Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 439 - 63: An Iron Shoulder Bearing the Blame

Chapter 439: Chapter 63: An Iron Shoulder Bearing the Blame

While Winters was busy helping the Herders move, the battle of the Sekler tribe was reaching a fever pitch.

The Herder army created a ruckus with a small amount of light cavalry and feigned an attack on the North Wall with fire.

Yet in secret, they dispatched their elite armored soldiers, without lights or sound, dismounted and armed with bows and blades, they charged on foot directly towards the floating bridge behind the encampment.

But the barbarians underestimated the Sekler’s keen sense of smell.

The Brigadier saw through the Herders’ feint and swiftly adjusted his deployment.

He first sent Robert’s battalion to form a defensive line at the bridgehead, then concentrated the camp’s musketeers along the southern wall.

...

Between Robert’s square formation and the south wall of the camp, the area was completely covered by musket fire, leaving any enemy that passed through exposed to crossfire from multiple directions.

The Herders were illuminated by fires Sekler had set up in advance, making them easy targets for Paratu musketeers who fired volleys.

This narrow space, merely a dozen meters wide, became a killing field crisscrossed with lead shot.

The Herders’ armored infantry charged against the volley of fire, and before they could even get close to the floating bridge, a quarter of them had fallen.

By the time they engaged the Paratu square in close combat, they were continually bled by the musketeers behind them. They swiftly faltered and began to retreat.

As Robert’s soldiers watched the barbarians retreat without giving them time to lick their wounds, another wave of armored barbarians charged at them with their curved blades.

Without a moment’s respite, the sounds of gunfire, war cries, and melee combat continued, making the night destined to be a hard one.

The Herders thought that the three thousand Paratu infantry wanted to use the floating bridge to retreat, so they selected their elite and repeatedly launched fierce attacks on the bridge.

But in fact, Sekler had no intention of retreating to the south bank at all; Jeska’s arrival with the floating bridge was pure happenstance.

The floating bridge had even hastened the Herders’ attack, throwing Sekler’s battle plans into disarray.

But what’s done was done, and getting angry was useless.

General Sekler thus went with the flow, using the floating bridge as bait to lure the Herders into the attack, continually inflicting casualties on the enemy’s daring elite with musket fire.

After four advances and four retreats, the Herders began to realize that something was amiss—the “two-legged fools” were bleeding them out with small cuts.

The Herders decisively changed their strategy from feigned attacks in front to full-scale assaults, and the pressure on the camp’s defenders drastically increased.

Sekler had no choice but to redistribute some of his musketeers to support elsewhere.

After dispersing the Paratu forces, the Herders began using a variety of haphazard tactics in an attempt to achieve surprise and victory.

The barbarians first brought several dozen warhorses in front of the square formation, with their tails tied with dry grass and smeared with grease.

Lieutenant Colonel Robert was initially baffled until he saw flames rising from the horses’ rumps and realized what the barbarians intended to do.

The “fire horses” neighed and charged at the square formation, with Herder swordsmen and archers following behind to ambush.

The Herders’ ingenious plan took the Paratu by surprise, but Robert’s square formation was narrow—less than ten meters—making it difficult for the fire horses to crash accurately into the formation.

Lieutenant Roy leaped out of the formation and cast a Sonic Blast Spell at the fire horses. The Paratu musketeers also opened fire.

While the horses were startled, they were not foolish enough to crash into spears and gunfire. Slightly changing direction, they brushed past the edge of the square formation and fled along the riverbank.

Without the cover of the fire horses, the Herders were once again exposed in front of the Paratu. After several rounds of gunfire and hard bows, the clearly disadvantaged Herders retreated in disarray.

The plan to break the square formation with fire horses failed, and the Herders assaulting the camp walls also withdrew.

Aside from the cries of the dying, the battlefield fell silent for a moment.

Robert’s battalion had no time to rest; they immediately set to work digging trenches around the square.

Taking advantage of the lull in the battle, half of the battalion quietly left the camp to reinforce Robert’s battalion.

They brought with them the gunpowder and lead shot desperately needed by Robert’s battalion and also Sekler’s instructions.

“Sir, the General has commanded me to relay that the barbarians’ chief is probably impatient and likely to commit his whole army soon. If you can withstand this final assault, you’ll be the night’s greatest hero,” Captain William cautiously recited.

“Greatest hero?” Robert scoffed repeatedly, stabbing his iron shovel firmly into the ground, disdainfully saying, “The old man loves to fob people off with such cheap talk! Let’s see if we can hold out first!”

Captain William was at a loss for words and the atmosphere momentarily turned awkward.

“What are you standing around for?” Robert glared at the captain, “Take your men and start digging the trench—quickly!”

The Herders, silent for a while, began to shout in unison again, to bolster their morale.

Lieutenant Colonel Robert spat and continued to dig the trench earnestly.

In the darkness, one could faintly hear the approaching footsteps of the Herders.

“Light the fires!” the colonel ordered.

Several soldiers ran out and lit the bonfires, then ran back to the square formation as if fleeing.

The flames revealed the enemy’s figures, this time the barbarians coming in greater numbers than all previous waves combined.

But their equipment was shoddy, a mix of leather robes, iron helmets, and armor, far inferior to the earlier elite armored soldiers.

It seemed the barbarians were indeed committing their entire army, planning to overwhelm Robert’s battalion with sheer numbers.

Lieutenant Colonel Robert prepared his defenses, waiting for the enemy to come within range, and deeply regretted not bringing a few cannons with him.

Cannons with grapeshot could scatter such a dense and disorderly advance.

