Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 303 Enemy
On the Dajiao River, small boats laden with stones drift downstream toward the pontoon bridge.

Meanwhile, in the open fields south of Ghevodan, Dusak [Turin], whose tail had been caught by the Teldun, was galloping wildly on horseback.

Turin kept looking back, and seeing that the barbarian Hed was in hot pursuit, he doubled his effort in stabbing the horse's ribs with his boot spikes.

Driven by intense pain, the warhorse [dark blue-black] went berserk, pounding its hooves against the ground with a loud thud.

Turin stepped up on the stirrups, trying to minimize the burden on the dark blue-black paint.

Its dark blue-black legs are long and powerful, with flawless hooves and ankles; it is a descendant of the Dunhe horse brought from the north thirty years ago.

Tulin cherished his dark blue-black clothes very much, and even rarely used his whip.

But at this moment, Mo Lanhei's abdomen and sides were covered with sweat mixed with blood.

The Telden's warhorses were short and no match for the dark blue-black horses in terms of speed.

But the Hed's warhorses were as tenacious as their masters, and they followed closely behind Mo Lanhei, refusing to give up.

The battlefield was shrouded in mist, and both armies dispatched numerous scouts to search for traces of the enemy.

The scout cavalryman Tulin unexpectedly encountered the Teldun scouts. Seeing that the barbarians outnumbered him, Tulin decisively retreated, but the Teldun men pursued him.

The two sides crossed open fields, streams, and hills, pursuing each other from the southern outskirts of Zhevodan all the way into the territory of Saint-Cheer.

The Teldens wanted to capture Tulin alive, but Tulin was also leading the Teldens into an ambush.

Turin galloped across a deserted farmland and through a country road lined with two rows of birch trees; finally, reinforcements arrived.

More than ten Iron Peak cavalrymen flanked the Teldun from the left and right flanks. The leader rode a fine, reddish-brown steed, none other than the young horseman Anglu.

"[Herd] It's Big Beard!" a Teldun man exclaimed upon recognizing the rider's appearance and signature saber.

With his beard, long hair, and silver earrings, Dusak is easily distinguishable from ordinary Paratists.

The long years of war left a deep impression on the Hud people of these skilled horsemen and fierce fighters. The Hud people even gave Dusak a nickname that was a mixture of hatred and awe – “Big Beard”.

Teldun Red Feather originally intended to retreat, but seeing that there weren't many cavalrymen surrounding him, he had a bolder idea.

He whistled, signaling his men to come closer to him.

Warhorses galloped freely, scimitars whistled, and Anglu led the Dusaks in a fierce battle against the Teldun.

Soon after, the fire-gatherer and the old interpreter learned of this small-scale skirmish.

The man warming himself by the fire stared intently at the red-feathered man before him and questioned him in a deep voice: "[Herd] The two-legged man's tent is in the town to the south? You saw it with your own eyes."

"[Herd's] place is full of shrewd people and cart tracks; there's no faking it." Red Feather replied, pale-faced and grimacing, "[Herd's] there are also many big beards!"

Small-scale cavalry battles are contests of horsemanship and swordsmanship, which Dusak excels at. Red Feather lost half an ear; if it weren't for the iron plate sewn into his sleeve, his arm would have been chopped off as well.

The man who was warming himself by the fire rewarded the man with a gold medal and promised him two tents, valuables, and slaves.

After Red Feather retreated with profuse thanks, the fire-warmer's face suddenly turned gloomy: "[Herd] has already arrived in the south? How could he have come so quickly?"

The old translator stroked his beard, his brow furrowed: "[Hede] Taichi's followers are likely already ashes!"

"[Hett] How could this be?" the man by the fire exclaimed in surprise. "[Hett] It's only been a few days!"

“[Hede] Otherwise, it wouldn’t explain why the other side’s reinforcements came back so quickly.” The old translator’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper.

The man warming himself by the fire slapped his thigh, his eyes flashing with a fierce light: "[Herd] They've come! Perfect, we'll wipe them all out in one fell swoop. Then this place will be ours to plunder!"

