Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 161 Riverside Camp
Upon hearing that General János was dead, Winters unconsciously clenched his fists.

The one-eyed lieutenant colonel remained unmoved. He scoffed and asked, "You called me out here just to say this?"

"Hand over your baggage, and I will allow you to leave with your flag and weapons." The Hed repeated his terms, seemingly full of confidence: "You're still alive, after all, not too bad, are you?"

"Alright," the lieutenant colonel replied indifferently, "I'll think about it when I get back."

The man with the head of the Herders smiled, his politeness tinged with contempt: "Sir, there's no point in stalling for time. No one will come to your rescue, and my mercy and generosity have their limits as well."

"Anything else?" the lieutenant colonel asked casually, picking at the blood under his fingernails.

"May I ask your honorable name?"

"John Jessica".

“I am Alaric, serving as the commander of the Haugkota, also known as the centurion.”

"Nice to meet you."

"It would be an honor for me to fight against you."

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's attitude was negative, and the negotiations quickly came to a hasty end.

After rising from the bearskin, Alaric said coldly, "Gentlemen, as we are talking, the sand in the hourglass is falling grain by grain. You don't have much time left."

……

On the way back to camp, Lieutenant Colonel Jessica suddenly asked, "Lieutenant Montagne, what do you think?"

Winters spoke frankly: "Would they really let us leave if we handed over the supplies? I'm not sure. But we should definitely be prepared."

"You're mistaken," Lieutenant Colonel Jessica said dismissively. "If the Heds are so powerful, why don't they just come and attack us?"

“They probably just want things…” Winters raised an eyebrow: “Hmm, could it be…”

"It's just what you think. Do you think I'm more anxious, or are they more anxious?"

The lieutenant thought for a moment and said, "It seems that the man named Hed is more anxious."

"That's right, I think he was so anxious he was about to wet his pants! And he still had the audacity to ask us to surrender?"

The lieutenant was completely bewildered: "But he said..."

"You believe him just because he says so?" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica laughed heartily. "I could say I'm his father!"

Winters recalled the Hed's expression and demeanor, and couldn't help but feel annoyed: "Was that guy lying to us without batting an eye?"

"In war, any tactic is acceptable. Don't assume the Hed people are simple and honest; barbarians are the most cunning." The lieutenant colonel casually instructed, "Don't spread what the Hed people said. If asked, just say they came to persuade us to surrender."

……

The beacon fires have been lit, and the messengers seeking help have already crossed the bridge.

Upon returning to camp, Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's first task was to interrogate the prisoners, while Winters returned to his unit and led everyone in reinforcing the fortifications.

Regardless of their social status, all the Parat people are working diligently.

The camp was backed by a large river and originally had trenches and earthen walls, but the walls were not high and the trenches were not deep.

But with only a few hundred people in the camp, they couldn't dig out much earth even if they worked themselves to death.

After discussing it, the officers decided to stop focusing on the walls and trenches and instead do something that would produce immediate results.

So everyone is frantically raising the firing towers and scavenging wood in the camp to sharpen it and use as barricades.

When Winters returned to his team, he saw Andre, Badr, and a few others gathered together.

"What are you doing?" Lieutenant Montagne asked.

Andrei tossed a musket to Winters: "Look at this."

Winters caught it immediately: "What's wrong?"

This is an ordinary matchlock gun with a long wooden handle and a short iron tube as the firing mechanism.

Winters noticed something: a long dagger was inserted into the barrel, turning the flintlock pistol into a short spear.

“That’s interesting,” Winters said seriously.

The dagger was stuck in the shovel tightly, and it took him some effort to pull it out. Once he held it in his hand, he realized that the dagger was made in a very simple way; it was just an iron bar held between two pieces of cork.

“This little gadget saved our lives today.” Bard patted the young man beside him: “Baronna, tell Lieutenant Montagne about it.”

