When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1042 A Battle That Was Destined Not to Be Won

Under an oak tree at the edge of the battlefield, Warren stood on a wooden crate, gazing out at the battlefield.

The battle, which began at dawn, has only just ended.

The pursuing soldiers, riding on donkeys and mules, kicked the Franz soldiers in the back, forcing them forward.

Occasionally, someone would suddenly speak up, shouting "Fran is hiring, 5 dinars a month," only to be met with angry and laughing Holy Alliance soldiers and a barrage of whips.

Currently, the salaries of monks in the Holy Alliance War are paid according to their military rank.

New recruits: 60 dinars; veterans: 120 dinars; sergeants: 180 dinars; centurions: 2 gold pounds; corps commanders: 4 gold pounds; and battle corps commanders: 10 gold pounds or more.

Five denarii is only the salary of a Holy Alliance soldier for two or three days. Horn spent more than 100,000 gold pounds on soldiers last year.

It's only 10 a.m., the sun is blazing, and all I can hear are the last chirps of cicadas in autumn.

The stench of blood mixed with the stench of decaying leaves swirled in the hot wind, caressing the skin of the Holy Alliance soldiers.

A medic carrying a medical kit squatted beside a wounded soldier, sawing at a deformed spear, while a sergeant in charge of supplies used chalk to write numbers on captured armor.

As Warren walked past the quartermaster, he overheard them muttering, "The quality of these Franzians' plate armor is just too good; even the lead bullets flattened it..."

The orderly carried a basket on his back and picked up the scattered lead bullets one by one and put them into a burlap sack.

The Holy Alliance is richer now than before, but that doesn't mean it doesn't need to be frugal.

These lead bullets, pried from the chests of the Franco soldiers, were melted down by the army blacksmiths and could then be used to fill the muskets.

They would occasionally straighten up, and then they could see the military judge confirming each person's merits.

This inevitably made them envious, but before they could straighten up for long, the sergeant's scolding came over: "You've finished your work, you're supposed to rest, what are you slacking off for?"

The orderly immediately lowered his head, while Warren laughed and said, "No need to be so strict. Tell the cooks to make sausage stew later."

"okay."

After giving instructions for lunch, Warren went to the earthen slope, wiped the blood and mud off his boot heels, and stood on a long table that had been temporarily set up with wooden planks.

With a snap, he slammed a sheepskin map onto the table.

He straightened up and yelled at the few captains who were chatting below, "You lot, come here, it's time for a meeting!"

The captains quickly extinguished their pipes, wiped their hands, and jogged over, forming a circle in front of the map with their eight heads.

This is the pre-war meeting system of the Holy Alliance, where all conflicts and doubts must be resolved at the pre-war meeting.

Once the meeting is over, we must strictly follow the meeting's directives; this is the last chance to change the overall strategy.

"Commander Bifusi is cleaning up the battlefield and gathering the defeated soldiers. He asked me to convey the superiors' instructions first. Do you understand?"

The centurions nodded in agreement, while the legion's scribes quickly jotted down notes.

"Commander Warren, just tell me how to fight."

Warren drew his riding whip and pointed it at the map: "Currently, the other six legions have advanced toward Stone Fortress and are expected to take it before dusk."

Captain Colin frowned, running his bandaged left arm through his hair: "Why are so many of them attacking Stone Fortress instead of dealing with the main camp?"

"Idiot!" another centurion, Shakes, laughed and scolded. "The stone ramparts are blocking the way. Only by breaking through the ramparts will we have room to maneuver."

"Let me finish," Warren interrupted him, tapping his whip on the main camp of the left flank. "Our job is simple: take the prisoners and clear out the main camp."

If the enemy comes to retake the camp, hold it firmly, and the other six legions will circle around to Starfire Town and wipe out the Franzian stronghold.

"Take over their stronghold?"

The captains were stunned. What kind of stronghold was this? They had already swallowed up 5,000 enemy soldiers and captured eleven clockwork cannons.

