Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 518 Prologue: The Worst Ending (The End)

“I’m sorry, but ‘he is’ is not an answer,” Fritz stated bluntly.

"Although Winters Montagne is now more famous in the United Provinces than several other leaders of the New Reclamation Rebels, this is mainly due to his special status as 'among the Paves' and his legendary experiences, which clearly contain a lot of fiction."

"However, in terms of both seniority and territory, he should be the weakest and easiest to deal with among the various factions within the rebel army."

"So I really can't understand why you specifically said that Winters Montagne was the most difficult enemy to deal with."

"Could it be because of his personal combat skills? I have indeed heard that he is a spellcaster. But what can a spellcaster do on the battlefield? Nothing more than kill people. Cannons can kill people too, and they might kill more than spellcasters."

"Your viewpoint is not without merit; the vast majority of officers in the United Provinces think the same way." Cornelius changed the subject, clicking his tongue as he said:

"However, this also proves that your understanding of Winters Montagne is as limited as that of most provincial officers. Since you are going to be Winters Montagne's enemy, your knowledge of him cannot remain at the level of 'most people'."

“But the newly reclaimed land is far away, and I have limited information in Guido.” Fritz asked knowingly, “Do you have any way to let me know more about Winters Montagne, teacher?”

This really hit the former department head where it hurt.

"Come!"

Cornelius stood up, beckoned, and the corners of his habitually tense lips unconsciously turned up slightly. He walked around from behind the desk and strode towards the sand table at the other end of the room.

Fritz followed closely behind.

"How is it?" Cornelius walked to the sand table, put his hands on his hips, turned his back to his students, and asked with a refreshed expression, "How is this sand table setup?"

Fritz, standing behind Cornelius, bent down and stared intently. He saw a sand table, about the size of a double bed, arranged to resemble the terrain of the valley's exit.

A stream of blue sawdust, which should represent river water, flows out of the valley and traverses the entire battlefield.

Two armies, represented by numerous small red and blue flags, are locked in a fierce battle around a small village in the center of the battlefield.

There are a great many red and blue flags. If we follow the convention of the Allied Army in setting up a sand table, with each flag representing a battalion-sized force, then the total number of troops deployed by both sides would reach the level of 100,000.

Fritz thought this was unlikely. First, he couldn't have been unaware of a large-scale battle involving 100,000 people; second, 100,000 people would be far too crowded for this valley.

Therefore, the only explanation is that each small flag does not represent a large battalion, but rather a military unit at the level of a hundred-man squad or a cavalry platoon.

Setting up a sand table doesn't necessarily mean you can't use a small flag to represent one hundred people, it's just that...

“How much effort must it take to break down the sand table into individual 100-person teams?” Fritz exclaimed.

"Not much, just seven nights of review with the teaching and research group... No need to stand so far away, come up and take a look."

The former chief spoke in a very nonchalant tone, but the corners of his mouth were turned up so high they could almost hold a saber.

Perhaps realizing his lapse in composure, Cornelius coughed lightly, turned and walked towards the large cabinet next to the sand table, casually saying:

"Let me give you a question—observe the sand table and tell me, which battle is it?"

"Judging from the situation on the battlefield, I don't know," Fritz answered honestly. "But since you're asking me now, I'm guessing it's the Battle of River Valley."

Cornelius gave a noncommittal snort, opened the cabinet door in the northeast corner, and pulled out a file box from the very back.

Cornelius placed the file box in front of Fritz, and judging from his movements, the file box was quite heavy.

“Here,” Cornelius said to Fritz, tapping the lid of the file box with his finger.
"Here lies all the intelligence I've gathered about the Battle of River Valley. From the joint announcement issued by the rebel leaders, to the reports sent back by the advance troops from Kingsburg, to the information provided by every merchant with a branch in Kingsburg, as well as the records of inquiries made to people who recently returned from Palatine, and copies of all the letters home from the participants that I could access..."

"In short, all the intelligence that could be obtained in Guitu City, whether in writing or orally, has been compiled here and analyzed and evaluated by the teaching and research department..."

While the former chief spoke eloquently, Fritz's attention was drawn to the label on the side of the file box.

