Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 168 Expanded Meeting
The steely General János is gone, the tough guy with a booming voice and a proud stride is gone, and only an old man, barely breathing, lies on his military bed.

Upon seeing the scene before him, Brigadier General Sackler was so shocked that he was speechless.

Upon hearing the news, Major General Alpad rushed into the tent, following in Sackler's footsteps, but it was too late to keep it a secret.

"What happened?" Sackler's lips trembled.

“First it was typhoid fever.” Arpad walked to the bedside, tucked the old man in, and said in a low voice, “Then it was a stroke.”

Sackler charged at Alpard, grabbing him by the collar. His rage had clouded his judgment: "How dare you! You dared to isolate us from the outside world! You...you dared to conceal this! What are you trying to do?"

Despite being so offended by his junior, Alpard showed no anger and silently met Sackler's gaze.

What angered Seckler even more than General János's loss of command was the unbridled behavior of the Árpád faction, which was no different from a mutiny.

Sackler's chest heaved violently: "The longer you keep it a secret, the longer you'll be under siege? What are you planning to do next? What are you going to do when you can't keep it a secret anymore? Kill us all? Speak up!"

“Have you finished venting your anger? Then listen to me.” Alpard removed the other’s hand from his collar: “Once the news of General János’s stroke spreads, the morale of the army will surely waver, giving the barbarian chieftain [Yasin] an opportunity to take advantage.”

"Shut up!" Sackler roared in fury. "The general is seriously ill, and we should retreat immediately! You concealed the news just to keep the war going! Just to earn another general's star! You disregarded the safety of the army for your own selfish desires, Arpad Duyom! I will never forgive you!"

Major General Arpad scoffed dismissively, casually dragging over a stool, settling in comfortably, and asked, "Do you think I'm after power? Status? A general's star?"

Sackler remained silent; his eyes, blazing with fury, were the answer.

Arpard brushed the dust off his riding breeches and said casually, "As long as you support me, I'll apply for retirement after this battle and go home to raise horses and grow flowers."

The only response the major general received was a cold snort emanating from deep within his nasal cavity.

The other party clearly didn't believe him, but Alpad was too lazy to make any more oaths. He stared at Sackler and asked, word by word, "Do you know why we're here?"

Sackler paused, his anger subsiding slightly, but he still didn't speak.

“I’m telling you, this battle isn’t about land, slaves, money, or power—it has nothing to do with any of that!” Arpadyan pointed in the direction of the city of Hedtu: “We’re here to attack this city!”

Arpad paused for a moment, then continued, “I noticed the man who built this city eighteen years ago when he was my scout on an old horse. I had him on my list fifteen years ago when he had only fifty households. Over the years, I have watched him grow like an avalanche across the grasslands, and I even wake up in the middle of the night in fear.”

Sackler was taken aback by the major general's imposing manner and was momentarily overwhelmed by his words.

"The Republic is like a drunkard sleeping on a pile of firewood," Arpad gritted his teeth. "I don't care about any generals! I'm here to wipe out the Red River Tribe! I'm putting out the fire for the Republic! General Sackler!"

……

No one knows what kind of agreement Arpad and Sackler reached, but that afternoon all the field-grade officers in the army were summoned to an expanded meeting.

Although it was called an expanded meeting, no matter how expanded it was, it wouldn't extend to officers like Winters.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica did attend the meeting—although he currently belongs to the lowly militia, he is still a proper officer.

The lieutenant colonel had just left for a large meeting when Winters, Budd, Andre, and Mason gathered in the tent for a small meeting.

Mason and his fellow convicts were officially assigned to the Jessica Brigade. The brothers in distress now huddled together for warmth and support, and at least they could look after each other.

There were no outsiders in the tent, and the group gathered around the stove, discussing things without any restraint.

“I think neither side can suppress the other, otherwise they wouldn’t have to resort to military democracy.” Mason held a cup of hot water and clicked his tongue. “They might even have to resort to anonymous voting.”

