I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 320 Preparations for War

That's fucking ruthless!

Chris sighed; that was his first thought upon receiving the news.

"In order to smear their opponents, they even lied and whitewashed me, an enemy who sent people to kill my own father."

Chris stood up, walked slowly to the window, and pushed open the heavy, ornate window, letting the hot air from outside rush into the room, causing the curtains to flutter and making the air inside feel increasingly hot.

"We have to send troops now..."

Chris sighed.

This season is not suitable for war, and the Baghnia military ministry is not yet prepared for war.

Of the five newly formed regiments that were planned to be stationed on the border and the Hegland Regiment personally led by Marquis Dirac, only three regiments have arrived. The remaining two newly formed regiments and the Hegland Regiment are still on their way.

The same applies to supplies. The corps is currently only equipped with two-thirds or one-third of its artillery, including the First Corps, which is theoretically Chris's personal guard, which has not yet been fully equipped.

However, the Kingdom of Minicia was clearly not a human being; they did not wait for the Kingdom of Bagnia to be fully prepared before the civil war broke out.

In fact, the civil war in Minicia had already begun before the Fifth Army attacked the Seventh Army, but the intelligence agents that Chris sent to Minicia were not capable enough to collect this important intelligence in time.

Perhaps he should really consider sending the players out as special agents... But given the players' unruly and reckless nature, he really didn't dare to think about what they would do once they left the Kingdom of Bagnia and were out of Chris's sight.

What happened in Neama was like a bloody mirror, constantly reminding Chris players of their destructive power.

The player's reckless behavior is like gout. Under the constraints of game reputation, it seems to disappear, but as soon as Chris is not careful and thinks nothing is happening, it will jump out and hit Chris hard.

Forget about player agents for now; the most important thing right now is the war.

The Bagnian Defence Force must go to war.

……

Outside Votradnoy, at the camp of the First Army Corps of the Bagnian Defense Forces, the air was thick with the smells of dust, leather, gunpowder, and the sweltering heat of late summer.

Seventeen-year-old military judge Jacques tightened his slightly oversized dark green military judge's coat, trying to make himself look dignified as a military judge.

Jacques has been promoted; because of his merits as the warlord, he is now a military judge, a superior officer of the warlord.

At this moment, the Jacques military judge, respected by the soldiers, stood on a slightly elevated earthen hill at the edge of the camp, looking down at the scene below, which resembled a boiling anthill.

The First Regiment of the Bagnia Defense Force, known as Prince Chris's personal guard, is making final preparations for the upcoming expedition.

As the son of a hunter, Jacques, who had received professional hunter training and distinguished himself on the battlefield, possessed a more meticulous observational ability than ordinary people. His gaze swept over the bustling camp like that of a peregrine falcon.

The core of the First Army Corps was undoubtedly the musketeers lined up in neat rows, who made up the majority of the corps.

Unlike the old-fashioned flintlock muskets that Prince Chris had equipped him with a year ago, the soldiers here carried flintlock muskets with a dull metallic luster on their shoulders. Their general appearance had not changed, but they were more refined.

Jacques had heard veterans rave about how this new weapon was excellent and more refined. The barbs on the stock had been removed, replaced by a smoother surface, and the grip was wrapped in soft leather, increasing comfort and preventing soldiers from chafing their palms during rapid reloading.

The metal components have also been improved, with more precise parts in the firing mechanism, significantly improving firing reliability and reducing the probability of misfires. The barrel length is also moderate, reducing the difficulty for shorter soldiers to stand on tiptoe when loading.

The weight distribution of the gun is also more reasonable, making it lighter overall and easier for soldiers to carry for extended periods and aim quickly.

"so good."

Jacques sighed. As a military judge, he could easily obtain a Type 2 flintlock rifle, but he no longer needed it. His armor consisted of a military dagger and a flintlock pistol.

Although the military longsword and flintlock pistol were very useful, Jacques still often missed his life as a sniper, and the military life he spent running through the wilderness with his flintlock pistol, firing at the enemy.

At that moment, in Jacques's observation, hundreds of soldiers were sitting in groups of three or five on the open ground in the camp, carefully cleaning gun barrels with cleaning rods or oiling flintlock mechanisms with small brushes, preparing for the march.

According to the marching regulations for the defense forces established by Prince Chris, musketeers must be prepared to fire during marches in order to deal with any possible encounters.

They moved swiftly and intently, clearly cherishing their weapons. Brand-new leather ammunition pouches were slung across each person's waist, each containing a compartment filled with pre-loaded bullets and gunpowder cartridges wrapped in oiled paper, making them extremely easy to access.

In addition, each of these musketeers wore a light yet sturdy iron-trimmed leather armor and a disc helmet.

The leather armor was made of three layers of tanned cowhide, with fine iron plates sewn into the lining to cover the vital areas.

Its weight is only half that of the breastplate, yet it can effectively withstand the threat of sword cuts and long-range lead bullets. Most importantly, it does not affect the musketeer's reloading speed or marching endurance.

