I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 309 A Mess
"Previously there were hoofprints of more than four hundred horses, now there are two thousand people crossing the border..."

Inside the border fortress of the Tavitsky Province, Lieutenant General Norton glanced at the intelligence in his hand, then strode to the map, gestured with his finger, and knew the whereabouts of the two groups of men that had gone out during the day and at night.

"It's Tavitzky!?"

Lieutenant General Norton slammed his finger down on the map, leaving a deep mark on the location of Tavitzky with his fingernail. A look of confusion crossed the face of the battle-hardened veteran.

"During the day, there were about two to four hundred light cavalry, and now there are about two thousand infantry. What is the general of Bagnia trying to do? Attack, a sneak attack on Tavitsky."

It's unlikely. Tavitsky has gathered over 10,000 troops. How could less than 3,000 troops possibly cross the border?
"Intelligence officer, I previously ordered you to gather intelligence on the enemy's forces. Now, do you know who General Bagnia is, who commands two corps, nearly five thousand regular soldiers?"

Lieutenant General Norton was filled with doubt. He thought that the Minisian general he was facing was a madman, and a madman whose limbs were not functioning properly and whose brain did not obey commands.

Who fights a war like that?!

In late spring of this year, when Lieutenant General Norton received news that Bagnia had sent troops to attack the border castle that he had occupied, he already felt that the other side was indeed a Bagnia barbarian, and their way of thinking was just different from his own.

What time is it now?
Summer is almost here!
Fighting in the summer is difficult due to the hot weather. Soldiers are prone to fatigue and heatstroke, resulting in high non-combat casualties. Supply lines also become more vulnerable due to the high temperatures.

Once the war began, Lieutenant General Norton knew that his soldiers would be filled with resentment and their morale would be low, with no one willing to fight to the death under the scorching sun and in the hot wind.

He didn't think the Bagnian soldiers could tolerate this; the barbarians living in the mountains should be more afraid of the heat than the men of the sea.

That's why Lieutenant General Norton thought his opponent was a madman.

For this reason, Lieutenant General Norton had no intention of sending troops across the border of Bagnia to support the castle garrison.

If the castle guards can hold out until the crisp autumn air, he will naturally lead his army across the border to support and repel the Bagnians; otherwise, it's not a big deal if they lose it.

If a border fortress is lost, it must have been destroyed by artillery fire, rendering it meaningless to defend. If we can win the field battle, it will be easy to take it back.

Therefore, Lieutenant General Norton remained calm. Now that he had received such strange intelligence, he suddenly felt that he was too normal to understand his opponent's actions.

A group of cavalrymen, roughly the size of a Dalian, had passed by during the day. Lieutenant General Norton could understand that this was nothing more than an armed reconnaissance operation or a test of the Minisian army's defense system.

But what about the more than two thousand infantrymen who went there tonight?

Are the Bagnians trying to take down Tavitsky from behind the border fortress?

Isn't this idea a bit crazy?
Tavitsky commanded a 10,000-strong army, a reserve force for the fortress's defenses. Their commander, General David, was a renowned general of the kingdom, having distinguished himself in the war against the Reteria Empire.

Lieutenant General Norton did not feel he could not handle the attack that brought more than two thousand Bagnians to the scene fifty kilometers away.

and so……

Lieutenant General Norton scratched his head vigorously, looking extremely distressed.

"Chief of Staff, if we are to intercept these Bagnians..."

He turned around and spoke to the chief of staff standing behind him.

"What do you think we should do?"

Chief of Staff Colonel Horn pondered for a moment, then walked to the map and carefully observed the location of Tavitsky and the surrounding terrain.

"General, since they have chosen to march at night, they must be trying to avoid our reconnaissance, so their speed will not be too fast."

Horn analyzed.

“If they head straight for Tavitsky, we can send out light cavalry to chase after them and block them... but there are certain risks involved in doing so.”

Lieutenant General Norton remained silent. He knew what the risks were: sending out cavalry at night would most likely result in an ambush by the Bagnian barbarians on the plains.

Although it seems unbelievable, such a thing did happen, so much so that Lieutenant General Norton could not deny the possibility that it might happen again.

