I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 342 Both sides play cloth

The battlefield was completely transparent, and Prince Seba of the Retalia Empire seemed unaware of this.

When a large number of Retalia scouts went to the Tavitsky Province to conduct reconnaissance, they spotted Major General Marlow's army group, and inevitably, they were also spotted and found by the player.

Therefore, Major General Marlowe also received the news that evening.

The cold night wind, carrying fine snowflakes, lashed against the thick canvas tents of the temporary command post of the Malo Group Army.

Inside the tent, Major General Marlowe's expression was even more grim than the weather outside.

Before him lay several sheets of paper, the contents of which were strikingly consistent between the prince's guards scouts and his own reconnaissance, and pointed to a chilling truth.

They were being watched, and the ones watching them were the elite cavalry of the Leterians.

The report details at least two Retalian cavalry units, each with different armor and carrying spare horses, that roamed like ghosts on the snowfields not far from the flanks and rear of the Ninth and Tenth Legions' marching column.

The activity and scale of these scouts far exceed those of ordinary guard patrols.

The prince's guards who accompanied the army had already gone to fight them, but no matter how many people were killed or wounded, these Leterians were still desperately trying to get closer to scout.

"Hmph, you've already brought back over a hundred scout corpses. Prince Seba really thinks highly of us."

Marlowe tapped his finger heavily on the number of enemy scouts mentioned in the report, his voice low and tinged with seriousness.

"It seems that the Third Prince of Leteria, who suffered a severe blow, is eager to get revenge. He wants to devour our 'lone army' before we even reach the camp."

The atmosphere inside the tent instantly plummeted to freezing. The battalion and regimental commanders and staff officers gathered around the map all wore expressions of tension and worry.

They knew that the major general's concerns were not unfounded. When marching across the open snowfields, infantrymen faced high-speed cavalry, especially when the enemy was prepared and intended to launch a surprise attack. Their situation was extremely dangerous.

"General."

A burly captain with frostbite scars on his face spoke first, his voice rough.

"Based on my judgment, judging from the location and frequency of the scout reports, the enemy's main force is at most half a day's journey away from us."

They are certainly waiting for the perfect moment to strike, most likely tomorrow when our ranks are at their longest and most exhausted during our march.

"Then we can't give them that chance!"

The captain of the 2nd Company of the 10th Regiment, a relatively young officer, spoke urgently.

"General, we are not far from the camp occupied by the Prince's Guard. If we order the troops to abandon some of their baggage and march lightly, we can set off before dawn and advance at full speed with gritted teeth."

"It's entirely possible for us to break into that camp before the Leterian cavalry can complete their encirclement! Once inside the camp walls and relying on the fortifications, no matter how many of their cavalry there are, they won't be able to do anything to us!"

"Forced march?"

The lieutenant in charge of logistics and engineering immediately raised questions.

"Lieutenant, your idea is good, but what about reality? The brothers marched all day yesterday in the wind and snow, and their physical strength is greatly depleted. We are still carrying fifteen artillery pieces and a large amount of supplies. You're saying we should abandon them?"

Have you calculated the losses involved?

Even if we manage to reach the camp gate, the ranks will inevitably be disorganized and chaotic. What if the Leterian cavalry launch a charge when we are at our most disorganized, such as when we have just arrived at the camp gate and the ranks are packed together...

The consequences would be unimaginable! Secondly, we would have abandoned our supplies, including food and ammunition, tents for warmth, spare fuel, and fortification materials.

"Once we're inside the enemy camp, are we supposed to defend it by starving ourselves? The enemy camp has just been captured; we don't even know what's inside. Don't expect to be able to use their equipment immediately."

The young lieutenant was taken aback, his face flushed, but he couldn't refute it; the risks of a forced march were indeed enormous.

"Then... how about we change our marching method?"

Another staff officer proposed a compromise.

"Order the entire army to march in combat formation, with close contact between companies, musketeers and spearmen providing alternating cover, artillery and supply train in the center, and scouts spread out further."

Although this will be much slower, at least we can form ranks and resist immediately if attacked. As long as we can withstand the first wave of attack and gain a foothold, the Leterian cavalry may not dare to fight us head-on.

The suggestion sounded much more prudent, and the officers nodded slightly.

However, Major General Marlowe's gaze remained deep. He did not immediately express his opinion, but slowly scanned the map, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table.

For a time, only the crackling of the fire and the howling wind could be heard inside the tent.

After a long while, Major General Marlowe raised his head and looked sharply at the staff officer who had suggested marching in combat formation.

"Major, how much will our speed decrease when marching in combat formation through deep snow?"

The staff officer did a quick calculation.

"...I'm afraid...it will be less than half the normal speed, General, and the soldiers will need to be on high alert at all times, which will double their physical exertion."

