Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 207 The Final Act (Part 2)

The piercing sound of gongs echoed throughout every corner of the fortress, a signal for retreat, signifying that [the cannons had been destroyed].

The barbarians inside the fortress were astonished to find that the two-legged people who had been fighting them to the death just a moment ago were now running away.

The Paratians surged into the breach like a tide, and then receded like a tide.

Run! Run! Run for your life! Run back to the camp and you'll live!

This is what everyone thinks.

Because the white lion has arrived.

The barbarians inside the fortress are already too many to handle. If barbarian reinforcements are added, the raiding force will be wiped out in an instant.

However, the barbarian reinforcements did not rush into the fortress, but instead moved between the fortress and the main camp.

Does the White Lion intend to devour this isolated army whole? Or does he have a grander plan?

Winters no longer had the energy to think about it.

He made a makeshift stretcher out of spears and clothes, and together with Heinrich, they carried the barely alive Andrei and ran wildly down the hillside towards the camp.

The moonlight was dim, and I couldn't see the road at all. I could only run with uneven steps.

Winters' legs felt as heavy as lead, and his armor seemed to weigh a ton.

He gritted his teeth and took one step at a time. The surviving members of Jessica's squadron followed behind him.

Winters suddenly tripped over something and felt as if he were flying.

He glided for less than a second before crashing heavily to the ground.

Heinrich cried out in surprise and, along with the other soldiers, hurriedly helped the centurion to his feet.

The blunt force injury he had just suffered was starting to ache; every muscle on Winters' body ached, and the pain was so intense it felt itchy.

He could no longer distinguish between phantom pain and physical feedback.

For a moment, he really wanted to just lie on the ground and stay there forever.

But he still struggled to his feet.

"How is Andrei?" he asked.

"It's alright!" Heinrich quickly replied, "I didn't hit Centurion Cellini!"

Winters unhooked the hook and ripped off the helmet.

Stray bullets, flying arrows... he was too lazy to worry about them anymore; all he wanted to do was breathe some fresh air.

Clear shouts and gunshots came from the direction of the main camp, and Winters saw flashes of fire near the camp wall.

Clearly, the barbarian soldiers who had surrounded the main camp were engaged in battle with the defending troops.

The white lion not only wanted to devour the troops attacking the fortress, but also wanted to break through the main camp in one fell swoop—or at least see if there was an opportunity to take advantage of the situation.

From the direction of the fortress behind them, shouts of battle and the sounds of clashing weapons could also be heard.

That was Robert's rearguard battalion fighting the pursuing barbarian soldiers.

With wolves in front and tigers behind, if there was previously an opportunity to "take advantage of the enemy's incomplete encirclement and use the time difference to retreat back to the camp," then...

So now Winters can conclude that it's too late.

"Too late!" Winters spat. "Get the team together! Fight back!"

Winters stopped, and the other warriors beside him also stopped.

The militiamen came running up one after another, all of them exhausted.

The fully equipped JSKA battalion consisted of 660 militiamen and 5 officers.

Having fought their way back to Styx from Bianli, Winters now had fewer than three hundred men left who could still breathe.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica rushed to the front of the line.

Seeing this, the lieutenant colonel took the battalion flag from the flag bearer: "Everyone, line up here at the flag!"

The militiamen dragged their weary bodies, inching their way toward the military flag.

At this moment, the sound of horses' hooves could be heard from all directions to the west, but the thunderous sound of hooves in front was clearly getting closer and closer.

Everyone felt as if they had been whipped on the back, squeezing out their last bit of strength to run towards the military flag.

The Jessica squad had completely lost its formation; they were all packed together, elbow to elbow and shoulder to shoulder, desperately trying to squeeze into the center.

Even if they form a square formation, what then? Without extra-long spears, everyone only has short weapons and muskets. How can they fight against barbarian cavalry?

The sound of horses' hooves grew closer, and the crowd became increasingly panicked.

With people packed so close together, the arquebusiers couldn't fire at all. The swordsmen and shieldmen couldn't fight either.

"Musketeers!" Winters shouted through a megaphone, "Get outside!"

Mason was equally anxious, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Musketeers! Get outside!"

The crowd was like a headless fly; how could it possibly change formation?

Shouting was useless; Winters took action directly, pulling the musketeers out of the human wall one by one.

But the sound of horses' hooves was getting closer and closer, and it was too late.

"It's us! Don't shoot!" the intruder shouted.

Pierre burst into the night, with the Dussacs close behind. Among the Dussac light cavalry were also some pistol-wielding horsemen.

