Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 275 Raging Fire
fire.

The fire burned all the way to the horizon.

Fueled by the monsoon, the fire burned in a line, sweeping eastward and disappearing from sight in the blink of an eye.

The wild animals trapped inside the fire scattered and fled in all directions like madmen, while marmots and rats were driven by instinct to dig deeper.

Thick smoke billowed straight into the sky. The smog, carried by the westerly wind, flew all the way to Tiefeng County, dozens of kilometers away.

Lieutenant Andrea Cellini spat out the soot in his mouth and, expressionless, spurred his horse across the scorched earth burned by the fire.

The air was scorching hot, the lingering smoke was choking, the horses were restless and snorting, and Andrei's men were coughing incessantly as well.

Setting up the fire didn't require too many people, so Andrei divided his men into five teams, each heading to a different part of the no-man's-land.

"The fire over there has shrunk." Andrei pointed to a hillside to the northeast: "Go and fix it."

The two cavalrymen saluted, then mounted their horses and rode away.

Fires are not uncommon on the grasslands; a lightning strike or a moment of carelessness can bring down the wrath of the fire god.

However, for the Hed people, deliberately setting fire to provoke the wrath of the gods was unprecedented and unheard of.

Unlike forest fires that burn high into the sky, grassland fires have low flames, looking like a low wall from a distance.

The tall vegetation of the forest hinders the flow of the wind, while the vast grassland allows the gale to sweep across the land with raging fire.

Especially in windy weather, the flames spread at an alarming speed.

The panicked animals either got caught by the bursting flames or collapsed while running.

Andrei's warhorse stepped on a rock, and the horse's hooves scraped away the charred surface of the rock, revealing the dark red tender flesh inside.

Andrei stared at the "stone" carefully—it should be a small antelope. The poor little creature was born in spring, grew up in the height of summer, and perished in the fire before it even experienced its first winter.

Gently pulling the reins around the carcass of the little antelope, Andrei looked around. The once vibrant grassland had been burned into a hellish wasteland.

The earth was scorched black, with only a few dark red embers flickering like the gasps of a dying man.

The sound of horses' hooves came from afar, and a troop of cavalry was galloping toward Andrei.

"It's Commander A," the guard hurriedly reported to Andrei.

Don Juan led his cavalry at breakneck speed to Andrei.

"Let's go!" Lieutenant Juan said casually to his junior, "The barbarians are already heading this way."

Andrei gripped the reins, his face expressionless. After a long silence, he slowly spoke: "Not enough."

"Not enough?" Don Juan asked, puzzled. "What's not enough?"

"Not enough firewood."

Don Juan was first surprised, then burst into laughter, and finally laughed loudly, looking up at the sky: "At least hundreds of thousands of hectares of grassland have been burned, isn't that enough? The grassland is so big, how could it all be burned clean? That's enough."

After saying this, Don Juan called to the cavalry of Iron Peak County: "Ahead is a fire, behind is the enemy. Let's head north, bypass the fire, and return to Iron Peak County via Vaughan County."

"Yes, sir!" the cavalrymen answered in unison.

Iron Peak County is upstream, and Vaughan County is downstream. The further downstream you go, the larger the water volume of the [Big Horn River - Glorious River] becomes, and the more difficult it is to cross.

Therefore, Winters ordered his cavalry to focus on burning the grasslands upstream—the border between Lower Iron Peak and Middle Iron Peak.

The cavalry squadrons in Tiefeng County had limited manpower, so they had no time to attend to the upper Tiefeng County and the areas further north.

“Let’s go.” Don Juan tugged at Andrei’s sleeve. “Are you addicted to this?”

“Not enough fire.” Andrei’s eyes were cold. “The fire is good, but the wind direction is wrong.”

"What do you mean?" Don Juan released his grip.
Andrei pointed with his riding crop at the thick smoke rising from the fire: "The summer wind blows from the west, and the winter wind blows from the east. We are on the east side, and the Harts are on the west side. If we burn like this, it will only burn the pasture and reach Iron Peak County, but it won't reach the Harts."

"Then what can we do?" Don Juan sneered. "We can't exactly ask the Lord to grant a blessing and change the wind, can we?"

