Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 305 Beheading
A small convoy of vehicles is struggling along a country dirt road.

The three large carts were loaded with grain and farm tools such as hoes and shovels, and were pulled by several mules that had been requisitioned.

Apart from the cavalrymen leading the way, who wore uniform sabers and arm guards, the other members of the caravan carried a wide variety of weapons.

The rich, wrapped in knitted wool cloaks, carried muskets on their shoulders, while the poor, dressed in coarse linen gowns, had only axes or even clubs in their hands.

Two days ago they were ordinary civilians, today they have become soldiers. Regardless of wealth or status, they are all moving towards a known yet unknown direction.

Fear, longing, and confusion... all sorts of emotions spread simultaneously among the crowd.

Supplies, manpower, and wagons were continuously converging on Shengke Town from various parts of Zhongtiefeng County, and this small caravan was one of the many.

"Don't dawdle!" The cavalryman leading the caravan appeared to be from Dusa, his left arm wrapped in a thick white cloth. He surveyed the caravan, shouting, "The slower you go, the faster you'll die! Pick up the pace!"

The reprimands were like an invisible whip, and the hastily conscripted militiamen seemed to quicken their pace.

Someone in the group muttered under their breath, "Easy for you to say. You ride a horse, and we walk..."

Some people couldn't help but complain, "Let's go! Let's go! If I had known it would be like this, I wouldn't have come along!"

The wound on his left arm throbbed with pain. [Tulin] sighed inwardly, ignoring everyone's complaints.

No one knew better than Dussac that no one on duty is without complaints. Even the bravest warriors are not immune, let alone these civilians who were temporarily conscripted.

After being wounded in the battle with the barbarians of Hed, Turin was specially ordered by the Montagne tribunal to be transferred from the front line of combat to perform some safer tasks, such as conscripting militia.

Tulin straightened his back and gazed at the surrounding horizon, a sense of unease always lingering in his heart.

Zhongtiefeng County has become a battlefield, and there is no safe place on a battlefield.

"Take a break, sir!" a young farmer in the ranks called out to Dussac. "We've been walking for most of the day, we really can't go on anymore."

"Yes, yes," others chimed in, "Just take a short break."

"Stop resting my ass!" Tulin glared, adopting the air of a veteran, and sternly rebuked, "If we rest here and run into barbarians, we'll all get our heads smashed open! If anyone the hell wants to die, I'll give them a hand, so as not to drag others into this mess!"

No one spoke.

Seeing that the group had quieted down, Tulin reassured them in a gentle tone, "The outpost is just ahead, a short walk from there. It's safe there, and there's food and drink too. Once we get there, I'll let you rest as much as you want..."

Just as Tulin was racking his brains to encourage the convoy, a flock of birds took flight from behind the barren hillside to the west, and the faint sound of drumming could be heard.

Tulin turned around in alarm, thinking to himself, "Oh no!"

Groups of riders leaped off the barren slope and charged straight toward Turin's convoy.

The newly recruited militiamen, unaware of the situation, some mistook them for their own cavalry and waved at them. Many more stood there dumbfounded, unsure what to do.

"Enemy attack!" Tulin roared, drawing his sword. "Everyone, get over here!"

The militiamen then realized that it was the barbarians, and their cries and curses erupted.

The crowd sprinted toward the ditches and woods along the roadside, with hardly any militiamen heeding Turin's orders.

"Sergeant!" Another cavalryman galloped up to Turin's side: "What do we do?"

Enraged, Turin roared and, with no other option, ordered, "Withdraw!"

To make matters worse, cavalry appeared on the road ahead. It seemed to be a pincer attack, but the sound of cavalry hooves from the north was drowned out by those from the west.

Tulin and his men leaped across the ditch and galloped into the forest.

The Hed riders, who were lying in ambush on the barren slope, instantly overwhelmed the caravan and indiscriminately slaughtered the Paratus who had not had time to escape.

Tulin's forehead veins bulged, and his teeth clenched so tightly they made a grinding sound, but turning around and fighting desperately would only be a pointless death.

Just then, the cavalryman following behind Turin suddenly shouted, "No! It looks like one of our men!"

Turin halted and looked back—the second cavalry unit did not disperse to pursue the militia, but instead plunged straight into Hed's cavalry. The gleaming sabers drew arcs, slashing down towards the heads and shoulders of the Hed barbarians.

The barbarian Hede screamed in terror in an unfamiliar language, just like the militia of Tiefeng County just now.

Turin saw clearly that his cavalry outnumbered Hed's barbarians by far, and they only had the advantage of a surprise attack. Once the barbarians recovered, it was hard to say who would win.

"Stop running!" Tulin tried desperately to stop the fleeing militiamen: "Turn back and fight!"

Still, few people paid any attention to him.

Turin roared angrily, wrapped the reins around his wounded left arm, stabbed his horse with his boot heel, and charged at the nearest barbarian, Hed.

The cavalrymen who had come with Tullin on the mission did not hesitate; each drew their swords and spears and followed the soldiers back to their horses to meet the enemy.

Not all militiamen were only concerned with escaping; some brave militiamen were also fighting to the death against the barbarians led by Hed.

