I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 360 The Edge of Hell
"A breach! They've torn a breach!"

The young lieutenant, who had risked standing up to observe the battle, spoke with a changed tone. He pointed to the steel thorny area to the south, which had been forcibly torn apart and was filled with smoke and dust, and loudly warned the company commander.

Twisted barricades and broken barbed wire lay scattered on the ground, revealing two trenches behind them that looked like chasms from hell.

Lennart's heart sank as he stood up, but his face was instantly replaced by an almost ferocious look.

He had anticipated this, and he believed that even if those Leterian tin cans could tear through the barbed wire, they would have no chance of getting through his defensive line.

Because he was a Bagnian, an honorable, double-paid halberdier.

"Get up, all of you! Halberdiers, get ready to work!"

Lennart's roar was like a thunderclap, instantly drowning out the desperate shouts of the knights charging outside the wall and the explosions of their own muskets.

Besides shouting, Lennart himself was the first to straighten up from behind the breastwork, lifting the heavy halberd with one hand, its sharp blade pointing diagonally to the sky, reflecting a chilling light in the sunlight.

The 150 halberd soldiers behind the wall, though still pale-faced, gritted their teeth and straightened their backs from crouching or leaning, stimulated by their company commander's rock-solid figure and furious roar.

They gripped their halberds tightly, the cold wooden handles and hemp ropes soaked with sweat, the heavy halberd heads trembling slightly, but that trembling was no longer pure fear, but a mixture of tension and ferocity as they were about to deliver a fatal blow.

Lennart didn't even bother to look at the Leterian knights surging toward the breach like a tide; his eyes were fixed on the edges of the two trenches behind the breach. Experience told him that the gates of hell were about to open before him.

Sure enough, the few Leterian knights at the forefront, with their indomitable spirit and superb horsemanship and their desire for victory, successfully leaped over the first two-meter-wide trench.

Then the heavy hooves of their warhorses pounded down on the narrow, raised earthen embankment between the two trenches, a mere 1.5 meters wide, and it was then that the warhorses and their riders realized the treacherous nature of the trenches.

"Sorry..."

The warhorses let out extremely terrified neighs, trying to stop, but the width of 1.5 meters was simply not enough for the warhorses, which were charging at high speed and wearing heavy armor, to cushion their impact and turn around.

The immense inertia made them like out-of-control battering rams, unable to stop, and before they could even make a second jump, they plunged straight and desperately into the second trench.

In an instant, the dull thud of impact, the cracking of bones, and the muffled thud of flesh being pierced by sharp objects—all sorts of chilling sounds blended together, creating a dirge of hell.

Lennart could see clearly that the knights who were so majestic just a moment ago were now being thrown into the death trap, which was only one meter wide but more than two meters deep and filled with sharpened wooden stakes and barbed wire, like dumplings being dropped into a pot.

The heavy full plate armor became a death warrant at this moment, and the huge impact forced them to be "nailed" to the spikes at the bottom like nails.

The sharp, long, triangular iron spikes not only easily pierced the horse's belly and legs, but also the knight's breastplate, because the impact they generated when they fell was simply too heavy.

Blood gushed out like a fountain from the pierced plate armor, quickly staining the soil at the bottom of the trench red. The dying neighs of the warhorses and the knights' shrill, inhuman screams echoed through the trench.

The knights and squires who couldn't stop behind them fell one after another into the same death pit, like dominoes, or crashed into the corpses of their companions and warhorses in front, causing even more tragic crushing and trampling.

The second trench instantly transformed into a meat grinder, churning with steel, flesh, and death.

"Now's the time, stab me!"

Lennart's eyes were bloodshot. He let out a beastly roar and was the first to lean out halfway, gripping his halberd tightly with both hands. He then stabbed the bloodied Reteria knight in the trench, who was struggling to climb up the spikes.

The sharp halberd tip, carrying immense force, easily pierced the gap between the knight's shoulder armor and breastplate, embedding itself deeply into his neck.

Warm blood gushed out from the halberd shaft, the knight's body stiffened abruptly, a hissing sound came from his throat, and the light in his eyes quickly dimmed.

"kill!"

