Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 186
The torrential rain rendered the gunpowder unusable, turning half of the Parattu soldiers' weapons into clubs, but the weapons of the other half remained faithful and reliable.

For Plato's army, the torrential rain dealt a far greater blow to morale than the actual loss of combat strength.

"Palatu! Show your courage!" Officers of all ranks struggled to maintain order, running and shouting within the ranks, "Maintain formation!"

Sackler even personally waved the eagle flag to boost morale.

"Hold on! Children! Hold on!" Sackler urged the musketeers to draw their swords and fight. His voice was hoarse and barely audible, but he was still shouting, "Hold the line! The devil can't touch a hair on your heads! If you run away, it will devour you all!"

Compared to the astonishing force of the torrential rain, another blow suffered by Plato's army was insignificant, but the damage it caused was no less than that of the rain.

Within the four formations, all the spellcaster officers were rendered incapacitated, and three officers had even lost consciousness.

A spellcaster who loses consciousness is actually lucky, because those spellcasters who are conscious are trapped in intense hallucinatory pain, a living hell.

Lieutenant Roy screamed like a dying beast as he collapsed into the mud, his body convulsing uncontrollably.

The people around him searched his entire body but couldn't find a single wound.

Roy himself felt as if he were being repeatedly plunged into a boiling oil pot.

His mind was extremely clear, consciously enduring the unbearable, intense phantom pain.

The others were as anxious as ants on a hot pan, watching Lieutenant Roy suffer, but they didn't know what to do.

Robert rushed over and took off his coat to cover the lieutenant.

The lieutenant colonel then used his dagger to cut off a section of his sleeve, ordered the surrounding soldiers to pry open Roy's clenched teeth, and stuffed the sleeve into his mouth.

This was both to prevent Lieutenant Roy from biting his tongue and to prevent him from uttering those agonizing screams that would crush the will of others.

Roy bit the cloth ball, letting out whimpers, his seven-foot frame curled up into a small ball under his cashmere coat.

"Carry the lieutenant into the center of the formation!" Lieutenant Colonel Robert, wearing only a single-sleeved shirt with one sleeve remaining, took the military flag: "Protect him!"

Plato's army used flags, bugles, and drums to communicate, but flag signals, commands, and drumbeats could only convey limited information.

More sophisticated on-the-spot command relies heavily on the assistance of spellcasters.

Now that all the spellcaster officers in the phalanx are incapacitated, it is equivalent to the destruction of a vital means of battlefield communication for the Paratul army.

The sounds of rain, hooves, and shouts blended together, making it impossible for Sackler to accurately convey any commands he wanted to give.

Winters Montagne, the last remaining spellcaster in Plato's army, was unaware of this at the moment, and he was not in the phalanx.

Because the "link" was severed early, Winters was not "overloaded" this time.

The phantom pain came quickly and went even faster. He could still feel the stinging sensations, but the intensity wasn't unbearable, and he could still grit his teeth and endure it.

When Winters, Mason, and others pushed the two cannons up the hillside, Plato's army was in its most critical moment.

The four thousand-person formations were compressed and bent, with the northernmost formation almost turning into a triangle.

But the Paratites are as tough as steel.

Despite the enormous external force causing the steel bar to make a piercing clattering sound, it stubbornly held on and did not collapse.

Few warhorses dared to charge into the forest of sharp spears, and the same was true for the Heds.

Horses were actually in the way, so the fierce centurion Hart simply dismounted and fought on foot.

With their strong armor, shields, and scabbards, they pushed aside the spearheads and forced their way into the forest of spears, wielding their scimitars to kill the Paratus.

Other brave Hurd soldiers followed suit, and the unarmored Hurds crawled into the space beneath the gun barrels.

Parathu's swordsmen and shieldmen charged out of their formation to intercept and kill the enemy, and the two sides fought a fierce battle like rats in the forest of spear shafts.

Other Hart cavalrymen dismounted but did not engage in close combat; instead, they used their signature technique: [strong bows and heavy arrows, capable of shooting the face from ten paces away].

Rainwater can cause the composite bow to come unglued, but it can still be used with difficulty.

Without the cover of musket fire, the Plattite soldiers had no way to retaliate.

They could only watch helplessly as Hart's archers drew their bows close to the tips of their spears, aiming for their eyes, armpits, calves, and other unprotected areas—most of the pikemen only had half-body armor.

Some of the Paratul soldiers could not bear the pressure of watching themselves being shot, and they roared as they charged out of their formation and attacked the Hed archers.

