Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 187 Entering the City
In the makeshift medical station, Bud was examining Winters' injured left ear.

The structure of the auditory organs involves anatomical knowledge, which is probably only understood by Father Kaman within a radius of 100 kilometers, so even Bud couldn't figure it out.

"Will I go deaf like this?" Winters asked with a bitter and aggrieved expression.

“No,” Bard reassured him. “Major Moritz eventually recovered completely.”

"Ugh."

"It's okay. Bleeding means there's a wound, so don't touch it. Don't worry, it's nothing."

After settling Winters in, Bard began treating the other wounded.

According to Army regulations, medical stations should be located in the safe rear. However, Budd discovered that the sooner the wounded soldiers received treatment—even the simplest treatment—the better.

So his makeshift medical station was set up on the battlefield: a carriage served as an operating table, a stretcher was made from a spear, and the only tools were a knife, pliers, and suture needles.

While regular army soldiers were being transported back to the main camp for treatment, militiamen from the JSKA battalion could have arrowheads removed, lead bullets taken, and knife wounds stitched up at the makeshift medical station.

However, procedures such as amputation still require the patient to be sent to the Legion Medical Center.

Less than three minutes later, Bud saw Winters run into the medical clinic again.

Winters asked, "But the major has two ears, I only have my left..."

“It’s alright, don’t worry,” Bud replied while stitching up.

"Oh."

Three minutes later.

How do you know everything's alright?

"My guess."

"..."

Three more minutes passed.

"What if I can't recover? Am I really going to go deaf like this? I..."

"No, just don't touch it."

"Ok."

Three more minutes passed.

Winters ran into the medical clinic again.

"Please spare me," Bard said with a wry smile.

"We've been ordered to clean up the battlefield."

"Do I have to go too?"

“Well,” Winters said, scratching his head, “you don’t have to go.”

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I just want to ask... are you really sure I'm okay...?"

"roll!"

……

Some say: After a great battle, there will surely be heavy rain.

But this time it's different.

The rain had already been drawn in advance, and as the sounds of battle gradually subsided, the sun, which hadn't been seen for several days, finally revealed its true face.

The bright sunshine shone on the earth, bringing a touch of warmth.

Raindrops on the grass blades reflected shimmering light, as if the wasteland were draped in a thin veil.

The battlefield was so beautiful it felt unreal, with only the cold corpses serving as a stark reminder of what had just happened.

The soldiers of Palatine were lined up in two loose rows and were cleaning up the battlefield.

The so-called "cleaning up the battlefield" means collecting usable items, providing relief to dying enemies, and ensuring that dead enemies are completely dead.

General Sackler didn't even give them time to rest; as soon as the fighting within his line of sight ended, he urged all the soldiers who could still move to get back to work.

The JASKA battalion was also among those cleaning up the battlefield. After several "training sessions," they had become very skilled at this task—even more so than the regular army.

Everyone carries both long and short weapons. When they see an enemy corpse, they first use the long weapon to strike it, and then use the short knife to cut off the ear to record the merit.

Winters rode his strong horse, following behind a single-horse carriage.

Militiamen would occasionally load bloodstained armor and weapons onto the wagons. Some were from the Harts, and some were from their own side.

Andrei and Mason rode alongside him, and the group chatted idly.

Winters stroked Qiang Yun's mane and casually said, "The cavalry should still be assigned to battalions, preferably one platoon per battalion."

Andrei chuckled: "Give an infantry battalion a cavalry platoon? You might as well give a cavalry platoon an infantry battalion. You haven't even considered the expenses."

"To put it another way, it would be very useful to mix cavalry and infantry at the battalion level."

“Nonsense, cavalry is always useful; four legs are faster than two. But cavalry must never be scattered; they must be concentrated. They can be assigned to infantry battalions as needed,” Andrei concluded. “The reason you feel this way is because we have always operated independently.”

Winters looked at Mason, who seemed to be deep in thought: "Senior, what do you say?"

“We don’t have enough belts. If the axles were strong enough, we might not need suspension at all. But the cannons and chassis would need to be lighter.” Mason blurted out a sentence out of the blue.

Andrei teased, "Still thinking about your daughter?"

Mason, without blinking, retorted, "You two keep saying that cavalry and infantry should be used together, so how about adding artillery as well?"

