his scimitar, roaring, "[Herd]'s matchlock guns are nothing but scrap metal!"

But the Paratites did not appear panicked, nor did they show any signs of fleeing.

"Why aren't they afraid?" a voice roared in Mangtai's mind. "Why don't they run?"

The distance of several dozen meters was covered in an instant. The last thing Mang Tai saw before he crashed into them was the two men stuffing long dagger-like objects into the muzzles of the guns.

……

The pursuit by the Hed people was repelled.

Before noon, all the baggage trains had entered the riverside camp.

Later that day, three Harts came to the front of the camp carrying helmets on spears.

"What does this mean?" Andrei asked, puzzled.

“The Heds want to negotiate.” Lieutenant Colonel Jessica narrowed his eyes and said indifferently, “If they want to talk, then talk. Lieutenant Montagne, come with me and hear what they have to say.”

The lieutenant colonel, the second lieutenant, and Bell, who was acting as the translator, rode out of the camp gate.

The Hedman was the first to dismount, remove his weapons, and place them on the ground, seemingly to indicate that he was harmless.

Winters was unfamiliar with the Heard people's negotiation rules, but seeing that Lieutenant Colonel Jessica did so, he followed suit.

However, the lieutenant remained wary and hid two iron nails in his hand.

One of the men, who appeared to be a follower, took out a whole bear skin and spread it on the grass between the two sides.

The leader of the Herds sat down on the bearskin first and gestured for Lieutenant Colonel Jessica to take a seat.

The lieutenant colonel snorted and sat down with an air of authority.

Two grown men sat side by side on a bearskin, staring at each other.

Winters stood behind the lieutenant colonel, his body tense, ready to strike at any moment.

The Hed man spoke, and surprisingly, in perfect Continental English: "Gentlemen, hand over your baggage, and I will allow you to leave with your weapons and flags. Do not put up any more futile resistance. General János is dead; you have lost."

[Note: Continental Language is the Alliance's name, also known as the Common Language. Under Empire rule, it's called Imperial Language. They share a common origin, with only minor dialectal and accental differences.]
After my computer was forcibly shut down by my faulty modem for the nth time, the motherboard burned out and has been sent back to the factory. I've been using a laptop lately, but I'm not used to it and my efficiency is lower.

A painful lesson: Families with pets should never buy computer cases with the power button on the top.

Thank you to all the readers who voted for the book before;
Thank you to readers Heaven and Earth Knight, 20200227214355974, Deng sama, peano, Lan Qingying, and San Dian Wei Lan for the monthly tickets.
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Yesterday's has been added as well.

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(End of this chapter)