Chris had originally considered equipping the musketeers with breastplates, as he had the financial and material resources to do so. However, after experimentally equipping a company of musketeers in the First Army with breastplates, he found that the results were not ideal.

For musketeers, the breastplate was too heavy and cumbersome.

They were not players; each of them could carry armor weighing nearly fifty kilograms, yet move with incredible speed, wielding flintlock pistols and broadswords to fight the Minieses for a whole day.

Musketeers lacked the load-bearing capacity, so after the new recruits enlisted, Isaac, based on his experience in the Bohemian army, assigned the strong and robust recruits to melee units, where they wore armor and wielded spears and swords and shields.

Those who were physically weak served as musketeers.

Even Chris thought there was no problem with this troop allocation, which resulted in the musketeers having lower physical strength and endurance than the spearmen and swordsmen.

Even though the new recruits were well-fed and cared for after enlisting, the training time was short, so the instructors could only focus on discipline, obedience to orders, understanding commands, and simple musketeer formations.

As for the physical fitness and endurance training of the musketeers, it was neglected.

Therefore, even the veterans of the First Army Corps are still considered to be physically inadequate by players, and can only wear relatively light iron-lined leather armor and disc helmets, but are not eligible for breastplates.

After weighing the options and making choices, the musketeers of the defense force could only become a medium-sized line infantry unit.

Furthermore, no matter how lightweight the iron-plated leather armor and disc helmets were, the combined weight of flintlock muskets, ammunition, first aid supplies, drinking water, and emergency rations required for each soldier was still a heavy burden.

This resulted in the Bagnian Defence Force's musketeers having relatively poor battlefield mobility, but they had little problem fighting defensive and positional battles.

If they were to launch a pursuit, or a long-distance raid or bayonet charge, their mobility would be one level lower than that of the Miniese musketeers.

Interspersed among the musketeers were a smaller but equally conspicuous number of spearmen and swordsmen.

The spearmen wielded nearly two-zhang-long (approximately 6.6 meters) long, hard ash wood spears, their tips gleaming coldly, forming a formidable steel jungle. They wore relatively heavy breastplates, which provided them with excellent close-combat protection.

The sword-and-shield guards were even more formidable, clad in armor made of a combination of breastplate and lamellar armor, covering their torsos and limbs. In one hand they held a broad-bladed half-sword, and in the other a round shield covered with tough cowhide and decorated with the insignia and serial numbers of their unit.

In Isaac's vision, swordsmen and shieldmen were the spearheads that tore through enemy lines, protected musketeers, and could fight ten men at once. Although they were few in number, their fierce spirit was in no way inferior.

What impressed Jacques most was the soldiers' condition.

About half of them bore the marks of time and scars, some deep, some shallow, on their faces. Their eyes were calm and sharp, exuding a composure born of countless battles. They polished their equipment with an almost reverent skill, and spoke to each other in low but confident voices, occasionally bursting into hearty laughter as they reminisced about their past battles alongside Prince Chris against the rebels and the Minieses.

Their fighting spirit was as scorching and high as the air at the end of summer.

The other half, though younger, was also caught up in the atmosphere, trying to straighten his back and mimicking the veteran's movements, his eyes showing both tension and excitement about stepping onto the battlefield.

Upon seeing this, Jacques nodded approvingly.

Excellent, morale is high, and they are not afraid of battle.

After briefly assessing the morale of the troops about to depart, Jacques descended from the watchtower, where two governors and more than thirty attendants were waiting for him.

"To the supply camp!"

Jacques, undeterred, gave the order, then leaped onto the horse led by his attendant and galloped off toward the rear of the camp.

Jacques was able to become a military judge not only because of his merits, but also because of his outstanding learning ability.

Jacques rode through the military camp, followed by two military governors and more than thirty attendants. The horse's hooves pounded the hard, muddy ground with a dull thud.

The supply battalion was located behind the main camp, and it was even busier than the front-line troops' camp. Wagons, packhorses, laborers, and auxiliary soldiers in light green uniforms moved back and forth, and the air was filled with the mixed smell of hay, leather, and gunpowder.

"Your Honor, Military Judge!"

A quartermaster in a brown robe saw Jacques and his party and immediately jogged over, saluting with his right fist pressed against his left chest. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, indicating he had been busy for some time.

"Quartermaster Roberts of the First Army Corps Supply Battalion, reporting for duty!"

Jacques dismounted and nodded slightly. His sharp gaze swept over the mountain of supplies, then he walked toward them on his own. The warlord and his entourage following behind him dispersed like bees smelling nectar to inspect the military supplies.

According to the military regulations established by Chris, the supplies of any army must be inspected three times before it sets out.

The first time was for the quartermaster officers of the military to conduct a self-inspection and write an inspection report.

The second time, a military judge would come with the military governor to inspect the situation. If any discrepancies were found between the findings and the list or the quartermaster's records, the matter would be brought to court.