"Then the cannons need to keep up with the marching speed, not to mention the cavalry, they should at least keep up with the infantry, right?" Andrei patted his senior's shoulder and said casually, "Why should the three of us mere centurions be studying these things?"

“Yeah! What’s the point of researching all this? If I go back to Palatine, I’ll still have to raise pigs.” Mason laughed heartily, tears streaming down his face.

Winters felt sad and quietly comforted her senior, "Gold will always shine."

Mason smiled and shook his head without saying anything.

The loose double rows of people continued to move forward.

A militiaman waved and shouted, "Sir! There are survivors here!"

"Can you speak?" Andrei asked.

"can!"

"Take it to the lieutenant colonel."

Whether or not a prisoner could speak was a crucial factor in determining his fate.

The Vineta army was relatively restrained in executing prisoners of war. They did so only when absolutely necessary.

As for the Paratites, they felt no psychological burden in executing Hard's prisoners. Whether or not prisoners were spared depended entirely on transport capacity, the course of the battle, and the commander's mood.

Unbeknownst to them, Winters and others were gradually assimilated by the cruel customs of the "border people".

A messenger cavalryman with a green plume came galloping from afar, calling out loudly, "Where is the JSKA Battalion?"

Winters beckoned the messenger over.

The messenger asked respectfully, "Which one of you is Commander Montagne? Which one is Commander Mason?"

"what's up?"

"The general wishes to see both of you."

……

The messenger led the two centurions at breakneck speed.

"General?" Winters's mind raced. "Alpard? Sackler? What does he want with me?"

Upon arriving at the scene, he discovered that the messenger's grammar was incorrect; it was not "[general]" but "[generals]".

Alpard and Sackler were surrounded by a group of officers, and Lieutenant Colonel Jessica was also present.

Winters felt uneasy because he noticed the officers were staring intently at him and Mason, some with eyes practically glowing with envy.

He also noticed that the two generals were standing on the small mound of earth that had been bombarded by the White Lion Yassin.

"What are you two standing there for?" General Arpad beckoned to the two centurions with an air of triumph: "Come here!"

The small area looked horrific, littered with human and horse carcasses. Combined with the rain and trampling, it had turned into a mud pit.

The mangled corpse was soaking in the muddy water and had begun to turn white.

Winters' attention was drawn to an arm.

The arm, forlornly stuck in the mud—it looked like the left hand—pointed to the sky.

As for the rest of the body... I don't know where it went.

It's hard to say whether the arm leaves the body or the body leaves the arm.

Will the butcher be moved by the sight of the slaughterhouse?
Winters didn't know, but he did have some indescribable feelings—not guilt, but not joy either.

Arpad, leaning on a saber, pointed at the corpse of the blue horse, looked at the two men, and asked, "Jeska told me that you two lads killed Yassin with a single shot?"

Jessica nodded slightly to Winters.

“We fired the cannons, General,” Winters replied truthfully. “But the enemy chieftain Yassin should not be dead.”

Arpad clapped his hands and laughed: "The prisoners confessed that Yassin was seriously injured and might be dead by now."

The major general kicked the helmet with the blue feather stuck in it and joked, "Whether Yasin is dead or not, your shot has made him bleed a lot. One shot killed four centurions! If I hadn't counted out the four helmets myself, I would have thought that Jessica was drunk."

"It was Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's excellent command," Mason gave the standard answer.

"He's a cavalryman from Jeska, what does he know about firing cannons?" Alpad scoffed, pointing his saber at a corpse on the ground. "Especially this barbarian, does he even know who he is?"

Winters and Mason, of course, had no idea. The corpse's armor was riddled with dents and holes from lead bullets, making the body almost like a honeycomb.

“This man’s name is [Borgli], which means owl. He is Yasin’s [Kebuhua Haugkota], that is, the commander of the personal guard. If you kill him, it will be like breaking Yasin’s arm.”

Winters had a vague recollection of this man who had bravely stood in front of Yassin during the interval between the first and second shots.

He longed to see the warrior's face, but the owl's features had been smashed beyond recognition.

“You two have done a great service, and I will reward you!” Arpad did not mince words. He said directly, “If you were Paratus, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to promote you three ranks. But you are outsiders, and I cannot directly elevate your military ranks.”

“Borgley’s sword is yours.” Alpard tossed the scimitar he was leaning on to Mason: “You’re from the United Province, I’ll let you go back to the United Province.”

