I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 259 Ending
Colonel Carlos stood in front of the command tent, his face pale. He couldn't understand what had happened.

Outside, gunfire continued, with people firing at the camp from all directions. Bullets whizzed by, and occasionally someone would be hit, then freeze and fall like a wooden doll, never to get up again.

He once tried sending musketeers who had laid down their heavy matchlock guns and picked up longswords and shields to form teams and drive out the enemy, but out of ten teams that went out, only two teams returned.

Those soldiers who didn't return either died in battle or collapsed and fled.

The pitch-black forest was like the gaping maw of a demon, devouring every Bohemian soldier who dared to step inside.

Colonel Carlos's knuckles turned white as he gripped the gilded pocket watch. With each tick of the second hand on the dial, it was as if a soldier had fallen forever in this cursed snow forest.

The Bohemian musketeers, once the most fearsome killers on the battlefield, are now lost in the darkness. Their swords and shields, which should have been their most reliable weapons, have become a burden on their movements.

"Sir! The eastern fence has been breached!"

A sergeant with his face covered in blood rushed in to report.

"The barricades have been burned again."

"Where did they get so much incendiary material?"

The noble lieutenant, crouching behind a shield, couldn't help but ask, while the commoner lieutenant standing beside him nodded numbly and meaninglessly.

"It's probably pine resin... There are so many pine trees in this mountain area. As long as you have a pot, you can easily and quickly extract flammable oil. Judging from the black smoke coming out of our barricades, they used crudely refined pine resin, which produces a lot of smoke and contains toxic fumes when burned."

How did you know about this?

“My father was a pine oil vendor, and he used the money from selling pine oil to support my military academy education.”

"Okay, stop talking."

Carlos, looking exhausted, interrupted his two adjutants' conversation. He was now filled with regret for the decision he had made that afternoon... the order for the troops to disperse and, under the leadership of their respective officers, pursue the enemy stragglers.

However, upon careful consideration, unless one can foresee the future and know one's current situation, Carlos would continue to issue such orders even if time were to reverse.

At the time, he considered this the optimal tactic. No matter how he and his adjutant thought about it, they couldn't have imagined that the enemy could drag the battle into the night and then use their rich field experience and endless attacks and traps to defeat the larger number of Bohemian pursuers.

Once again, a barrage of gunfire erupted from outside the camp. The arquebusiers, who had been hiding behind barricades, sandbags, and logs, stood up numbly and began firing their arquebuses indiscriminately, trying to bolster their morale and show that they were still putting up a fight.

"Sir, we should retreat."

The civilian adjutant, weary, offered his suggestions.

"Now, including the musketeers, supply troops, a small number of people who have retreated, and the light cavalry company, we still have more than 800 men. If we retreat along the mountain road, we still have a chance to leave the mountains and reach a safe place."

Colonel Carlos remained silent, hesitant, fearing he might give the wrong order again.

Giving the order to retreat is easy, but once the retreat is given, it means they will leave this place, abandoning the soldiers who are still fighting in the mountains and retreating this way.

Regardless of the outcome, once the retreat is complete and Carlos returns to the main force, he will inevitably face a military court.

Secondly, the adjutant's words sounded very nice, saying that there were still more than 800 people left. In reality, this included more than 300 supply troops. And what are supply troops?
They were unarmed laborers.

Excluding these non-combatants, Carlos had less than 400 musketeers, swordsmen, spearmen, and light cavalry left. Compared to the pre-battle force of over 1,600, half of his men were lost in the mountains.

Carlos's mind went blank at the thought. He tried to recall what had happened to him that afternoon, but he just couldn't figure out where he had gone wrong to end up in this situation.

Now, Carlos faces two paths: break through or hold out until dawn.

Before Colonel Carlos could finish his thought, a deafening explosion suddenly came from the west side of the camp.

Carlos staggered a few steps, looked up and around, and saw flames shooting into the sky, illuminating the entire night sky... their ammunition truck had been set on fire.

The barricades and fences were also blown to pieces, and flames shot into the sky, clearly indicating that the enemy had launched an attack on the fortifications with gunpowder.

"Sir!"

The civilian adjutant grabbed his arm.

A decision must be made immediately!

"They blew up the breach!"

"The noble lieutenant cried out in alarm."

"The enemy is breaking through the defenses!"

After shouting these words, the noble adjutant quickly and directly jumped onto the warhorse led by his family's personal guard, and hurriedly disappeared into the night with his men.

Carlos didn't bother to investigate the noble adjutant's desertion; if he could escape and bring back what he had encountered, that would be a good thing.

Carlos drew his sword, watched the soldiers scatter and flee, and finally gritted his teeth, making his final decision.

"Order the light cavalry to clear the way, and everyone else to break through to the mountain path to the southeast! Take all the supplies you can."

