Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 415 - 51 Cavalry Raid

Chapter 415: Chapter 51 Cavalry Raid

The Herders scattered in all directions.

Black-armored Cavalry encircled a helmet-shining officer as they came before Colonel Jeska.

“In the end, it’s still me saving your little life,” said the helmet-shining officer.

The one-eyed Colonel was far from grateful, “I’d like to know what are you even good for if you could let an entire thousand-man squad slip through?”

“Not even a stint overseas could cure your sourness,” the other laughed. “I truly regret pulling you back!”

The officer dismounted, removed his helmet, revealing meticulously groomed facial hair and a pair of wild eyes—it was Colonel Castor Roderick, who had come to Wolf Town months ago to chase down smugglers.

Castor and Jeska looked at each other for a long while, then burst into laughter and embraced each other in a bear hug.

…

The tides had turned, and everyone was overjoyed.

Those who survived the ordeal slaughtered pigs and sheep, and drank to their heart’s content, temporarily forgetting death and suffering and celebrating properly.

The revelry ended and it was time for the aftermath.

Clearing the battlefield, burying the dead, holding simple funerals.

Many horses were left behind in the Herder camp, some to make up for the Dusacks that had lost their Warhorses, the rest taken by the Black-armored Cavalry along with the captured Warhorses.

The remaining spoils followed the customary rules: small items went to individuals, like swords; large items went to the state, like armor.

Colonel Castor disdained the looted armor and gave it all to Jeska’s company.

Scattered items like saddle tack were sold directly to merchants accompanying the troops.

“Everything has a price,” the merchants’ desire for profit amazed Winters.

Someone bought the blood-stained cloaks stripped from bodies; the Herder’s arm rings and silver ornaments found buyers too.

A merchant approached Colonel Jeska, buying all the horse carcasses in bulk.

Horse hides could be sold; horse meat cut and salted could be resold to the military; even horse bones had their place.

There was even a merchant who bought Herder’s left ears at discounted prices to cash in rewards in Paratu, while the soldiers could get cash on the spot.

A day ago, these people were weak civilians tremblingly holding firearms to protect their possessions.

A day later, they had transformed into crows feasting on war, scrambling to peck at the corpses of Herders.

“The fastest way to create wealth is to build an Empire, the even faster way is to destroy an Empire.”

Winters couldn’t recall where he had heard this saying, but everything he saw now made the words echo in his mind.

…

The road ahead had been cleared, so the baggage train was to set off once more.

Even though Jeska’s company had seen a close call with mutiny, the Colonel did not mention it again, and the lieutenants were also silent, as if nothing had happened.

After repeated hard fights, some merchants found opportunities, while others decided not to go any further and turned back.

The wounded from the baggage train returned to Paratu with them, while the more seriously injured who were less mobile stayed in West Camp to recover.

Many merchants had already fallen under the knife and were buried in the wilderness without even a gravestone to mark their resting place.

Their belongings were either distributed among others or taken back by loyal partners.

Some made a fortune, some were unlucky—it was always so.

…

Winters stood at the West Camp gate, watching cart after cart slowly leave the military camp.

The length of the train was much shorter than when they had first crossed The Styx, and it now seemed somewhat empty.

A passenger cart passed by, its curtains pulled back to reveal the face of Brother Reed in the window frame, the old trickster smiling and waving at Winters.

Winters had wanted Brother Reed to return to Paratu with the merchants, but the old man fobbed him off with vows and evasions.

The old trickster refused to return to Paratu and so did Father Caman; thus, the two clergymen continued with the army and moved on with the baggage train.

Lieutenant Colin also came to see them off, finding Lieutenant Montaigne and said with sincerity, “Thank you.”

Winters simply shook his head.

The Lieutenant saluted the Ensign and turned to leave.

Lieutenant Colin’s centuria had lost most of its fighting capacity, and Colonel Castor promised to request a relief force from the legion on his behalf.

All the double-horsed carts of the baggage train finally left West Camp, and Winters mounted his saddle, ready to depart.

Xial and another person supported each other running out of the camp, shouting as they caught up to the Ensign.

