Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 314 Weapons
When the left and center flanks of the Iron Peak County army clamped down on the right flank of the enemy like iron pincers, only destruction and death awaited the Teldun troops.

The breaking point that directly led to the complete collapse of the Terdun's morale was the sudden fall of the Khan's banner.

Faced with the might of the champion Palatine, the Fire-Burning Man... fled.

The battle ended at that moment, and what remained was the victor's pursuit of the vanquished.

Terrified, the fleeing soldiers of Teldun plunged into the dense forest and climbed the barren mountains, scattering in all directions in a panic.

Exhausted, the militia of Tiefeng County were no longer able to pursue the fleeing enemy. The real pursuers were the Hussars of Palatine—in a sense, this was precisely what the Hussars excelled at.

The hussars, riding their fine, hot-blooded steeds, moved with the speed of the wind, driving the fleeing Teldun soldiers to escape without stopping. Both sides soon disappeared on the horizon.

It wasn't until nightfall that the bloody day seemed to come to an end.

The surviving militiamen wanted to return to the camp to rest, but found that the camp no longer existed.

Because the camp of the Tiefeng County Army was the battlefield, this flat farmland between the mountains and forests was littered with uncollected corpses and wounded people crying for help.

So much blood had been lost that the air smelled sweet and cloyingly fishy.

The militiamen lingered on the edge of the battlefield, unsure of where to go or what to do.

When the survivors reunited, many broke down in tears, embracing each other. Many more searched for bodies, weeping and calling out the names of their loved ones.

It was at this time that Mason met Bud.

Mason, who was always polite and maintained social distance, gave his junior a big bear hug without saying a word, which made Bud feel a little uncomfortable.

When comrades reunite, there are so many things to say. But when the words come to mind, they don't know what to say.

Mason sniffed and smiled as he spoke first: "I really want to get some pork knuckle to eat."

“Yes,” Bard smiled gently. “Me too.”

Bard had just arrived on the battlefield, and he brought with him a complete logistics support team.

Previously, Bard had been stationed at Kenshin Village, ten kilometers south of the battlefield.

According to the battle plan devised by Winters and Bard, Winters would command the main force to seek a decisive battle on the front, while Bard would find a suitable position in the rear of the battlefield to build fortifications and stockpile supplies in preparation for the worst possible outcome.

Fortunately, this time there was no need for a backup plan.

Upon learning from the communications cavalry that the outcome of the battle was already decided, Bard immediately led his supply corps to the front lines, finally arriving at the battlefield before dusk.

What awaited Bard was an unprecedented mess.

"A tangled mess," Bard concluded with a wry smile. "Completely overwhelmed."

As they were talking, a military policeman with a white armband came running up, breathless, and asked, "Officer, the stretcher team caught two laborers stealing the heads of barbarians. What should we do?"

Mason frowned.

Stealing [spoils of war] is not only a serious violation of military discipline, but also morally reprehensible.

Bard's response was quite indifferent: "Bring the person over."

The “criminal” was quickly brought before Bud and Mason.

Judging by their appearance alone, the two prisoners were farmers who could be thrown into a crowd and not be found. Facing the "Protector of the People," they didn't even know where to put their hands, sometimes behind their backs and sometimes hanging down by their sides.

They first looked at the soldiers around them in horror, then quickly stared at the ground, swallowing hard.

“Hold out your hand.” Bud walked up to the prisoner.

After being shoved a few times by the military police, the two farmers hesitantly extended their hands, which were covered with rough, black calluses.

After examining the farmer's hands, Bard asked, "Do you condone the unauthorized cutting off of barbarian heads?"

The two farmers did not reply.

The military police escorting the prisoners were furious and raised their batons to strike.

Bard stopped the military police and asked again in a friendly manner, "Have you gone to cut off the heads of the Teldenans?"

One farmer, pale-faced, nodded. Another, younger farmer, also nodded, tears streaming down his face.

