Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 551 Siege (Part )

  [Fort of Kings]

[Riverside Fort]

Warrant Officer Chris Marlowe of the Federal Provincial Army walked carefully along the path between the dike and the trench, bending at his knees, holding his sword belt, and supporting his helmet, trying not to make any noise.

On his left was a long slope that gently connected to the open space around the artillery position.

On his right side was a terrible trench that was nearly four meters deep and wide, with wooden sticks and caltrops scattered at the bottom.

Warrant Officer Marlowe stopped and watched, feeling a sense of absurdity as he saw the completely different scenes on both sides.

Because beyond the slope that even a lame man can easily walk up is the enemy's control area.

But the safe fortress was separated from him by an insurmountable trench.

……

After the end of the War of Sovereignty, by summarizing the gains and losses of a large number of urban offensive and defensive battles during the war, a new theory that was different from the traditional fortress defense theory was gradually formed within the Army Academy.

Compared with the traditional defense theory that studies "how to avoid being breached", the new theory is very unorthodox. The academics firmly believe that "there is no fortress that will never fall" and use this as the premise of all discussions.

While traditional defense theory viewed fortresses as durable goods, the new theory of the Army Academy viewed fortified camps as consumable goods.

After abandoning the obsession of "must hold", the focus of defense shifts from defense itself to "delaying the enemy's siege progress" and "killing the enemy's manpower."

Tactically, the new theory emphasized that "to defend the fort, one must defend the trench, and to defend the trench, one must defend the road." In other words, if the enemy is allowed to occupy one side of the trench, the killing effectiveness of the firepower on the wall will be greatly reduced, and the fall of the fortress is only a matter of time.

The point of defense is not to hold the trenches, but to prevent the enemy from approaching the trenches.

So unlike the trenches that were just a ditch during the War of Sovereignty, the defensive fortifications of the Forts of the Kings, which were designed by Lieutenant Colonel Raymond Montecuccoli, former director of the Artillery Department of the Army Academy, had a sunken embankment added to the front of the trench.

Lieutenant Colonel Montecuccoli called it the hidden road, the shooting road.

Because of the clever design, the slope of the embankment was just right to ensure that the defending soldiers only had to squat in the embankment and the besiegers on the embankment could not see them.

Conversely, by standing up, the defending musketeers can shoot at the enemies climbing the slope from a small distance.

……

At this moment, Warrant Officer Chris Marlowe was standing on the "hidden road" of the river bank battery.

Rather than using its scientific name, Warrant Officer Marlowe preferred to use the nickname given by veterans to call the embankment under his feet - Dead Man's Road.

The reason why the veterans gave this nickname is simple: the enemy only needs to climb a gentle slope to enter the hidden road, but the soldiers guarding the hidden road have to cross a trench to return to the fortress.

Although the officers assured that if the situation became critical, the soldiers guarding the hidden roads could retreat to the main fort through the drawbridge.

  But a suspension bridge?

Veterans who hear this word will smile knowingly.

So the "hidden road" became the "road to the dead".

The nickname was so catchy that even lower-ranking officers started calling him that, much to the chagrin of Lieutenant Colonel Raymond Montecuccoli.

If Chris Marlowe hadn't been unlucky enough to draw a short lot, he would never have taken the initiative to set foot on the Death Road.

He raised his head slightly and peeked at the embankment submerged in the pitch-black midnight. He always felt that something was stirring in the darkness, which made his back shiver.

The war was different from what he had imagined, and even more different from the heroic stories he had heard since he was a child.

There are no spectacular military formations, no heart-stirring war drums, and no earth-shaking cheers - at least not yet, there is only digging, digging, and digging.

The enemy also appeared in an unremarkable way. First, a few soldiers who went out for reconnaissance returned, then some strange riders occasionally appeared on the horizon, and finally General Cornelius declared martial law in the entire city. The whole process was uneventful and disappointing.

Chris Marlowe couldn't help but lament in his heart that the kind of dramatic scene he was looking forward to could probably only be seen in storybooks.