“What are you doing here?” Winters frowned. “Stay and heal properly.”

In the brutal battle on the western camp wall, Xial’s right leg had been pierced by a heavy arrow. Fortunately, neither arteries nor bones were hit, but it still impeded his movement, and he was classified as wounded.

“I want to go with you,” said Xial.

“No,” Winters initially hadn’t thought the militia would have to enter battle, and he couldn’t bear to bring Benwei’s brother into danger again.

“If you won’t let me go, I’ll just follow behind.”

“Nonsense! Is it a good place up front?”

Xial stiffened his neck, clearly resolute.

“I don’t want to stay here either,” said another bandaged casualty in a low voice.

It wasn’t until the other spoke that Winters recognized it was Vasyka.

A heavy blow to the back of the head, whether it was to death or unconsciousness, was all a matter of luck.

Vasyka was fortunate not to die, but that laughing, mischievous young man had been killed.

Winters was about to refuse, but suddenly he remembered the old trickster’s words about “fortune and misfortune being intertwined.”

He thought serving in the militia was a good thing, yet many Dusacks were led to The Styx. Fate is a bitch, who knows what the future holds?

Winters sighed, “Are you sure you want to go?”

Xial and Vasyka nodded their heads.

“Find a large cart to ride, tell them I allowed it,” Winters considered and then added, “Vasyka, go find Lieutenant Bard, ask him to get you a Herder Warhorse.”

“Yes!” Xial shouted excitedly.

Vashka supported Xial and hurried to catch up with the large carriage.

Along the way, the supply train’s horse-drawn carriages were no longer fully loaded.

Therefore, the Lieutenant Colonel began to allow the militia to place their weapons on the carriages and to take turns resting in them.

Also departing were the Black Armored Cavalry. Lieutenant Colonel Castor divided three squadrons to pursue the fleeing Herdmen while personally leading one squadron to escort the supply train, a small favor for his old friend.

Lieutenant Mason’s pig-driving team also joined the supply train.

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More than four hundred militiamen and drivers, three hundred pigs, over a hundred horse-drawn carriages, more than fifty convict laborers, five officers, two clergymen, and a lion set out from West Camp.

…

The official designation for the Black Armored Pistol Cavalry was the Fifth “Highland” Legion, Second Cavalry Regiment, also known as Castor’s Cavalry Regiment.

Faced with the Herdmen’s light cavalry, which roamed the wilderness like the wind, dispersing forces to guard the supply lines would tie up a great deal of manpower and be prone to being defeated in detail.

Hence, a passive defense was never an option considered by the Paratu military.

Destroying light cavalry with mobile cavalry, targeting the enemy’s maneuverable force, was the persistent strategy of the Paratu military leadership.

The Castor’s Cavalry Regiment racing to support West Camp was such a mobile cavalry unit.

This unit typically patrolled the net along the supply line, rapidly assembling to provide support whenever an alarm was raised.

There were four squadrons in the entire cavalry regiment, with a standard troop count of seven hundred and twenty.

However, when battling the Herdmen’s thousand-man unit, the cavalry regiment had just over five hundred men, and now less than four hundred and fifty were fit for combat.

This was because cavalry was difficult to replenish, often diminishing in number the more battles they fought, which is why cavalry units were never at full strength during wartime.

Apart from the four combat squadrons, Castor’s Regiment also had a reserve squadron in their structure that was responsible for recruitment, training, and personnel replenishment.

This was a true elite standing cavalry force, boasting twenty-six officers alone.

In comparison, Jeska’s supply train had nearly six hundred personnel including militiamen and drivers, but only four officers in total.

Paratu has long been a land of fine horses with a deep cavalry tradition.

In Vineta’s standing army, cavalry made up only ten to twenty percent. For example, the Third Legion had only one six-hundred-man cavalry battalion, which was not brought along to the islands due to the wasteful transportation effort.

In contrast, over forty percent of Paratu’s standing army consisted of cavalry, with the Fifth Legion having three cavalry regiments plus several cavalry squadrons.