"Five lashes each, to be carried out publicly, now." Bard delivered the verdict: "After the five lashes, let them return to St. Chow's town with the wounded in their wagons, and lift their conscription."

Two farmers were taken away.

Stealing warrants the beheading of one's hand; stealing spoils of war deserves to be hanged.

Five lashes were clearly too lenient a sentence, which Mason neither understood nor agreed with.

But since everyone present was Bard's subordinate, the senior had to uphold the authority of his junior, so Mason did not show any opposition.

Bard understood what his senior was thinking, and he invited, "Senior, now that you're here, shall I show you around the camp?"

Mason readily agreed.

The two men each led a horse, without any attendants, and slowly walked around the camp.

Bard set up the logistics detachment's camp on the south side of the battlefield, right next to the road.

The laborers of the supply corps cut down trees, lit campfires, boiled water, and baked biscuits.

In the pitch-black night, the campfires in the camp were as bright and warm as lighthouses.

Every now and then, militiamen, carrying weapons and dragging their weary steps, would numbly walk towards the firelight.

The patrolling military police were used to this.

The military police handed a piece of bread to the survivor, wrapped him in a blanket, led him to the campfire, and then went to guide the others.

Riders carrying torches went to search for the lost soldiers, while wagons carrying the wounded rumbled away.

Before they knew it, Mason and Bard had reached the edge of the battlefield.

Perhaps it was just psychological, but Mason always felt that there was a smell of blood mixed in with the cold air.

The battlefield was shrouded in darkness, with scattered firelight flickering in all directions. Those were stretcher bearers from Bard's organization, searching for the wounded.

"The lightly wounded will remain at the temporary camp, while the seriously wounded will be sent back to Kennel Village and then transported to Saint-King Town later." Bud explained his arrangements to his senior: "Father Kaman is on his way, and I've asked him to set up a medical station on the spot. The sooner the wounded receive treatment, the higher their chances of survival..."

Mason listened carefully.

Compared to the battle itself, the post-battle cleanup was the real ordeal. Treating the wounded alone was enough to cause immense headaches.

After a day of bloody fighting, the victors and the vanquished gasped for breath in the darkness; the wounded and the dead, unable to move on their own, were abandoned on the battlefield, and opportunistic bandits came under cover of night to loot their belongings—these were all too common sights.

The wounded soldiers of Tiefeng County were both unfortunate and fortunate.

Because at least there are people who care about their lives and are doing everything they can to keep them alive.

From treating the wounded, Bard then spoke of the prisoners of Teldun's tribe.

“Senior, you don’t know this yet, do you?” Bard said softly, “South of the Pangtuo River, there are more than two thousand Teldun prisoners waiting for us to deal with.”

Mason was taken aback: "Two thousand prisoners? Prisoners from the Battle of the Ponto River?"

"Yes, prisoners of war from the Battle of Pangtuo River. There may even be more than two thousand, because only a part of the [Tai Chi] tribe surrendered before, and there are still quite a few scattered soldiers from the Terdun tribe in Xia Tiefeng County."

Mason was speechless.

Bard continued, "And it's not even clear whether the Taichi tribe counts as prisoners. Because we failed to effectively control them. We left them on the south bank of the Pangtuo River and then rushed to the Fire-Warmers. Now that the Fire-Warmers have been dealt with, how to deal with the Taichi tribe has become the primary issue."

Mason let out a heavy sigh.

Bard then dropped another bombshell: "Our previous communications with Zhevodan were cut off, so I couldn't tell you in time—the New Reclamation Legion provided reinforcements for this battle."

Mason felt dizzy and asked blankly, "Those hussars? Are they the troops of the New Reclamation Legion?"

Bud said thoughtfully, "In my opinion, they do not represent the official position of the New Reclamation Corps."

"Then what's going on?" Mason's back hair stood on end.

“Those people are…” Bard frowned slightly, “[Volunteers] invited by Colonel Bode. We’ll have to wait for Colonel Bode to return to find out the details. As for whether they have any other demands, we don’t know for now.”

