Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 94 Siege
When the sentry on the city wall of Tacheng saw the golden lion flag on the horizon at dawn, he could hardly believe his eyes.

The Tanirians clearly did not expect the enemy to arrive so quickly. The port of Chiliu had just fallen, and the Venetians, who were still resting, marched 30 kilometers overnight, crossing the rural areas that were theoretically still under the control of the Federation and rushing straight towards them.

Now, most of the grain requisition teams sent out by Captain Kidd have not yet returned, and the Saint Mark Legion has already arrived at the gates of Tacheng.

Instead of rushing to attack the city, Layton isolated the city from the outside world and then sent troops to wipe out the small groups of the Federation forces behind him.

After several small-scale skirmishes, Kidd's grain requisition team was completely defeated. The remnants scattered like birds and beasts, but most of them were captured in the fields by farmers wielding farm tools as weapons.

The soldiers of the Federation were horrified to discover that the farmers, who had previously been timid, cowardly, and subservient, had now found the courage to rebel.

The farmers harbored deep resentment; the bolder ones simply slaughtered the Confederate soldiers and buried them silently. The less daring ones, however, bound the captured Confederate soldiers and handed them over to the Venetians.

When António saw the few prisoners being escorted to the port of Chilius by the island's farmers, he knew that the San Marcos Legion had succeeded. The farmers received their bounties and happily went home.

Meanwhile, on Layton's side, the Saint Mark Legion quickly compressed the Tanilians' activity space into the walls of the city.

However, the defending troops did not surrender obediently, nor did they send anyone to contact the Legion of Saint Mark; an eerie silence descended upon the battlefield. Seeing this, Layton resorted to his old method—sending messengers to persuade them to surrender.

The local gentry of Chiliu Island, who were forced to deliver a letter of surrender to the garrison, were shot to death by a hail of arrows before they could even say a word when they reached the city gate.

The defenders expressed their resolve in this way—they would never surrender. So they simply killed the messenger before he could speak, lest words of persuasion shake their morale.

Layton was furious, but it was nothing more than impotent rage. If Commander Veneta were to launch a full-scale attack in his rage, it would be perfect for Captain Kidd.

Hoping for the defenders to surrender was wishful thinking, and Layton ordered the construction of fortifications around Tower City, leading to a stalemate in the battle.

——Cut——

"Give me some fatty stuff... Hey, don't give me anything with bones, give me more fatty stuff." A short soldier carrying an iron pot stood in front of the cutting board and said with a chuckle.

Behind him, a long line of soldiers waited to receive their meat.

This is a corner of the military camp. The weathered volcanic rock soil has been turned into mud by the blood flowing everywhere, and it makes a pattering sound when you step on it.

"Everyone wants fatty meat, who eats fatty meat?" the man in charge of distributing the meat retorted irritably. His hands moved quickly, cutting off two large chunks of fat from the pigskin and throwing them into the short soldier's pot. "Here's a piece of meat with a bone, and I'll give you two more pieces of fatty meat. Get lost, there are other people waiting to get theirs, don't delay things."

The short soldier carrying the iron pot walked away contentedly, and another soldier carrying an iron pot stepped forward: "Give me two pieces of fatty meat too..."

The legions of the ancient empire were extremely skilled at building fortifications and roads. Most of the "roads" in Muro were built by the army, and those paved roads became the key to the prosperity of the ancient empire. Remnants of these roads still exist today.

The military systems of the various republics are said to be inherited from the ancients. Although in reality they are just modified versions of the ancient system and given the name "corps", they have also learned the advantage of the ancient imperial army in civil engineering.

On the third day after the arrival of the Legion of St. Mark in Tartar, the Legion of Vienneta the Elder joined forces with the Legion of St. Mark and also joined the construction of the fortifications.

Thin soil layer, impossible to dig? The Venetians gathered vines and branches from the dense forest, wove them into baskets, filled them with mud, and used them as the foundation for the walls. The city was backed by mountains on two sides, making its attack surface narrow. However, this also saved the Venetians a lot of trouble; a narrow attack surface meant an equally narrow area for launching attacks.