The Kingdom of Galloping Horses not only had more cavalry but also invested more heavily in them.

After Andre roamed around Castor’s Cavalry Regiment, he came back muttering non-stop, “Now that is what you call real cavalry!”

Even the least among Castor’s cavalry had three horses, one for riding, one for packing, and one warhorse.

There were specialized gunsmiths with the army, responsible for repairing and maintaining firearms.

Many cavalrymen even had attendants to care for their daily needs — the attendants also had mounts to ride.

Compared to Jeska’s Dusack Cavalry unit, this was downright pathetic.

Originally, Andre was quite delighted to lead the cavalry squad, but ever since he saw Castor’s Regiment, he began to sigh and lament.

However, this type of cavalry unit was heavily reliant on supply lines and somewhat sluggish in movement. Yet, their combat strength was enough to compensate for all weaknesses.

…

The Supply convoy headed west, and just as Colonel Jeska had anticipated, the first three camps they came across had all been burned to the ground, with the reserved supplies plundered.

Even the third camp, which had half a hundred-men team stationed for defense and was situated in a terrain easy to defend but hard to assault, had not been spared.

But the fourth camp was intact, a small camp pitifully guarded by a mere ten-man squad.

The sergeant in charge of the camp claimed they had not seen any Herd Barbarians; they had only seen the smoke signals from the west and thus relayed the message in turn.

During the mealtime at the fourth camp, the cavalry officers and supply team casually discussed the oddities they encountered along the way.

“The supply line is too long,” Lieutenant Mason complained. “People are losing weight, let alone pigs. After driving pigs for more than a hundred kilometers, they’ve shed all their fat.”

Captain Galle of the cavalry replied, “There’s no helping it; the Hurds have always been like this. You strike them, they run, slippery as eels. You have to catch them and beat them severely before they’re willing to sign a peace treaty.”

“I don’t understand why the Herders would spare this camp; they’ve taken down harder targets.” Winters couldn’t grasp the enemy’s behavior patterns.

Castor offhandedly explained to Winters, “Herd Barbarians lack siege capabilities; they usually don’t attack camps but rather raid convoys. If they get caught—like when they attacked your team of Herders—they end up bleeding heavily once the mobile cavalry arrives.”

Castor was impressed with the officers stationed at Wolf Town and surprised to meet him again in the wilderness, so he was willing to give Montaigne, the young lieutenant, a few tips.

“If I may be so bold, with the strength of that thousand-man team, I fear no camp would be difficult to take,” said Winters.

“That’s the weird part; the movements of a thousand-man team are too obvious, making it hard to conceal,” said Castor with unexpected patience. “Herders usually raid the supply lines with a hundred-man team as the norm. Frankly, I would like to see the Herd Barbarians deploy a thousand-man team.”

“Why?”

Castor answered with a cold smirk, “Barbarians are more fun to kill when they’re in a heap. Running around the grasslands after ten hundred-man teams is not as easy as wiping out a thousand-man team in one go.”

Colonel Castor spat viciously, summing up, “I’m not afraid of the Barbarians coming; I instead hope they come in even greater numbers.”

…

One day later.

The fifth camp.

Castor, Jeska, Winters… everyone stood on top of the camp wall, dumbstruck.

Outside the walls, countless Herd Cavalry were galloping around the camp.

The thunderous sound of horse hooves was suffocating, and even the sun was obscured by the dust kicked up by the hooves.

The small Paratu camp was deep in the sea of Herd Cavalry, like a small boat amid raging waves, ready to be shattered to pieces at any moment.

This display far exceeded what a thousand-man team could muster.

After menacingly circling the camp three times, the thousands of Herd raiders headed eastward at a fast pace.

“How many… could there be?” Castor stuttered.

“At least four thousand,” said the one-eyed Jeska, his face pale.

“What the hell is General Yanosh doing? Waste of space!” Castor snarled, cursing vehemently: “How the hell could he miss four thousand cavalry?”

The other people in the camp had yet to recover from the shock, still trembling with fear.

“This is bad!” Winters exclaimed in horror: “The Floating Bridge!”