The label has three lines of text:

[Battle of River Valley Village (tentative)]
[River Valley Village, Mirror Lake County, Newly Reclaimed Land Province, Palatour]
[May 28, 560 (tentative estimate)]
Fritz suddenly realized something. He looked up abruptly and looked around—three entire walls, more than three hundred huge file boxes that could fit folios, each side labeled with the same but different contents.

Some of the place names and battle names on the file boxes were associated with the Alliance in Fritz's memory.

The place names and battle names on some of the file boxes have a distinctly Eastern flavor.

The labels on the vast majority of the file boxes were for battles that Fritz had heard of or that, although he knew from the location, involved the Imperial army.

Some of the most famous major battles each had more than a dozen file boxes filled with them.

As for those battles that Fritz had never even heard of and which were only contained in a single file box, there were quite a few of them.

Some of the file boxes even have the location field clearly marked as "[Far Western Colony (specific location unknown)]".

Fritz's gaze swept over the huge file boxes that occupied three entire walls. Thinking about the effort required to collect and study this intelligence, beads of sweat involuntarily appeared on his forehead and back.

Over there, Jason Cornelius was still talking non-stop, saying with deep regret:
"...Unfortunately, due to the short timeframe and long distance, there are still too many gaps in our understanding of the Battle of River Valley Village."

"Therefore, the teaching and research office had to incorporate some reasonable conjectures and inferences in order to ensure that the review could proceed normally."

"However, this is the closest sand table simulation to the actual battle situation that you can find in Guitu City."

Fritz nodded instinctively, still in shock, completely ignoring the sounds from the outside world.

Cornelius noticed someone wasn't paying attention and immediately looked displeased. He tapped the edge of the table and said sternly, "Major?"

“Oh… I’m sorry.” Fritz snapped out of his reverie, looking admiringly at the file boxes on the wall, and asked, “Is this all the intelligence you’ve collected about the Empire? There’s so much!”

"What are you thinking? How could it be only this little?"

Cornelius frowned and replied haughtily:

"The imperial archives are on the first floor."

After a pause, he added:
"The entire first floor is filled with them."

A buzzing sound came from Fritz's skull.

“But you don’t need to look at those things yet,” Cornelius reassured his newly approved student, tapping the file box in front of him. “Your next enemy is Winters Montagne.”

Fritz nodded repeatedly, his back soaked with sweat.

Cornelius thought for a moment and asked, "Do you think it's an exaggeration for me to say that Winters Montagne is 'the most outstanding teaching achievement of the Army Officer School in twelve years'? Are you feeling resentful because you hear such praise for a junior?"

"I wouldn't dare." Fritz couldn't even muster the energy to argue, nodding like a chicken pecking at rice: "If you say he is, then he must be."

Cornelius was very dissatisfied with the student's answer. He put away his smile and sternly admonished him: "War is a matter of life and death! There is nothing more important than it! Do you think I would joke about such a thing? Or do you lack understanding of war itself?"

Fritz, who had been reprimanded, instinctively stood up straight.

“Since you harbor such contempt, it’s time to let you learn about the Southern Army’s number one enemy.” Cornelius pressed down on the file box: “Don’t look at the data yet, look at the sand table first.”

He pointed to the sand table: "Look carefully, the replay in front of you stops at the moment when the battle of River Valley Village was decided."

"It was also the moment when the fate of the newly reclaimed lands, Palatour, and even the United Provinces, Venetia—the entire Union—was rewritten."

"If the rebels in the newly established lands had lost this battle, we would not have been so close to the worst outcome."

"If the government forces in Zhuwangbao win this battle, we can expect the best possible outcome."

"Unfortunately, our ally lost, and fate changed from that moment on."

Fritz's "soul" seemed to have been plunged into ice water; when he looked at the sand table again, he no longer had the detached attitude he had before.

“Look at the sand table and tell me,” Cornelius said, pointing to the sand table. “Tell me, which side is the rebels, which side is our ally, and which side is Winters Montagne’s force?”

Fritz looked down and observed carefully—the battle lines were interlocked, and the red and blue forces were completely locked in combat. At first glance, it seemed like a stalemate, but upon closer inspection, it became clear that although the blue army was putting up a stubborn resistance, its strength was waning, and it was being divided and encircled.

The Red Team's victory is unstoppable; the only variable is some small blue flags planted in the northwest of the battlefield.