Turin stood on his stirrups, hacking at his enemies like a madman, his saber tracing crisscrossing paths with each swing. His warhorse, Mo Lanhei, also furiously bit and kicked at the Hed's small warhorse.

The two sides clashed beside the ditch, at the edge of the woods, and near the wagon. Most of the Hud people who fell from their horses were beaten to death by the militia, and gunshots rang out from time to time.

Seeing that there weren't many two-legged men, some of the fleeing Teldun riders turned back. Unwilling to engage in hand-to-hand combat, they instead fired arrows from a distance.

From the east of the fork in the road came another thunderous hoofbeat, this time even more deafening than the previous two combined.

Turin couldn't recognize the second group of cavalry, but he would never mistake the third group—led by a red-maned steed.

"It's Rerik!" Tulin forced back the barbarian Hed beside him, raised his saber high, and roared with a ferocious expression, "It's Anglu! Kill! Kill! Kill!"

The two sides were already locked in a fierce battle, and as soon as Anglu's fresh troops joined the fight, Teldun's Hundred Riders immediately collapsed.

Anglu and Tulin pursued the caravan all the way until it was dark before returning to the location where the caravan had been attacked.

Although the Teldun cavalry were defeated, there was still a mess to clean up.

"Let the wounded take the wagons to the next outpost, where there are doctors." As soon as he dismounted, Anglu began to arrange the cleanup of the battlefield: "Bjorn, Leclerc, you two go into the forest and find all the escaped militiamen."

“Company Commander.” Bjorn, the tenth cavalry commander, looked bitter. “Of my comrades, only two are still able to move.”

"Take back the captured Hedma," Angru ordered without room for argument. "You pick men from the militia yourself and fill your own accounts. Both of you!"

"Yes, sir!" The two ten-horse captains did not dare to be negligent, raised their hands in salute, and ran away.

“Make sure the deceased are properly registered.” Anglu then looked at Turin.

"Yes!" Tulin answered first, then asked, "What about the remains?"

"Bury it on the spot for now, and we'll deal with it properly later."

"Yes!"

Only after resolving a series of final issues did Anglu have a moment to catch his breath.

But another big problem awaited him—he didn't recognize the second cavalry force. The initial attack was launched by Teldun's troops, and the last to arrive to rescue them were Anglu's cavalry.

The second group of cavalry was a completely unfamiliar third party; they were neither wearing military uniforms nor displaying any banners.

While Anglu was clearing the battlefield, the unfamiliar cavalry was also busy gathering their forces and treating the wounded.

The appearance of a cavalry unit of unknown origin in Zhongtiefeng County made Anglu particularly uneasy. However, in Anglu's view, since the enemy had killed Teldun people, they could be temporarily classified as friendly forces.

The unfamiliar riding team gathered and rested in the open space by the roadside, without sending anyone to find Anglu, seemingly waiting for Anglu to take the initiative to negotiate.

Anglu roused himself and led two soldiers to approach the unfamiliar cavalry: "May the Lord bless you, friends. May I ask where you come from?"

A middle-aged man dressed in hunting attire stepped forward and asked with a half-smile, "Aren't you going to say thank you?"

Although the middle-aged man was dressed in hunting casual clothes, his military bearing was undeniable.

Anglu gave a proper salute: "Thank you very much for your help. May I ask your unit number?"

“You don’t need to ask these questions.” The middle-aged soldier waved his hand and said bluntly, “Where is Winters Montagne? I want to see him.”

Anglu raised an eyebrow slightly, and after a moment's thought, replied simply, "Then please follow my cavalry for now. You will see the Montagne tribunal after this patrol is over."

Taking a cavalry unit of unknown origin directly to Brother Montagne would be too dangerous. Anglu decided to send a messenger back to explain the situation and temporarily detain the group.

The middle-aged soldier's attendants were quite indignant, but the middle-aged soldier's expression remained unchanged. He took out a letter: "When you deliver this letter, please also give this letter to Captain Montagne."

“Yes.” Anglu took the envelope.

"Don't waste time." The middle-aged soldier's eyes widened slightly. "Send them now!"

Anglu answered reflexively, "Yes."

At the same time, Tulin also encountered a problem.

Several older local gentry members of the militia came before Turin and humbly pleaded with him to go home.

Blood splattered on their faces, the dying groaned, and mutilated corpses lay scattered across the wilderness… If the militiamen had harbored any greed before, this battle had utterly terrified them. Some even ran away and never returned, deserting.

“No.” Tulin refused decisively.

"You are a warrior chosen from among thousands, we cannot compare! We truly lack the ability to fight," a landlord in his fifties pleaded desperately. "Even if we were on the battlefield, all we could do would be run! We would only cause trouble!"

“Yes!” another local gentryman cried, tears streaming down his face. “Money, grain, whatever you want…”

“You’re all corporals and temporary sergeants.” Tulin was already getting impatient, and that fierce edge of Dusak was showing: “If we let you go, how can the others stay? Desertion means certain death! Anyone who dares to run, I’ll fucking chop him up with my own hands!”

Several local gentry were so frightened that they trembled.

