Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 433 - 61 Planning and Changes

Chapter 433: Chapter 61 Planning and Changes

Rare opportunities easily lost, such is the nature of time; when the moment arrives, and it does not linger, that is the chance.

Now, the question wasn’t whether Winters wanted to fight or not, but that the opportunity lay before him, and he could not let it slip by.

Just as one instinctively slaps at a red, round button when they see it,

Seeing the throat of a living creature, a predator instinctively wants to bite.

The Herd soldiers poured out, leaving behind tents, supplies, and spare horses.

Their vulnerabilities lay exposed before Winters’ eyes, everything like Vineta, Paratu… had all been tossed aside in his mind; at this moment, Lieutenant Montaigne was only exhilarated.

...

Below the hillside, clusters of light one after another disappeared, Herders extinguishing their campfires.

Seizing the last of the light, Winters quickly memorized the layout of the camp.

He estimated that at least a thousand Herders remained within the camp, twice their own number, so the battle had to be meticulously planned.

…

Outside the Herd encampment, the spirits of the officers from Jeska’s unit were high.

Inside the Paratu camp, General Sekler was furious.

“One-eyed Jeska! He’s got some nerve! Ruining my plans!” Sekler’s forehead veins bulged, his chest heaving violently, “Who gave him the guts to abandon his post! If North Bridge is lost, I’ll gouge out his other eye myself! I’ll explode him with my own hands!”

The others were silent as cicadas in winter; Colonel Laszlo had no choice but to stiffen his neck and try to alleviate the mood, “So do you want his eye, or are you going to explode him?”

Sekler cursed rarely, “I’ll damn well gouge first, then explode!”

“The situation was too perilous when the first wave of messengers was dispatched. Jeska must have acted out of urgency. Since he’s not here yet, it means he’s encountered the subsequent messengers and has withdrawn…” Laszlo tried to persuade.

“Or he could have been completely annihilated, and the Herd Barbarians have taken North Bridge in the process,” Sekler said coldly.

At that, even Laszlo didn’t know what to say.

Cooling off for a moment, Sekler regained his composure and spoke with restored authority, “It’s too late for words, we must commence Alpad’s attack ahead of schedule.”

“Ahead of schedule?” someone asked puzzled.

Sekler was resolute, “Advance! Bring paper and pen!”

The guard handed over pen and paper, and the brigadier used a stone as a desk to hastily write a few sentences on the parchment.

He couldn’t even wait for the wax seal to melt, directly using his Land Academy graduation ring as both the seal and signet.

“Pick a few brave and reliable messengers to cross the river and deliver this letter to General Alpad,” Sekler handed the letter to Laszlo, then said to the other commanders, “You all go back and prepare, the Herd Barbarians will be upon us shortly.”

The duty officer struck the alarm bell with might, and the resting Paratu soldiers, gripping their weapons, woke with a start.

Assembly, marching, fighting, digging trenches, building walls, cutting wood—from the moment they left the main camp, the soldiers hadn’t rested. They’d just dozed off and were already being thrust back into battle.

Three messengers rode towards the riverbank, the letters secured in double-sealed waterproof containers.

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Messengers sent overland were only seen leaving, never returning, clearly cut down by Herders; swimming to the south bank was the only safe route.

The Floating Bridge was not yet complete; the leading small-statured messenger stripped off his clothes and saddle, embracing his horse’s neck as he stepped into the rushing water.

Though the river was not frozen, it was bone-chillingly cold. The warhorse only took a few steps into the river before whinnying and struggling, refusing to go any further.

Seeing this, Andre working on the Floating Bridge threw a rope to the man.

He grabbed the rope, and the militiamen on the other side pulled him across. When he reached shore, his lips were blue, and the nearby militiamen quickly stripped off their clothes to rub him down.

The second messenger followed into the river, but midway he suddenly cramped up, and the rope slipped from his grasp. In the blink of an eye, the Paratu man was swept away by the current, vanishing into the dark waves.

The third messenger also clenched his teeth and entered the water, fortunately without any further mishap.

“Give them two horses!” Andre bellowed across the river.

The head messenger bowed in gratitude; Andre doffed his helmet in return.

The two messengers mounted the saddles, and without waiting for their clothes to be delivered across, they immediately galloped towards the main camp.

Meanwhile, on the hillside opposite the camp, more and more Herd Cavalrymen bearing torches assembled, snake-like trails of fire converging from the distance.

Gradually, the Herders began to chant in an unintelligible language. The chanting had a rhythmic cadence, evidently some form of poetry or scripture.

The formless waves of sound lapped at the tiny camp from all directions, as if hidden behind the night were thousands upon thousands of troops.

Lieutenant Varga leaped atop the parapet and shouted down to his men, “Never fear the Heretics, the Lord himself will ensure our victory!”

He began to recite scripture and more and more of his soldiers joined in; the chaplains accompanying the troops also began to lead.

The two waves of sound collided, and for a while, neither could overwhelm the other.

Lieutenant Roy had no interest in engaging in a theological debate across the expanse; he found Colonel Robert, “Why do I feel the Barbarians have a bigger presence than during the day?”

“They are indeed larger than during the day,” Colonel Robert said with a worried look, “I’m just concerned… that this is not all of them…”

“What do we do then, sir?”

“What do we do? We do as the General commands,” Robert patted the lieutenant on the shoulder, “As for now, get your musketeers ready.”

Sekler’s temporary camp was shaped like a hexagram, leaving each side vulnerable to crossfire during an attack.

Six units each held a corner, with the unit nearest the river doubling as a reserve force. As the unit with the strongest fighting capability, Robert’s unit was tasked with defending the northern corner, directly facing the enemy.