Although those small flags are still some distance from the main battlefield, if they can arrive at the battlefield in time, they may become the key to changing the course of the battle.

However, those small blue flags were square flags representing infantry. They were surrounded by red triangular flags representing cavalry.

Clearly, the Red team's cavalry is doing their utmost to prevent the Blue team's reinforcements from reaching the battlefield.

Fritz examined the sand table again carefully, confirmed his point, looked up, and answered confidently: "Red represents the government forces, and blue represents the rebels!"

He analyzed: "They say that the Battle of Valle was 'the rebel commander lost the battle at four o'clock, while Winters Montagne won the battle at six o'clock,'"
"So I guess the infantry in the northwest were Winters Montagne's troops. He broke through the government cavalry's defenses, joined the battle as fresh troops, overwhelmed the government's lines, and ultimately reversed the outcome."

"You answered correctly about who is who, the government forces or the rebels, but you answered incorrectly about Winters, very incorrectly!" Cornelius sneered as he swept away the small blue flag in the northwest: "This is not Winters Montagne's troops, not even reinforcements, but defeated soldiers who are fleeing."

Fritz paused for a moment, then looked down at the sand table again. After receiving the new information, he felt that the Blues' situation was even worse.

“Tell me now,” Cornelius’s voice rang in Fritz’s ear. “Which unit is Winters Montagne’s?

The outcome of the Battle of River Valley was known to everyone in the United Provinces Army—the rebels won a great victory and the government forces were completely annihilated.

However, Fritz, leaning on the edge of the table and staring at the battlefield, racked his brains but could not figure out how Winters Montagne could deploy his troops to "win back the battle lost at four o'clock at six o'clock".

"I'm sorry." After racking his brains and simulating it countless times, even though Fritz was extremely unwilling, he had no choice but to lower his head and humbly admit, "I don't know."

To Fritz's surprise, the former chief of staff did not say anything critical. He simply picked up a small blue flag, walked to the southeast of the "battlefield," and planted the blue flags one by one behind the red team.

Fritz suddenly understood.

Immediately, a surge of resentment welled up inside him, and he stammered in protest, "Ah...he...I...I didn't know he would appear in that place..." Upon hearing Fritz's words, Cornelius, who had not criticized Fritz at all just now, now showed a look of displeasure.

“It’s not your fault,” Cornelius said coldly. “Even the government army commander didn’t know.”

Fritz was speechless.

Cornelius used his hand as a pointer, pointing on the "map" outside the sand table: "Let me tell you, Major Fritz, Winters Montagne led his troops across the mountains all night to reach the battlefield. And just the day before the Battle of Vale, he had just routed a government detachment of six infantry battalions on the other side of the mountains. And when he judged that the main rebel force needed reinforcements, the Battle of Vale hadn't even started yet!"

Cornelius strode toward the cabinet, grabbed another file box, and piled it heavily on top of the file box from the Battle of River Valley Village.

Fritz looked at the label on the new file box—"Compilation of Documents on Border Conflicts in the Republic of Palatine, 559-560".

“If you think that one time was just a fluke, then take a look at this.” Cornelius opened the newly taken-out file box and pulled out a dossier: “See how he lured the enemy in deep and then surrounded and annihilated them.”

Fritz glanced at the cover of the file—"The Winter of 559: The War of the 'New Reclamation Army - Teldun'."

“Take a look at this,” Cornelius said, pulling out another file. “See how he used a feint to achieve a victory against overwhelming odds.”

Fritz looked at the cover of the dossier—"A Summary of Known Intelligence on the Local Rebels in the Newly Reclaimed Province."

"These are only the battles we know of; Winters Montagne must have fought many more that we don't know about." Cornelius sneered contemptuously, mocking his colleagues who were completely unaware of the true situation of Palatour.

"It seems that Winters Montagne's faction is the poorest and least influential in the rebel camp. Both Gaisa Adonis and Matthias Corwin are more senior and more famous than him."

"However, I can tell you now that Winters Montagne's forces are the strongest in terms of actual combat power, have the highest control over the territory, and have the greatest potential for the future among the rebel forces!"
"But what's more valuable than Winters Montagne's troops is Winters Montagne himself!"

Cornelius's eyes were fixed, and he was no longer speaking to the students, but to himself.