"[Hede] If they charge in headfirst like their tails are on fire, then we'll have a big battle. They've just fought a major battle with Taichi's people, they're exhausted and hungry, we could easily crush them." The old interpreter paced back and forth in the tent: "[Hede] But they're stuck in the town to the south, not in a hurry to come back. If you push a bull to the edge of a cliff, it will butt you; we can't fight recklessly."

"[Hede] Then what should we do?" the fire-warmer asked impatiently.

"[Herd] The fox hides in its burrow; if you want its fur, you have to force it out." The old interpreter stopped and said firmly, "[Herd] The biggest knot on the rope is still this small town. If the city on the south bank is in danger, the enemy will have no choice but to come."

The man tending the fire suddenly stood up: "[Herd's words] I will immediately send my troops to attack the city!"

"[Hede] We can't fight too hard, but we must make a big show of it; since the enemy's main camp is in the small town to the south, we should send several hundred cavalry to circle around to their flanks and rear, to kill their able-bodied men and burn their grain carts; we should also send our troops to collect provisions and gather the scattered troops..." the old interpreter slowly added.

The man tending the fire nodded repeatedly. Although he usually addressed the old man as Echige (Father), their relationship was ultimately that of master and slave.

However, in front of the old translator at this moment, the man warming himself by the fire truly seemed like a son receiving his father's teachings.

At the same time, Anglu also brought Tulin to Winters' command post.

Winters' troops assembled in St. John's, with their command post located in the church in St. John's.

As soon as he entered the church, Turin anxiously reported, "Sir! Zhevodan has not fallen yet!"

Because of the church's echo structure, Thulin's voice sounded exceptionally ethereal, and its content was no less profound than the Gospels.

The others in the command center were invigorated. Winters, who was looking down at the map, suddenly looked up and explained the diagram in detail.

The town of Jervodan was completely surrounded by the Teldun, and the south bank was teeming with Teldun scouts.

The transmission of messages between the city and the outside world was completely cut off. The messengers who went around to the north bank had not yet returned. Turin was the first scout under Winters to break through the blockade.

Tulin dared not keep anyone in suspense and claim credit. He looked around at everyone and began to speak loudly and clearly: "The barbarians had many patrols, so I was unable to enter the city. I only caught a glimpse of it from afar on the western hillside. But I can guarantee that the flags flying on the city walls are still our blue army flags, definitely not the barbarian horse tail flags!"

Many of the clerks at the command post were citizens of Zhevodan, whose families lived in the city.

Upon hearing this, the clerks couldn't help but cheer, and the gloom that had accumulated over the past few days was swept away.

The sound spread out of the church, conveying the message that "Gevadane is still holding out."

The soldiers and laborers who were building fortifications around the town threw down their tools and joined in the frenzied shouting and yelling, venting their pent-up emotions.

In the raging sea, only one person remained calm and composed.

Winters tapped his fingertips lightly on the table as he slowly asked Turin, "Is the defense of Ghevordan still intact?"

"Complete!" Tulin answered without hesitation. "The city walls are all intact. There's no fire inside the city either. I even saw carriages and pedestrians moving around on the bridge, as if they were carrying things!"

Bard strode into the church and asked excitedly as soon as he entered, "I heard that Zhevodan is safe and sound? Senior is indeed capable!"

“All is well. Now that our senior has protected Thevordan, we have more options.” Winters unconsciously stroked a small, ungripless knife, lost in thought.

Seeing this, Bard signaled everyone to be quiet, and the church fell silent again.

Winters stood beneath the altar, lost in thought. Sunlight streamed through the mosaic glass walls of the church, casting dappled shadows on him.

The subordinates and clerks watched this scene with devotion, some silently praying in their hearts.

“Bard,” Winters said, enunciating each word clearly, “requisition all men aged fifteen to sixty in Iron Peak County.”

……

Messengers carrying green flags rushed off in all directions, each carrying two orders.

The first order conscripted all men aged 15 to 60 from Zhongtiefeng and Shangtiefeng counties into the militia; all who participated in the war would be given one hectare of land, and those who died in battle would receive three times that amount.

The second order had already spread throughout Saint-Claude Town while it was still being copied.

It had no official name; everyone whispered its nickname with a hint of fear and trembling—the decapitation order.

In Tiefeng County, regardless of gender, age, or whether one is a soldier or civilian, anyone who beheads an enemy and has a helmet and clothing as proof will be given one qing of land.

