When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1038 Donkey Cavalry

The wind on a September night is gentle and tender, carrying the coolness of the river's moisture, making one unconsciously close their eyes.

In a mountain valley north of Xinghuo Town, the former smuggling den had been easily cleared out by the Fran army.

Several bandits and smugglers had spiked wooden stakes stuck in their heads, and behind the stakes and fences were wagons and tents.

Most of the tents were already dim, with only a few still glowing with the dim light of oil lamps, like sleepy eyes that could barely open.

A spark crackled from the campfire, and Lemaître slammed his cards onto the deck: "Call or not?"

The other three soldiers looked at each other, cursed angrily, and then pulled out their cards and money.

"Le Maire, you cheated, didn't you? You won every single round!"

"If I were cheating, I wouldn't need to swindle you out of such a pittance. I wouldn't even be able to win two dinars in a whole night."

Across from him, bald Pierre, with a pipe in his mouth, picked up a spark with his calloused hand and tossed it into the pipe: "You lost, so be it."

He pulled out a copper coin and pushed it to the center of the box: "What's the use of winning money in this godforsaken place where you can't even see a female mosquito?"

Robert, standing nearby, added a piece of pine wood to the fire, sparks flying onto his ripped trouser leg, which he seemed oblivious to: "Who says otherwise? It's so nice in Dragonfly Harbor."

He spat on the ground: "Why did the legion commander not dare to fight Baron Cressy when he set up camp in this godforsaken place?"

Before the Queen Mother, neither Count Cács nor Montaire dared to stand up to her directly and could only choose to back down.

After two days of marching, they bypassed Dragonfly Harbor and had no choice but to set up camp on the outskirts of the border area that bordered Black Snake Bay.

"Shh—" Lemaître suddenly pressed down on his arm and gestured toward the fence with his lips.

A priest accompanying the army was dozing off by the beacon tower, his head nodding.

These soldiers hated the priests who accompanied the army the most. They would report on them if anything went wrong and kept a close watch on them at all times.

"These little devils!"

The little devil is a well-known counterpart to the goblin in the Gospel stories; it is fragile and cunning, and always clings to the greater evil.

As he gathered the copper coins from the box into his palm, Lemaître seemed to recover a little from his gambling addiction.

He looked at the dark night and the winding dirt road in the distance, and said in a low voice, "According to the regulations, shouldn't we set up a sentry post outside?"

“You have arms and legs, go ahead and go. I don’t want to sleep in the wilderness.” Robert rolled his eyes and continued shuffling the cards.

Pierre exhaled a puff of white smoke: "Don't you even know where you are, how far you are from the camp?"

"If we can't stop thousands of people, we don't need to stop a dozen. What's there to be afraid of?"

"I've heard the Holy Alliance army is very fierce?"

“So-so,” Pierre scoffed. “I’ve seen them all before, they all have two eyes and one nose, who’s afraid of who?”

"Are we really alright like this?"

Robert gave Lemaître a push: "If anything happens, it's everyone together. The sky won't fall. Come on."

Lemaître nodded, agreeing with what the others said, then dusted himself off and stood up: "I'm going to take a piss, I'll come back and continue."

He picked up the mead from the box, took a sip, let out a burp, and strode forward.

Arriving at a large tree, he took out his bird and launched it, the water sizzling as it landed at the tree roots.

The air was so still that it was as if even the chirping of birds and insects could not be heard.

For some reason, it made Lemaître feel uneasy.

He quickly finished urinating, shook himself off, and was about to leave when he heard a sharp "bang" in his ear, like muffled thunder rolling across the valley.

A tree branch suddenly broke off overhead and hit his shoulder.

Before he could even pull up his pants, Le Maire lunged forward and laid his body on the wet, hot ground where he had just urinated.

Sparks suddenly flew from the shadows outside the fence, followed by a second and a third gunshot, creating a series of crackling explosions.

The patrolling veteran didn't even utter a sound. He suddenly jolted, stiffened, and slammed against the fence, his spear clattering to the ground.

As for the dozing old priest, he was shot in the head in his sleep and collapsed to the ground.

"Enemy attack! It's the Devil Guns of the Thousand River Valley!"

Screams echoed between the tents, only to be drowned out by even louder gunfire.

Damn it! Pierre, you jinx!

Ignoring the wet mud on his face, Le Mei hunched over, like a hunchbacked old man in the countryside, and swept the road low.

Pierre was hiding behind a wooden crate fastening his helmet when he saw Lemaître arrive. He grabbed Lemaître's hand and said, "Let's go!"