With this in mind, Warrant Officer Marlowe just wanted to finish his patrol tonight as soon as possible, return to the barracks as soon as possible, take a sip of wine, get into bed, and continue reading the tragedy that was just reaching its exciting part.

……

If there had not been this war, Chris Marlowe would still be in the "Swan" theater troupe in Guitu City, continuing to write his scripts.

Conversely, without this war, Chris Marlowe would not have had the opportunity to become an officer.

Like most of the Army Academy's failed candidates, after graduating from the prep school in Black Forest, Chris Marlowe first joined the National Guard and worked as a clerk for several years.

After finally becoming a non-commissioned officer, he began to feel bored with the monotonous clerical work, so he voluntarily retired. After several twists and turns, he finally joined the Swan Theater.

After the April 1st coup, the Federal Army began to expand its military and prepare for war in full swing.

Retired personnel like Chris Marlowe, who had an education background in military-run schools and had achieved the rank of non-commissioned officer, were approached by recruiters from the Federal Army.

Chris Marlowe accepted the invitation without hesitation, not only to make up for the regret of being rejected by the Army Academy, but also because he was naturally eager for the unknown and had begun to feel bored with the life of a playwright.

So, playwright Chris Marlowe became an unremarkable warrant officer in the Federal Provincial Army National Guard, commanding a squad of 100 men.

Then, like a dandelion in the wind, someone in the office flicked his pen and thrust him into the so-called Southern Front. Finally, by some strange coincidence, he was chosen by Jason Cornelius and followed the brigadier general to the country of galloping horses.

……

Thinking of his experiences since his second military service, Marlowe couldn't help but sigh.

"Compared to this boring war," he said, looking at the dead bodies at his feet, thinking, "perhaps my experience is more interesting."

He couldn't help but wonder, "Would the soldiers of the old marshal's era give fortifications such nicknames?"

"No," Marlowe shook his head firmly, "People in the Sovereignty War era would only call this path the Hero's Road."

What was the problem? Marlowe didn't want to think about it.

Out of dignity as a federal citizen, he was unwilling to admit that he didn't know why he came to the Castle of Kings.

The negative mood of not knowing why to fight permeated among the soldiers and lower-level officers of the entire army - as for what the top leaders were like, Chris Marlowe didn't know.

Marlowe didn't want to think about it anymore. "It's almost done," he said to himself. "I'll go back after the patrol."

Just as Marlowe was regaining his spirits, he suddenly smelled a faint scent of tobacco.

He turned to look at the soldier behind him and asked reproachfully, "You brought your pipe out with you?"

"Pipe?" The musketeer stared at by the warrant officer looked confused, "What pipe?"

"Who's smoking there?" Marlowe turned his head and looked at the main fort on the other side of the trench, shouting, "Hey! No smoking pipes allowed on night duty!"

The Musketeer's stumbling voice sounded behind Marlowe, "Warrant Officer! The smoke is coming from outside!"

Marlowe was startled and looked towards the embankment, only to see that the night seemed to have a shape, rolling towards him.

The choking smell reminded him that it was not night, but smoke.

"Enemy attack!" Marlowe frantically took out a whistle from his clothes and blew it with all his might, "Enemy attack!"

A shrill whistle pierced the night sky. After a brief delay, the artillery positions on the river bank exploded in an instant. Shrill whistles rang out one after another, and shouts of "enemy attack" came one after another. The awakened federal soldiers picked up their weapons and stumbled towards the firing positions.

Hearing the noise coming from the artillery position, the enemies under the embankment no longer hid.

Marlowe only heard a loud shout from outside the causeway: "Everyone - mount your horses!"

Outside the night, there was a sound of cloth rubbing and metal scraping.

"Charge—" a loud voice sounded, "Forward!"

  The strange yet familiar war cry made all the people in the province tremble:

“Uukhai!

  “Uukhai!!

"Uukhai!!!"

The next moment, the sound of rolling hooves pushed the smoke screen towards the artillery position.