However, sending infantry instead of cavalry would be even riskier. Those Bagnian barbarians, known as the Prince's Guard by others, were no ordinary savages; they were far more capable and daring in battle.

"Never mind... Send out the Third Regiment to pursue them, and at the same time send a communications officer to inform Tavitsky to prepare the Seventh Army."

……

Chris is making a military gamble.

Originally, the attack on the border castle was just a training exercise for Chris. He planned to have the ten newly formed infantry regiments take turns to conduct a long march and a low-intensity siege in a realistic combat setting, so that the new recruits could experience the smoke and roar of the battlefield.

A corps with the vast majority of soldiers being new recruits is bound to cause problems.

Therefore, when Chris discovers that Tavisky has an opportunity, the only troops he can send out are the players, and can only be the players.

Lieutenant General Norton's feeling was right; his opponent was indeed a madman... no, a group of madmen.

The players in Tavitsky City have changed their tactics; they no longer help the Bagnian mercenaries, but instead attack them, simply because the players can no longer tolerate what these guys are doing.

As the battle raged on, the players continued to move closer to the west gate, the same gate through which they had entered the city.

The area was already occupied by a company of Minisian infantry. When they saw some torches approaching, they first shouted a few warnings and then ordered their arquebusiers to open fire.

Gunshots rang out in the darkness, bullets whistling through the streets, but the players had already scattered. They were not a regular army, they did not have orderly formations, but moved nimbly through the shadows of the buildings like a pack of wolves.

The torches used to lure the enemy were extinguished after the gunfire, and the streets returned to darkness. However, this only made the Minisian soldiers guarding the city gates even more fearful.

Darkness is always one of the sources of unknown fear.

"Throw the torches!"

"The captain among the Minieses shouted."

"Brothers, light up the streets!"

Dozens of torches were thrown into the street, and the flickering flames instantly dispelled the darkness.

However, in the instant the light returned, the Minisian soldiers were astonished to find that... the streets were completely empty.

How could that be? The torch was still burning just now.
"Where are they?" A soldier's voice trembled as he anxiously scanned his surroundings in the firelight.

An atmosphere of fear began to spread among the Minisian soldiers.

"Stay alert!"

The captain's voice was deep and powerful, and his eyes scanned every corner of the street warily.

"They're definitely nearby. Don't fall for the enemy's trickery." The captain's warning had some effect, but the soldiers' breathing grew heavier, and the torchlight cast uneasy shadows on their faces.

"Whoosh!"

A sharp whistling sound tore through the air! A crossbow bolt shot out without warning from the shadows of the rooftop, piercing the captain's throat with deadly accuracy!

Before he could even utter a sound, he staggered to the ground, clutching his neck, blood gushing from between his fingers.

"On the roof! The enemy is on the roof!"

A piercing scream tore through the night sky.

The soldiers, now leaderless, looked up in alarm. The torchlight could only illuminate the lower edge of the eaves; above them lay an impenetrable darkness. Fear erupted instantly!

"Bang! Bang bang bang!"

The panicked arquebusiers fired wildly at the rooftops, filling the air with smoke. Lead bullets struck the tiles, sending sparks and debris flying, but they could not hit the Grim Reaper lurking in the darkness.

In the chaos, something even more terrible happened.

"what……"

A short scream came from behind the Minisians. They turned around sharply and found that a huge dark shadow had appeared behind them at some point.

A Minisian soldier was howling in despair as a dark figure stood behind him, a black blade piercing his stomach and slashing left and right. Intestines and warm blood gushed out from the wound, and the Minisian soldier collapsed like an empty sack.

The figure, completely shrouded in a dark cloak, slowly drew a curved blade covered in slick filth. Only a wide grin could be seen in the shadow of the hood... The smile looked particularly eerie in the flickering firelight.

"Ewhhh... A demon!!!"

All the Minnesos who witnessed this scene were horrified. The shrill screams exploded among the Minnesota soldiers like a plague. Witnessing their comrades being disemboweled, the last thread of their reason snapped completely.

The matchlock musketeer, with bullets still in the chamber, pointed his gun at the target and fired, completely disregarding the possibility of friendly fire.