"What's going on?" Wintes asked, reining in Pierre's warhorse.

After the order to retreat was given, the Platonic cavalry were the first to disengage from the battle. Winters assumed they had safely returned to their camp.

“The barbarians are blocking the way! We’ve gotten separated from Lieutenant Colonel Caster!” Pierre replied curtly, “The barbarians are coming this way!”
Behind Pierre, an even more terrifying sound of hooves was approaching.

In the center of the crowd, Lieutenant Colonel Jessica, holding the military flag aloft, suddenly roared: "Musketeers, stand! Everyone else, lie down!"

Upon hearing this order, everyone was at a loss.

Suddenly, Winters had a flash of inspiration.

"Down! All down!" he ordered through a megaphone. "Musketeers, stand! Only musketeers are allowed to stand!"

The magically amplified sound reached everyone's ears clearly.

Whether they understood it or not, the militiamen instinctively obeyed Centurion Montane's orders.

One person lay down on the ground, and others followed suit, and more and more people lay down.

The crowded people loosened up—because lying down required more space than standing, and the formation began to expand outwards.

Mason also understood what Lieutenant Colonel Jessica meant.

"Musketeers, don't lie down!" Lieutenant Mason yanked the musketeer off the ground. "Get up! Cowards will be executed!"

Soon, only the musketeers remained standing on the hillside; everyone else had shifted to a prone position.

The shooting space that didn't exist before, we now have.

"Prepare the matchlock! Load the ammunition! Fire on my command!" Winters roared as he walked. "Everyone else! Stand up on my order!"

The musketeers seemed to wake from a dream, and they took out paper packets containing gunpowder and lead bullets and began the loading process.

"Mr. Mitchell!" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica, in the center of the circle, roared at Pierre, "You're in command of the cavalry! Take them to the back!"

Pierre raised his hand in salute from a distance, blew a whistle, and led the cavalry toward the hillside.

The thunderous sound of hooves grew closer, and this time it wasn't their own cavalry, but ferocious barbarians. One rider, two riders... Hart's light cavalry filed out from the night.

Seeing the strange formation of the Parat people, the barbarian at the front was both surprised and suspicious, and for a moment dared not move forward.

However, with the arrival of a Red Feathered One on the battlefield, the barbarians' actions became more organized.

Of the more than three hundred barbarian cavalry, about a hundred dismounted and took something from their backs.

Winters saw clearly that the barbarians were carrying muskets; they were mounted musketeers.

The barbarian musketeers loaded their ammunition and attached their matchlocks, then pressed closer and closer to the JSKA battalion.

The remaining two hundred or so cavalrymen split into two groups, flanking from the left and right.

A hundred riders could surround them, enough to encircle ten thousand people.

The thunderous sound of horses' hooves came from all directions, and some of the militiamen lying on the ground desperately buried their heads in the grass, as if that would save them from disaster.

The barbarian musketeers moved to about sixty meters and began firing at the JSKA battalion.

Lead pellets flew everywhere, and musketeers were shot down one after another.

If we engage in a shootout with the barbarians, we'll be playing right into their hands.

"Aim at their cavalry! Don't be afraid!" Winters estimated the distance to the barbarian cavalry: "Musketeers! Ready!"

Fifty meters.

Some Paratists prayed, trembling.

Forty meters.

The sound of horses' hooves was deafening.

Thirty meters.

Winters could already see the heat emanating from the enemy's warhorses.

He yelled, "Fire!"

Every Paratul musketeer pressed the firing lever without hesitation.

The sound of over two hundred muskets firing was like the sound of a single gun.

The barbarian cavalry at the forefront were felled like wheat being harvested by a scythe.

The barbarian cavalry behind them gritted their teeth, lowered their bodies, and continued to charge forward.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica roared, "Stand up! Everyone!"

"Stand up!" Winters pulled the soldier beside him to his feet, activated his amplification spell, and shouted the order: "Stand up!"

The militia cannot carry out such tactical orders, nor can the standing army.

But Winters' warriors trusted him as much as they trusted their own eyes and hands.

Upon hearing Winters' order, the Montagne soldiers stood up without hesitation.

Some militiamen dared not get up, but more militiamen followed the Montagne fighters and got up.

Like dragon teeth planted in the ground that grow into warriors, the Parat people "emerged" from the earth.

No words can adequately describe the shock the barbarians felt.

The barbarian cavalry were within arm's reach of the Jaska squadron; all they needed to do was ram them.