After thinking it over, Mason sighed heavily again.

“Then came the [decapitation order].” Bard gazed at the battlefield, then looked at Mason: “That’s what you just saw.”

"Compared to this," Mason said bitterly, "giving two thieves a lenient sentence is really a trivial matter."

Bard shook his head: "On the contrary, I think... this last thing is the most important."

"Why do you say that?" Mason asked, puzzled.

“The New Reclamation Army, the Teldun prisoners… are all external forces, and external forces cannot defeat us. But what is reflected by [stealing heads] is a grenade buried in our internal organs, with enough power to shatter us to pieces.”

Mason pondered his junior's words and fell silent again.

“I have handled no fewer than thirty cases of head theft. Seven people have been hanged—not for stealing the heads of Teldenans, but for taking the heads of their own men and claiming credit for it.”

Bard calmly stated the facts: "Lower Iron Peak County has been destroyed by the Teldens. And Middle Iron Peak County? It's also severely weakened. That's the biggest and most serious problem. The two farmers weren't severely punished because enough people have died. Iron Peak County needs many things now, but fear is absolutely not among them."

“We won.” Mason said sadly, “We also lost, and lost badly.”

“No!” Bard’s tone turned serious. “You’re wrong.”

Mason looked up in surprise.

“We have won,” Bard declared firmly. “We have won the right to survive, and that is the most important thing.”

Mason was taken aback at first, then his worry vanished and he smiled. He let out a long sigh of relief: "Yes! We've won the right to survive tonight. We'll deal with the rest tomorrow!"

“Oh, right.” Mason suddenly remembered someone: “Where’s Winters? He dumped this mess on us, where is he? Where did he go?”

This time it was Bard's turn to sigh: "I don't know either."

……

In the early hours of the morning, Colonel Gaisa returned to the temporary camp and immediately asked to see Winters.

He received the same reply: "We don't know where Captain Montagne is either."

Where Winters is? You'd probably have to ask the fire-warmer.

……

At dawn, in Zhongtiefeng County, I don't know where that place is.

"[Herd] Great Khan, there's a river ahead!" the quiver soldier reported breathlessly. "[Herd] It seems we've reached the riverbank."

The man warming himself by the fire was also panting heavily, and asked fiercely, "[Hett] wolf cubs... are those wolf cubs still behind?"

The quiver-wielder listened intently for a moment, then swallowed hard. "[Herd's] it seems they haven't caught up."

"[Hede] Okay, okay, let's take a break."

The four quiver-wielders and the man warming himself by the fire, a total of five, hid in the woods by the river to rest their horses.

One of the quiver soldiers, unable to bear the thirst, ran to the riverbank and drank deeply. The head quiver soldier—who was also the head guard—used his helmet to scoop some water and offered it to the man warming himself by the fire.

The once-renowned Khan Teldun now had only four people left by his side.

The man warming himself by the fire sipped cold water, his face turning ashen.

Suddenly, the man warming himself by the fire turned sharply to look at the two quiver-wielding soldiers behind him. Their eyes met, and the two quiver-wielding soldiers quickly lowered their heads.

The man tending the fire slowly turned around and subtly changed his position, bringing each quiver soldier into his line of sight.

No one knows whether they are a coward or a hero until death truly comes.

At least the fire-gatherer originally thought he had the courage to face off against the champion Palatine.

But when the man tending the fire actually saw the blood-stained red flag approaching unstoppably, when he actually saw the guards of the Khan's tent all shattered... he was terrified.

Fear descended like an avalanche in an instant; the person warming themselves by the fire was genuinely terrified, terrified to death.

So he ran away, fleeing in panic.

Although defeat was inevitable, the direct cause of the collapse of the Teldun tribe was undoubtedly the desertion of the Fire-Bakers.

If the Khan allows his banners to be captured, how can his people possibly have the will to fight to the death?
However, capturing the banners did not make the enemy sheath their swords, nor could the darkness stop their advance. In the nightmarish escape, the fire-gatherer's guards disappeared one by one.