Exclamations of “Demon!” and “Monster!” rose and fell among the soldiers. Some instinctively retreated, while others shouted the holy name of the sea god, drawing courage from it, and charged toward the shadowy figure with their spears raised high.

However, in the chaos, the Minisians did not notice that more shadowy figures emerged from different corners where the torches had been thrown, approaching them at top speed.

The killing has now officially begun.

……

Under the dim moonlight, Dorok trudged through the overgrown wilderness, his flintlock rifle and backpack swaying with his movements. Occasionally, the barrel of the rifle would bump against his water bottle, producing a dull metallic sound.

The damp night wind, carrying the scent of earth and decaying grass, seeped into the gaps of his worn-out leather boots, adding to the stinging pain on his already blistered feet.

"This game is so realistic..."

Dorok exclaimed with delight. He was a new player who had only recently entered the game. At first, he didn't understand anything because the game didn't have a tutorial!

Dorok wandered aimlessly through the city, eating at restaurants when he was hungry and sleeping in the barracks when he was tired. He bought anything he saw that looked nice, carefree, just like a tourist who had come from the 25th century to visit the Middle Ages.

Well, if you're a tourist, this is actually very cost-effective, because if you top up a sum of money for food, you can easily spend it all here for a long time, even if you just eat, drink, sleep, and use the restroom.

After wandering aimlessly for a few days, Dorok passed by a recruitment point... A warband called Little Erlang the Reader was recruiting new members.

Dorok thought the players in this group were quite interesting, just like their guild's name, so he joined them. Then, without really understanding what was going on, he found himself on the battlefield, firing at the castle, and then there was another night march tonight.

Dorok didn't know what he was going to do, nor did he care. What he played or did wasn't important; what mattered was who he played with and whether he would have fun.

Dorok now finds it quite interesting.

The figures of their companions ahead swayed like silhouettes in the moonlight. Occasionally, low curses could be heard. Someone stepped into a mud puddle or got their leggings tangled in thorny nettles. The air in the column was thick with the smell of sweat and gunpowder, along with suppressed coughs.

In real life, Dorok would find this painful, but in the game, he found it quite amusing.

For some reason, Dorok felt a little thirsty, so he casually took the water bottle hanging on his waist, unscrewed the cap, and took a sip of the water inside. It was sweet, which made him feel happy.

"boom!"

A gunshot rang out suddenly from the marching column ahead, shattering the silence of the night. Dorok choked on his water, the sweet taste still lingering on his tongue, but his heart was already racing.

"Enemy attack?!"

He instinctively lowered his body, his fingers unconsciously reaching for the trigger of the flintlock pistol.

"take it easy."

The players behind him couldn't help but laugh when they saw Dorok's reaction.

"Judging from the noise, there might be some small insects nearby..."

As soon as he finished speaking, even more intense gunfire erupted, but this time it wasn't from the front, but from the left. And judging from the sound, the shooter was a hundred meters away, and the gunfire was even more muffled.

The sound of the lead bullets flying overhead was so sharp that Dorokh instinctively crouched down and raised his gun.

"Or is it a small insect?"

"They are small insects, quite a lot of them."

The veteran player remained unhurried, without even crouching down. He raised his flintlock pistol and fired a shot in the direction from which the gunshot rang out.

"Don't crouch, stand up and fire. Those bugs are armed with matchlock guns. Aim at those bright spots and fire, and you'll hit them every time."

At the same time, the players at the front and back of the column also opened fire. There was no one giving orders; they were all firing freely. The gunfire was dense and continuous, and while they were firing, they maintained their marching formation and moved forward as if it were a common occurrence.

Dorokh swallowed hard, his fingers trembling slightly as he adjusted the hammer of his flintlock pistol. In the darkness, he could clearly see the flashes of light a hundred meters away... sparks from an enemy arquebusier lighting his fuse.

"boom!"

The veteran player beside him fired another shot, the muzzle flash briefly illuminating his composed profile. A scream came from afar, and an enemy who was reloading fell to the ground.

"See that?"

The veteran player expertly loaded the gunpowder while nudging Doro with his shoulder.

"Those sparks are the perfect targets. Wait until they ignite before you fire, and you're guaranteed to be hit."

(End of this chapter)