The soldier standing on the outermost edge had already closed his eyes.

However, nothing happened.

The barbarian's warhorse neighed, raising its front hooves high, almost standing on its hind legs.

The lead barbarian cavalry stopped less than three meters from the JSK squadron.

Was it the rider who was afraid, or the warhorse?
Winters didn't know, but he saw an opportunity.

Only a few barbarian cavalrymen were unable to slow down and charged into the crowd. The riders were thrown off their saddles, and several militiamen who were unable to dodge were also sent flying.

The barbarian charge did not have the expected power, and the Parat people did not collapse.

The fight turned into a fair melee.

"Kill!" Winters charged at the enemy, sword in hand.

"Uukhai!" Every warrior in the Jesska battalion raised their weapons and charged toward the nearest barbarian.

"Uukhai!" Even the musketeers swung their rifle butts and charged at the enemy with shouts.

The barbarians also came to their senses. Although their charge had been interrupted, they still had the strength to fight.

The barbarian on horseback, positioned high above, wielded his curved sword, capable of severing arms and necks with a single strike.

The soldiers of the Jessica Battalion grabbed the reins of their warhorses and frantically stabbed the enemy with their swords.

The gunshots rang out incessantly; it wasn't the Paratu people firing, but the barbarian musketeers.

Lead pellets flew wildly, and it was unclear who they hit; both sides were fighting what they perceived as their enemy.

"Ura!" Pierre led the last of his cavalrymen down the hillside.

He did not join the melee—in the darkness the Paratus could not distinguish friend from foe and killed anyone on horseback—but instead bypassed the battlefield and charged toward the barbarian musketeers behind him.

Behind the barbarian musketeers came battle shouts, and more than twenty black-armored cavalrymen charged in a straight line with a momentum that surpassed that of a thousand troops: "Uukhai!"

Without any hesitation, the black-armored cavalrymen smashed through the ranks of the barbarian musketeers.

Lieutenant Colonel Custer is back too!
"Lieutenant Montagne!" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica pulled Winters out of the melee.

"We did it!" Winters gasped for breath, unable to hide his excitement. "We did it! The barbarians are terrified!"

"It's not over yet!" Lieutenant Colonel Jessica handed the regimental flag to Winters: "Lieutenant Montagne! You'll lead the vanguard!"

"Yes, sir!" Winters saluted earnestly.

Lieutenant Colonel Jessica seemed to be smiling as he fastened Winters' helmet and tapped him lightly: "Don't be so reckless next time."

"Understood." Winters nodded repeatedly. Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's sudden gentleness made him a little uncomfortable.

A gunshot suddenly rang out in the distance.

All around him were shouts, screams, and the clash of weapons. Winters shouldn't have noticed the gunshot, but he heard it clearly.

He also heard a sharp whooshing sound, and it seemed like a gust of wind brushed against his face.

Then came a crisp "ping," a sound Winters recognized—the sound of a lead bullet shattering against armor.

Lead fragments even splattered onto Winters' visor.

Winters closed his eyes, but he did not feel the impact of the lead bullet.

He opened his eyes in shock: "Lieutenant Colonel! You..."

“Winters…” Lieutenant Colonel Jessica was unusually calm, even more so than usual: “I…I think I can’t see…”

[We suggest you refresh the page before viewing.]
[Originally, "The Final Act" should have only two parts, but Lieutenant Colonel Jessica's "exit" should have been given a chapter.]

Of course, this doesn't mean Lieutenant Colonel Jan Jessica will leave the story altogether, but he will temporarily depart from the stage. Losing his other eye is also a fate shared by Jan Jessica in a parallel universe. This suddenly gives the story a touch of fatalism.
Regarding the tactical maneuver of "lying down," this simple action appeared on the battlefield earlier than most people imagine. The common perception is that soldiers began "lying down" after the widespread use of explosives and rifled guns in the 19th century.

In fact, Swiss mercenaries were already using the "lying down" maneuver at least as early as the Battle of Ceresole in 1554. I recall the Spanish tercio also used a similar tactic. Soldiers lay prone on the ground, letting enemy bullets and cannonballs fly overhead.

However, this tactic places high demands on morale and initiative. If a unit has low morale and initiative, once they lie down, they probably won't get up again…

Morale and initiative are highly variable, with a very high ceiling and a very low floor. Frederick the Great's troops were once described as having soldiers who would desert as soon as they dispersed on the battlefield—though this could be an enemy accusation. There are also examples of troops with high morale, such as the heroes of the Sixty-Two War.
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(End of this chapter)