Land was Winters' capital, and his only capital. But when he needed to use it, Winters was never stingy.

……

Mason also received a message from Winters—the messenger who had crossed the river via Kingsbridge had finally arrived in Ghevord.

“What is this writing?” Mason slammed his hand on the table and sighed, handing the letter to Moritz: “Is this some kind of Venetian spelling?”

The hastily created code was too simple to carry a large amount of information.

However, the risk of interception could not be ignored, so Winters' letter was written in code.

Mason couldn't understand it.

The listless Lieutenant Colonel Moritz took the letter, glanced at it, and simply handed it back: "No."

Food shortages have led to a lack of brewing, causing Moritz to experience severe withdrawal symptoms during this period.

He was fiddling with a small silver flask containing the last bit of strong liquor from the vodka.

The lieutenant colonel was completely absorbed in observing every detail of the wine jug, as if he could quench his thirst simply by touching it.

Only Mason knew that the lieutenant colonel was saving the last bit of strong liquor for battle.

"What else did the tribune Montagne say?" Mason asked the messenger helplessly.

“The tribune said,” the messenger replied, “Go find A and B.”

……

Generally speaking, within the military, A refers to Lieutenant Don Juan, and B represents Moritz.

Don Juan has been missing for some time, but Mason knows there is another A, and this A is in Gevordan right now.

Ms. A—Anna Navarre—took the letter, looked at the garbled letters, and frowned slightly.

Catherine peeked over her sister's shoulder, but she was just as confused.

“It was written by Winters,” Mason said sheepishly. “I think only you can understand it.”

Upon hearing the name of the "bad thing," Anna's eyebrows relaxed, and she replied with a reserved yet slightly shy tone, "Then I think I understand how to interpret it."

Anna then briefly explained the reason, her cheeks growing redder as she spoke.

Because Winters' letters to Anna were always being read by others, when Anna jokingly mentioned this once, Winters told her about a secret writing method.

“There was a commander in ancient times who would shift each letter in a military order a few places forward.” Winters thought he was solving a problem: “In this way, the original sentence would become a jumble of letters.”

Catherine gave a soft hum.

Anna picked up the letter, then looked puzzled: "But this letter is strange, it doesn't seem to be a sequential cipher... Why are there only ten letters? I... Oh! I know..."

Mason and Catherine, who were standing nearby, were both puzzled.

Anna hurriedly explained, "This is another encryption method. I only mentioned it casually to Mr. Montagne... It's not just ten letters, but one through ten. We also need a book. Did Mr. Montagne mention what kind of book?"

Mason quickly replied, "He said to go find A and B."

“It must be a book that he has, I have, or at least that isn’t hard to find. B? What is it?” Anna glanced at the shrine out of the corner of her eye and instantly understood everything.

She smiled and pointed to the emblem: "It's a scripture."

After borrowing the folio from the Gevordan Cathedral, the contents of the letter were quickly deciphered.

This is a purely military dispatch. Winters concisely describes the course and outcome of the Battle of the Pontus River and calmly analyzes the army's current predicament—supply shortages; no rest after the fierce fighting, and the army is exhausted.

Next, Winters told Mason about his next battle plan, and that Ghevordan would not receive support for the time being.

The icy coldness of the letter only cracked at the very end, with Winters painfully and restrainedly writing two words: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"What's there to apologize for?" Mason spread his hands helplessly. "Anything can happen during wartime..."

Mason's voice trailed off, and he quickly stopped speaking. He noticed that Anna, who was translating the letter, had slightly reddened eyes.

Anna quickly composed herself, and with the same composure as Mrs. Mitchell, she smiled and said, "Yes, anything can happen during wartime."

……

At the same time, on the Dajiao River.

Samukin, standing at the bow of the boat, could already vaguely see the outline of the pontoon bridge.

The pontoon bridge spanning the two banks looks like a ribbon on the water, appearing so fragile.

As a participant in the Great Wilderness War, Samukin witnessed firsthand how the Khads used driftwood and rafts to attack the Styx Bridge, destroying half of it.

The situation has now completely reversed, and it is Samukin's turn to lead the fleet to attack the Teldun people's pontoon bridge.