Baronna was very nervous and stammered as he spoke: "This dagger is used by hunters in my hometown to hunt wild boars. Sometimes a wild boar survives a single shot, so the hunters would stick the dagger into their guns and use it as a spear."

Winters sheathed the dagger back into the flintlock pistol and tried a few thrusts.

Bard explained, "Many merchants in the caravan only had grappling hooks. I thought this might come in handy, so I had the blacksmith make dozens of them. Originally, a musket would just become a club after it was fired, but with this, it can be used as a short spear. It gave the Heds a pleasant surprise today."

“Bard and I are studying this,” Andrei added. “If we equip each musketeer with a dagger, it might replace the pikemen.”

Winters smiled slightly, handed the flintlock pistol back to Bayonne, and shook his head, saying, "No, that won't do."

"why?"

Winters, who came from the infantry, reminded his two cavalry contemporaries: "How light is a matchlock musket? How heavy is a musket?"

"What do you mean?"

"Matchstick guns are heavy, weighing anywhere from 15 to 30 pounds. They need a tripod to fire, so how can you use them as a short spear? Long spears only weigh 5 to 10 pounds."

Andrei was unconvinced, so he found a matchlock gun and tried it out, then fell silent.

Facts speak louder than words: the matchlock gun was too cumbersome, its center of gravity was unsuitable for combat, and its attack range was short.

Although it is held with both hands, it cannot be used like a fancy spear. Its actual attack range is similar to that of a one-handed spear, consisting of only the arm and half a spear.

Attaching a dagger to a heavy matchlock gun to make a short spear is less effective than using the butt of the gun upside down to hit someone.

Winters rubbed salt into the wound: "Besides, a spear is at least two and a half meters long, and how long is a musket with a dagger? The role of a spearman is to protect the archer from the cavalry charge, and using a short spear against a lancer is naturally at a disadvantage."

"So this thing is useless?" Andrei asked, unwilling to give up. "It's hard to say." Winters thought for a moment and said, "If the weight of the musket can be reduced to less than ten pounds, this thing will be very useful. In addition, the musketeers must be willing to engage in hand-to-hand combat. Otherwise, I would still prefer to use halberds and spears to protect the archers."

Andrei couldn't help but exclaim, "Then why not just make muskets weighing less than ten pounds?"

Winters said helplessly, "It's not as simple as you say! To reduce the weight of a musket, you have to use a lighter barrel. A lighter barrel means thinner walls, aren't you afraid of it exploding? Or you could use less propellant, but that wouldn't be powerful enough."

"Ultimately," he concluded, "we still need better iron."

……

At midnight, the moonlight was dim, but the starry sky was clearly visible.

Only the sentries were still awake; everyone else in the riverside camp was fast asleep.

Two silent figures, leading their horses, quietly slipped out of the north gate of the camp.

With a wooden stick in their mouths, they immediately put on iron chew toys. Winters followed closely behind Lieutenant Colonel Jessica, communicating entirely through gestures.

The lieutenant colonel insisted on not bringing any guards, saying that the more people there were, the more likely things would go wrong.

The two officers left the camp silently, and those who didn't know what was going on probably thought they were trying to escape.

In the stillness of the night, only the chirping of insects can be heard, and even the slightest noise can be heard far and wide.

Winters and Strongman had all their metal accessories wrapped in cloth, as did the lieutenant colonel. Neither of them rode horses, but simply walked slowly, holding the reins.

After that negotiation, Hart's scouts patrolled the vicinity of the riverside camp, spying on the situation.

The Hed's small horses were agile, swift, and adept at leaping. They were unhit by muskets and crossbows. When cavalry were sent to engage them, the Hed's horses would flee.

This happened repeatedly, much to the annoyance of the Paratians.

Winters' rifled gun malfunctioned again; the rifling caught lead, causing it to lose accuracy. Fortunately, Berrian said he could fix it, and it has now been handed over to the blacksmith for repair.

Ancient law states: "An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth."

