Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 162 Attack and Defense
While the Hed people were working through the night to build siege weapons, another group of people were also busy a thousand miles away.

On the main island of the Tanilla Islands, on the upper reaches of the Gilded River, on the side controlled by Veneta, a small fortress is under construction.

The Liujin River, flowing from east to west, divides the main island in two, and the Jin Port, known for its prosperity and decadence, is located on the north bank of the Liujin River estuary.

With the Liujin River as the boundary, Venetta and the United Provinces each occupy half of the main island.

At dawn, the sun had not yet risen above the horizon.

On the west bank of the Styx, Winters awaited the Heds' next move with unease, while the fortress on the banks of the Gilded River began to take shape.

The fortress construction site was illuminated only by scattered torches. As far as the eye could see, hundreds of soldiers were busy digging trenches, while heavily armed sentries vigilantly guarded the surroundings.

"Lieutenant Roy!" Lieutenant Colonel Evans, in charge of the mission, called to his subordinate: "As planned, you will officially move in once the trenches are completed. Remember..."

The piercing whistle interrupted Lieutenant Colonel Evans's instructions.

A figure suddenly jumped out from the open space not far from the fortress.

The man roared, "Great Vinetta!"

More people got up from the ground: "Kazar!"

The workers on the construction site rushed toward their weapons, and the sentries around the fortress opened fire, but they could not stop the Venetians from shouting as they charged across the trenches.

The Venetta soldiers, armed with clubs, attacked anyone they saw, with only a few soldiers remembering the order to "not hit the head."

The attackers came prepared, while the defenders were caught off guard. The Venetians advanced with unstoppable momentum, reaching the banks of the Gilded River.

When Lieutenant General Serbiati arrived at the scene, the fighting was already over.

Except for a few who managed to swim away, most of the Union soldiers were captured.

The bruised and battered soldiers from the United Provinces were tied up in a string and squatted in the trench awaiting their fate.

Lieutenant Juan, who commanded the raid, brought a sword with a shark scabbard, ivory handle, and pearl decorations and handed it to the lieutenant general.

[Note: Lieutenant Juan, who served last year, has been promoted and transferred to the Third Army Corps.]
“Well done.” António took the sword and ordered the captain, “Release the prisoners and return their weapons and armor.”

"Should we return the captured weapons and armor as well?"

"Yes."

Lieutenant Juan found it hard to accept, and he stubbornly said, "Sir, we've lost men too!"

“Captain, there are only two options: absolute mercy or absolute cruelty.” António patiently explained, “We are still brothers and allies with the United Provinces. Now that the objective has been achieved, there is no need to provoke them further. Execute the orders.”

Juan saluted and left without saying a word.

Later, Serbian legion commander met with Lieutenant Colonel Evans.

Evans has lost his former debonair demeanor; now his hair and beard are disheveled, his clothes are unkempt, and he looks utterly wretched.

Handing the luxurious little sword to the other man, Antonio said gently, "Lieutenant Colonel, I think you have overstepped your bounds."

Evans took the sword, avoiding the lieutenant general's gaze, and retorted in a muffled voice, "We've never crossed any borders with you. This is Tanilia Province now, and it always will be."

Antonio did not argue, but turned to his guards and ordered, "Bring a horse for Lieutenant Colonel Evans."

“No need! I have legs, I can walk by myself.” Evans’s attitude was stubborn: “Sir, farewell.”

The lieutenant colonel from the United Provinces raised his hand in salute and strode into the ranks of prisoners.

Behind them, Don Juan's hundred-man team moved into the fortress, picked up picks and shovels, and continued construction.

……

The conflict on the banks of the Liujin River has temporarily come to an end, but the two sides on the west bank of the Styx are about to clash again.

In the morning light, Centurion Alaric, carrying his helmet, once again came to the camp gate.

During this meeting, neither side dismounted.

Alaric went straight to the point: "Gentlemen, what have you decided?"

“Still under investigation.” Jessica clicked her tongue and said, “But I’ve come up with a solution that won’t cause any trouble.”

"please say."

“Following ancient custom, we’ll decide the victor with a single mounted duel. You can send your best warrior; we’ll send him.” Jessica casually pointed to Lieutenant Montagne behind him: “Look, this kid isn’t some big, burly hulking guy. Pretty good deal, right?”

Winters, who was unexpectedly called out, looked shocked.

Alaric remained silent, then sneered and rode away.

"What do you mean by this?" Winters asked angrily.