Marlowe realized that something was wrong - if a lame human could walk up the diagonal embankment, then there was no reason why a warhorse with all four hooves intact could not.

"Retreat!" Marlowe turned and pushed the soldiers behind him, "Retreat!"

The Dead Man's Road was a circular road, and their only hope was to return the same way. However, the accompanying musketeer was a little confused. He stared with wide eyes and kept asking: "Suspension bridge? Where is the suspension bridge?"

Marlowe was sweating with anxiety: "Who is still willing to put up the suspension bridge for us at this hour?!"

At this moment, a series of sharp noises were heard from behind the artillery position.

With every sound, a red meteor was launched into the air.

However, the meteor neither broke up nor disappeared. Instead, after rising to the highest point, it slowly descended, emitting a red light like a blazing furnace fire.

"The stars are falling!" the Musketeer was terrified.

"What are you panicking about?" Marlowe was furious. "It's a flare rocket!"

With the light from the red stars hanging in the sky, the causeway in front of the fort was barely illuminated. The gauze-like smoke screen had completely enveloped the fort, and many hazy figures could be seen below the causeway.

At the same time, the sound of horse hooves had reached the trench.

A pitch-black horse leaped high out of the smoke, and the cavalryman on horseback immediately saw the federal officers on the causeway and the pale-faced musketeers beside the officers.

He pulled the reins and rushed straight towards the two men.

Everything happened in a flash. Marlowe wanted to move, but his body was out of control. He stared at the Plato cavalry galloping towards him, his mind blank.

Seeing the bookish face of the federal officer, the Palatine cavalry hesitated for a moment, but still gritted their teeth and swung their sabers.

  When his head and body were separated, Marlowe suddenly thought of a line for himself:

"I shed the first drop of blood, where no one knew."

Afterwards, the consciousness of the first true victim of the Senas Alliance civil war, a person named "Chris Marlowe", completely dissipated from this world.

The musketeer who was accompanying the warrant officer out of the fort for inspection just blinked his eyes. The warrant officer, who was intact just now, was reduced to a headless corpse, falling limply into his arms.

The spirit of this honest tenant farmer on the mountain front was on the verge of collapse. He screamed, pushed away the body of the warrant officer, and crawled towards the artillery position, but he stepped into the trench and fell heavily on the caltrops and bamboo sticks.

Fortunately, he died quickly.

The federal soldiers on the artillery position finally reacted and, using the light from the illuminating rockets, began firing "ping pong" at the Palatine cavalry at the front of the trench.

On the other side, the Palatine cavalry who had cleared the sentries on the causeway quickly withdrew, and the Palatine infantry carrying ladders rushed up the causeway with shouts.

"Go and ask for help!" Captain Daly Brand, who was in charge of defending the riverside artillery, grabbed the collar of the messenger tightly, his eyes red, and shouted, "Go and ask for help!"

……

At the same time, at the command post in Xincheng, Major Fritz, who was on night duty, was sorting out the situation.

There was a panic in the command post, and the messengers who went to inquire about the situation and the messengers who came to inquire about the situation were running around in the yard.

No matter how high the federal soldiers' expectations of themselves were, tonight was, after all, the first actual combat for many of them.

Many officers in the command were in a state where they felt they should do something but didn't know what to do.

Fortunately, Major Fritz was on duty tonight. As the person who drafted the combat plan, no one was more familiar with the plan than him.

"Have the fifth and sixth hundred-man teams assembled?" Fritz asked with a frown, looking at the map on the table.

"Get ready." Someone answered loudly.

Fritz did not immediately issue a support order, but asked again, "Has the messenger who went to other artillery positions to inquire about the situation returned?"

After a moment of silence, someone whispered, "Probably not yet."

Fritz slammed the table in anger: "Send more people!"

"Yes!" A lieutenant ran out of the operations room in dejection.

"Is General Cornelius not here yet?" Fritz unconsciously became impatient, "Send someone to wake up the general."

