I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 146 Crazy Gambler (I)

Lieutenant General Dalek has never fought a battle that he is sure to win. He believes that war is an adventure and a gamble.

And now, Dalek, riding on a white horse, looked expressionlessly at the Bolas Fortress in the distance. He was betting that the enemy would not miss the opportunity he left for them.

Chris certainly didn't.

As Lieutenant General Dalek observed nervously, he soon saw rows of soldiers coming out of the trench in front of the earth wall. They were holding messy and gorgeous flags, forming not very neat rows, moving away the barbed wire that blocked the way, and walking towards the camp of the 3rd Infantry Regiment.

Setting up camp for 20,000 people was definitely a huge project. Dalek divided the 20,000 people into four parts, surrounding one mountain after another, in a triangular shape.

The auxiliary soldiers and civilian laborers of the 3rd Infantry Regiment were not in good order, but under the command of the officers, their actions were orderly.

They quickly erected simple tents, then dug drainage ditches and set up guard posts. The entire camp gradually took shape amidst the chaos, like a makeshift city rising from the wilderness.

Engineering is the forte of the 3rd Infantry Regiment. Therefore, the 3rd Infantry Regiment is also known as the Castro Corps, implying that the fortifications built for them are as indestructible as the Castro Mountains.

Once such a camp is built, it will become a mobile fortress, capable of withstanding repeated attacks from enemies five times the size of the current era.

However, Lieutenant General Dalek had no intention of repairing the camp, or perhaps building the camp was just a bait for him.

"The enemy has finally appeared, and there are quite a few of them..."

Lieutenant General Dalek did not rush to do anything, but waited patiently for the more than a thousand infantrymen in the distance to continue moving forward.

Dalek's fingertips stroked the runes on the ring, and he mentally profiled the character of Chris, the last heir to the kingdom... The portrait of Chris Lin presented in the intelligence was like a vicious wolf with its claws chained.

Chrislin is the most ambitious royal family member that Daleks can remember. He is arrogant and violent, trying to control everything, whether it is human or god.

In his eyes, force is the only tool, and he tries to use it to conquer everyone. Even the Mother Earth is just a part of the power game in his eyes, and he cannot tolerate its existence.

And Chris is particularly cruel and decisive.

After Chris failed in his assassination attempt on his elder brother in Neama half a year ago, he immediately left the capital of the Bohemian Empire with his subordinates and secretly sneaked all the way to the Kingdom of Bagnia. After successfully returning to the kingdom, he launched an attack on the Restoration Army and captured a small town, using it as a base to expand his minions.

Then they captured Bolas Fortress.

Until now, Dalek has not been able to figure out how Prince Chris managed to capture the Bolas Fortress with less than 500 soldiers and under the watchful eyes of the 5,000-man Restoration Army.

Because he didn't understand the research, Dalek gave Prince Chris the highest evaluation in his heart.

"A gambler who is even more crazy and bloodthirsty than me."

Daleks believed that bloodthirsty beasts often died of their own hunger and thirst, and when Chris saw the scene of the "3rd Infantry Regiment camping in a haphazard manner", he must have thought it was a great opportunity.

"Sir."

A colonel nearby reminded Lieutenant General Dalek who was lost in thought. He raised his telescope and observed again... A thousand people had advanced five hundred meters from their trenches. It was time.

"Messenger, send a signal to everyone and have them act according to the plan!"

……

Bertrand, riding on his horse, had been staring at the position of Lieutenant General Dalek behind him. When he finally saw the messenger waving the signal flag in his hand, he showed an extremely ugly and ferocious smile, then lowered his visor to cover his ugly face.

"Flag-bearer, raise the flag and gather the people to come closer to me." Sergeant Pierre hurriedly led his horse forward.

"Captain, what is our mission?"

"Charge."

Bertrand's voice came from under the visor, low and cold, like a sword drawn from its sheath.

Pierre gripped the reins tightly, his palms sweating. He hesitated, but the obedience bred in him by his long military career made him quickly raise the flag high. The scarlet flag fluttered in the wind, and the golden Kashlo Mountains embroidered on it shone brightly in the sun.

"First Company, form up!"

Bertrand's voice penetrated the noise of the camp behind him. One hundred and fifty cavalrymen wearing breastplates, iron helmets with pointed faces, and holding lances quickly jumped on their horses and formed a wedge-shaped attack formation.

Pierre glanced at the Bolas Fortress in the distance. The enemy's flags fluttered on the city walls, as if mocking their presumptuousness.

But he had no choice. Obeying orders was a soldier's duty, just like two years ago when he and his colleagues sat in the barracks and watched the kingdom fall.

"Remember, our mission is to overwhelm the enemies who have left the trenches, drive them back, and then seize the gap they came out of to buy time for the brothers behind us."

Bertrand's voice sounded again, with a hint of unquestionable majesty in his tone.

"No matter what happens, even if I die in battle, you must not look back. Hold the gap until you see the battle flag of the 3rd Infantry Regiment, or until the last of us falls."

Pierre nodded and tightened his grip on the spear. He could feel his heartbeat quickening and the blood rushing through his veins. This was not his first charge, but this time his mood was somewhat complicated, and the further he went, the more guilty he felt.

"go ahead!"

Bertrand's voice exploded like thunder.

One hundred and fifty war horses raised their iron hooves at the same time, trampling up dust, and the cavalry slowly moved forward.

Pierre followed closely behind Bertrand. He could feel the muscles of his warhorse tensing, the friction between his thighs and the clothes on his thighs and his beloved horse, and the increasingly strong smell of rust in his nostrils. It was the blood that was about to splash onto his face.

The 1st Cavalry Company of the 3rd Infantry Regiment was ordered to advance towards the enemy.

Pierre had carried out such orders no less than twenty times, but this time, for some reason, at this moment, in addition to guilt, he felt a little hesitant... He was pointing his lance at the king's heir to whom he had previously been loyal.

Although the king had been driven away for more than two years, such a short time seemed like yesterday to quite a number of people.

What am I doing.

Pierre asked himself, but he didn't know the answer yet.

The cavalry company's advance was slow because they were still about two kilometers away from the battlefield. They were the first group of Republican soldiers to advance towards the enemy.

Behind them, the soldiers disguised as working also began to assemble openly, walking and following behind the vanguard troops.

Three hundred artillerymen whipped the pack horses and oxen to push the thirty-two bronze long-barreled cannons forward.

(End of this chapter)