“How nice would it be if I had two cannons right now? Even two-pounders would do. No, even one would suffice,” Robert muttered under his breath, criticizing the rigid use of artillery by those above him.

With each step forward, the Herders had to shout in unison to embolden themselves.

Lieutenant Roy saw the farthest bonfire get stomped out and loudly ordered, “Musketeers, prepare!”

The musketeers came to the forefront of the square formation, setting up their muskets, their shoulders pressing tightly against the wooden stock.

Then, the second bonfire was extinguished.

“Open the pan!” Roy amplified his voice with magic.

The musketeers opened their pan covers.

The bonfires represented distance. When the third bonfire was extinguished, it meant that the enemy had entered within fifty meters.

All the Paratu held their breath and clenched their teeth, waiting for the battle to ignite.

But the musketeers didn’t wait for the lieutenant’s order, what reached their ears was a string of harsh gong sounds—from behind the Herders.

Hearing the gongs, the ferocious Herders turned and ran.

Colonel Robert’s troop, from the lieutenant colonel down, were all confused for a moment, not understanding what the savages were up to.

Sekler, standing by the camp wall, watched in dismay as the Herders lit torches and retreated like the tide, nearly vomiting blood in frustration.

He had been holding back his strength, deliberately showing weakness to the enemy, even allowing the feigned attacks of the Herders to breach the wall several times, all in anticipation of the savages launching their full assault.

Shortly after, the scouts reported back: There are red clouds to the northwest, likely fire.

Sekler’s thoughts raced, and he quickly guessed what was happening.

“Jeska!!!”

…

Colonel Jeska sneezed.

Winters, riding alongside the colonel, passed him a handkerchief.

Jeska looked at the lieutenant surprisingly and took the handkerchief to wipe his nose.

The colonel suddenly frowned and asked, “Why does it smell strange?”

“Does it?” Winters took the handkerchief back, suddenly remembering what that handkerchief had been used for.

Keeping a straight face, he sniffed it a few times and said calmly, “I smell it too, a bit weird. Sweat, perhaps?”

At their side, the militiamen were driving their wagons in a mad rush to their posts, each one gleeful.

Right now, there were only three things on everyone’s mind: gold, gold, and more gold.

The golden idol was extremely heavy, extremely heavy; they had to nail two wagons together to make one, and use eight horses to get it moving.

Winters’ uncle Giovanni was a goldsmith, and Winters knew the rough calculations.

By estimating the density of gold, he reckoned the golden idol weighed at least two tons.

Divided among everyone, that was roughly four kilograms apiece. Not to mention two golden cups, if one’s taste was vulgar enough, even a golden toilet could be made.

The militiamen had no concept of four kilograms of gold. At first, when they heard the amount, their reactions were mild, thinking to themselves: Hmm, that seems like a lot of money.

So Winters switched to another calculation—1,123 ducats.

1,123… gold coins?

Some fainted on the spot.

“What daydreams are you having?” the colonel barked sharply at them: “It’s not ours until we get it back.”

The militiamen snapped back to reality, eyes red, and began to load the golden idol into the wagons.

While everyone else only saw greed when looking at the golden idol, Colonel Jeska alone looked terrified.

What worried him was not the gold, but the owner of the golden idol sacrificed to the heavens—the Terdon Tribe.

Since the golden idol sacrificed to the heavens appeared here, it meant that the Terdon Tribe had already entered the war.

The scale of the war… was gradually spiraling out of control.

Upon learning that the camp they might have raided belonged to the Terdon Tribe, Winters’ first reaction was to leave the golden idol behind and retreat immediately.

But gold seduces the hearts of men, and looking at everyone now, he feared they would rather die than leave the golden idol behind.

Colonel Jeska’s troop was already out of control, and he and Winters were probably the only two people who still retained their sanity.

Eight horses pulled the golden idol swiftly across the wasteland, with the drivers heartlessly whipping the animals.

Now and then, a horse would collapse, foaming at the mouth; the Paratu People ignored it and immediately replaced it with another horse.

Because they had captured many Herder horses, they could use them so recklessly.

As they ran, the wagon would break down, and the Paratu People had no time to fix it; they pushed up a new one instead.

The wagons, the horses, at this moment, were all replaceable parts.

Yet, even so, they were moving too slowly.

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The further they went, the more anxious Winters became.

The Terdon Tribe would not let this go easily; their pursuers could arrive at any moment.

What they were dragging on the wagon might not be gold but a curse that called for their lives.

The golden idol, originally without expression, now seemed to Winters to be mocking him.

He who hesitates is lost. Winters had made his decision, but he did not know how much weight his authority carried.

“No! Stop the wagons!” Winters called for the convoy to halt and ordered the men, “Unload the golden idol.”

He thought for a moment and added, “Bury it.”

…

Before dawn, Colonel Jeska’s troop returned safely to North Bridge Fortress with the spoils of war.

Whether they could ride horses or not, everyone was on horseback.

About an hour later, in the early morning.

The sentries of North Bridge Fortress were surprised to find that their small bridgehead fortress was completely surrounded by Herders.

A red-faced Herder, pointing with a long spear, demanded negotiations, and he even brought a Translator with him.

Winters, accompanied by the young Hunter, left the camp.

“[Herde Language] Hand over the golden idol sacrificed to the heavens, and you shall live today,” said the red-faced Herder man bluntly: “[Herde Language] An egg struck against a rock will only shatter.”

Winters had received the answer he wanted and he laughed loudly: “You want it? Come and get it yourself.”

With that, he turned his horse and left, no longer engaging in conversation with the Herders.