The two legions quickly built a two-meter-high earthen wall around the outer perimeter of the city, completely isolating it from the outside world—but there was no trench, because digging basalt was too difficult.

For soldiers who undertake a lot of heavy physical labor every day, bread alone is not enough to satisfy them; they need meat and salt.

Winters was now in what was literally a slaughterhouse, with soldiers being butchered in the front and pigs being dismembered in the back. These places, prone to breeding disease, were located in corners of the camp, strictly separated from the living quarters.

Winters watched with great interest as the butchers worked: slaughtering pigs, burning the pig hair with straw, gutting them and removing the organs, and then using sharp knives to cut the whole pig into large pieces of pork.

The processed pork was lifted onto the chopping board and handed over to another butcher to cut into pieces, weigh, and distribute to the soldiers.

The Venetians' Legion was organized into a ten-man squad of eight soldiers, who shared an iron pot and a large tent. Pork was distributed in squads of ten, which is why the soldiers carried the iron pot to collect their meat.

The butcher in charge of cutting the meat was extremely efficient. In the blink of an eye, the entire pig leg was shaved down to the bone. Even the six butchers behind him who were slaughtering and butchering pigs couldn't keep up with his speed of cutting the meat.

“I could sit here all day,” Winters said to Andre beside him.

Andrei, still eager to continue, said, "Me too."

The two warrant officers weren't just loitering around; distributing meat, like distributing wine, was a sure way for fights to break out, so Winters and Andrei were in charge of supervising the meat distribution. With two officers present, the soldiers didn't dare to cause trouble.

Winters is no longer the acting centurion; he, along with Bard and Andrei, have been reassigned to the Legion's logistics department for a rotational probationary period.

Less than a day into their rotation, Winters and Andre were already overwhelmed by the tedious and heavy paperwork. So the two of them decided to volunteer for the dirty work that no one else wanted to do—supervising the meat distribution in the blood-soaked, muddy slaughterhouse.

Bud, on the other hand, thrived amidst the mountains of files and documents. His writing skills, honed in the monastery during his early years of copying scriptures, proved invaluable to the logistics department. The head of logistics was overjoyed to finally find an officer skilled in shorthand and mental arithmetic.

As for why the three warrant officers were transferred to the logistics department, this story begins on the second day after the Third Army Corps arrived at Chiliu Port.

The day after the Grand Vinetta Legion entered Red Sulfur Harbor, another supply fleet that had departed from Aquamarine City arrived at Red Sulfur Harbor.

In addition to bringing reinforcements, ammunition, and provisions to the Third Army Corps, the supply convoy also carried a member of the Thirteen-Man Military Commission and an officer who had been officially appointed to command the Hundred-Man Regiment.

However, the centurion, who was supposed to be the 100th man in the unit, was surprised to find that the 100th man in the unit no longer existed. After two bloody battles, only five of the original 150 soldiers in the 100th man in the unit remained, plus three trainee officers.

Not only did the 100th squad cease to exist, but so did his superior—the chief battalion commander, Lieutenant Colonel Contel, was not dead, but was sent back to Veneta due to injuries.

The newly arrived centurion sadly discovered that until the next wave of reinforcements arrived, he would be a lone officer with no men under his command.

The Hundredth Man Team is gone, so there's no point in continuing to train there. Besides, Winters doesn't want to fight anymore; he feels it's not worth risking his life for the ambitions of someone like Contair.

At Winters' request, Antonio transferred him, Bud, and Andre to the logistics department for a rotational training program, and also transferred the remaining soldiers of the Hundredth Company to the logistics department as well. This fulfilled Winters' promise: after tonight, you won't have to risk your lives anymore.
Meanwhile, the Hed people, arranged by Antonio, had already boarded a sailboat leaving Red Sulfur Island. They would first go to Aquamarine City, then be escorted to the Republic of Palatour, and finally return to their homeland.

