Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 434 - 61 Planning and Changes_2

Chapter 434: Chapter 61 Planning and Changes_2

In the distance, on the hillside, the Herders began to extinguish their torches. Lieutenant Colonel Robert’s heart tightened; this was a harbinger of attack.

Within the Paratu camp, commands to “put out the lights” echoed one after another.

The battlefield quickly turned pitch-dark, and nothing could be discerned.

Major General Sekler, who was observing the enemy, slammed his fist against the wall, the second assault had come much earlier than he had anticipated.

The Herd army was a mix of different factions, united in appearance but disjointed in spirit.

It’s always easy to find eager and brave men when the wind is at your back, but once an attack falters, rallying the morale is no easy task.

...

Sekler had originally thought that the enemy would launch the second assault the following day.

However, as the militia of Jeska Squadron floated down the river on rafts from upstream, his plans were completely disrupted.

“Jeska! Damned bastard!” Sekler cursed angrily, itching at his teeth, “To think I pulled you back!”

…

At this very moment, in a gully five kilometers southwest of Sekler’s position, the mastermind responsible for the upset was gleefully preparing a stealth attack.

Winters, unaware of the general’s fury, didn’t care either way — outsiders always tend to be so debonair.

The food and water supplies of his two hundred-man squads were consolidated and then redistributed evenly.

“Gentlemen! I know everyone’s hungry; I’m hungry too!” Winters stood on a large rock surrounded by his men.

“But this is all we have to eat.” He held up a piece of hardtack the size of a knuckle—it’s all that each man would get: “I can’t feed you all with five loaves of bread.”

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The crowd fell completely silent, the militia uncertain of the lieutenant’s intentions.

“Though we don’t have food,” Winters laughed loudly, pointing eastward, “Everything you could ever want is in that camp over there! Hand-held meat, so fragrant and tender, just sprinkle some salt for a perfect taste! Mare’s milk wine, drink all you want, it doesn’t get you drunk! Roast whole sheep, crispy on the outside and dripping with juices on the inside!”

“That flavor, that sensation… tsk tsk tsk.” Winters shook his head in admiration, “It’s truly beyond compare!”

The audience’s throats moved, saliva nearly uncontrollably secreting in a frenzy.

In reality, Winters had never tasted mare’s milk wine or hand-held meat, and he wasn’t even sure if roast whole sheep was a dish that existed. Everything he described was drawn from Mitchell’s roasted whole pig.

“And if you don’t like meat, there’s yogurt, cheese, cream puffs, milk cakes… all served in gold and silver vessels, studded with pearls and jewels. The barbarian chieftain Yasin owns a huge gold mine, worked by ten thousand slaves. But his taste is so poor, he only knows how to stockpile, the gold cups and plates are dead heavy.”

The pre-battle rallying had fully entered the phase of unleashing the imagination.

Luckily, it was too dark for anyone to see Winters blushing or to contradict him: “Each of you can take one home as a souvenir!”

“I have many lads at home, can I take two, sir?” Someone suddenly raised a hand to interrupt.

“Yes! You can have two if you can carry them. No, everyone gets two!” Winters shamelessly continued to brag: “But take only two, because the rest are mine!”

The crowd chuckled softly.

“Gentlemen! Food! Drink! Silver! Gold! They’re all right there!” Before his hype could go too far, Winters cut it short while the crowd was at its most excited.

He flung the tiny portion of hardtack to the ground: “Who the hell wants this crap? Let’s go drink and feast!”

The militia followed suit, throwing their hardtack onto the ground, their eyes glistening.

“But there’s one thing, listen up!” Winters’s tone suddenly changed, becoming deadly serious as he brandished a stick: “If anyone dares to doff their ranks before my command, or if one is missing during the post-battle inspection, they will be executed without mercy! The spoils of war will be evenly distributed, and anyone caught hoarding or fighting over spoils during the battle will be hanged!”

The usually amiable Lieutenant Montaigne had disappeared, and Ishulton felt a chill down his spine.

In the darkness, he couldn’t see the lieutenant’s figure, but he could sense that what lurked behind the night was not the lieutenant, but the Blood Wolf.

“Put on your ranks!” The command came again from within the darkness.

Ishulton hurriedly took out his rank—a simple wooden stick—and bit down on it.

The stick had ropes on both ends, and Ishulton, seizing the ends, tied a knot at the back of his head.

He suddenly remembered something, fumbled to untie the slip knot, and tied a tight knot instead.

“Gentlemen! After we deal with the Herd barbarians ahead,” Winters scanned his men: “we shall feast heartily!”

“Move out!” He swung his arm broadly, biting down hard on the stick.

Under the cover of night, the two hundred-man squads of spear-bearing soldiers quietly crawled out of the gully and approached the Herd camp below on the hillside.

The other four hundred-man squads lay in ambush inside the gully, waiting for the agreed-upon signal.

The two hundred-man squads moved in column formation, with each soldier holding onto the waist belt of the one in front, as many were night-blind.

Winters, at the front, estimated there were around two hundred meters to go. He pulled out a copper rod and slightly stimulated the Luminosity Spell, waving it above his head a few times.

The dim green light wasn’t very noticeable in the night, but it was clear to the militia behind him.

The column fanned out into a line, the men slowing down and crouching even lower.

With about fifty meters to go, the sharp-eyed militiamen could already see the moving Herders in the camp.

The main force lay prone, ready to move on command, while Winters, with a few Hunters, continued forward.

Winters had also donned full body armor, wearing a Herd iron helmet, with his face smeared haphazardly with mud. Except for a slightly sordid crouching trot, from a distance, he really looked like one of the Herders.