Holding onto the iron helmet on their heads, Pierre grabbed Lemaître, and Lemaître held onto Robert, and the three of them stumbled and fell, supporting each other.

"Run!"

"We've encountered an enemy, shouldn't we stay here and organize a counterattack?" "I'll counterattack your uncle!" Pierre lowered his head. "This density, this sound, this frequency, at least three hundred musketeers."

That means if the three hundred pikemen don't run now, they'll be surrounded and doomed.

As a veteran mercenary who participated in the Second Thousand Rivers Valley War, Pierre was highly experienced.

Judging the number of people by the density and frequency of gunfire has become a skill ingrained in his bones.

As he moved through the bushes, Le Maire glanced back and saw that the campfire at the outpost had been hit by stray bullets, sending firewood flying everywhere.

The canvas tent burst into flames, illuminating the figures of people scrambling around on the ground.

Some people panicked so much that they didn't even put on their pants, and tried to squeeze through the gap in the fence while covering their heads, but were pushed and tripped by the people behind them.

Some people even crawled out of their tents shirtless and ran into the woods.

But after running only a few steps, he was overtaken by a lead bullet reflecting the moonlight, and fell to the ground with a thud, never to move again.

Lead pellets whizzed past my ears, striking the stones and sending sparks flying.

While running, Le Maire felt a heat on the back of his neck, and when he touched it, it was covered in sticky blood.

He didn't know if he was injured or if someone's blood had splattered on him.

He didn't care about anything else and just followed Pierre into the dark woods.

The branches crackled and snapped, striking his face and leaving several bloody welts, but he didn't feel any pain.

"Stop! All of you, stop!"

"Whoosh-"

Lemaître's legs buckled and he almost fell. He turned his head and saw more than a dozen dark figures riding donkeys chasing after him.

The donkey's hooves pounded the ground more rapidly and harshly than the horse's hooves.

The riders held short guns, their barrels gleaming coldly in the firelight; they were the Holy Alliance's dragon riders.

"Donkey cavalry!" Robert had barely uttered the curse when he was struck on the back of the head with the butt of a musket and lay sprawled in the snow, groaning.

Lemaître tried to hide behind a tree, but was kicked in the lower back, causing him to cry out in pain as he clutched his back.

"Pierre, Pierre!"

As for Pierre, who had previously boasted that the Holy Alliance was nothing special, he disappeared into the thicket of thorns without looking back.

He seemed oblivious as the thorns pierced his skin and even tore a large chunk of flesh, continuing his frantic escape.

Before Lemaître could utter two shouts, Pierre the Smoker vanished, leaving only a hem of his clothes and blood.

"Stop chasing." The leading soldier dismounted from the only mule and stepped forward to Le Maire.

The cold muzzle of the gun pressed against Le Maire's temple, without uttering a single unnecessary word: "Where is the main camp?"

Lemaître's teeth chattered, his face smeared with blood and snot: "No, I don't know. We two hundred men were just an outpost..."

"I'll give you three seconds." The officer kicked him and pulled a thumb clip from his pocket. "Where's the main force? Three, two,..."

The outpost in the distance was still burning, and the sound of gunfire gradually subsided.

Looking around, Pierre the Smoker had already escaped, and Robert lay on the ground, his life hanging in the balance.

Lemaître originally intended to die for the Franco, but thinking of his orphaned mother and widow and the ruthless tax collectors at home, and looking at the thumb clip in the dragoon's hand, he suddenly lost heart: "Go thirty miles south, there is a pine forest, behind the pine forest."

"They didn't set up camp in Starfire Town?"

"No, the rear guard hasn't arrived yet. We're on the left flank with only five thousand men. Xinghuo Town is reserved for important figures."

The dragoon grabbed his hair and lifted his face: "You dare lie to me? I have nine ways to kill you, nine ways!"

Lemaître trembled like a leaf: "That's really all, I don't know anything more if you ask me again..."

The dragooner didn't say anything more, but simply whistled to his companion.

Soon, the Holy Alliance soldiers who had attacked the camp assembled, but Lema looked left and right and suddenly cried out in surprise.

"What are you yelling for?! I'll break your teeth!"

Lemaître quickly shut up, but his eyes were full of disbelief.

There were only about a hundred infantrymen riding donkeys in front of them, but they were escorting nearly two hundred prisoners of war.

They were all dressed in uniform dark blue jackets and breastplates, and their gun barrels were not only shorter, but could even be easily carried in their hands.

Lemaître already knew it was the Holy Alliance army, but what he couldn't understand was—

What was that burst of gunfire just now?

　PS: More later
　　
　
(End of this chapter)