However, once they were freed from the protection of the formation, they were instantly surrounded and killed by the Hed people.

Winters saw the white lion and several blue-feathered figures directing the formation on the west side, their crimson armor and blue-golden horses standing out in the rain.

Under their command, the Heds broke into the gaps between the square formations, forcing each square formation to move outwards.

Winters immediately understood: the White Lions were trying to divide the four T-shaped formations, preventing them from covering each other, and then defeat them one by one.

Plato's army's only hope was to concentrate its forces, combine the four square formations into one large square to meet the enemy.

However, under the heavy pressure of the Hed's army, the Parat people dared not make any move.

Both sides are still locked in fierce combat, and each formation is under immense pressure. Changing formations at this point would be tantamount to throwing off balance and giving the enemy an opportunity to exploit the situation.

The Paratites need time... time to catch their breath.

The Jessica Group is assembling on the reverse slope of the hillside.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica delivered a concise and to-the-point pre-battle mobilization speech.
Rescuing Sackler is rescuing ourselves.

If the main battle is lost, victories on secondary battlefields are meaningless. If the main force is annihilated, the auxiliary forces will also perish.

Mason and Winters were busy around the cannon.

"Is the ammunition usable?" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica asked as he walked over.

"The shells are fine! Only a little gunpowder left." Mason's lips trembled as he cursed, "Damn it! What kind of weather is this! It started raining just like that! And this is winter!"

"Can it be launched?" the lieutenant colonel asked again.

“I can,” Winters replied through gritted teeth. “I’ll use magic to ignite it through the tarpaulin, as long as water doesn’t get into the cannon.”

"Alright, get them all out!" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica said in his usual indifferent tone before leaving.

His expression was the same as always, expressionless, revealing neither joy nor anger, with his only remaining right eye staring straight at the person.

But this face, which usually makes people afraid to look directly at it, brought a strange sense of security to everyone at this moment.

An enraged Mason kicked the carriage hard, saying defiantly, "If I make it home alive this time, I'd rather die than use this kind of garbage carriage again!"

Four cannons were deployed at the start, but only two remained upon arrival at the battlefield.

Most artillery pieces require the gun barrel and carriage to be transported separately.

Some light artillery pieces have gun carriages and can be towed directly.

However, these four six-pound cannons for defending the city were not available, so they were brought on ordinary horse-drawn carriages.

Even with artillery carriages, their suspension and bearings are insufficient to support long-distance, rapid movement.

Back then, artillery carriages were just wooden wheels and iron axles, moving like a tortoise crawling, with a creaking sound that could be heard a mile away.

They couldn't even keep up with the marching speed of infantry, let alone follow Jessica's "dragon rider" battalion.

So the makeshift gun carriages used by "the beautiful daughters"—as Lieutenant Mason called his cannons—were converted from horse-drawn carriages.

For comfort, the carriages were equipped with expensive belt suspension and even more expensive cage-like ball bearings—the original ball bearings.

Even with suspension and bearings, and even though it was just transporting a light artillery piece weighing 450 kilograms, the bumpy ride still ruined both vehicles.

"What about the armor-piercing grenades?" Winters suddenly remembered. "Are they wet?"

Mason emptied the rainwater from his helmet onto his feet: "No, everything's fine. But as long as the rain keeps falling, even you won't be able to use it."

The rain obstructed the view of those on the battlefield, and for the time being, no one noticed a group of Palatine soldiers behind the hillside 600 meters away.

Mason hoisted a tarpaulin over the cannon and led the gunners to begin loading.

"No!" Winters stopped Mason. "We might only have one chance to fire... We can't do it here..."

With the situation extremely urgent, the five officers of the JASKA squadron revised their battle plan in the rain.

Mason roared, "Damn it! Double the explosives! Two rounds of shells! Let's fire!"

Everyone who could ride a horse was ordered to retrieve their horses, and Winters inadvertently spotted Pierre in the crowd.

Pierre Gerardovich Mitchell is completely unrecognizable as the Dussac playboy he once was.

Pierre now has sunken eyes, gaunt cheeks, and prominent cheekbones.

He was frowning, biting the tassel of his knife, silently and carefully adjusting the saddle.

His companions—the children of Wolf Town who used to laugh and play—were the same.

No, to be precise, they are no longer children.

Winters, in the blink of an eye, they've all grown up.

Upon noticing the centurion watching him, Pierre removed his helmet, placed it on his chest, and nodded in acknowledgment.

Winters nodded as well.