"Do we still need to call them?" Jason Cornelius, who was dressed neatly, strode into the war room with several attendants and said in a loud voice, "I'm afraid the entire Castle of the Kings has already woken up--"

Fritz immediately gave up his seat in front of the map table, and Cornelius stood unceremoniously in the spotlight of everyone's attention.

Cornelius looked around the war room and said with a smile, "The people of Palatium are all watching how we fight!"

A low laugh was heard in the war room, and the tense atmosphere was relieved invisibly.

"There is an exchange of fire at the Knight's Castle. Two centuries are ready and can be deployed at any time," Fritz reported the situation concisely, "and two more centuries are being assembled."

"Just send a hundred men over to show their respect," Cornelius ordered calmly, "Let Lieutenant Colonel Lodewijk's troops assemble and stand by, and get the barges ready!"

The lieutenants in the operations room were a little confused when they heard what their chief said.

Fritz was stunned for a moment, then immediately came to his senses: "Do you think the Knight's Castle is just a feint? The rebels are actually going to attack Margit Island?"

"Don't think I don't know how you arranged me," Cornelius looked at the young faces in the war room and said, imitating the trainee's tone:

"'The tactics class in the infantry department only teaches four things: deploy reserves on the reverse slope, outflanking if you can't penetrate the front, backup plans will come in handy sooner or later, and..."

Cornelius used his eyes and gestures to signal the lieutenants to continue his words.

The professionally trained military officers present looked at each other. None of them had ever seen the commander look so happy and friendly, so no one dared to speak.

Or did Fritz ask tentatively: "Before launching the real attack, must we feint in other directions?"

"Yes," Cornelius nodded and snorted, "It seems that you are the only one who has learned it well."

Fritz didn't know how to respond.

"Don't worry about the Knight's Castle. Gesar Adonis is not stupid enough to ram his head against our cannons," Cornelius sneered. "If he were that stupid, this battle would be easier to fight."

The lieutenants present could not, nor did they dare, refute.

"Send a signal to Margit Island to warn," Cornelius ordered, "and have Lodwijk get ready as soon as possible - if he is slow, we will only be able to collect the body of Lieutenant Colonel Montacuccoli. And..."

Cornelius glanced around the war room. "Who's in charge of the barge tonight?"

"Report, I," a lieutenant raised his hand timidly.

"Then why are you still here?" Cornelius asked coldly.

The lieutenant woke up as if from a dream, stamped his feet, stood at attention, raised his hand to salute, and ran out in a flash.

"Tell me about the situation," Cornelius looked at Fritz, "I don't know."

Fritz felt overwhelmed, yet strangely at ease.

As Jason Cornelius issued orders one after another, the city defense command machine began to operate little by little.

……

At the same time, upstream of Margit Island, about a hundred naked Baishan County soldiers were pushing rafts filled with weapons and ammunition into the river as quietly as possible.

Compared to the extremely lively fighting at the riverside artillery positions, the direction of Margit Island was particularly quiet.

On the river bank, Woods pulled a capable young man and patiently reminded him, "After you get ashore, send someone to bring the rafts back immediately. Don't forget! These are the only rafts we have now. Only if you bring them back can I send you reinforcements."

"Don't worry," the young man agreed with a smile. He was painted black all over, with only his white teeth showing.

Woods originally wanted to lead the team personally in this landing battle, but General Geisa strictly prohibited him from going to the island, so he could only suppress his uneasiness and entrust the mission to others.

Looking at his junior's still somewhat immature face, Woods suddenly felt a little bit reluctant.

"Take care," Woods held his junior's hand tightly.

The young man nodded, said goodbye to his senior with a smile, and then walked towards the Ten Arrow River resolutely.

  [Thanks to the book friend [hessdong] for being the leader, thank you very much]

[Thanks to all the book lovers for their collections, readings, subscriptions, recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, rewards and comments. Thank you all]

[The map is being made, but because it has been a struggle to maintain daily updates recently, the progress of the map is very slow. For the time being, a simple map will be used as a placeholder. I am very sorry]