So Winters, Bard, and Andre are now relaxed and waiting for their reward.

Their destruction of the two sea-blocking iron chains and the artillery emplacements was undoubtedly a great achievement. If the three of them weren't trainee officers, the single merit of destroying the cannons would have been enough for them to be promoted immediately.

However, the three of them aren't even officially commissioned officers yet, which is quite awkward. They can't just be promoted from warrant officers to second lieutenants, can they? What happens when they're officially commissioned? Commissioning isn't a simple promotion; are they going to be awarded the rank of second lieutenant all over again?
Finally, the senior officers of the Third Army Corps came up with a solution: to postpone the commendation until the three warrant officers were officially awarded their ranks next year, so that the procedure would be straightened out.

This means that the three warrant officers will not have to wait for seniority to accumulate and will be promoted to lieutenant immediately after they are transferred to regular officers next year.

In Bader's view, it was a good thing to be able to avoid the limelight by going to the logistics department. Making such a great contribution was already enough to arouse jealousy, so it was wise to stay away from the front lines and let others have the opportunity to make contributions.

Although Andrei was reluctant to leave the front line of combat, he was also a little scared when he thought about the bloody battle in the fortress on the night of the full moon. He also wanted to rest.

As for Winters—he didn't think as much as Bard, nor did he yearn for the opportunity to fight on the front lines like Andrei. He simply didn't want to die for the ambitions of a few or command his soldiers to die. However, he couldn't change the course of the world, so he could only stay out of it and pretend not to see it.

The butcher at the chopping board tapped his knife in dissatisfaction, having finished distributing all the meat he had, and urged the butcher behind him to hurry up and bring over more meat.

“I think you shouldn’t each dissect the whole pig. Each person should only be responsible for one part. For example, one person can only singe off the hair, and another person can only remove the internal organs. This will make the slaughtering more efficient,” Winters couldn’t help but suggest.

Upon hearing someone criticize his work, one of the butchers immediately retorted, "My lord, my family has been butchers for generations. I know how to slaughter pigs."

Seeing that Winters had run into a snag, Andrei nudged Winters in the lower back with a wicked grin. Winters shook his head with a wry smile; these butchers were all hired from outside, not soldiers, and naturally didn't understand the strict hierarchical order within the army.

“Fine, do whatever you want,” Winters said helplessly. “But I have to correct you on one point: I am not a ‘master,’ and neither is Veneta. All the nobles of the entire Cenas Bay have been overthrown and purged; there are no more ‘masters.’”

"Okay, my lord."

Winters was speechless, while Andrei burst into violent laughter, pounding his thighs in frustration.

……

After finishing his duty, Winters did not go straight back to his tent like Andrei, but instead went to the armory.

A legion is a small society, containing not only soldiers but also various craftsmen, such as blacksmiths. These craftsmen are all registered in the military, and some are full-time craftsmen, such as the blacksmiths and gunsmiths in the ordnance department, who are responsible for repairing ordnance.

Other tasks belong to soldiers with specific skills. These soldiers, who also perform duties such as carpentry and masonry, do not have to participate in heavy physical labor and are paid more than ordinary soldiers.

Therefore, people with a skill are always more useful, even in the military.

When the gunsmith in the armory saw Winters approaching, he immediately took out a strange short gun from the cabinet and respectfully handed it to Winters with both hands: "Sir, I have modified the gun you requested."

Before Antonio could even put it to use in battle, the exquisite wheeled lance that Winters had been given to him was lost at sea along with Winters' armor and sword.

After Winters and his team returned to base, he hired several people to go to sea to salvage the items. However, this time he was not so lucky. Several skilled divers searched underwater for a whole day but found nothing.

The exquisite and luxurious wheel-spring gun was completely lost, a fact that pained Winters to the core. Upon hearing of this, Antonia gave Winters the other wheel-spring gun from the pair.

However, Winters had a new idea, an idea that was more convenient than the wheel gun.