“And you.” Alpard pulled a shiny object from between his breastplate and chainmail and tossed it to Winters: “This is yours from now on! Here you go!”

The item felt heavy in my hand; it was an exquisite wine flask. It was flat and rectangular, with its edges and corners polished very smoothly.

A wine jug? What does that mean? Winters was a little puzzled.

He couldn't be bothered to think about it. Since Alpard dared to give it, he dared to take it.

And the major general was right—only the truth would be so harsh.

Winters would take a medal; he would take a flask; he would take gold and silver.

But if Winters were actually offered a position as a colonel, he wouldn't dare accept it.

……

The military ranks of the various republics are consistent and their levels are aligned.

Legally, all military personnel in the alliance are under a single, overarching framework.

Even the promotion of officers in allied countries required sending official documents to the Allied Army for approval, going through a formality.

According to regulations, military personnel transfers are lateral moves. If Plato were to move to Venetta, he would still be a colonel.

He gained merit in Palatine, and then returned to Venetia to become an official. What kind of nonsense is this? Isn't it like being put on the hot seat of adversity?
Winters is much more comfortable and at ease now.

Although Arpad's words were anything but polite, his actions showed that he had considered things from the Venetians' perspective.

……

Winters thanked him and casually put away the wine jug.

Mason looked up and suddenly said, "General, please let me stay in Palatour."

"What?" Alpard raised an eyebrow. "You don't want to go home?"

“I want to, I dream about it,” Mason replied, enunciating each word clearly. “But in the United Provinces, I’m not even as good as an outsider.”

Arpad laughed heartily, and the other Paratu officers laughed along with him, except for a few people like Jessica who did not laugh.

The major general wiped away the tears of laughter, then his expression suddenly changed, and he asked the surrounding officers in a cold voice, "What are you laughing at?"

Everyone froze in place, utterly silent.

“Is he wrong?” Alpard looked around, his face cold and stern. “If he were from the United Provinces, would he have been sent to Palatour?”

Nobody knew how to answer.

Alpad snorted, took the saber and hung it on Mason's belt, then patted Mason on the shoulder: "From today onwards, the Land of Galloping Horses is your home."

The major general turned to Lieutenant Colonel Jessica: "Your entire battalion braved the rain to provide support; you'll all be rewarded. Take your men to Bianli; I'll let you be the first to enter the city!"

……

……

The fighting within sight has ended, but the fighting continues outside of sight.

The Plato light cavalry have already set out to pursue and kill the remaining enemy.

With Hart's army collapsing, it was time for the hussars to shine.

If Sackler's army were to collapse, not a single infantryman would escape in the vast wilderness.

But now the Huds are in defeat, and they can easily break off contact with their short-range mobility.

The Hed people, when huddled together, are cavalry; when scattered and fleeing, they are nomadic herdsmen. Whether the gains can be expanded depends entirely on the skill of the Paratul hussars.

Compared to heavily armored cavalry, hussars did not wear armor, carried less weight, and used lighter horses that were more agile and swift.

Hart's cavalry came and went like the wind, and Plato's cavalry came and went like the wind, but even faster.

Before the battle was even over, Alpad had already sent men to raid the Chihe tribe's main camp.

It's no wonder that Plato's infantry faction was resentful; they did the hardest work, but the cavalry took most of the honor, credit, and spoils.

However, the Jessica squad has no reservations at all, because they can be the first to enter Bianli.

The phrase "the first to enter the city" is a euphemism for the first group of robbers.

The white lion blasted a large breach in the city wall on its own, saving the Parat people a lot of effort.

The JASKA squadron assembled outside the breach, eagerly awaiting the lieutenant colonel's order.

Everyone was overjoyed, and some even came over to ask when the golden statue would be dug out.
Only a handful of people knew the location where the gold was buried, and news of the gold was ordered to be kept secret—though it was certainly impossible to keep it secret.

Previously, they were trapped in the bridgehead by the Teldun tribe, knowing that the Jurchens were right outside but they could only watch helplessly.

Now, seeing the Huds defeated, the militiamen became increasingly agitated.

Winters could only reassure everyone, "Go dig once you've confirmed it's safe."

In fact, the officers of the Jeska Battalion were already at their wits' end without the militia even needing to remind them.

Was it handed over to the legion? Or was it distributed privately?
Handing it over to the legion is the simplest option, but you might only receive a leg as a reward.