The de facto superintendent of the Allied Army Academy for over a decade flipped through the files at hand and said with satisfaction:

"He always finds the enemy's weakness, always appears in unexpected places, and always strikes with the most fatal blow... Every battle he fights could be included in a textbook."

"His rational judgment of the situation, his keen grasp of opportunities, and his courage to take a gamble... these are all things I most hope to teach you."

"What is most commendable is that he always manages to gather a large group of followers around him, who are willing to go through fire and water for him... This is something that even the old marshal could not teach you."

"And he's not even thirty years old yet. I've never seen a student who graduated from the Army Academy achieve more than him before the age of thirty."

Jason Cornelius turned to his newly recognized student and asked proudly:
"Flitz of Nice, do you think I said Winters Montane was 'the most outstanding teaching achievement of the Army Academy in twelve years' because there was no one who caught my eye more twelve years ago?"
"No, no! It's just that I only led the teaching and research office for twelve years, so I don't comment on the teaching achievements of my predecessors!"

Fritz had nothing more to say.

Like every teacher in the world, Cornelius had said everything he wanted to say, regardless of how well the students listened.

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

He disdained seeking others' approval, and he also felt a little tired.

Cornelius then pointed to the three file boxes in front of Fritz and instructed:

“Take it back and read it before you set off—after reading it, you won’t be like others who only know the enemy you’re going to deal with based on rumors and stereotypes.”

Fritz looked at the three huge file boxes on the sand table and inexplicably felt a weight creeping down his shoulders.

"Yes! I will definitely read them all." Fritz gritted his teeth, raised his hand in salute, and deftly put all the files that the former chief had taken out back into the file box.

“And this one.” Cornelius walked to the cabinet, then bent down and tapped another file box. “This one is worth a look too.”

Fritz glanced at the label—"The Battle of 558 between the Republic of Palatine and the Red River Tribe".

“Since we’re going to fight in Palatul, we must understand the Palatul’s fighting style.” Cornelius added an extra point: “Moreover, there are some aspects of the Red River tribe’s strategy for defeating the Palatul expeditionary force that are worth learning from.”

Fritz's mouth tasted bitter, but he forced himself to raise his hand in salute: "Is it... departure? When?"

"It's not confirmed yet, but you'll know as soon as it's available."

"What other officers are in the Southern Area Army?"

“There are no ‘famous generals’,” Cornelius said with that sarcastic smile again. “Those with some connections have all tried to squeeze into the Western Front.”

Fritz didn't know what to say. He didn't want to, nor was he qualified to, criticize the other officers like Cornelius did, so he chose to remain silent.

“But don’t worry, the Southern Army has no useless soldiers.” Cornelius added calmly, “Although there aren’t many, every single one of them was handpicked by me.”

Fritz asked softly, "Was 'selected' like me?"

“Of course.” Cornelius nodded matter-of-factly. “I’ve told you before, I always prefer using volunteers. You’ll understand when you meet your colleagues. Now, come with me!”

After saying that, the former department head turned and walked out the door.

Fritz paused for a moment, then quickly said, "Sir, I have one more question..."

However, Cornelius had already walked outside, and even picked up a lamp along the way.

Fritz hurriedly chased after him and found that the former chief had not gone far. He was standing in front of the office across the street, groping around for something.

"You're not going to pry it open..." Fritz exclaimed in shock.

Breaking into the principal's office has been a joke among military cadets for years. Legend has it that Marshal Ned Smith's treasures were kept in the principal's office, which he left to anyone who dared to pick the lock—however, no one has ever actually dared to do such a thing.

Cornelius glanced back at his former student with a puzzled look: "Why did you try to pry it open? I have the key."

After finding the keyhole, Cornelius took off a slightly greenish brass key that was tied around his neck and inserted it into the lock.

Because it hadn't been opened for so long, the lock stubbornly resisted any external force.

Fortunately, with a crisp "click," the latch finally disengaged from the door frame, and the principal's office door was slowly pushed open.

“Come on.” Cornelius walked into the principal’s office, holding a lamp in one hand and covering his nose with the other.

Fritz hesitated for a moment, but still followed.

"You've never been inside the old marshal's office, have you?" Cornelius asked without turning his head.

“No.” Fritz followed cautiously behind. “When I was in school, the principal’s office had already been sealed off.”

