Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 819 - 81 Cannon

Chapter 819: Chapter 81: Cannon Chapter 819: Chapter 81: Cannon The gates fell, and the drawbridge rose, trapping the armored soldiers from Terdun who had breached the city gates in a deathtrap.

The crisp clash of steel blades pierced through the sound of horse hooves, carrying far into the distance; flashes of fire intermittently flickered within the city, likely the red flames of gunshot.

“There must be interlocking walls inside the city,” the man by the fire said, his face showing displeasure, “Where are those who pledged their allegiance? Bring him over!”

Without another word, the archer quickly led his men to look for Red Dog.

Old Translator, not particularly surprised, sat steadily on his horseback, observing the battle, and confidently stated, “It seems that those defending the city indeed don’t have many troops; otherwise, they wouldn’t resort to such risky tactics.”

The Hundred-Men Squad leading the assault were ambushed, making the situation seem unfavorable for the people of Terdun.

However, “a pouch of water can quench thirst, a pool of water can drown a person,” those from Terdun who broke into the city were the fiercest and bravest armored guards. Trapped in a desperate situation, they would inevitably fight to the death.

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Taking down the leading guards would cost the defending troops a few teeth. Working together from inside and outside, on the contrary, was an opportunity to breach the city.

Luring the enemy into the trap was a risky move, and the slightest mishap could backfire.

In Old Translator’s memory, there were hardly any defending forces that would actively let enemies into the city.

Even commanders with rationality would not take such a risk, not to mention dealing with a small city surrounded by merely a simple, low earthen wall.

“Rebel officer named Mason, are you incredibly bold,” Old Translator wondered, “or are you driven to a desperate jump?”

If Mason himself heard Old Translator’s question, he would probably just smile helplessly and not respond.

The subsequent development of the battle made the man by the fire even more furious—the city walls were low and the moat not deep, yet the troops from the Terdon Tribe halted at the edge of the moat, unable to advance.

From the vantage point of the man by the fire, frequent flashes of red light and the sound of fierce fighting came from inside the southern gate, while almost no muzzle flashes were seen along the city wall.

This meant the leading guards who had entered the city were still fighting the defenders and had attracted a large section of the defending army.

The other Hundred-Men Squads outside the city should have taken this chance to reach the city walls immediately, attacking from both the inside and the outside together with the leading guards to capture the city.

Yet, every Hundred-Men Squad stopped at the edge of the moat and would not advance further.

To the man by the fire, the walls of Revodan were barely taller than a person, and even with armor, climbing over them shouldn’t be difficult.

However, the actual scene witnessed by the people of Terdun standing at the edge of the moat was different:

Ahead, the earthen wall and the moat merged seamlessly; the wall and the moat’s sides formed a continuous plane with no “corners” as boundaries.

From the ground level, this wall was merely taller than a person and hardly noticeable.

But once inside the moat, the depth of the moat added onto the height of the wall would instantly make it more than twice the height of a person—that was not something humans could easily climb over.

Designed by Richard Mason himself, the defensive works of Revodan featured walls 2 meters high, with a moat 2.5 meters deep and 4 meters wide. The bottom of the moat was lined with a series of sharp wooden stakes; once down, there was no coming back up.

Those from Terdun outside the moat listened to the gunshots and screams from inside, unarmed with any siege equipment, and could only shoot arrows toward the source of the sounds blindly.

The leading armored guards climbed the wall and fell into the moat, either dying on impact or being pierced alive by the wooden stakes.

The men from Terdun circled the walls urgently looking for places where they could land and climb up.

In desperation, a young and reckless man from Terdun harshly spurred his Warhorse, charging toward the moat.

The Warhorse, in pain, leaped high at the edge of the city moat.

The rider stepped on the Warhorse’s back mid-air and daringly jumped onto the city wall. The poor Warhorse, unable to escape the laws of fall, crashed heavily into the bottom of the moat, instantly impaled and killed by the stakes.

The other men from Terdun, both shocked and admiring, did not dare to follow suit.

Soon, the reckless young man who had jumped onto the city wall climbed back up, covered in blood. He had barely revealed his upper body when invisible hands dragged him back, followed by a few screams before quickly going silent.

The city wall stood like a gate between two worlds; those outside from Terdun had no idea what was happening inside.

They shot arrows, cursed, and shouted, but the wall absorbed it all, responding only with silence.

Before long, the sounds of fighting inside gradually quieted down, causing several red-feathered men at the edge of the moat to sink their hearts.

Soon, dark muzzles protruded from the city wall—Mason, having dealt with the enemies inside, finally had the time to address the barbarians outside.

Old-time city walls were built tall and strong, not only to increase the difficulty for besiegers but also because height was a weapon in itself.

The concept is simple, even children understand it: the higher the position from which an object is dropped, the stronger the destructive power.

But as firearms began to be slowly employed in siege warfare, military engineers soon realized that towering walls were not only fragile but also ineffective for the power of firearms.

Gunpowder-driven bullets traveled much faster than arrows, had greater impact, and could even penetrate through bodies continuously.

Besides the trajectory fall during flight, bullets that travel closer to the ground made the cannons more lethal. From the standpoint of maximizing firepower, perhaps shorter walls were better.

Thus, the low wall integrated with a moat gradually took center stage.

This design wasn’t a new gimmick. Outer fortifications of the old-time defensive system—retaining walls, low outer walls, and parapets—all had similar structures.

But applying the integrated wall and moat as the main city wall structure was a complete breakthrough of the new era.