"Senior."

"what's up?"

“If you want to burn the Heds, you have to go further west from the Heds.” Andrei’s expression was calm: “Give me all your cavalry’s warhorses.”

"What do you want to do?" Don Juan asked, his face grim. "Are you fucking crazy?"

Andrei did not answer.

"The west?" Don Juan pointed and demanded, "The barbarians are sweeping in like a net, with Hart's light cavalry everywhere. How are you going to get across?"

Andrei did not answer.

“Even if you manage to break through that net, further west is still barbarian territory.” Don Juan grabbed Andrei’s collar and pressed him relentlessly: “No guide, no language, enemies on all sides, how will you survive?”

Andrei still did not answer.

"No rear, no support, not even a plan!" Don Juan roared. "What kind of rubbish is this? One wrong step and the whole army is wiped out! Reckless, stupid, and utterly clueless!"

Andrei asked casually, "So, are you coming with me?"

“Go,” Don Juan replied with a grin.

……

The thick smoke from the burning grasslands drifted dozens of kilometers away, and Chanzigang was shrouded in smog.

Shovel Harbor Mayor Potal coughed as he entered the church, loudly complaining, "Damn it! What kind of weather is this? Where on earth is this fire?"

Mr. Alpha sat in the chair in front of the altar, looking at a notice with great interest.

Upon hearing Potal's vulgar language, Mr. Alpha pointed to the emblem without looking up: "Watch your words, Mr. Potal."

Mayor Potal hurriedly made the ceremony.

"What are you looking at?" Mayor Potal asked with a fawning smile.

"This?" Mr. Alpha waved the notice in his hand: "The Guide to Preparing for Enemy Enemies, sent by Zhevodan this morning."

The heads of the Teldun people were sent to various villages and towns for display, along with a "Communication Bulletin" and a "Guide to Preparing for Capture".

Because there are many heads in Shovel Harbor, there is no "head relay" document; only announcements and guidelines are issued.

In the supplementary "Communication Bulletin," the rebels enthusiastically proclaimed their victory at Shovel Harbor to villages and towns throughout Tiefeng County and even neighboring counties.

However, in the announcement, the writer deliberately blurred the lines between the "Shovel Harbour Government" and the "Tie Feng County Government"... This is probably the benefit of having control over the narrative.

"We fought tooth and nail, and the rebels used it to claim credit!" Potal cursed gruffly. "It's fucking infuriating!"

"It can't be considered taking credit. Didn't they also praise the people of Shovel Harbor?" Mr. Alpha tapped the paper lightly. "This guide to preparing for war is rather interesting."

"Interesting?" Mayor Potal was a little confused.

Mr. Alpha pulled out several previous announcements and said with a smile, "Although I'm not sure who wrote them, their ability to create catchy rhymes is getting better and better."

Mayor Potal was even more baffled.

“[Hide your grain, prepare your guns; when the barbarians come, don’t panic]; [Hide and hide from them, just don’t confront them head-on]; [If there are few barbarians, surround and kill them; if there are many barbarians, avoid them]…” Mr. Alpha’s smile was almost impossible to hide: “Actually, it’s a tactic of the ‘forest beggars’ during the Sovereign Wars, which has been turned into a rhyme.”

"Oh," Potal replied, seemingly understanding but not quite.

Potal knew "forest beggar" and "tactics," but he didn't know them together.

However, Potal understood the contents of the guide immediately; it was nothing more than advising the farmers to hide their grain and valuables and to flee into the forest when the barbarians of Hed came.

"Distribute them." Mr. Alpha handed the guide to Portal: "Post them in each village."

"Distribute it? No more interception?" Potal was taken aback. The previous announcement from Ghevodan stated that unless the cavalry were ordered to deliver it to the villages and towns themselves, it would be intercepted and not distributed in Shovel Harbor.

“This guide doesn’t need to be edited.” Alpha smiled faintly. “I couldn’t have written this.”

……

The raging fire threw the entire Teldun tribe into a panic.