Until finally, only five people remained, including him.

But he eventually shook off the wolf. "I won in the end," the fire-gatherer thought to himself, feeling a sense of triumph.

Power can make anyone appear inviolable and superior, especially from a distance.

But when that halo is stripped away, leaving only a human form, he immediately becomes weak and vulnerable.

A destitute emperor often becomes like the most lowly slave, causing those who once worshipped him to doubt their own eyes. True heroism is not linked to power.

When you have power, even newly recruited slaves will come to worship you and swear allegiance to you; when you lose power, even your closest quiver-wielders become unreliable.

“[Hede] Let’s rest our horses here first.” The man warming himself by the fire indirectly reaffirmed his position: “[Hede] We’ll wait until nightfall, then head downstream along the river. Once we cross, we can return to Teldun.”

The four quiver soldiers nodded in agreement.

"[Herd] You are all my closest guards. If you do not abandon me, I will reward you handsomely."

The three quiver-wielding soldiers thanked them, but their faces showed little joy.

Only the quiver-wielder spoke directly to the man warming himself by the fire: "[Hede] Great Khan, there's no need for such formalities. As long as I live, I will protect you and ensure your safe return to the steppe."

These words sound like a declaration of loyalty, but the way they were spoken was an affront to authority—the fire-gatherer usually didn't need to consider these issues, but now they occupied his mind.

Before he could figure out how to respond, a series of hoofbeats came from the riverbank in the distance.

The group of people warming themselves by the fire immediately hid, not daring to breathe.

The sound of hooves grew closer, numbering about a dozen riders.

The sound of hooves resembled horses from the grasslands, but the group warming themselves by the fire dared not be certain, as the two-legged people also used a large number of captured horses.

Only when the person got closer and they saw that the person was wearing a robe with a slanted front did the group of people warming themselves by the fire breathe a sigh of relief.
A quiver soldier gave a soft whistle—the fire-warmer didn't have time to stop him.

The person stopped and whistled in response.

Both parties confirmed their identities, and there was no longer any way to hide it. The man by the fire steeled his resolve and stepped out of the woods.

"[Hede] Which tribe are you from?" the fire-warmer asked in a loud voice.

"[Hahde] Great Khan?" the leader of the group asked in surprise, "[Hahde] is the Great Khan?"

The man warming himself by the fire stopped and placed his hand on the twig of his bow: "[Herd] Which tribe do you belong to?"

“[Herd] I am…” The leader of the group stepped forward and approached the group warming themselves by the fire: “[Herd] I am your servant!”

The man by the fire laughed maniacally, drew his bow, and fired an arrow at the newcomer: "[Herd] Traitor! You traitor! You rotten flesh wrapped in grass that even cows wouldn't eat!"

The man warming himself by the fire surprised the quiver-wielding soldiers behind him.

The leader of the followers was shot off his horse on the spot, and the others simply abandoned all pretense of civility, shouting loudly: "Fire the signal arrow! Fire the signal arrow! Call the others! Big fish! It's a big fish!"

A dozen or so riders who had joined the group rushed up and fired arrows at the man warming himself by the fire, clearly not intending to capture him alive.

"[Herd] You think you can kill me?!" the fire-gatherer roared ferociously, standing still and drawing his bow to return fire.

Four archers, armed with bows, joined the battle, using their bodies as shields for those warming themselves by the fire.

Both the quiver-wielder and the fire-gatherer were truly skilled.

The five men's arrows never missed their mark, and they instead routed the surrendered followers, who fled in disarray.

A louder clatter of hooves followed, this time with at least several dozen riders.

Seeing that the fleeing followers had returned, the man by the fire knew something was wrong and shouted, "[Herd] Mount up and go!"

Looking back, where's the horse?

The horses have already been led away by those who had just surrendered.

The thunderous sound of hooves grew closer, and the rider charged straight toward the man warming himself by the fire.