"There's too little water," Samukin thought to himself.

It is currently the dry season in winter, and the water volume of the Dajiao River has decreased and the flow rate has slowed down. Not to mention, there is also the large reservoir, Shovel Lake, behind the pontoon bridge.

Could the small boat carrying stones destroy the pontoon bridge? Samukin couldn't be sure.

Will the Teldun people rebuild the pontoon bridge after it's destroyed? Samukin dared not think about it.

If we could intercept the Tertun barbarians while they were setting up the pontoon bridge, the bridge would never have been built.

Now that the Teldenans occupy both banks, even if they destroy the pontoon bridge, they can rebuild it as long as they have the craftsmen and materials.

Samukin was filled with regret and self-reproach. Centurion Montane had entrusted him with the fleet, giving him immense command authority in battle. Yet, he had mistakenly concentrated all the ships on the Battle of the Pang River, failing to allocate a portion to control the waterway.

Samukin thought the Teldens had used up all their cards, but this very idea led to a terrible mistake. Winters didn't blame Samukin; he only blamed himself for not instructing Samukin beforehand, which made Samukin feel even more pain and shame.

"The only way to wash away this shame," Samukin said, watching the pontoon bridge draw ever closer. "Only by destroying it."

"Even if it costs me my life," he added through gritted teeth.

The Telden men defending the pontoon bridge spotted the small boats drifting downstream. They shouted and ran, carrying long sticks with iron hooks, onto the pontoon bridge—both sides learned a great deal from the war.

In the camp near the riverbank, the masked captain suddenly stood up, gazing towards the river like a hawk. He ripped off his scarf and cupped his hand to his ear to listen.

The other prisoners, bewildered, looked at each other in confusion.

"It's the sound of a snare drum!" The captain's pupils dilated, and his thin body seemed to be infused with boundless power: "A snare drum!"

The other prisoners were also taken aback, and the crowd couldn't help but clamor.

"A snare drum?"

"Our people have arrived?"

"where?"

Will they come to our rescue?

"Quiet!" the captain roared, and the prisoners fell silent instantly.

The captain suddenly remembered something and slammed his fist into his thigh: "Damn it!"

"What's wrong?" another prisoner asked.

Before the captain could explain, he stretched out his feet and shouted, "Chop it in half!"

The captain's feet were bound in iron shackles, and although the prisoners had axes, none dared to lay a hand on him. For whoever helped the captain would suffer the same fate as everyone else.

The enraged captain ordered again, "Attack!"

Still, no one dared to make a move.

"Do it!"

Finally, the other prisoner, who had been struggling repeatedly, stopped thinking. His face contorted with rage, he roared hysterically, "Fight! Do you really want to be slaves to that barbarian Hed for the rest of your lives?!"

On the other side, Samukin personally beat the drum, and the oarsmen rowed with all their might, sending the small boat, laden with stones, hurtling toward the pontoon bridge.

The Teldun men appeared poorly prepared, merely firing arrows incessantly from the riverbank. Samukin's fleet sailed in the middle of the river, keeping as far away from the banks as possible.

Suddenly, Samukin spotted a group of ragged people running out from the north bank, waving, shouting, and jumping at him.

The drumbeats were deafening, and Samukin couldn't hear what the people were shouting; he could only see them waving their hands frantically.

"Are they my captured brothers?" Samukin thought painfully, "But I have no strength left to save you!"

The prisoners on the shore were actually only shouting one sentence—"Don't come any closer!"

However, the speed of the boat fleet on the river only increased.

The masked captain, his eyes bloodshot with anxiety, grabbed an axe and shouted, "It's too late! Follow me!"

After saying that, he took the lead and rushed towards a Teldun tent on the shore.

The other prisoners hesitated for a moment, but soon picked up tools and even stones and followed the masked captain as he charged toward the Teldens.

At the same time, accompanied by the grating sound of the winch turning, the oarsman of the lead boat saw in horror a long snake leap from the water and block his way.

No, it wasn't a snake! Samukin recognized it at a glance—it was a thick cable spanning the two banks.

The cables hang naturally, with the cables near the shore suspended on the water's surface and the cables further away from the shore partially submerged.

Caught off guard, the lead boat struck the mooring rope with its bow and began to spin uncontrollably.