This wall was Richard Mason’s “gift” to those from Terdun, who remained stuck in the old times, using a design of the new era.

Undeterred, those from Terdun still tried to use bows and arrows to harm the defending forces behind the wall; however, two thunderous booms extinguished all their fight.

At the focal area of the attack and defense—the outside of the southern city gate, two blasts enveloped with shards of stone and scrap iron swept across the ground.

The injured Warhorse neighed in panic and bolted away; the rider who was hit fell off the saddle, his clothing slowly soaked with blood from the blackened holes.

Standing atop a wooden platform, musketeers who were only half-visible above the wall also opened fire.

“[Herde Language] Great Thunder!” Amidst the smoke and continuous screams, someone exclaimed, “[Herde Language] The bipeds have Great Thunder!”

[Note: Herders refer to gunpowder weapons as ‘Thunder,’ with muskets generally known as Great Thunder, cannons as Small Thunder, so throwing grenades is called Black Thunder]

The distance was too close, and the people of the Terdon Tribe near the trench were almost blasted in the forehead by two cannon shots from the defenders.

No one understood the destructive power of cannons better than the people of the Terdon Tribe, who had tasted the bloody water of assault during the battle in the Great Wilderness.

Cannons, city walls, and resolute defenders—though this city wasn’t impregnable, it certainly wasn’t meat to be easily seized by the people of the Terdon Tribe either.

Seeing that the situation was hopeless, another leader from Hong Lingyu gritted his teeth and ordered a retreat.

The sound of the bugle resonated, and the attackers at the south gate of the Terdon Tribe began retreating, dragging corpses and wounded, quickly disengaging from their feigned attacks upon hearing the bugle sound.

Revodan’s New Town fell into prolonged silence until the barbarians’ hoofbeats gradually faded away.

“Did we win?” asked a militiaman timidly.

“We won!” Mason affectionately patted his third-generation wooden cannon.

Instantly, New Town erupted into cheers, the survivors crying and shouting.

For the majority of the militia, who had been laborers just the day before, they had barely done anything, yet this did not diminish their joy and sense of happiness.

The fervent emotions spread across St. George River, infecting the anxious citizens of Old City waiting for news.

In the northern bank’s Old Town, every household was knocking on doors and windows, the sounds of cheer floated back across the river to the southern city.

The faithful waiting at Revodan Cathedral prayed in unison, praising the Savior.

While Revodan’s real savior was, at that moment, meticulously checking his heavy cannon.

The first-generation wooden cannon comprised a raw log encased in an iron tube, which could only be used a few times before it became scrap.

The second-generation wooden cannon advanced further, simply a hollow wooden post for one-time use.

But the third-generation wooden cannon was a genuine cannon, and it should no longer be referred to as a “wooden cannon.”

With the full support of Forging Village, the third-generation wooden cannon was forged around a well-honed iron barrel. The process resembled the forging of a gun barrel.

The original gun barrels were then tightly wrapped with iron hoops and belts before having fresh, tough wood cores hammered into them to further reduce the likelihood of bursting.

Though the tri-layer structure—iron, leather, wood—made the cannon cumbersome, it posed no significant issue in city defense.

“Well done,” Mason noted after a thorough inspection, not finding any cracks or signs of air leakage.

He then ordered his subordinates to cool down the barrel with grease since the three-layer wrapping structure caused poor heat dissipation.

The captain of the artillery looked at his “beautiful daughters,” thinking slightly proudly, “I’m truly a genius.”

At the same time, on the northern bank of St. George River, Anna, Catherine, and Mrs. Mitchell arrived at Revodan Cathedral.

Catherine held Anna’s hand tightly, as if fearing that releasing it would cause her sister to disappear.

Anna felt the same, with warmth from Catherine’s palm reminding her that she still had a sister at least.

The Navarre sisters were not new to war, but they had never been this close to it before.

Merely by standing across the river and watching from afar, both ladies’ hearts clenched tightly. Occasionally, even grimmer possibilities crossed their minds.

But they couldn’t—and didn’t—show any sign of worry.

To everyone else, one was Lady Montaigne, and the other was Lady Montaigne’s sister. Any negative emotion they showed would be interpreted, magnified, and then spread throughout their small city.

In this respect, Catherine handled it better than Scarlett and even Anna.

Scarlett rarely hid her emotions; her feelings towards her father, brothers, and Winters were nearly written on her face. In her view, expressing emotions openly didn’t mean weakness.

Catherine quickly adapted to this burden. While Anna was busy helping Mason manage the camp for women and children, it was Catherine who accompanied Mrs. Mitchell to meet with the women of Revodan, infusing confidence into them with her smile, and spreading that confidence further.

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Because Anna disliked these occasions, Lady Navarre easily tired of salons, tea parties, complimentary words, and polite smiles—Miss Navarre, on the other hand, thrived on them.

In some ways, they each had inherited half of their mother’s persona.

Mrs. Mitchell led Anna and Catherine through the crowd to the altar of the cathedral.

Anna joined Mrs. Mitchell in carefully placing candles on the altar, praying in silence.

In this small city on the edge of the world, Mrs. Mitchell, like a mother, sheltered Anna and Catherine under her wings.

“What are you praying for?” Catherine asked.

Mrs. Mitchell looked at the two children with compassion: “I pray… that you never have to become strong.”

…

When the Terdon Tribe’s first attempt at storming the city was repelled, Winters’s first counterattack had already commenced.

He watched as Samujin’s fleet left the Niutigu Valley and drifted downstream.