"Use your asses to think," Tulin's attitude softened slightly, coldly reprimanding, "What kind of person is the tribunal? Doesn't he know what kind of people you are? Do you think he can expect you to fight on the battlefield? On the actual battlefield, all you'll do is dig trenches, build earthen walls, and do manual labor! The danger on the road is because of the Hed barbarians' attempts to ambush you. But once you reach the front-line camp, with thousands of troops protecting you, will the Hed barbarians still be able to kill you? Don't you think so?"

With a combination of threats and reasoning, Tulin finally managed to get rid of the local gentry after much effort.

The gentry returned to the expectant militia and repeated Turin's words once more.

The militiamen were utterly disappointed and desperate. Some burst into tears on the spot, while others whispered among themselves, preparing to flee overnight.

Tulin saw this and was anxious. His first thought was to tell Company Commander Anglu.

Before he could get up, Anglu came to find him first, accompanied by a middle-aged soldier he didn't know.

Tulin, disregarding the presence of outsiders, rushed to tell the story.

Anglu's expression turned serious, but the middle-aged soldier showed no sign of urgency.

The latter, on the contrary, seemed to find it amusing, watching Anglu's reaction with great interest, which made Tulin furious.

“This situation,” Anglu scratched his head, deep in thought, and said, “The centurion told me what to do, and even gave me an example…”

The middle-aged soldier found it increasingly interesting.

"What does the centurion suggest we do?" Turin asked impatiently.

“Establish credibility,” Anglu replied.

The militia and cavalry were summoned, and Anglu took out a proclamation from his pocket that read "Order to Cut Off Heads" and read it aloud to the public once more.

The cavalrymen cheered with joy, while the militiamen were still somewhat bewildered.

Speaking in public, Anglu was still a little embarrassed. He kindly and shyly reminded him, "Hurry up and get it done, it will be harder if it gets dark."

The cavalrymen laughed and scattered, leaving the militiamen looking at each other, bewildered.

"Let's go!" Tulin was getting impatient when no one moved. He shouted gruffly, waving his saber to urge the crowd on: "If we don't go now, those bastards will rob us all!"

Seeing that no one dared to move, Tulin became so angry that he started cursing.

He walked away cursing, and soon dragged back a corpse. Gritting his teeth, he severed the head, stroke by stroke.

Some militiamen vomited on the spot.

Tulin, holding the severed head, roared fiercely at the militia: "One qing! Don't want it?"

At this moment, the militia truly understood that the decapitation order was for real. What the Turin soldiers were carrying was not a swollen, dead man's head, but an acre of land.

Those who reacted quickly had already run towards the corpses of the Telden men. The militiamen who had just vomited, still with food crumbs from their mouths, ran faster than anyone else.

The middle-aged soldier could no longer smile; his expression gradually became serious.

The middle-aged soldier looked back at his subordinates and saw that many of them were actually swallowing hard, their eyes filled with surprise—as well as anticipation and regret.

"Make it clear to your men." Seeing the situation getting out of control, Anglu walked over to Tulin and said, "You are only allowed to cut off the heads of enemies you have killed. Anyone who cuts off the heads of their own men or allies will be hanged... and you must have a helmet and hat as proof..."

All of this was written in the announcement and had just been read aloud. But seeing the militia's fervor, Angru regretted not reading it a few more times.

"Yes!" Tulin answered instinctively as usual. He wanted to gather everyone back, but it was too late.

Not far away, two militiamen were arguing heatedly. One of them, wrapped in a cashmere cloak, shouted, "I clearly killed him! I shot him with a musket! The bullet hole was right in his body! Do you have a musket?!"

Another skinny militiaman, dressed in coarse linen, retorted, "You only knocked him off his horse! He wasn't dead when he fell! I killed him! You own so much land, why are you fighting me for this one head?"

As for the heads of the Teldun people who were randomly killed by the crowd, it sparked a lot of arguments and even fights, like a bloody and absurd drama.

“The decapitation order is too simplistic and brutal; it needs to be more carefully stipulated.” Anglu watched the farce unfold before him with some concern: “If this continues, I’m afraid that while the fighting is still going on in front, people will be fighting over heads in the back.”

Tulin ran over, yelling as he tried to stop the fight: "Half for each of us! Half for each of us!"

The once quiet country lanes became as noisy and bustling as a pub, but no one was clamoring to go home anymore.

[Thank you to all the readers for your collections, reading, subscriptions, recommendations, monthly tickets, donations, and comments. Thank you everyone!]
[Wishing everyone a happy Labor Day in advance!]
[As an aside, the Qin Dynasty's "Fengzhenshi" records two incidents: one is soldiers killing each other for heads, and the other is Qin soldiers cutting off the heads of their fallen comrades to claim war merits.]
No system is perfect; various problems will arise when implementing a system.
The system of rewarding the dead by taking their heads was bloody and brutal, and had various side effects. But from another perspective, it was also the fairest, most direct, and simplest incentive measure.
[And to add one more thing, the decapitation order is only a temporary incentive policy, and Winters currently has no intention of implementing it indefinitely... after all, he's not really Khorne's chosen champion...]
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(End of this chapter)