Taking advantage of the pitch-black darkness after nightfall, the lieutenant colonel, along with Lieutenant Montagne, prepared to conduct a close-range reconnaissance mission.

According to the lieutenant colonel, the reason he only brought Winters was twofold: firstly, because Winters had a good horse, and secondly, because Winters did not suffer from night blindness.

The camp of the Heds was separated from the camp of the Paratul army by only one hill.

Jessica and Winters made their way to the top of the hill, where they were already within the patrol range of Heard's sentries.

Down the hillside, the Hed people's camp was brightly lit, and it was unclear what they were busy with.

"My eyesight is failing," the lieutenant colonel, lying on the ground, whispered. "You count how many campfires they have."

Winters, also lying on the ground, covered his left eye and cupped his other hand in front of his right eye, trying to make out the distant firelight.

Jessica whispered to the lieutenant, "The Heds are sending out troops, ten men per unit. If it's really a thousand-man unit, there must be at least fifty campfires."

“Captain, I’ve counted to eighty!” Winters replied in a low voice.

"Is that correct?"

"We've counted to ninety now."

"[A vulgar term related to sheep]" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica suddenly cursed, "Could it be that another 10,000-man squad has appeared on the steppe?"

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, scouts are coming!" The lieutenant colonel scrambled to his feet, grabbing the second lieutenant's clothes and dragging him backward.

“Wait.” Winters remained motionless, his eyes fixed on the distant camp. He suddenly swore, “[a vulgar term related to sailor mothers]! The Hurds are building siege engines!”

"Stop talking nonsense and leave quickly."

The two leaped onto their warhorses and galloped wildly toward the camp.

Hart's scouts noticed something amiss, gave chase for a while but couldn't catch up, so they stopped.

Back at the camp, Jessica asked the lieutenant, "How many cavalrymen did we encounter at the beginning with those Hud?"

"Nearly a hundred."

"Who did we encounter outside the camp?"

"About two hundred."

"understand?"

Winters shook his head violently: "I don't understand."

“The Hed people don’t care about being fully equipped.” Lieutenant Colonel Jessica said with a grim face, “A Turu might actually only have thirty or forty riders. A nominal thousand-man squadron might be considered generous if it actually has six hundred riders. But the Turu squadrons we’ve encountered are all fully equipped. This Hauge, it seems, is likely also fully equipped.”

"so?"

"The Hede people are nomadic families. The pastures can only support a small number of people, so when there are too many men, they have to split up, and the same goes for tribes. Very few tribes can send out thousands of able-bodied men to fight at once. If we weren't extremely unlucky and ran into a large tribe that had sent out its entire force, then someone must be commanding all the tribes." Jeska said through gritted teeth, "The last person with such prestige... was Queye Khan, thirty years ago."

Winters wasn't even born thirty years ago, nor was he a Paratist, so he couldn't truly empathize with Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's alarmed state of mind.

He was now more concerned about the immediate crisis: "Forget about Queye Khan for now, sir! The Hed people are building siege weapons, those are the real danger!"

Here are some figures to consider: the classic smoothbore musket, the Brown Bess, weighed 9 jin (approximately 4.5 catties); the Type 24 rifle, 8 jin (approximately 4.5 catties); and the Type 38 rifle, 8 jin (approximately 4.5 catties). In contrast, matchlock muskets of Winters' era often weighed over ten, twenty, or even thirty jin (approximately 5.5 kg), making them extremely cumbersome.

The prototype of the bayonet existed as early as the matchlock musket era, but it was never widely used. Humans learn warfare incredibly quickly. The bayonet prototype's lack of widespread adoption wasn't due to the incompetence of ancient people; it was simply impractical.

The foundation of technological architecture is determined by the materials used; ultimately, if the materials are substandard, everything is just a castle in the air.

Winters is in a transitional period. Many things didn't exist when this book began. Many things will be widespread by the time it ends. Being in a time of great change is a very interesting thing.

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(End of this chapter)