"He's unlikely to agree, and even if he did, are you afraid of losing? Aren't you a spellcaster?"

"When did you find out...?"

Jessica scoffed, "You can fool the laborers, but can you fool me? Don't worry, at worst we'll burn the bridge and retreat to the east bank."

"Let's just burn it now!" Winters pressed.

"Burn my ass!" Jessica lashed the lieutenant with his whip. "There's only one pontoon bridge across the river. What if we burn the army in front of it?"

The winter air was bleak, and a fierce wind suddenly arose. The howling west wind carried withered grass, making it impossible to open one's eyes.

A series of horn calls echoed from afar. The barbarians of Hed appeared on the horizon, pushing various wooden siege engines.

Inside the military camp, Father Kaman and Brother Reid were leading the group in their final prayers.

The old monk abandoned his usual jovial and sarcastic demeanor, his expression becoming unusually solemn and dignified.

Father Kaman dipped a small broom in holy water and sprinkled it on the kneeling crowd.

Due to the atmosphere, Winters in the crowd also knelt on one knee.

He gazed at the portrait of Anna and the wooden carving of Athena in his palm, thinking, "When people encounter something they are powerless to change, they instinctively seek help. If you can hear my heart, Anna, all I want is to return to you."

After finishing his prayer, Winters fastened the locket, gently placed it on his forehead, and carefully put it back around his neck.

In the city of Aquamarine, thousands of miles away, Anna Navarre awoke from a dream with tears streaming down her face for some unknown reason.

……

……

At noon, the Hed's third attack was repelled. But they did not go far, resting just two hundred meters from the camp.

More than a dozen large carts were lying within thirty paces of the west wall of the camp, their surfaces riddled with bullet holes and arrows.

The barricades on the west side of the camp had been torn to pieces by Hart's cavalry with ropes.

The Hed people also dragged away all the barricades that had been pulled out, not giving the Parat people a chance to replant them.

The prefab houses in the center of the camp were set up as a medical station. The seriously wounded Paratu were brought here for treatment, while the lightly wounded Paratu were treated at their posts.

"Lieutenant Montagne!" Pierre shouted as he searched among the wounded and the dead.

"What's wrong, Mr. Mitchell?" Father Kaman asked the noisy young Dussac with displeasure as he removed an arrow from a wounded soldier.

Of all the people present, only Kaman had received formal surgical training. Whether he liked it or not, he had to pick up a scalpel now.

"The lieutenant colonel sent me to find Lieutenant Montagne!" Pierre said anxiously.

Kaman, who was cleaning his wound, replied without looking up, "Lieutenant Montagne has washed his eyes and gone back."

At the camp wall, Lieutenant Colonel Jessica had personally found Lieutenant Montagne.

Winters, his eyes bloodshot, listened to the lieutenant colonel speak while nodding repeatedly.

In the previous battle, a panicked musketeer had barely extended his gun over the lieutenant's shoulder before recklessly opening fire.

The loud explosion made the lieutenant dizzy, and the flames burned off half of his eyebrow. Gunpowder smoke even sprayed into the lieutenant's eyes, causing him to be temporarily blinded.

Charles and Berlion immediately took Winters to Carmen to treat his injuries.

Fortunately, there were no external injuries. After washing his eyes, Winters rushed back to the defensive line immediately.

The wagons previously abandoned by the supply train have now fallen into enemy hands. The Heds have nailed panels to the wagons and filled the spaces between the panels with soil to shield them from bullets.

Using makeshift battering rams for cover, Hart's cavalry switched to hard bows and heavy arrows to get close and exchange fire with the Paratists, causing heavy casualties.

The Paratites, armed only with three one-pound rotary cannons, were helpless against the earth-cart.

The officers deeply regretted not simply burning the abandoned carriage; they had previously held onto the hope that they could salvage it and reuse it in the future.

“We have to burn those carts.” Jessica glared angrily at the large carts outside the camp wall: “You take men there, and bring plenty of lamp oil and pine resin. I’ll bring musketeers from other teams to cover you.”

"Goodbye," Winters laughed, fastening his helmet. "I'm more worried about being shot by your musketeers!"

The others around him burst into laughter. Winters was genuinely afraid of being shot in the back by some idiot, but he had to appear fearless because "if the officers aren't afraid, the soldiers won't be afraid."

Carrying tinder, Winters led several Dussacs on horseback out of the camp gate.

The Heds in the distance also noticed the garrison's movements, and a group of riders quickly jumped onto their saddles and approached Winters and his men.