Winters put his boots down by the furnace and said casually, "It's better to make up your mind than to fight or retreat."

Andrei, who was warming his hands by the fire, nodded in deep agreement.

No one understands the unease and restlessness within Plato's army better than the lower-ranking officers.

There have even been cases of self-harm among the soldiers, and many are quietly packing their belongings.

“I reckon we’ll still have to fight.” Mason yawned. “I heard they released four waves of slaves into the city. If they withdraw now, won’t the Japanese lose a fortune?”

Andrei became interested: "What does it mean to let slaves into the city?"

The others also perked up their ears.

"Before we arrived, General Alpad ordered the captured slaves to be driven into Bianli City—of course, the old, weak, sick, and disabled. The Hed people in the city had some backbone and accepted them all."

The tent fell silent for a moment, with only the crackling sound of firewood burning in the stove.

……

Driving the elderly, weak, sick, and disabled into the city is an "extremely undignified" siege tactic.

Letting people into the city is like adding more mouths to feed, which will deplete the city's reserves. Not letting people into the city will weaken the defenders' morale.

On occasions, the garrison would even actively drive the elderly, weak, sick, and disabled out of the city, which would then lead to human tragedies.

Winters was well aware of this; he had not only heard about it but also witnessed it firsthand.

During the siege of Gusa, the defenders, lacking supplies, resolutely drove the "useless mouths" out of the city, but they were soon driven back by the besieging army.

With nowhere to go, hungry and fearful, those poor people wandered between the city walls and fortifications for eight whole days.

Winters had never seen any more desperate people than those, and none of them survived.

The fact that the Herds in the city dared to let people into the city, though unwise, gave Winters a faint sense of admiration.

……

Bard suddenly frowned and asked, "Taneria no longer buys slaves, but do the Paratul still hunt slaves?" The archipelago had been divided between the United Provinces and Venetia. The United Provinces allowed the slave trade but prohibited the keeping of slaves within their borders, while Venetia had completely banned it.

“Really? I’m not well-informed, so I don’t know much about it.” Mason was slightly taken aback. “But if the islanders don’t buy, we can sell them to those duchies south of the Golden Peak Mountains. Hed slaves are in high demand; they’re all heretics, so there’s no moral pressure in enslaving them.”

The Paratul people's slave-hunting tradition has long been criticized by other allied nations and is also an important part of the stereotype that "highlanders are all barbaric."

"Let the Paratus capture you and sell you into slavery" is a classic phrase used by the citizens of Hailan to scare children.

But when Winters arrived in Palatine, he discovered that there were almost no Hed slaves in the land of the galloping horses; they had all been exported. Probably because they were too close and feared the Hed people would run back.

Mason thought for a moment and added, "There's no need to sympathize with the Heds. In the past, they also captured Paratu people as slaves. It's just that in recent years, the war has been one-sided, and the Heds have been beaten so badly that only the Paratu have been able to enslave the Heds. It's said that the Heds themselves even capture slaves from each other... Sigh! This is a long story."

Lieutenant Mason's words left the others sighing. The Hed and Parat people had been locked in a tug-of-war for over a century, and even they themselves probably couldn't explain the ins and outs. It would be too presumptuous for outsiders to judge right and wrong.

The four of them sat around the stove and chatted about old stories and anecdotes from military school. Life in the front-line camp was tough and monotonous, so this was a rare moment of leisure.

With two main forces of standing legions by his side, even in the event of a battle, the militia would not be involved.

The Jessica Battalion finally took on the real duties of the militia again, mainly doing physical labor such as digging trenches and toilets, and every other day they had to go to a distant place to cut down trees and bring them back as firewood.

Lieutenant Andrei and Lieutenant Mason were listless every day, feeling that they were wasting their talents, and therefore lacked motivation.