"Stab them to death!"

"For Bagnia and the Prince!"

Lennart's actions ignited a fuse, and the halberdiers behind him roared and leaned out from behind the breastwork, stabbing their two-and-a-half-meter-long infantry halberds like venomous snakes into the struggling, wailing, or trying-to-climb out of the two-meter-deep trenches of the Reteria.

The sounds of sharp halberds piercing flesh, leather armor, and seams in plate armor rose and fell, and each thrust of the halberd soldiers brought forth a spray of blood.

The trench instantly transformed into a slaughterhouse of halberds, with Bagnya soldiers looking down and mercilessly reaping the enemies below, who were like lambs to the slaughter.

Some were pierced through the chest, some were stabbed through the thigh and pinned to the ground, and some had their faceplates pierced directly. Screams, curses, the clanging of metal, and the tearing of flesh mingled together, and the pungent, suffocating smell of blood rose into the sky.

In this desperate situation, even a knight in finely crafted plate armor with extraordinary swordsmanship could not block a halberd thrusting from three directions simultaneously with a single longsword.

"Don't let them climb up! Stab them, stab them to death!"

As Lennart roared, he struggled to pull the halberd from the corpse, spewing out a trail of blood and bits of flesh, and then without hesitation stabbed another servant who was trying to climb up the edge of the trench.

The servant's terrified gaze froze instantly. After being pierced through the chest by the halberd, he screamed and fell back to the bottom of the ditch.

However, the Retalians were not without a chance to fight back.

The sounds of crossbow bolts piercing the air and arquebuses exploding rang out again. The Leterian crossbowmen and arquebusiers who had risked their lives to provide cover from the rear and flanks turned bloodshot as they watched their knights and comrades being slaughtered indiscriminately in the trenches.

Ignoring their own heavy casualties, they frantically fired arrows and lead bullets at the halberdiers leaning out from above the breastwork.

"Ugh..."

Not far from Lennart, a young soldier who was struggling to thrust his halberd down suddenly shuddered as a crossbow bolt pierced his unprotected cheek and emerged from the other side.

He let out a short, miserable scream, the halberd slipped from his hand, and he fell straight backward.

"puff!"

Another soldier nearby was hit in the shoulder by a lead bullet from a musket, his breastplate was pierced, and blood gushed out. He groaned in pain, staggered backward, and the halberd in his hand fell to the side.

"Medic! Medic!"

"Watch out for a stray arrow! Duck!"

Lennart's eyes were bloodshot as he roared at the soldiers, but his hands continued to move without stopping.

He jerked back, dodging a crossbow bolt that grazed his helmet, and then immediately lunged forward, plunging his halberd deep into the arm of a knight who was trying to parry with his sword, pinning him to the trench wall.

This was a bloody tug-of-war.

Bagnia's halberdiers were frantically thrusting downwards, reaping lives in the trenches, while simultaneously exposing themselves to the desperate ranged fire of the Reteria, with men constantly falling to the ground, struck by arrows and bullets.

Behind the breastwork, the groans of the wounded and the cries of their comrades began to rise.

But no one flinched! Under Lennart's mad tiger-like leadership, the halberdiers gritted their teeth, their eyes bloodshot, ignoring their fallen comrades and the arrows and bullets flying at them, mechanically and fiercely repeating the thrusting motion.

The screams in the trench gradually subsided, but the blood at the bottom of the trench had already accumulated into dark red puddles.

Lennart gasped for breath, sweat and blood mingling in his eyes, blurring his vision. He wiped his face, raised his halberd, now covered in bits of flesh and blood, and prepared to plunge it into the last twitching figure at the bottom of the ravine.

Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of another gap torn open further away, where new Leterian infantrymen, carrying makeshift ladders and planks, were charging forward amidst artillery fire and bullets, howling as they tried to fill the death trench that had swallowed countless knights...

……

The mounted Retalians launched a frenzied attack on the southern direction of the Hegland Legion, and in the process, five massive stone-throwing cannons were pushed forward by the enemy artillerymen, ready to get close and fire.

The siege cannons on the rocky highlands were not available at the moment and could not fire at the Retalians to the south.