The two greeted each other silently from a distance of more than ten meters.

Preparations were completed quickly.

With a dozen or so gunners, Winters and Mason pushed the gun carriage down the hillside, while the others waited on the reverse slope.

The cannon's breech and muzzle were covered with leather, while the barrel was covered with tarpaulin.

All the men pushing the cannon carts temporarily changed into Hedza armor, making them look like a group of Hed people from a distance.

To ensure that the cannons could be fired at any time, horses could not be used to pull them; they had to be pushed entirely by manpower.

First, there was a downhill section, and Winters gripped the frame, carefully controlling his speed.

The slope then eased, making progress increasingly difficult. The group chanted in hushed tones as they moved forward at a walking pace.

Fifty meters, one hundred meters, two hundred meters...

Despite the rain, everyone pushing the cannon cart was already drenched in sweat.

There was hot sweat and cold sweat.

The further they went, the more frequently Hart's cavalry passed by them.

The battlefield was noisy and chaotic, and most of the Hart cavalry ignored the dozen or so men pushing the carts and narrowly passed by the gun carriages.

Occasionally, some Hed people would ask questions, but Winters wouldn't let Bell answer. He would just wave at them through the rain and continue pushing the cart.

The further they pushed forward, the closer the two cannons got to the cavalryman in red armor and riding a blue horse.

When they were less than a hundred meters away from the figure in red horse and blue armor, Mason called a halt to the group.

The artillery lieutenant whispered, "Don't push it any further. This distance is just right. Pushing it any further will actually reduce the kill radius."

Then, Mason crouched at the breech and began adjusting the firing angle.

Winters, Mason, two gun carriages, and a dozen gunners are now practically in the middle of the Heds.

If a squadron of Hart's cavalry were to gallop past them and be discovered without careful attention, they would be reduced to dust.

But this was the last resort; the Platonic phalanx was crumbling, and only a risky move could save them.

The gunners stood stiffly, looking down at the muddy ground, swallowing hard.

"Hurry up!" Winters asked through gritted teeth, "Is it ready yet?"

“That guy is moving around!” Mason gritted his teeth and replied, “What am I supposed to do if he moves around?”

The red-armored cavalryman on blue horse stood on a mound on the west side of the formation, pacing back and forth as if giving orders.

Mason, supporting the cannon, adjusted the angle slightly to follow the enemy's movements.

The things we least want to happen often happen when we least want them to happen.

A red-feathered soldier led a dozen or so cavalrymen charging straight at them, shouting angrily, "[Herd] You few armored soldiers, how dare you fight? Who is your leader?"

“[Herd] We have no hope of victory, our leader is an eagle!” Bell replied.

[Note: Eagle is a name frequently used by the Hed people.]
The red-feathered creature continued its swift advance: "[Herd's] There are more eagles?! Which eagle?"

Just as Red Feather was about to reach him, Winters gritted his teeth, grabbed Mason's shoulder, and said, "I'll make him stop. You take aim!"

"How did you make him stop?" Mason was extremely surprised. Winters took a deep breath and entered a spellcasting state.

Despite the lingering phantom pain, he channeled all his magic into a roar: "Yasin!!!"

The roar was like a thunderclap, its sound waves sweeping across the wasteland, and could be clearly heard by the Hede people in Bianli City.

The two sides engaged in fierce combat were momentarily stunned, and even the red-armored knight on the blue horse couldn't help but look in the direction from which the sound came.

Winters only felt warmth in his left ear, and when he reached out to touch it, there was already blood.

"[Herd] How dare you call me White Lion!" Red Feather roared in anger, snapping out of her daze.

"Is it done yet?" Winters stared intently at the red armor.

"This one's ready!" Mason roared, jumping to the other cannon.

Winters suddenly ripped off the muzzle cover and used a ignition technique on the gunpowder inside the fuse box through the tarpaulin.

"boom!"

The gun carriage was broken by the recoil, and wood chips flew everywhere.

The cannon—which was only tied to the carriage with ropes—rose into the air and flew behind Winters.

A storm of steel swept across the battlefield, wiping out the cavalry to the right of the red-armored rider, but the red-armored rider himself remained unharmed.

After missing the first shot, Winters yelled, "Again!"

"That's enough!" Mason yelled back.

The muzzle cover of the second six-pound bronze cannon was lifted.

"boom!"

Double the explosive charge, double the number of shells.

The immense thrust of the gunpowder gas instantly propelled 150 spherical lead bullets out of the breech, and the recoil caused the cannon to tumble and bounce.