When the fire was just starting, the people of Teldun, fifty kilometers away, noticed something amiss—the terrain of the Great Wilderness was flat, and the thick smoke rising into the sky could not be hidden.

The fire-maker hastily summoned the various khotas to the main tent for a meeting.

The Teldun tribe marched in a manner similar to migration, with each Kota occupying a width of several kilometers or even tens of kilometers, depending on the size of their herd.

At this moment, the entire Teldun tribe lay like a long snake across the grasslands stretching over two hundred kilometers.

Therefore, only a handful of leaders were able to arrive at the main tent at that time, most of whom were the blood relatives and direct descendants of the fire-warmers.

"Vicious! What a vicious heart!" the uncle of the fire-gatherer shouted as he entered the tent. "Aren't two-legged people afraid of burning themselves?"

For the Hed people, arson was tantamount to cutting off the lifeline of all living beings, a heinous crime punishable by being torn apart by four horses.

The soil layer on the grassland is already thin, and when it's burned or blown by the wind, it becomes even thinner. Once the grass is burned away, the soil can no longer be held in, and what follows is a yellow disaster—a sandstorm.

The man sitting by the fire sat on the ground with a somber face, not uttering a word.

"Tai Chi, what's the use of saying all this now?" the old interpreter reprimanded the man's uncle who was warming himself by the fire. "Sit down first, let's discuss a solution."

Taichi—the fire-gatherer's uncle—had some respect for the old interpreter, so upon hearing this, he didn't say anything more and simply found a spot to sit down, fuming.

Seeing that most of the people had arrived, the man warming himself by the fire spoke with a livid face: "Those in the tent are either my blood relatives or my companions. You are all my whips, shadows, and arrows. If you have something to say, just say it directly. Don't hide anything."

"What else is there to say?" Taichi roared furiously, "The grasslands have been burned to the ground, so what's the point of us moving slowly? We can either retreat, go around, or charge straight through!"

The other leaders in the tent also murmured their agreement.

The Hurds did not use flour or gunpowder; the physical strength of their horses was their most valuable resource for warfare.

Compared to cattle and sheep, horses are especially precious. If they are not fed or watered properly, a horse can lose nearly 100 pounds of weight in seven days, which is terrifyingly fast.

To conserve the horses' fat, the fire-breastmasters carefully controlled the marching speed, ensuring the horses could eat as they went.

Those who tended the fire even forbade milking the horses—because milking would cause the horses to lose weight.

Lacking mare's milk as a food source, the Teldun had to drive thousands of ewes from their winter pastures to accompany the raiding party. Moving with the sheep also slowed the Teldun's advance.

Ewes are also valuable livestock, and on a long journey, they inevitably die along the way. The people who brought the sheep out by the fire had no intention of taking them back.

With the loss of thousands of ewes, Teldun will lose tens of thousands of lambs in the coming years.

In other words, the cost of looting at the end of November was far higher than the cost of looting in mid-September.

Those who were warming themselves by the fire, and even the Teldun tribe, were taking a huge gamble.

"Retreat, circle around, charge!" the old interpreter shouted. "Tai Chi is right, these are the only three paths we can take!"

The old interpreter changed the subject: "Let's talk about going around in circles first. Which way should we go?"

"Go upstream or downstream." Tai Chi answered without hesitation, "Which other way could we go?"

“I’ve scouted ahead,” the old interpreter said in a deep voice. “The fire is huge; going upstream and going around it will take us into the mountains!”

"Then let's go downstream."

"The downstream route is designated for other leaders."

Tai Chi grunted: "Why don't you just say it directly, that you can't beat around the bush?"

The "marching route" agreed upon beforehand by the fire-warmers was not only the route, but also the "area of ​​plunder."

It goes without saying that it is easier to cross a river upstream than downstream, so the people who were making fires had some selfish motives when allocating the marching route.

Those who tended the fire determined the marching route of the [Bao'er]—that is, their blood relatives and direct descendants—to be upstream;

They also set the marching route of the [Aheta] – those minor leaders who were originally independent but were forced or voluntarily attached to the Teldun tribe – downstream.

The Paratites set fire to the grasslands upstream, which happened to block the path of the fire-maker and his confidants.

