Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 790 - 68 Eve_3

Chapter 790: Chapter 68 Eve_3 Chapter 790: Chapter 68 Eve_3 “Speak!”

“Vernge County has become a mess, sending twelve messengers a day to ask for assistance. The border of Mirror Lake County is also unstable…”

“Can they do it or not?” Colonel Bod slammed the table and bellowed, “Just say it, be quick about it!”

“After the battle in mid-September, a large part of the conscripted defense forces was disbanded and is currently regrouping. The Military Command’s view is that, to be on the safe side, troops should be dispatched from Maplestone City and take the northern route. First, repel the Herders of Vernge County, then move on to subdue Iron Peak County…”

“What about the defense forces of Riverside County, Mont Blanc County, and Thunder Group County?” Colonel Bod’s brows knitted tightly together, “You can’t move, and neither can they?!”

“If necessary, we can take in refugees from Iron Peak County; the provisional battle plan…still involves setting up defenses along the Anya River line.” Colonel Chloe’s expression was complex, “Senior, the situation in Iron Peak County…it’s already at that stage, and if the Herders break through Anya River and enter Mont Blanc County…that would truly be like letting the Herders stick a knife right into our belly…”

Colonel Chloe went on and on about the reasoning, but Colonel Bod stayed silent.

...

In the end, Colonel Chloe stopped talking as well, and both sat in silence.

“Right, weren’t you going back to Kingsfort?” Colonel Chloe said with a forced smile to Colonel Bod, “The legion has already arranged for your carriage, escort, and credentials. They welcome you back at Kingsfort and even said they want to invite you into the new Army Committee as a permanent member, and there’s also a promotion…”

“Hahaha.” Colonel Bod suddenly burst into uproarious laughter, his merriment surprisingly carefree and blissful, leaving Colonel Chloe somewhat at a loss.

“You?” Colonel Chloe asked with some concern, “What’s wrong?”

“In the end…” Colonel Bod said, still laughing heartily, “…you all still have ambition without the capacity, strategy without the talent! Damn it, you’re not even as good as Alpad, that guy whose guts are as straightforward as a fart!”

Colonel Chloe was taken aback.

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“I don’t need your carriage, escort, or credentials.” Colonel Bod stood up and straightened his attire a bit, “Give me three horses and a bag of army rations; I can manage on my own.”

An hour later.

The drawbridge of Maplestone City slowly lowered, and an old one-armed soldier galloped out of the city, swiftly disappearing into the distance.

…

At about the same time, far to the west of Maplestone City—in the Terdon Tribe’s winter pasture, another story was unfolding.

The Herders call the winter pasture “winter nest,” typically choosing lower ground near rivers or valleys surrounded by hills.

In short, they would go wherever it was better to spend the winter.

As one of the three great tribes, the Terdon naturally occupied one of the best winter pastures. Their pasture bordered the Ashen Stream River—probably the lowest and warmest place in the wilderness during winter.

Although this year’s winter had arrived a bit late, it had finally come. At a glance, the winter pasture had already turned to hues of withered yellow, with not a hint of green to be seen.

In this ocean of yellow and green was an unremarkable little hillock, where seven felt tents were pitched against the wind, with wagons encircling them from the outside.

Seven felt tents, dozens of cattle, around a hundred horses, and several hundred sheep—this was about the size of a “small tribe” in Herder society.

Such micro-tribes were typically held together by kinship, supporting two or three full-time warriors, as part of a small family within a larger tribe, capable of mustering several dozen subjects or slaves in times of war.

Because of the practice of spreading out for winter, the freemen of the tribe did not stay here but were scattered throughout the pastures in a radius of tens of kilometers.

But at this moment, hundreds of horses were quietly grazing on the hillside, far more than the number a family with seven tents should have.

In the camp, some were slaughtering sheep, and others were heating stones for cooking: putting fresh lamb meat into sheepskin bags, adding a little water and salt, and then placing hot stones inside before tying the bags shut tightly.

Quietly lying around outside the camp were more than twenty bodies of men and women.

A man came down from the hillside, cursing under his breath.

The wind was strong, and the man was wrapped tightly all over, with only a handsome face exposed.

The man yanked open the tent flap, his delicate features grotesque with emotion, “Damn it, I’ve pissed blood! Are we there yet? Do we need to go further west?”

Another tall man sat inside the tent, silently shaving with a military saber.

“Who’s there to admire your looks?” The handsome man said, unable to contain his irritation, “Is there anyone to see?”

“Just today,” the tall man replied, putting down the saber, “No need to go further west.”

“Great!” The handsome man was overjoyed, “Do you know where we are?”

“I don’t,” said the tall man, taking off his ill-fitting robe and carefully extracting a Piaoqi Cavalry uniform from his saddlebag, meticulously brushing off dust and smoothing out wrinkles, “We’ll make do where we are.”

When Lieutenant Andreya Chelini emerged from the tent, he was dressed in the full regalia of a Piaoqi Cavalryman.

The sound of the bugle resonated from the hillside, as Cavalrymen gathered and formed lines from all around the camp.

Sometime later, nearly a hundred Cavalrymen rode off, and a great fire rose from the base of the hill.

…

Only when the battlefield on the west bank was cleared did Winters return to the side of Big Horn River with Xial and Heinrich.

The tense look on Samukhin’s face finally broke into a smile, the immense invisible weight on his chest shattering abruptly.

Without waiting for Samukhin to report the victory, Winters, exhausted to the point of collapsing, pulled a large, blood-stained, woolen mass from his saddlebag and threw it to Samukhin, “Get someone to clean it up.”

Samukhin looked it over several times before figuring out what he was holding in his hands. His eyes widened suddenly, “This… how did you manage to take this…”

Before Samukhin could say anything else, Winters slumped over on his horse.

The people hastened to help the civil guardian.

“Two beacons, one white, one gray,” Bart Xialing reported, “The main forces of the Terdun people have gone around Iron Peak County; they’re here.”

“Good,” was the response.

People only heard the civil guardian utter a single word, then realized that the civil guardian had lost consciousness.