He didn't finish his sentence. Suddenly, an arrow pierced the adjutant's throat, and blood splattered onto Carlos's pale face. Immediately afterward, shouts erupted from all around the camp.

"For the prince!"

"The BOSS's head is mine..."

"Where's the medic? My pants are on fire!"

Carlos looked around blankly and saw the most absurd scene of his life.

Green figures surged in from all directions; some waved captured military flags, some carried burning torches, and others pushed burning supply wagons like battering rams, crashing them into the barricades blocking their path. "Attention all! Light cavalry company, clear the way!"

Colonel Carlos, suppressing his shock, drew his sword and roared angrily.

"Musketeers follow behind, spearmen and swordsmen bring up the rear, break out to the southeast at full speed!"

After the order was given, Carlos didn't care how many soldiers would hear it and obey it. He raised his sword, took his military flag and a dozen guards, and charged toward the most intense battle.

Colonel Carlos's military boots sank deep into the snow, each step feeling like walking on cotton.

He saw his light cavalry company charging toward the breach, their sabers gleaming coldly in the firelight. But what shocked him even more was that those green-clad figures did not flinch or evade the charging cavalry.

"For military merit!"

One player shouted and charged at the lead horse. He was slashed in the shoulder by the saber, but before falling, he shot the cavalryman in the throat with his flintlock pistol.

Carlos felt a wave of dizziness. These enemies were completely reckless, like... demons in a story.

"Sir, be careful!"

The guard's shout snapped him back to reality. An arrow grazed his cheek and trembled on the snow behind him. Carlos looked up and saw a small, thin figure crouching in the treetops, nocking a second arrow onto a bowstring.

"boom!"

The roar of a flintlock musket came from the side, and the archers in the trees fell to the ground. Carlos turned his head and saw his captain of guards putting down the smoking barrel, his face covered in gunpowder ash... The gun had been captured.

"Sir, we must..."

The captain of the guard abruptly stopped speaking, a blood-stained sword tip suddenly protruding from his chest... An enemy had somehow circled around behind him.

Carlos roared and swung his sword, but the man nimbly jumped back and pulled the sword out of the adjutant's body.

Thanks, bro!

The player shouted in broken Bohemian, then turned and lunged at the other soldiers.

Carlos knelt in the snow, supporting the dying guard captain. The young man's lips moved, and the last word he uttered was...

"Quick...go..."

When Carlos stood up again, he found the breakout force had been cut into several pieces. The light cavalry company was embroiled in melee in the distance, and the musketeers dropped their weapons and fled in all directions. Most terrifyingly, those green figures were like a pack of wolves, specifically targeting and attacking lone soldiers.

Carlos looked around and could tell that the number of enemies was not large, but their attacks were too fierce and came from all directions. Combined with the cover of darkness, it made their numbers seem endless, as if they had surrounded the camp.

"Form ranks! Form a circular formation! The enemy numbers are small; we can hold them off!"

Carlos screamed at the top of his lungs, but all he got in response were screams of agony.

A barrel of explosives suddenly detonated nearby, the blast knocking Carlos to the ground. His sword flew off, its ivory hilt standing out starkly against the snow. One player immediately lunged for the sword, only to be shoved aside by another.

"I saw it first!"

"Bullshit! It was the equipment I looted!"

Two enemies actually started fighting over his sword. Taking advantage of the situation, Carlos climbed onto the nearest warhorse, only to find a man in green sitting on the saddle, enthusiastically trying on his officer's hat.

"Hey, the boss's here!"

The player shouted excitedly.

"Brothers, come quick! There's a big prize for catching him alive!"

Carlos didn't understand what the grand prize was, but the enemy's intention to capture him alive was obvious, so he turned and ran. His military boots sank into the deep snow, and his cloak was caught on tree branches, but the instinct for survival drove him to run forward desperately, with chaotic footsteps and excited shouts coming from behind him.

"Don't run away, bro!"

"Just let me touch it!"

"Flank him, flank him, attack from both sides... Damn it, you idiot, don't shoot!"

When Carlos finally stumbled out of the camp, after running for a while, he found himself standing on the edge of a cliff, with a dark valley below and pursuers getting closer and closer behind him.

He touched his chest... the gilded pocket watch was still there; it was his last vestige of dignity.

"For Bohemia."

Carlos spoke softly, and at that moment he felt liberated, no longer afraid or hesitant. He pushed off with his legs and leaped into the darkness.

The sound of a heavy object falling into the water came from below the cliff. The players who had chased the object to the edge of the cliff looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Holy crap, the boss jumped into the river?"

"Whose head is this?"

"Look! There's something golden floating in the water!"

Downstream, Carlos struggled to climb ashore, spitting out mouthfuls of icy water and trembling as he took off his pocket watch... The hands stopped at 1:23, the very time the nightmare began.

In the distance, the campfires still illuminated the night sky, and the faint sounds of those demonic cheers could still be heard.

(End of this chapter)