"So, at this speed, how long will it take us to reach the military camp?"

"...It will take at least two days, or even longer, and even longer if there are small-scale attacks."

"Two days..."

Major General Marlowe repeated it, a cold smile playing on his lips.

"For two whole days, we were like a hedgehog slowly crawling in the snow, exposing our entire backs to a pack of patiently waiting hungry wolves."

The commanders of Retalia are not fools; they won't take on us head-on.

They will harass and tear at the weakest parts of our marching column, like a real wolf pack... supply trains, artillery, and stragglers.

They will use bows and arrows and muskets to shoot at us from a distance, constantly wearing us down, creating panic, and slowing us down. When we are truly exhausted and our formation begins to crumble, that will be the moment of their fatal blow.

Marlowe's analysis plunged the tent into silence once again.

The drawbacks of marching in battle formations were laid bare... It may seem like a defensive posture, but in reality, it puts the cavalry in a longer period of passive defense and attrition, playing right into the hands of cavalrymen skilled in mobile harassment.

This is why a commander can refer to the advice of his staff officers, but cannot completely trust it. The latter may have extensive military knowledge, but their lack of combat experience may sometimes make their ideas impractical.

"Then... General, what should we do?"

All eyes in the military tent were now focused on Marlowe.

Major General Marlowe stood up, walked to the tent entrance, and lifted a corner of the heavy curtain, letting in the dark snowy night and howling wind.

He stared for a moment, then lowered the curtain, turned around, and his eyes flashed with determination.

"We're not leaving."

His voice was clear and firm, echoing in the quiet tent.

"what?!"

Several officers exclaimed in surprise at the same time.

"Yes, we're not leaving."

Marlow walked back to the map and pressed his finger firmly on their current campsite.

"Let's set up camp right here! Make the camp sturdy, put up barricades, lay down barbed wire, and set up the artillery."

We will stay here, rested and ready, and wait for Prince Seba's 'wolves' to come to us."

The decision was so unexpected that the officers were stunned.

"General, this... we're only a day's journey from the camp. Wouldn't stopping be..."

The young major, a staff officer, was eager to say something.

"Isn't it nothing?"

Marlowe interrupted him, his gaze sharp as lightning. "Wouldn't that give the enemy time to besiege us? Or do you think that if we stop, the enemy will definitely attack a well-defended camp?"

He looked around at everyone and analyzed the situation clearly.

"First, we have plenty of food! Our supplies are all there, so even if we eat whatever we want, it will last us for a month without any problem."

Secondly, we have enough cotton-padded clothes and coal fuel, and the campfire in this camp can keep burning so we won't freeze to death.

Third, and most importantly...we are infantry, and our strength lies in holding our ground and relying on fortifications.

And who is the enemy? It's cavalry, cavalry that must find opportunities to fight while in motion!

Their forte is surprise attacks, harassment, and interception, not tackling tough challenges or waging a full-scale war.

He pointed to the area on the map where the Leterian cavalry was expected to operate.

"They wanted to catch us off guard and devour us during our march. Now that we're not moving, we've become a tough nut to crack. What are they going to do?"

"Attack us?"

Marlowe sneered.

"In the freezing cold, charging a well-prepared infantry camp with artillery and strong fortifications with cavalry? Even if they dared, they would pay an unbearable price. Even if we were to be wiped out, I would still consider it a worthwhile exchange."

Besides, I don't think they dare to make an exchange. Prince Seba has already suffered enough from losing a military camp; would he really lose his precious elite cavalry as well?

"Not attack?"

Marlowe's tone shifted.

"Then they'll just be stuck in the freezing cold, circling our camp. They're cavalry, they eat and their horses graze, so their sustenance will definitely be greater than ours."

How many days could their supplies last? Even the most hardy Bohemian horses can't withstand long periods of sleeping outdoors. We were wearing thick cotton clothes and warming ourselves by the fire, while they were outside, enduring the wind and cold.

Let's see who can outlast whom!

He slammed his hand on the table.

"As long as we don't move, the initiative is in our hands. They either have to retreat or they'll have to come and take on this tough nut."

Whichever option they choose, it's a hundred times better for our 'lone army' than being chased like rabbits on the march, and besides..."

A glint of light flashed in Marlowe's eyes.

"The Prince's Guard's camp is just a day's journey away. If we hold our ground and wait for reinforcements, and even draw away the enemy's main force, wouldn't that be an opportunity for them to relieve pressure and consolidate their defenses?"
If necessary, they can even organize forces to support us.

"The city of Tavitsky is just a day's distance behind us, and Prince Chris's main force is not far away. We have nothing to fear; in fact, we are not isolated."

His words were like the sun breaking through the clouds.