I took the pistol. It looked like an ordinary short gun, but there was nothing around the ignition port. There was no lever to hang the match cord, nor a spring mechanism.

It was bare, with only an ignition hole and a gunpowder reservoir.

This was the inspiration Winters drew from his battle with the man who appeared to be a court mage.

The reason it's described as "suspected" is because there's nothing to prove the person's identity. Winters is certain that the masked man chanting the ancient imperial language is a magician, very likely the legendary court mage.

However, after staring at each other for a few minutes in front of a charred corpse, António and Winters realized that the charred body could not prove anything.

There were no tokens, signs, or features, only an iron mask that hadn't been burned.

During the Sovereign War, the Senas Alliance failed to kill, capture, or persuade any of the court mages to surrender. Even though Antonio believed his nephew was not lying, he could not point to the corpse and say that this was a court mage.

Antonio could only tell Winters to keep quiet for now and send the body to the Magic Operations Bureau for autopsy. He would also try to find out the identity of this anonymous magician through other channels.

In retrospect, Winters finally understood how the man had managed to make the nailed cannon work properly—he must have used some powerful spell similar to pyrotechnics to ignite the gunpowder in the breech through the barrel.

In this way, shells can be fired without an open flame.

He tried it himself and found it very difficult to ignite gunpowder through the sealed metal. It seemed difficult for a third hand to penetrate the metal, but it was not impossible, as long as there was enough magic power.

With this in mind, an idea popped into Winters' head—perhaps this concept could be applied to firearms. It wouldn't necessarily require igniting the gunpowder through the barrel; magic could simply replace the open flame.

Thus, this custom-made short gun came about, but its actual performance still needs further testing by Winters.

After confirming that the gunsmith had made the pistol according to his specifications, Winters placed a bag of silver coins on the gunsmith's table.

"No, no, no, I can't accept this. I already have a salary," the gunsmith said, trembling with fear as he repeatedly declined.

“Your salary is earned from working for the legion, while this gun was custom-made in my personal capacity; they are not the same thing. This money is not only for your labor but also for the materials used in making this gun. Keep it.”

The gunsmith then accepted the money pouch, saying sheepishly, "Actually, it didn't take much work. I just sawed off a regular barrel and made a lighter stock. But I didn't even use an ignition mechanism. I really can't figure out how you're going to use this gun..."

Winters smiled and said, "I have my uses."

He wrapped the gun in burlap and returned to his tent.

Outside the tent, a thin, dark-skinned man was waiting for him. It was Gold, "Lucky" Gold, the former pirate captain, death rower, and Winters' greatest contributor to his escape from death on Red Irrawaddy.

When the situation becomes critical, the Venetian Navy can release prisoner oarsmen and distribute weapons to them. As long as the prisoner oarsmen participate in the battle and return to their posts without deserting afterward, their crimes can be atoned and they can regain their free status after the war ends.

Gold had already regained his status as a free man after the Battle of Lighthouse Harbor, and he was the crew member from the Golden Lion who handed Winters a bag of water.

Now, he has come to say goodbye.

“My lord, I’m leaving this godforsaken place. I’ll take the next communications ship to Aquamarine City.” Gold grinned, revealing a set of gold teeth—the teeth Layton had knocked out had all been replaced with gold ones. He smiled and said, “Your Venetta Navy has released me ahead of schedule because of the letter of commendation you wrote for me. I’ve come to say goodbye.”

"Are you leaving now? Where are you going?" Winters was somewhat surprised and quickly invited Gold into the tent to talk.

Gold didn't go in, but stood respectfully outside the tent and said, "I don't know, I don't know where I'm going either. Anyway, I'm a free man again, so I'll just take it one step at a time."

“It’s good that you’re leaving. You didn’t need to get involved in this war,” Winters said with some emotion. He grabbed a piece of paper, wrote down an address, and handed it to Gold. “Remember that fat captain we found? The one we both know, the one who sailed your Lucky Star back to Aquamarine but ran into pirates and was sold into slavery at Red Pine Manor? Remember him?”