The bag containing lead bullets exploded at the muzzle of the cannon, and 150 lead bullets scattered in mid-air, forming a round cloud of bullets.

Like one hundred and fifty arrows, accompanied by the shrieks of death, they flew toward the red-armored rider.

The sudden turn of events left no time for anyone to react.

The first cannon was still tumbling in the air, not yet landing.

"[Herd] White Lion!" Only the centurion Owl instinctively lunged at the Blue-Haired Horse, using his body to protect the Crimson-Armored Knight.

"Puff," "Puff," "Puff"...

A series of terrifying sounds of lead bullets hitting flesh.

Lead bullets do not recognize white feathers, red feathers, or blue feathers.

Lead bullets do not discriminate between people and horses.

Lead bullets treat all living things equally.

Everyone around the red-armored knight—including himself—was defeated.

The magnificent blue steed died on the spot, and several other warhorses lay on the ground whimpering.

"Clang!" The first cannon that had been fired had just landed.

"Kill!" Winters grabbed his spear and knocked the red-feathered [Herd Gendarmerie] off his saddle.

"Kill!" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica spurred his horse on the flank and charged ahead of the others down the hillside.

"Kill!" Hussars, Dusaks, mounted infantry... more than four hundred riders followed the one-eyed colonel as he charged out from behind the hillside.

The cavalry split into two groups, with the left wing following Jeska and the right wing following Andrei, attacking from both sides towards where the White Lion Yassin had fallen.

"[Herd] White Lion! Save the White Lion!" The Herd people beside the mound rushed over like madmen.

The other Hed cavalry abandoned their formation and recklessly intercepted and killed the Palatine cavalry.

Winters was stopped by the Heds and could only watch helplessly as the Heds at the mound carried away the Red Armored Chief, whose fate was unknown, onto a horse.

"[Herd] The White Lion is dead!" Bell shouted at the top of his lungs.

Everyone in the Jaska squad shouted loudly, just like they had learned before, "[The white lion is dead]".

Fear and hesitation began to spread among the Hud people.

More and more Hed people began to break away from the battle and head towards the main camp of the Chihe tribe in the distance.

"Get into formation!" Winters shouted to the crowd.

He wasn't sure whether the white lion was dead or not.

Even with the death of the White Lion, the Heds still held an overwhelming advantage in military strength.

The unexpected reinforcements gave the Palatine a much-needed breather. Their four phalanxes, which were on the verge of collapse, suddenly had a chance to regroup.

The Parat people abandoned the corpses and rushed towards Sekler's main camp.

"Formations! No unauthorized action!" A dozen messengers raced between the formations: "Musketeers! Pick up your lances! Anyone without a weapon shall be executed!"

A strong wind does not last all morning, nor does a sudden rain last all day.

The rain was rapidly subsiding, and after a brief skirmish between the JSK cavalry and the Hed cavalry, they retreated into their main formation.

The army of Palatine, which had maintained its order even in the recent bloody battle, was on the verge of collapse as soon as the fighting ceased.

Seckler sent military police to execute more than a dozen people on the spot, which stopped the disorderly advance of Paratul's soldiers toward their main camp.

The officer in charge of arranging the square formation was called the "square formation commander," and in this case, Sackler himself took on the role.

The long-range spearmen and halberdiers were first gathered together and began to be rearranged.

The musketeers remained in place, most of them carrying swords, while a few carried spears and halberds found on the corpses.

The JASKA squadron remained outside; it wasn't their turn to enter the main formation yet.

Winters watched with growing anxiety, for this was the most vulnerable moment for the large formation, even more so than before.

Worse still, the thunderous sound of horses' hooves rang out once more.

Hundreds of black-armored cavalry charged out of the Chihe tribe's main camp and launched an attack on the Palattu phalanx.

Leading the charge was none other than the red-armored barbarian chieftain, only now he was riding a more conspicuous red horse.

More and more of the Hed cavalry followed the Red Armored Cavalry out of their main camp.

The main cavalry of the Chihe tribe, which had not yet been deployed—the Hed people's reserve force—also joined the charge.

Finally, all of Hart's disorganized cavalry were mobilized.

Commander Heard clearly understood that if the large square formation were to be formed again... it was still uncertain whose morale would collapse first.

While the Hed people were in chaos, the Plato army was in even greater disarray.

Hart's strategy was to create chaos through disorder.

The officers could no longer control the soldiers, and the Paratists poured into the square formation, which was almost broken before it was even properly set up.