Isn't this a head-on confrontation?
After capturing the stone fortress, we'll meet up and wait for the enemy to arrive so we can have a face-to-face confrontation.

Once Xinghuo Town is captured, won't the enemy army just run away?
Warren didn't answer directly, but gestured with his chin towards the chaplain beside him. Chaplain Elliott adjusted his brass-rimmed glasses: "Gentlemen, what is the objective of this battle? We discussed it at the pre-battle meeting, remember?"

The captains nodded in agreement: "We remember, wasn't it to stop the Francan army from blocking the spice route and teach them a lesson?"

“That’s right,” Elliott said with a gentle smile. “The Franco people need to digest Leia’s new territory, and we need to complete our industrialization. Nobody wants to fight a tough battle here.”

He looked around and said, "To be frank, none of us have any intention of fighting, but we have no choice but to test our military strength."

They came here to test whether Wang Xian's newly trained cavalry could withstand our holy guns.

We're here to see if our three-row volleys can break through their formation.

"You mean... this war won't break out?"

“We’ll fight, but not a big one.” Elliott cleared his throat. “The French outnumber us, and their gold coins are piled up to the rafters.”

But their soldiers always looked at the supervising team behind them when they charged. Yesterday, of the cavalry under Wang Xian, 30% reined in their horses after charging only 50 meters.

We are outnumbered and poorly equipped, but this battle is not about who can win today, but about who can win tomorrow.

Besides, you've all seen Wang Xian's cavalry's wall-riding charge tactic today, and that was only a few hundred men.

Facing a frontal charge of over a thousand men, regardless of victory or defeat, we will suffer heavy losses.

Colin suddenly remembered something and raised his injured arm: "Speaking of which, those cavalrymen under Wang Xian yesterday were really strange."

Their formations were much more orderly than the Leia's. Damn, their formation changes were like turning the pages of a book; we couldn't even keep up.

If it weren't for this new type of breech-loading spring-loaded gun, they would have actually succeeded today.

"That reminds me, do you remember? These Wang Xian cavalrymen even had time to deflect armor-piercing heavy arrows during the intervals between charges. We lost almost twenty of our fellow believers."

“That’s one of the reasons we’re fighting this war: to understand the enemy.” Elliott looked at Colin with satisfaction. “Sometimes, you’ll never understand the enemy unless you face them in person.”

You see, the Franco people are much more disciplined than the Leia people. Their movements are fluid, and they can reorganize even after being ambushed.

The Leia lined up like piles of firewood, while the Francans could turn them around like a wound-up spring.

What a pity...

"What's a pity?"

He smiled and said, "Without conviction or faith, it's just selfishness."

An army that prioritizes personal gain over battlefield victory may be able to win battles with flying colors, but it cannot withstand the slightest setback.

The captains nodded in agreement, understanding the central command's meaning.

tucking the riding crop back into his belt, Warren patted the wooden board: "The mission is clear. Do you have any questions or comments?"

The centurions exchanged glances, and no one asked any more questions.

"Alright, let's call it a day." Warren rolled up the map and tucked it back into the scroll tube at his waist. "Let's eat first, and then we'll set off."

"Alright, let's run forward!"

The officers turned and left decisively, while smoke was already rising from the mess halls of the orderly responsible for cooking in the distance.

The pot was simmering with noodles made from the captured flour. These Franzians were truly extravagant; they hardly ate any coarse grains.

The smoke from the cooking fires grew thicker in the wind, carrying the aroma of red sauce and fresh river fish.

All questions were laid out on the map on the wooden board, and all contradictions were resolved in the conversations at the long table.

All that's left is to keep moving forward.

　P.S. There will be another chapter later. I feel like I've fallen into a vicious cycle of irregular sleep patterns again. It seems that for now, I can only manage it in stages and with a campaign-like approach. I'll only have a chance to properly adjust my sleep schedule after this book is finished.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)