Winters didn't think much of it; he was more than happy to stand behind the Paratians and cheer them on when they fought.

Berleon came into the tent briefly and handed the repaired gun barrel to the lieutenant for inspection.

This rifled gun had become heavily used in practice and combat, and the rifling had become coated with lead. This not only affected its accuracy but also posed a risk of barrel explosion.

Winters didn't have a good solution either, because it should have been left to the gunsmith, but Berleon said he could handle it.

The blacksmith's method was simple yet ingenious. He first inserted an iron rod into the gun barrel, poured lead into it, and then pulled it out and smeared it with rapeseed oil.

To maintain the pomp and circumstance of high-ranking officers, the logistics department transported a considerable amount of porcelain tableware from Palatine, which inevitably suffered damage during transport and use.

Berleon picked up the broken porcelain shards, ground them into powder, sifted them, and sprinkled them on the lead rod.

By rubbing a lead rod covered in porcelain powder back and forth inside the gun barrel, the lead will be worn away in a short time.

Winters inspected the barrel against the fire; the chamber was shiny and clear, with no burrs visible.

Its smoothness was no less than that of the two wheeled muskets the Oathbreakers had given to Antonio. Moreover, those two muskets were smoothbore muskets, while Winters's musket was a rifled musket, which was much more difficult to polish.

Polishing has always been the most difficult and expensive part of weapon and armor production.

Winters had a sudden thought and asked the blacksmith, "Mr. Berleon, can you rifling?"

"Rifling?" Berion looked troubled and stammered, "I don't really know, but I've heard that you have to use a spinning wheel to do it."

"Can you build a spinning wheel?"

"I've seen it, but I've never built it."

Winters roughly understood; since the blacksmith didn't want to talk about it, he didn't press further.

The lieutenant chuckled and patted the blacksmith on the shoulder: "Mr. Berion, it's a real shame you're staying in Palatour. Come with me to Veneta, you'll make a fortune. I guarantee the Aquamans will absolutely adore rifled pistols."

Andrei burst into laughter upon hearing this, while Mason and Bader, the two provincials, were somewhat puzzled.

But Bud quickly understood, shook his head slightly and laughed. He whispered an explanation to Lieutenant Mason, who couldn't help but chuckle as well.

Inside the tent, only Berrian remained, bewildered and at a loss.

"What are you saying? Why are you laughing so happily?" Another person lifted the curtain and entered the tent, bringing in a blast of cold air.

Upon hearing the familiar voice, the officers all stood up abruptly.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica walked straight to the furnace and reached over the lid to warm himself by the fire.

Seeing this, Berrian prepared to leave.

Winters took out his money bag and threw it to the blacksmith along with the gun barrel just before the blacksmith left the tent.

Only a few officers remained in the tent. Lieutenant Mason, mustering his courage, asked, "Will it be over so early, sir?"

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica sneered: "It's not a meeting at all, it's just calling us in to plan the operation."

"Have the higher-ups reached a consensus?" Winters asked.

“I don’t know what those two old guys, Sackler and Arpad, are up to. General János hasn’t shown up either.” Jessica said with a hint of suspicion, “We’ll have to see how it goes… but it’s not our turn to fight.”

The four officers breathed a sigh of relief.

"Get your shovels tonight," the lieutenant colonel said immediately. "Tomorrow we'll dig trenches."

The technique for polishing rifling came from the book "Dedicate Everything to the Party." Although the title sounds very patriotic, it wasn't actually a political propaganda book, but rather a simple autobiography of a military equipment manufacturer. It was a thin volume, written in a very simple style, and served as my first introduction to the field. I still remember the descriptions of using rudimentary equipment to produce firearms, bullets, and mortars.

Based on the description in that book, I think it's feasible to use this method to process rifling. After all, Mr. Wu Yunduo was the kind of person who could make guns using only grinding discs, screws, and tree stumps (the barrel was probably bought XD).

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(End of this chapter)