The rotary cannon fired first, and solid shells flew toward Herd's cavalry, kicking up only a few clouds of dust.

One of the shells even grazed right in front of Winters, giving the lieutenant a fright.

The one-pounder cannon was the equipment of the 100-man garrison of the main camp, and they were all rear-loading mother-and-child cannons.

Lieutenant Colin had no dedicated gunners, and Colin himself wasn't from an artillery background. The three small cannons were purely for show; they were never intended for actual combat.

When Winters got to the cart, he realized that the barbarian Hed wasn't stupid after all.

Each cart had been watered; not only were the woods saturated with moisture, but even the soil between the planks was wet.

"Barbarians are the most cunning!" the lieutenant couldn't help but curse.

"How to do?"

"burn!"

Winters slapped the horse on the rump, and the horse looked back at its master before running towards the camp gate.

The location is too close to the wall and moat; going through the camp gate is not as good as climbing over the wall to go back.

Lamp oil and pine resin ignite instantly, but wood that has absorbed enough moisture simply won't burn.

Hart's cavalry charged close in the blink of an eye, and the musketeers and crossbowmen behind the camp walls opened fire.

The cart was only thirty paces from the camp wall, and the Heds dared not approach it easily. They stood at a distance and fired arrows at the men next to the cart.

The Hed's arrows were fast and accurate, forcing the men to lie on the ground to avoid them.

The lieutenant watched helplessly as the flames on the vehicle grew smaller and smaller, but his anger only grew stronger.

Winters patted Dusak beside him: "Let's go!"

The group ran back together, jumped over the trenches, climbed over the camp wall, and returned to the safe area.

"The vehicle was watered," the lieutenant explained, taking off his helmet and panting.

"It's alright." Jessica frowned, but didn't blame the lieutenant. "We'll figure something out."

"I have a plan!" Winters desperately controlled his breathing, his eyes bloodshot: "Give me the Iron Bomb!"

Iron bombs were simply heavy iron cans filled with gunpowder. However, they were often surprisingly effective in attacking and defending strongholds, and were also kept in stock in camps.

The lieutenant wanted iron bombs, but the people in the camp didn't understand why.

"Give me the iron bomb!" the lieutenant practically roared. "And the shovel!"

His soldiers hurriedly retrieved several iron cans secured with ropes.

The lieutenant, carrying a shovel and four iron lumps weighing a total of twenty pounds, scaled the wall again amidst gasps of surprise.

Not only the Parat people, but even the Hed people were dumbfounded.

The troop of Hart's cavalry had already retreated, but halfway there they saw an armored soldier climb over the wall and had no choice but to turn back.

Winters wielded a shovel, digging through the soil between the planks.

The Heds dismounted and fired arrows, but Winters ignored them, relying on their strong armor. Musketeers behind the walls and on the firing platforms also opened fire for cover.

By a twist of fate, the opponent neither dodged nor avoided, while Herd's archers missed repeatedly, always just a little bit off.

Enraged by this, the burly leader of the Herdsmen shouted, jumped off his saddle, and angrily pushed aside the other archers.

"Bow!" Chief Hel roared.

The red-feathered cavalrymen beside them took out their iron-spine bows and respectfully presented them.

Chief Herd stood still, and with a roar, drew the Ironback Recurve Bow to its full extent. The bow creaked and the bowstring was stretched to its limit.

In a moment of sudden inspiration, Chief Hurd, who was completely absorbed in his work, loosened the clasp.

This arrow, as if divinely inspired, flew like a meteor towards the distant Palatine warrior, striking his helmet squarely.

With a sharp clang, the Palatine warrior fell off the carriage.

"Khoshhachi! Koshhachi!" Herd's riders cheered and shouted in unison the name of the man who had shot the amazing arrow.

The Parat people behind the camp wall were completely silent.

Koshhachi—a burly man raised on mare's milk—laughed heartily, tossed the Iron-Spine Bow to Red Feather, and turned to walk toward his warhorse.

The iron-backed bow was deformed.

Suddenly, the Hed people stopped shouting, but the Parat people behind the moat wall cheered loudly.

Koshhazi turned around and was shocked to see the armored soldier climb back onto the carriage.

“[Mainland Chinese] Go to your mother!” The soldier threw off his gloves and made a friendly gesture.

The warriors' roars pierced the clouds and shattered rocks, echoing throughout the battlefield.

The Parat people behind the trench wall burst into laughter, and joined the armored soldiers in shouting in unison: "[Continental language] Go to your mother! Go to your mother! Go to your mother!"