Dividing the gold privately would inevitably lead to leaks and attract unwanted attention. Moreover, such a private division would require equipment and time, and dividing two tons of gold into hundreds of portions would not be easy.

Furthermore, whether the Jin dynasty statue is considered a large item or a small item is a "legal" question.

According to the unwritten rule, smaller items of spoils belong to the individual, while larger items belong to the public.

Gold and silver items are generally considered small because no one would make particularly large gold and silver artifacts.

Items like gold and silver coins, scabbards, and armbands belong to whoever takes them; it's only natural.

The definition of the gold and silver sacrificial objects seized by the Jessica Battalion is rather ambiguous.

The lieutenant colonel handed over three items, and the rest were distributed among the militia members who participated in the battle. The corps did not pursue the matter further.

Who would have thought that Teldun's tribe would produce a golden statue... In terms of gold, it's a small item. But in terms of size, it's a large item.

Winters didn't know what to do either; this was a matter that only Lieutenant Colonel Jessica could decide.

Let Lieutenant Colonel Jessica worry about it! Right now, Winters just wants to go into the city and find out what's going on.

With the entire brigade fully equipped, the lieutenant colonel gave the order, and the militia cautiously "attacked" into Bianli.

But the expected resistance and street fighting did not occur; Bianli was quiet, and there was not a single person on the streets.

Standing at the gap, the crowd was at a loss for what to do.

“The Hed’s city isn’t much different from ours,” Charles said softly, looking around at the buildings and streets of Bianli. “It’s just a bit dilapidated.”

The Harts paved the inner city with stone slabs, which was quite meticulous.

The stone-paved path was flanked by longhouses with earthen walls and thatched roofs. Having survived both fire and water erosion, the roofs and walls of the longhouses still bore charred marks.

"You can't even rob properly!" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica said, exasperated. "Don't just stand there like idiots. Head towards the city center and find the prettiest and most luxurious houses. If you encounter the enemy, shout the warning!"

Then everyone rushed in.

The Dussacs on horseback charged ahead, quickly disappearing at the end of the street, splashing the others with mud.

“Those Dusak brats!” Jessica sneered slightly. “Robbery really is their family’s traditional skill.”

Winters figured out what was going on and said to the lieutenant colonel, "I'm afraid that all the people in Bianli who are still able to fight have already broken out with the White Lion. There are probably only the elderly, women and children left in the city."

“I think so too.” Jessica nodded.

As the two were talking, Pierre came speeding back from the end of the street, nearly bumping into one of his own men.

"What's wrong?" Winters' expression changed, and he asked loudly, "Are there still remnants of the enemy?"

Pierre jumped off his horse, panting, "There's another huge tent in the center of the city! Even bigger than the one at the old camp in Bitton!"

……

……

In the center of Bianli's main city, a huge and luxurious felt tent stands out abruptly in an open space.

Space inside the city walls is always cramped, but there are no buildings within twenty meters of this felt tent.

Behind the felt tent, a blue horse lay fallen on a large stone slab.

The horse's chest was split open, and something seemed to be bursting out of its body. The rest of the body was intact, creating an extremely eerie and horrifying scene.

Winters, holding the steel nail, carefully used his scimitar to pry open the curtain.

Smoke filled the felt tent.

They did not find the second golden statue for the sacrificial ceremony that everyone had been hoping for. Inside the tent, there was only a extinguished campfire and corpses covered with strange clothes.

[I've drawn a version 1.0 of the Alliance map, it's still very rough... Interested readers, please go to the reader's circle and take a look. I'll iterate on it later.]
[Thank you to all my readers. My sleep schedule has finally returned to normal these past few days. Before, I would go straight to sleep after get off work and then get up in the early hours of the morning to type—it was just too gruesome…]
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And also the readers who were not included due to word count limitations [Tian Jingtou, Youyu Fangya Yangcong, windfirewate, Jiuban Xingnan de Nüpo de Rousongbing, Tangtang Tom Ding, Reader 20201119193814506, Yueye Zhifeng, Reader 20180830192648978, Nanhai Zhenyun, Reader 20171216223013199, Wuye Chuangtou Ningshi]
I've accepted a reader's suggestion to post thank-you notes as images in the chapter comments from now on, which should improve the reading experience.

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(End of this chapter)