“Taking a detour won’t work,” the old translator objected bluntly. “We don’t know how long this fire will burn, and if we take a detour, it could be hundreds of kilometers. Not only will it waste time, but what will the Ahitas think?”

"Hey!" Taichi slammed his fist into his thigh, spitting all the way to the other side of the tent. He cursed, "How did this two-legged man know our movements? Which rotten piece of meat that even crows wouldn't eat leaked the secret? Find this rotten-hearted traitor! Shoot him to death with a thousand arrows!"

The man warming himself by the fire clenched his fists, and everyone in the tent felt a chill run down their spines.

"We'll talk about these things later," the old interpreter said, trying to ease the tension. "In short, the rebels in the newly reclaimed lands already know that you and I are going to plunder. However they found out, they know."

We're like wolves lurking in the grass, spotted before we even get close to the antelope. The antelope's about to run away, and the wolf has only two choices: either conserve its energy and watch it escape, or chase after it and fight. Let's discuss which to choose.

The man tending the fire had a livid face, and no one else—whether his cousins ​​or his confidants—dared to utter a word.

Finally, it was Taichi, the uncle of the person who was warming himself by the fire and who had helped him sit on the "Khan's seat," who spoke first.

Taichi looked at his nephew and said without any mercy, "Enough, you fire-warmer. If the two-legged people to the east know we're going there, then the two-legged people in other places must know too. A wolf that's spotted by an antelope from afar shouldn't be chased in vain."

Our losses aren't too great; a few horses and sheep have died. We can still make it back to our winter pastures. Let the Ahitas go if they want; we should head back now!

The other Kotas in the tent echoed their agreement.

The Fire-Burning Ones may need a major raid to regain their authority, but the other Kotas don't.

More than the illusory spoils of war, the Kotas cared about the horses that died from exhaustion and the sheep that were eaten—even though they were the blood relatives and companions of the fire-gatherers.

The man warming himself by the fire stared intently at his fist, saying nothing.

"What do you mean by not speaking, you who are warming yourself by the fire?" Tai Chi, unable to contain his temper, roared, "If you won't speak, then let's decide by tossing beans!"

The atmosphere inside the tent suddenly cooled down.

The man warming himself by the fire looked up and said coldly, "Anyone who wants to decide by tossing beans, stand up."

No one dared to stand up; even Taichi remained seated.

“We’ve already reached a decision by tossing beans once; there’s no need for a second. My mind is made up. I’ll cross the scorched earth and head straight for the two-legged people’s territory.” The man warming himself by the fire drew an arrow, held it above his head, and snapped it in two with a sudden burst of strength: “Anyone who dares to undermine morale will suffer the same fate as this arrow!”

Tai Chi grunted angrily, turned his head away from the person warming themselves by the fire, but didn't say anything more.

The others in the tent also lowered their heads in obedience.

“Zhukota, there’s no need to worry,” the old interpreter said with a smile. “The rebels have only burned a few dozen kilometers of grassland; you and I can cross it in a few steps. Once we’re across the river and in the rebels’ territory, there will be plenty to eat and drink. If the rebels can burn uninhabited grasslands, would they burn their own land?”

These words brought some comfort to the others in the tent. The group of Baowuer perked up and pressed their left chests in unison, agreeing.

Meanwhile, in the First Military Village of Duanlu Township, Tiefeng County.

Peter Bunier, nicknamed "Shorty," was held down by four or five soldiers. He cried hysterically, "That's my house! Don't burn it! Ah! Don't burn it! Please! Have mercy! Ah..."

Company Commander Tamas stared at the thatched hut in front of him, gritted his teeth, and ordered, "Burn! The resolution has ordered that it all be burned!"

Peter the Short cried out so piercingly that no one had the heart to lay a hand on him.

Tamas snatched a torch and set fire to Peter the Shorty's dilapidated shack.

Flames swirled up the walls and onto the roof, eventually engulfing the entire prefab house. Peter the Short's wails were no longer human.

"Let's go," Tamas said, holding up a torch. "Go burn my house down!"

[I made it...]
[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, donations, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
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(End of this chapter)