"Everyone with long weapons! Get outside!" Sackler roared to the sky. "Alpad! If you don't come soon, we're all going to die here!"

The rain stopped completely at that moment.

Winters felt the earth tremble.

Hed is turning the corner! Something must have happened!
"Our cavalry!" someone shouted in surprise.

Behind Hart's cavalry, thousands upon thousands of Palatine cavalry were launching an overwhelming charge.

From a distance, it appears to be a long line that is constantly moving and advancing.

Rows of warhorses galloped at breakneck speed, their manes billowing in the wind. As they charged, their heads were bowed, and the earth trembled beneath their hooves, as if it were about to be torn apart at any moment.

Leading the charge was a squadron of lancers, the last heavily armored lancers in the Alliance.

The lancers were flanked by pistol cavalry, followed by light cavalry.

Thousands of Paratul cavalrymen formed a huge wedge formation.

Unstoppable and invincible.

Everyone who witnessed this on the battlefield will never forget the terror and magnificence of this charge for the rest of their lives.

At the very front of the arrow, Major General Alpad raised his lance and roared triumphantly, "Come on! Children! Come on! Warriors of Palatour! Seckler is still waiting for us to save his backside!"

The dark clouds dispersed, and a ray of sunlight shone on Arpad, making his armor shine like gold, as if he were a god.

The bugler sounded the charge.

"Long live the Legion! Long live the Paratu!" The Paratu cavalry roared the battle cry that had brought fear and death to their enemies for centuries: "Uukhai!"

The main force of Plato's army... was never the infantry.

The main force's large-scale detour took some time and effort.

Sackler's reliance was never on phalanx tactics; it was Alpad that gave him the confidence to face over 10,000 Herd cavalry with a single legion facing the enemy with their backs to the wall.

Sackler and Alpad.

[Ice] and [Fire].

[Anvil] and [Hammer].

General János relied on these two weapons to sweep across the wasteland time and time again.

Now, Paratul's [Anvil] and [Hammer] are about to smash the Heds to pieces in one fell swoop.

……

"Uukhai!" The Paratu people in the formation were all moved to tears.

The Herd cavalry were thrown into chaos. Some turned to fight back, while others tried to leave the battlefield.

"Form ranks!" Sackler roared. "Uukhai!"

No one cared about formations anymore; the Parat people grabbed whatever weapons they could get their hands on and charged at the panicked Hed people.

Even the cavalry and infantry of the Jessica's battalion were fired up and charged forward with shouts.

The two cavalrymen clashed violently.

The cavalrymen who turned to meet the attack were instantly cut in two like butter sliced ​​by a hot knife.

The impact of Heard's warhorses was far less than that of Plato's heavy warhorses, and the Heard cavalry at the forefront collapsed almost immediately upon contact.

The Palatine cavalry charged wildly, like scythes sweeping across a wheat field. When their pistols missed or their lances fell from their hands, they drew their swords and stabbed.

Soon, the momentum of the charge weakened, and the battle turned into a melee.

Light cavalry and heavy cavalry, Plato's cavalry and Hed's cavalry, chased and fought each other across the vast wilderness.

Haugwitz led his heavy cavalry to break into the main camp of the Chihe tribe and headed straight for the banner.

The old chieftain, Tieduo, placed the injured white lion on his horse and hurriedly fled. He didn't even have time to take the banner with him.

The white lion was injured, but not fatally. The one who charged forward in crimson armor was the white lion's younger brother, the cub.

Haugwitz charged all the way to the banner, and on horseback, he knocked over the flagpole.

The morale of the Herds on the battlefield completely collapsed, and they scattered and fled.

Winters didn't pursue the fleeing enemy; he was exhausted and just wanted to get some sleep, plus he seemed to have lost hearing in his left ear.

In fact, the "great flanking maneuver" is essentially a "divide and conquer" tactic, a typical nomadic warfare method. However, since the Parat people were essentially settled nomads, it is reasonable for them to use this "anvil and hammer tactic."

Sorry this chapter is late. The main issue is that the battle scene was revised and rewritten repeatedly, and no matter how I wrote it, it didn't feel right. This current version is okay amidst its flaws…

Finally—the part after the exclamation mark was added later. I habitually wanted to leave it blank, feeling that the emotional buildup was sufficient for readers to fill in the gaps in their imaginations, and the next chapter could directly explain the post-war events. However, remembering some readers' criticisms of this flashback technique, I added this content. I just don't know how it will be…please feel free to offer your feedback.

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(End of this chapter)