The doubts and anxieties on the officers' faces gradually faded, replaced by contemplation and sudden realization, which ultimately transformed into conviction and determination.

"Pass the order."

Major General Marlowe's voice was resolute and filled with undeniable power.

"The entire army shall halt its advance, reinforce existing camps, deploy double-layered barbed wire, set up multiple barricades and traps, and move all artillery into pre-designated positions. Musketeers shall take turns on duty, ensuring that no one is off-duty and no one is without their gun."

Tell the soldiers we're right here, waiting for the 'wolf cubs' of Leteria to come visit. Let them see that Bagnia's hedgehogs not only prick, but can also break the teeth of wolves.

"Yes, General!"

The officers answered in unison, their voices filled with fighting spirit.

The tense atmosphere inside the tent vanished, replaced by a calm determination to meet the challenge.

The wind and snow continued, but the camps of the Ninth and Tenth Corps remained firmly wedged into the ice field like a nail, waiting for the hunters to arrive.

……

The Snow Wolf Thousand-Man Corps and the North Wind Thousand-Man Corps cavalry, like two silver torrents carrying the aura of death, silently arrived at their designated attack position in the darkest hour before dawn... behind a low snow hill overlooking the Bagnia camp.

Viscount Hohenheim, the leader of the "Snow Wolves" under Prince Seba, known for his bravery and ruthlessness, was currently lying on his horse, staring intently through a monocular telescope at the prey below that should have been asleep, or at least waiting for them to harvest in the chaos of their march.

However, the sight that came into his view made the heart of this battle-hardened knight sink.

There were no long lines of moving torches, no scattered supply wagons, and no exhausted infantry columns trudging through deep snow.

There was only dead silence.

No, it wasn't completely silent. In that fenced-off camp, the flickering firelight cast shadows on the tents covered in thick snow and... the extremely conspicuous fortifications.

The double-layered barbed wire fence resembled two ugly scars surrounding the camp.

Behind the barbed wire were countless sharp barricades pointing outwards at an angle, some even wrapped with intimidating barbed wire.

What made Hohenheim's pupils shrink even more was that from several key high points and corners of the camp, he could clearly see the dark outlines of the cannon muzzles and the sandbag bunkers piled up around the cannons.

On the camp walls, shadowy figures were clearly visible in the firelight. They wore thick gray cotton overcoats and furry earmuffs, and the barrels of their muskets reflected a cold metallic gleam in the firelight. They were not standing idly, but rather maintaining a vigilant posture, their sharp eyes scanning the dark snowfield outside the camp.

The entire camp, like a curled-up steel hedgehog covered in sharp quills, lay quietly dormant on the snowfield, exuding a chilling aura of defense.

It silently proclaims: We are here, waiting for you.

"What the hell!"

Hohenheim muttered a low curse, the sound almost freezing in the cold air.

"They stopped, and even built such a defense overnight?!"

This was completely beyond his expectation.

Hohenheim had anticipated the enemy's forced march, their battle formations, and even their panicked rout, but he hadn't expected them to stop so decisively and build a solid tortoise shell on the spot.

"Your Excellency Viscount,"

The commander of the "North Wind" thousand-man squad, a baron with an equally grim expression, rode closer on horseback, his voice carrying a barely perceptible hint of surprise.

"They moved too fast; the fortifications don't look like they were set up temporarily."

Hohenheim put down his telescope, his face so dark it could drip water.

He knew perfectly well what this meant. The other side had not only stopped, but had stopped in a premeditated and prepared manner; the Bagnian commander named Marlo had seen through his intentions.

His knights began to stir. The anticipated exhilarating charge, the slaughter of fleeing soldiers, and the plunder of spoils did not materialize.

Instead, there was a sense of bewilderment as one faced a cold, solid fortress in the biting wind. The warhorses puffed out white breaths restlessly, their hooves pawing at the snow.

"What should we do, Your Excellency? Should we attack?"

"The North Wind" asked, his tone clearly hesitant.

As a cavalry commander, he knew better than anyone what it meant to use cavalry to storm an infantry camp with well-fortified positions and artillery. It would be a clash of flesh and blood against steel, gunpowder, and deep trenches; the shattering of knightly honor in the face of brutal reality.

Hohenheim did not answer immediately. He raised his binoculars again and observed every detail of the camp more carefully.

The sheer density of the defenses alarmed him; the depth between the two rows of barbed wire was enough to trap warhorses, and their presence, along with the chevaux-de-frise, would severely impede the cavalry's charge speed.

And if he were blocked in front of the fortifications and exposed to the crossfire of enemy muskets and artillery... just imagining the scene sent chills down his spine.

Not to mention the Bagnian soldiers standing guard on the camp walls, their eyes sharp, they didn't seem flustered at all.

Time passed in a cold silence.

(End of this chapter)