The man warming himself by the fire drew his scimitar and roared in despair.

……

A bucket of cold water was poured over the person warming themselves by the fire, and they regained consciousness.

"woke up?"

"It seems like he's awake?"

"[Herd] Do you still recognize me?" The speaker patted the man warming himself by the fire's cheek, his voice a mixture of hatred and mockery: "[Herd] Great Khan?"

The man warming himself by the fire was in a daze, his back of his head was wet, and he couldn't say a word.

"[Herd] Great Khan, can't you recognize me? I am..." The speaker lifted his hair, revealing a bald ear with no piercing on one side, and introduced himself affectionately: "[Herd] Red Dog!"

Upon hearing the name, the man warming himself by the fire awoke with a start: "[Herd] This is the River Styx?"

“[Herd’s word] No, this is the river of Great Shaman George,” Red Dog casually said. “The St. George River.”

"[Hede] But you're dead!" the fire-gatherer roared furiously, coughing up several clots of blood. "[Hede] Echig also deceived me!"

“[Herd] I was not supposed to survive, but someone thought I might still be useful, so I survived.” Red Dog slowly pulled out his dagger: “[Herd] Look, I’ve come to see you. You shouldn’t have run away. If you hadn’t run away, you could have died like a warrior.”

The man tending the fire tried to say something, but the other followers held him down firmly, preventing him from making a sound or struggling.

“I know what you’re trying to say,” Red Dog said in a language the fire-gatherer couldn’t understand. “The Khan, who deserted in the face of battle, died at the hands of us, the lowest of slaves—what a fitting death!”

……

As dawn broke, Winters returned to the battlefield.

He pursued them all night, but his cavalrymen fell behind one after another. His horse stumbled, and he ultimately failed to personally defeat the enemy chieftain.

On the return journey, he was left with only one person.

It wasn't Charles, nor Heinrich, but Jacob Green, the tall, thin gentleman who wanted to write an epic.

Seeing the Montagne tribunal personally charge into battle, Jacob Green followed without a second thought, without even bringing his weapon.

He just wanted to stand closer, even closer. Driven by this fervent passion, even though Charles and Heinrich had fallen behind, Jacob Green still followed closely behind the tribune.

Sunlight pierced through the treetops, illuminating the battlefield and revealing in detail the piled-up corpses, the soil congealed with blood, and the contorted expressions of the dead in their final moments.

Jacob Green recorded: "...The battlefield was littered with corpses. Some were Hed's, and some were ours. The Montagne tribunal tried desperately to stop his horse from trampling the remains. He failed, so he dismounted. Just then, I saw him cry... Was it real? Could a killing machine called the [Blood Wolf] possess such emotions? Or was my memory deceiving me... But that moment, the helpless boy walking and crying, his tearful eyes, left such a deep impression on me, one I will never forget..."

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Today, it is common practice to treat the wounded after a war, and even enemy wounded are sometimes cared for.
[However, prior to the Napoleonic Wars, armies had very limited battlefield medical capabilities. Abandoning the wounded was a common practice.]
[Generally, by nightfall, the battle will come to an end or be completely over, and the victorious side will either rest or pursue the enemy.]
Therefore, in smaller battles, the chances of the wounded surviving are higher. In larger battles, severely wounded soldiers who cannot walk often have to lie in bed all night, or even for several days, before receiving treatment.
[During this time, some people would also take advantage of the night to loot the belongings of the wounded and the dead. The seriously wounded were completely powerless to resist these "robbers."]
Organized stretcher teams appeared relatively late; previously, military musicians and "firemen" were responsible for this task. The musicians played drums and horns during battles and carried stretchers afterward, but manpower was far from sufficient.
[The naval battle was even more devastating. After the Battle of Lepanto, the Ottomans were defeated and the Holy League began looting the corpses. As night fell, the Holy League navy also began to retreat, "although many Christians in the sea were not yet dead, no one was willing to help them..."]
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(End of this chapter)