The so-called treasures were indeed nonsense. Fritz was disappointed, but not surprised, to find that there was nothing special in the principal's office. There was only a simple desk, a hard chair, a set of writing instruments, two rows of bookshelves, a few drawers... and everything was covered with a thick layer of dust.

“Not when you were in school, but ever since Marshal Ned Smith passed away, this office has been sealed off.” Cornelius looked around sadly. “So everything in this room is exactly the same as the day the old marshal left. Nothing has changed.”

Upon hearing this, Fritz's gaze shifted slightly as he looked at the room's furnishings.

“Actually, it wasn’t all like that day.” Cornelius held up the lamp and walked to the drawer at the back right of his desk. “Like this.”

Fritz followed and found a shelf on the dresser with a sword on it—it was so covered in dust that when he looked at it earlier, he thought it was a pointer.

“All the personal belongings in this room belong to the old marshal, except for this sword,” Cornelius said calmly. “But to be precise, this sword also belongs to the old marshal; he gave it to me. I put it back the day this room was sealed off.”

This is a very simple sword, a half-sword, without any patterns or carvings, nor any jewel inlays.

The guard and counterweight are made of polished steel, and the hilt is wrapped with absorbent rope.

The scabbard was made of black hard leather, covered with scratches that would inevitably be left from walking, sitting and lying down, and the edges were already a little yellowed.

Jason Cornelius stared at the sword without saying a word.

Fritz stood with the former chief of staff for a long time until he came to his senses and remembered that he had an important matter to ask.

“My second question hasn’t been answered yet,” Fritz broke the silence in the office. “Sir.”

“Didn’t I say you could call me ‘teacher’?” Cornelius touched the corner of his eye and waved his hand. “Go ahead and ask.”

“Actually… it’s not just one problem anymore, it’s two…” Fritz coughed lightly, straightened up by pulling his heels together, and asked seriously, “Although the Southern Army is a pawn abandoned by the military headquarters, it is still an army. I’m just a major. How can I rightfully command it? And…”

Fritz hesitated for a moment, then asked seriously, "Since you have such a high opinion of Winters Montagne, what should I do if I fail?"

Upon hearing this, Cornelius turned around, looked Fritz up and down carefully, and suddenly burst into laughter, laughing so hard that he was out of breath, and the laughter shook the dust off the ceiling in large swaths.

"What are you thinking, cadet? How could we possibly let you command four legions? Winters Montagne is your enemy, but how could you possibly be his match?"

Jason Cornelius wiped away the tears of laughter, straightened his appearance before Ned Smith's sword, and solemnly raised his hand in salute.

After the ceremony, he reached out and, after twelve years, picked up his sword again.

His eyes burned in the darkness:
Winters Montagne's rival.

"it's me."
-
Meanwhile, at the other end of the narrow passage between the two mountains lies Maplestone City.

While other officers in the new army were anxiously awaiting the inevitable reorganization of the army and large-scale personnel changes, Pierre Michel received his commission from the new government ahead of schedule and was the first to do so.

He looked at the contents of the letter of appointment and fell into deep thought:
[Newly Reclaimed Land]
[Military Governor]
[It seems my description caused a misunderstanding, leading people to mistakenly believe Jason Cornelis was an old man (facepalm). But he was only in his early forties, in his prime. His career path was a classic example of "staying in the faculty as an instructor" and "rapid advancement." However, because the old federal civil service deliberately blocked the appointment of generals, Jason Cornelis remained a colonel for many years. Many colonels in the federal provinces were in the same situation; by seniority, they should have been generals long ago, while their contemporaries in other republics were already holding the rank of general. They were still field officers, and had to salute each other when they met.]
[LeBron James' resume]
Outstanding graduates of the second class of the Army Officer Academy

Army Academy teachers
Director of the Military Science Department of the Army Academy
Army Academy Director

Commander of the Allied Southern Army

[Fritz's resume]
Second Lieutenant Centurion, 300th Company, 10th Battalion, 2nd Regiment of the National Guard
Lieutenant Centurion, 500th Company, 1st Battalion, 2nd Regiment of the National Guard
Captain Centurion, 100th Company, 1st Battalion, 2nd Regiment of the National Guard
Major Researcher, War History Department, United Provinces Republic Army
Quartermaster General of the Allied Southern Army