Gold took the note, somewhat puzzled: "Hmm, it seems... I vaguely remember..."

“I told you I’d give you a ship, didn’t I?” Winters laughed. “That fat man owes me a huge favor, so he sold me his Skuas cheap. Luckily, my mother left me a small inheritance, so I can afford it. Go to this address and find him. The Skuas is yours now, Captain Gold… but don’t go back to being a pirate this time.”

Gold was taken aback, nearly dropping the note in his hand. He stood there bewildered, his eyes reddening.

"Don't say 'thank you,' and don't cry. You deserve it." Winters got goosebumps and quickly joked, "But if you go back to being a pirate and run into me again, we'll have to fight again."

"My lord, what do you think of my luck?" Gold didn't reply, but asked a completely unrelated question.

“Uh…” This question really stumped Winters. He thought for a while before answering: “In a way, you are really very lucky… It was unfortunate to run into Layton and us, but even so, you are the only one who survived out of the entire ship of pirates, which is still incredibly lucky…”

“Yes, that’s right, I think so too. I’ve always been very lucky, so I’m Lucky Gold. However, there’s someone who’s even luckier than me, so when I ran into that person, my good luck was useless. Who do you think that person is?”

"...You're not talking about me, are you?" Winters asked, somewhat puzzled.

“That’s right, sir, it’s you. I thought about it for a long time on the deck of the Golden Lion before I realized that luck is relative. One person’s good fortune may be another person’s misfortune. If I encounter someone luckier than me, then my good fortune turns into misfortune. You are that person who is luckier than me, which is why I followed you on Red Iwo Jima.” Gold said firmly, “So if I run into you again, I will just surrender.”

After saying that, Gold nodded in acknowledgment, turned around, and walked away with a flourish.

Winters paused for a moment, then returned to his tent and began writing a letter that he had been working on for two days without finishing the beginning.

The supply ship from Aquamarine City not only brought supplies, but also letters from home—of course, only for officers; soldiers didn't receive this treatment.

Winters unexpectedly found another letter tucked inside Elizabeth's envelope—Anna's letter.

He eagerly opened Anna's letter, which didn't say anything particularly noteworthy: she and her sister had another big fight, she wanted to learn sculpting but her mother was adamant in forbidding it, an old servant had left the house, and a new fabric from the north was currently in fashion in Hailan...

There was nothing particularly special about these contents; they were just Anna's daily trivia. But for some reason, Winters felt as if he were in another world when he read them.

Although his hands were stained with blood, Winters was never troubled by the people he had killed, not even once. In his view, killing was killing; those who died by his hand had all deserved their fate.

However, Winters could always recall the faces of the soldiers of the Hundredth Company, those nailed to stakes, those who followed him in his escape through the dense forest, and those who fought bloody battles in the cramped corridors.

“St. Mark’s Basilica is under renovation. They’ve hired many painters and sculptors. Shall we go see it together when you get back? Mr. Montagne, where are you now? What are you doing? Why don’t you write to me? Write back to me. I know almost nothing about you. Write back to me.” Anna wrote this at the end of the letter.

Winters desperately wanted to tell Anna everything—to tell her how, while trapped on Iwo Jima, he was constantly gripped by fear, yet still forced to project an air of confidence in front of everyone; to tell her the rage he felt upon seeing the desecrated corpses; to tell her his fury towards Contaire and those behind him; to tell her about the spirits that had haunted his dreams…

He thought a lot, but couldn't write a single word.

Finally, he picked up his pen and wrote: "I'm fine, I eat well, I sleep well, maybe I really am very lucky."

I wrote the wrong number for Chapter 87, but I can't change it no matter what I do, which is very confusing.

Thank you to all the readers who voted for this book. Special thanks to readers JusticePureIsKoala, PleaseCallMePleasantSheep, YuanHongjian, TianshuiHasABeautifulWoman, and Ami for their votes. Thank you everyone.



(End of this chapter)