Jacques silently recited the military regulations in his mind, his eyes scanning the mountain of supplies like a hawk.

His entourage had already dispersed, skillfully opening each wooden crate to inspect the equipment and supplies inside.

Jacques, with his hands behind his back, wandered around the various tents of the supply camp, looking at the things piled on the wagons.

Bundles of brand-new military uniforms and spare boots, along with all sorts of miscellaneous fabrics, were piled up like small mountains.

According to the supply regulations, each soldier must have three sets of uniforms and three pairs of new military boots for changing.

In addition, you will need a raincoat, a sleeping bag, a cloak, two belts, a backpack, two water bottles, an ammunition pouch, and a first-aid kit.

Behind them, large wooden barrels labeled "hard biscuits," "canned meat," and "canned beans" were carefully stacked neatly on the wagon by auxiliary soldiers and farmers... These were emergency military rations, issued to soldiers before they went into battle.

On a regular basis, they can eat hot food in the military camp, instead of pre-cooked food.

The piles of hay stacked against the side of the wagon exuded a dry smell; it was the lifeline for the warhorses and packhorses.

Gunpowder barrels and lead bullet boxes, tightly wrapped in thick tarpaulins, were placed separately in an area away from open flames and guarded by designated personnel.

There were even several wagons specifically loaded with ovens from the field bakery and large quantities of flour... This meant that even on the march, the soldiers could eat freshly baked bread!

Jacques also saw several unusual wagons carrying repair tools, spare gun barrels, flint, cleaning rods and other military parts, as well as medicine wagons piled high with strips of linen, hemostatic herbs and spirits.

Several pharmacists and battlefield first responders wearing clean aprons were inside, busy taking inventory with medics.

As Jacques watched, he would occasionally walk over and take things out of the carriage to examine them.

Yes, the uniform is fine. The fabric is the standard thick cotton-linen blend, which feels substantial to the touch, has a regular texture, and the stitches are tight and even.

Jacques casually pulled out a military overcoat, unfolded it, and saw that the hem could sweep the ground. It was loose-fitting and extremely warm. The backpack and belt were so sturdy that they could be swung as weapons, and the buckles and metal rings were polished to a shine, not a single one was loose.

Jacques inspected the military boots. He pulled out a pair from the pile of spare boots, bent the soles hard, and found them to be incredibly resilient and elastic. The nails on the soles were firmly in place, and the leather uppers were soft and durable. He brought the boots close to his nose and smelled them. They didn't have the pungent, sour smell of inferior leather; instead, he could detect a faint scent of plant dyes used in the tanning process.

Great, there are no problems with the clothes.

When Jacques conducted a spot check on the food, he found the problem.

It was a can of meat that he had randomly picked out of a wooden barrel. The can was made of tinplate and sealed tightly. Jacques had to use his military dagger to poke a hole in it.

The canned food was pork, and as soon as Jacques opened it, he smelled a foul, fishy odor.

The canned food is spoiled?

Jacques's expression immediately turned serious. He turned the can upside down, poured all the large chunks of meat and broth into an iron basin, then took a dagger, stabbed a piece of meat, and, ignoring its odor, put it into his mouth.

Jacques' face scrunched up the moment he took a bite.

Jacques immediately spat out the piece of meat, which was dark red in color, with the fat appearing an abnormal yellow, and also had obvious streaks of blood.

He frowned and carefully examined the piece of meat in his hand, noticing that the meat was coarse, the fat was unevenly distributed, and there were some small cyst-like objects.

"What's going on with this pork?!"

Jacques cursed under his breath, a nameless anger burning in his heart. He realized that the pork in the can had not undergone strict quarantine and processing, and was likely from diseased pigs or improperly castrated pigs. Such food did not comply with Prince Chris's military ration regulations!
Jacques did not react immediately; he even secretly hid the meat and empty cans, intending to take them back as evidence.

The food problem could be due to the quartermaster, or it could be that the supplier of military rations cut corners to save costs.

All of this needs to be investigated.

During the subsequent inspection, apart from the defective canned pork, Jacques found nothing else, especially the crucial medical supplies, which the medical camp's first responders cared about more than he did.

The paramedic simply discovered a roll of bandage that wasn't stored in a sealed box as per medical regulations, and he immediately launched into a tirade against Quartermaster Roberts, leaving the latter utterly humiliated.

Before leaving, Jacques glanced once more over the busy yet orderly military camp.
Superior equipment, high morale, mountains of supplies... all of this points to one clear message.

The First Regiment of the Bagnia Defense Force, an elite force personally led by Prince Chris, is ready.

No matter what lies ahead—the scorching heat of Minicia, treacherous mountain roads, or bloody battlefields of civil war—they will resolutely march forward.

The gears of war had already begun to turn heavily and irresistibly on the outskirts of Woltradnoy, accompanied by the whirring of flintlock muskets, the creaking of wagons, and the shouts of soldiers.

(End of this chapter)