As it spun, the small boat, laden with stones, swayed like a leaf and then suddenly capsized.

The makeshift boats are all flat-bottomed. Although they have a shallow draft, they are not shallow enough to float across the mooring lines, let alone the fact that they are all fully loaded now.

"To the riverbank!" Samukin shouted at the top of his lungs, "To the riverbank!"

Before the words were even finished, another small boat struck the mooring rope and capsized. The oarsmen of the other small boats quickly changed direction and drifted towards the riverbank.

Near the shore, the cables dangled over the water, and the small boats were equipped with axes and swords to cut them.

However, the Teldun archers were also on the shore, and when they saw the fleet approaching, they all drew their bows and fired arrows.

Arrows rained down in an instant, and even the arrow shields were insufficient to protect the oarsmen, who kept losing arrows to the water.

What happened next made Samukin even more desperate—a second and a third cable were raised over the river.

Even if the cables weren't iron chains, three cables would be enough to destroy the entire fleet.

"Retreat!" Samukin ordered through gritted teeth.

At this moment, a sudden change occurred.

As if suddenly freed from its restraints, the first cable snapped shut and then floated limply on the water's surface.

The masked captain, who had cut the cable, then struck the charging Telden man with a heavy axe, nearly falling himself in the process.

He propped himself up and roared at his surviving men, "Next!"

Samukin noticed the unusual activity on the west bank and knew that someone was risking their life to help.

"Don't let them down!" Samukin pounded the war drum: "Row! Charge!"

The fleet returned to its original course, and the oarsmen shouted slogans and waved their arms as the small boats, laden with stones, crashed into the pontoon bridge.

Caught off guard, the Telden men also had their second and third ropes cut by the masked captain.

The sound of horses' hooves came from behind, but the captain ignored it, staring intently at the small boat rushing toward the pontoon bridge he had built himself, completely satisfied.

Samukin, on the boat, noticed the strange man who was masked, leaning on an axe, and standing alone on the shore.

Samukin stood up and saluted from a distance.

A faint smile appeared beneath the scarf of the man whose face was covered, and he returned the greeting solemnly.

More than ten small boats broke through the river-blocking cables and resolutely crashed into the pontoon bridge. Some Teldun residents managed to stay at their posts, but most dropped their poles and ran away.

“[Herd words] Your people are truly incompetent…” On the riverbank, a man watched the chaotic scene of people and horses fleeing, then turned to the others and said helplessly, “[Ancient words] Help them… Fortunately, it’s the dry season now.”

Amidst the thunderous sound of war drums, oarsmen jumped from their boats to save themselves, and the lead boat crashed violently into the pontoon bridge.

The pontoon bridge tensed instantly, trembling slightly like a giant in pain.

Several anchor cables securing the pontoons snapped, causing the small boat to capsize, and the pontoon bridge bounced back significantly.

"Good!!!" Samukin and the masked captain shouted simultaneously. If the ramming continues, the pontoon bridge will eventually collapse.

However, at this moment, the quietly flowing Dajiao River was stirred up.

At first, there were only a few ripples, but soon the ripples amplified into waves.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone on both sides of the strait, the waves visibly grew more and more turbulent, and the crests rose higher and higher.

Flat-bottomed riverboats are simply no match for such large waves.

"Damn it! This is..." Samukin cursed in grief and indignation. Before he could finish speaking, the small boat he was on was capsized by a wave as tall as a person.

The pontoon bridge was also lifted up by the "waves" and slammed heavily onto the water, breaking more than a dozen anchor cables.

The river swept people and pieces of plank underwater, the aftershocks stretching far and wide. The waves gradually subsided, and the raging river slowly returned to its former calm.

The people of Teldun witnessed this "miracle" and knelt down to worship.

Without a second thought, the masked captain threw off his clothes and plunged into the icy river.

Samukin could swim, but after choking on water, all he could do was flail his arms wildly. Soon, he lost consciousness.

Just as Samukin was sinking deeper and deeper, a pair of iron arms wrapped around him from behind and dragged him to the surface.

In his dazed state, Samukin vaguely sensed someone probing his mouth and throat with their fingers, but then he could feel the air.

“Breathe!” the stranger said urgently.