The shouts of hundreds of people merged into one voice, echoing across the desolate plains and reaching the highest point in the sky.

Even the waterbirds on the opposite bank of the river were startled, and flocks of them fluttered up from the reeds.

The morale of the Paratists reached its peak.

Koshhazi's face first turned red, then white, and finally bluish.

He couldn't understand what the other person was shouting, but the meaning was clearly conveyed to him.

Hong Lingyu, who was standing nearby, was both anxious and furious. He drew his sword, mounted his horse, and was about to fight the armored soldier to the death.

"Don't go." Koshhazi, his face ashen, grabbed Hong Lingyu. "That guy is waiting for you!"

Winters buried the iron-cased bullets in the mud between the carriage walls and then covered them with soil again.

The fuse of the iron-cased bullet is wrapped in hemp rope, so there is no need to worry about it getting damp in a short time.

He lit the fuse and ran away.

After several muffled thuds, the carriage was blown to pieces. The layers of earth filling were completely destroyed, and chunks of soil even flew into the camp.

Although there are still vehicle bodies and wreckage, they are no longer suitable for use as cover.

Winters crawled over the trench and climbed over the wall, threw his dented helmet on the ground, and roared, panting, "Again!"

Wearing full three-quarters armor, he sprinted back and forth, nearly suffocating. The reason he stubbornly refused to sit down was because he was afraid that if he sat down, he would never be able to stand up again.

"Alright, you don't need to go," Lieutenant Colonel Jessica said coldly. "I'll arrange for someone else to do the rest of the work."

“I’ll take men.” Bard, who had arrived, calmly volunteered. He thought for a moment and said, “If it’s an explosion, there’s no need to use iron-cased bullets. We can just use a whole barrel of gunpowder.”

"Okay, let's do it this way." The lieutenant colonel made the decision: "Put Lieutenant Montagne to rest."

The JASK supply train had no shortage of gunpowder.

Berlean and Heinrich mounted the centurion and headed towards the camp.

Winters tried to shake them off, but the arrow he had just been shot with made him extremely dizzy and nauseous, and he was unable to break free.

Soldiers, militiamen, laborers, and merchants along the way silently gathered around Lieutenant Montagne, reaching out to touch his armor, hair, and skin in a gesture of respect.

The Parat people share in the lieutenant's courage, will, and good fortune in this way, and also express their respect.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica smiled wryly and muttered to himself, "Is this bravery or recklessness?"

Charles, standing nearby, proudly shouted back, "Brave, of course! Lieutenant Montagne is known as 'Blood Montagne' in Venetta; he's the bravest officer in Venetta!"

The surrounding Parat people gasped in amazement.

“Blood Man, what a terrible nickname. It doesn’t sound good.” Lieutenant Colonel Jessica shook his head and said casually, “Why not call him Blood Wolf? Looking at him… he really does look like he has wolf blood surging in his chest.”

Wolf Blood Montagne
P.S. 1: Don Juan, Juan is another pronunciation of John. "Don" was originally an honorific title placed before a name, but it has gradually become overused. As for Captain Don Juan, his name is Juan, so it doesn't matter if you consider him "surname [Juan], given name [Don]". Names are just designations, primarily for practical use.

P.S.2: Regarding friendly fire, Gouvion Saint-Cyr said, "It is no exaggeration to say that in a battle, the number of soldiers wounded by friendly fire from the third rank accounts for a quarter of the total casualties. If the troops involved were composed of new recruits, the proportion of friendly fire would have been even higher. Napoleon found many soldiers with elbow and arm injuries and assumed they were deliberately injuring themselves to avoid battle, preparing to punish them severely. Only after investigation did he discover that they had been wounded by soldiers in the rear ranks."

The French Ordinance of 1791 stipulated that soldiers in the third rank were not allowed to fire, and that they were only allowed to load rifles for the soldiers in the first two ranks, which was also a sign of being frightened.

Thank you to all the readers who voted for the book before. Although we've never met, seeing familiar IDs gives me a strange sense of warmth.
Thank you to readers peano, 20180131202612860, and 厄运肥龙 for their generous donations.
Thank you to readers Li Bin, 20180322215939719, Youdian Zan, Sirius of Canis Major won't do this, and Unlucky Fat Dragon for their recommendation votes;
Thank you to everyone who voted for the book yesterday. Due to space limitations, the "Author's Note" section will have footnotes beforehand. I won't be able to thank everyone individually today, but thank you all, Bihart.

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(End of this chapter)