Samukin instinctively took a deep breath, as if to burst his lungs. His body even curled up uncontrollably like a shrimp, and his consciousness returned.

Then Samukin saw a face, a horrible face with no nose, no ears, and half of it branded.

"Who are you?" Samukin struggled to get up.

“Morrow.” The disfigured man’s voice was low: “Denzel Morrow, Captain.”

"Bridge?" Samukin seemed to find an anchor point in his consciousness. He stood up abruptly and looked eagerly at the pontoon bridge.

"The pontoon bridge is slightly damaged, but it can be repaired," Captain Morrow said coldly.

The captain was right. Although the pontoon bridge was damaged in several places, it still lay across the river, as if mocking Samukin.

"Damn!" Samukin felt dizzy and his knees buckled, causing him to collapse to his knees. He desperately pounded the sand, yelling, "Damn! Damn!"

“Save your energy.” Captain Morrow simply spoke without reaching out to stop them: “The Hed’s search party is coming. If you don’t leave, you’re doomed.”

Samukin ignored him, and the tough man suddenly hugged his knees and burst into tears.

"Why are you crying?" Captain Moro couldn't sense Samukin's grief. He just sneered, "Your clumsy method could never have completely destroyed the pontoon bridge... I have a better way. Take me to see your superior."

Samukin looked up abruptly, like a drowning man grasping at a straw: "You still have a way to destroy the pontoon bridge."

“Of course.” Captain Morrow stared coldly at the pontoon bridge. “I built that pontoon bridge. I’m always thinking about how to destroy it.”

……

Meanwhile, Mason convened the Ghevorden municipal councilors and representatives at all levels to read aloud part of Winters' letter.

"The Montagne tribunes have just fought a tough battle and need a few days to rest and regroup," Captain Mason concluded. "So we won't have any reinforcements for a while and will have to rely on ourselves."

An uproar erupted in the council chamber. Although the repelling of the Telden attack had boosted the citizens' confidence, the news of no reinforcements still shook their resolve.

“The tribunal of Montagne agrees to abandon the south if necessary.” Mason paused for a moment.

Another grenade was dropped into the chicken coop. The citizens of Zhevodan loudly approved, while the representatives of the refugees were worried, and some even openly opposed it.

"Quiet!" Mayor Priest banged on the table.

When the council chamber fell silent again.

Mason explained carefully, "Even if we have no choice but to abandon the South City, we need a strategy. Supplies need to be moved to the North, the elderly, women, and children need to be housed, and things that can't be moved need to be destroyed..."

Mason spoke slowly and gently, but there was a strength hidden within his gentleness and calmness.

The council chamber grew increasingly quiet as everyone listened intently.

"Just tell us what to do!" Chaussa the blacksmith and Montagne's top supporter was the first to respond: "We'll all listen to you. With the enemy at our doorstep, anyone who doesn't listen will be dealt with!"

Amidst the uproar, old Priskin, seeing this, simply said, "Those who agree with Commissioner Saosha, cheer three times for Tribunal Mason!"

The cheers were louder and louder each time.

Sr. Priskin slammed his gavel down: "Passed on all three counts!"

“Since you’re all going to listen to me,” Mason stood up, slightly embarrassed, and said, “Let’s evacuate the women and children to the north bank first.”

The evacuation is progressing quickly because most of the women and children were already being housed on the north bank.

After evacuating the women and children, it was time to move the supplies.

The men in the city of Gevodan—whether citizens or refugees—were organized into militia units and sent to the south bank to move things.

There was only one bridge across the river, and it was completely blocked.

Seeing this, Mason ordered that the necessary defenses be left on the north bank, while the other militia and city guards gathered on the south bank to move supplies in order.

After the bridge was cleared, Mason ordered it to be demolished.

No explosives were used—because gunpowder was too precious;

They didn't use lamp oil either—because fuel oil was also precious;
Every piece of wood was carefully stored away for reuse—a thrifty and frugal lifestyle, very much in the Mason style.

“I’ve made up my mind.” Mason stood before the panicked crowd and announced with a smile, “I will never give up on South City.”

[I'm late, sorry, Orz... because it's a long chapter of 7,000 words]
[Redefining Saturday and noon... Next chapter is still Tuesday]
[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)