One reason they couldn't do this was because the Minieses came from the east.

Perhaps because of the threat posed by Prince Seba, or perhaps because they had discovered the danger posed by the Bagnians, the Minisians went all out in this attack, deploying not only 5,000 infantrymen at once, but also more than 30 bronze cannons of varying calibers among them.

To deal with the Minisian infantry and the artillery mixed in with the crowd, Chris's siege artillery regiment had to prioritize targeting these enemies, leaving no time to turn the cannons around and adjust their positions to deal with the enemies to the south.

Therefore, only the field artillery regiment of the southern Hegland regiment can participate in the battle and provide fire support.

Meanwhile, in the rear of the Retalians, the five stone-throwing cannons, each requiring eight to ten strong oxen to pull, were the primary targets of the field artillery.

Therefore, the soldiers of Hygrand temporarily lost the support of field artillery.

However, this was not a big deal, because even without field artillery, they still had light infantry guns like the Tiger Crouching Gun.

Every infantry company in Hygrand, whether it's a halberdier company or a musketeer company, is equipped with at least two tiger-squat cannons, which can fire in shifts to maintain continuous firepower.

This led to the Leterian knights struggling to pull apart the three barbed wire barriers in front of them and jumping into the trenches to fight the halberdiers, while the Leterian archers providing fire support from behind were truly risking their lives to aid their knights on the front lines.

Even if the cannon is just a small one, the person with the bow and crossbow will be at a disadvantage when they fire at each other.

Even so, the knights of Leteria, relying on their plate armor, outstanding martial skills, and the tenacious fighting spirit of rutting rhinoceroses, piled up corpses in the trench to create a ladder for them to climb.

Once they climbed over the trenches and jumped behind the breastwork, the Bagnian halberdiers could not withstand the charge of Lord Reteria.

Although they were few in number, and in order to climb the trench, they carried no long weapons other than a pair of short swords.

However, the knight had practiced martial arts since childhood. With his finely crafted armor and his ancestral sword that could cut through iron like mud, they were outnumbered and managed to hold out against the halberdiers until their attendants crossed the trench on planks to come to their aid.

The Highland Legion failed to withstand the first wave of the Retalians' assault, and a section of the first trench and barbed wire defenses was quickly captured. Upon discovering this, Marquis Dirac, who was observing the battle from the rear, immediately ordered the whistle to be sounded for retreat, commanding the halberdiers who were attempting a counter-charge to cover the musketeers as they retreated to the second line of defense.

The knights were delighted to have successfully taken the enemy's first line of defense, but their joy was short-lived. They soon discovered that the price they had paid to take this line was quite high, with a significant number of knights and squires dying in the trenches.

Secondly, the five stone-throwing cannons that should have been pushed to the front line to support their own forces with the muffled sound of cannons and stone projectiles were all stopped halfway because the oxen and horses they were leading were killed, and none of them were within 500 meters.

Even a knight with chivalry ingrained in his mind would realize at this moment that his side was in a bad situation.

However, even so, the knights of Reteria seemed to think differently from normal people. After a short rest and recuperation, before reinforcements arrived, they chose to mount their warhorses again and charge towards Bagnia's second line of defense, which was a hundred meters away.

Because, during their brief observation, they discovered that the enemy's defenses were limited to only two lines. No matter how skilled the Bagnians were at fortifications, they couldn't build many earthworks in just two days.

Then, these gentlemen on horseback, who hadn't even had a chance to charge, were thoroughly riddled with bullets by the three-pound and six-pound field guns that were already prepared, in this open and unobstructed space.

"Fire! Fire!!!"

At a gun emplacement less than two hundred meters from the Retelians, a man with oil smeared on his face and unusually excited eyes hacked wildly down a street, kicked aside an obstructing gun mount, and roared with all his might, his voice cracking.

"Clean them up, load them with explosives, fucking hurry up, smash those idiots to pieces!"

The artillery's "cleaner" is a player named "Wrench," whose movements are as fast as a ghost, and he can work in the scorching heat emanating from the burning cannon barrel.

He grabbed a long, wet cannon brush and shoved it into the still-smoking cannon barrel. With a hiss, amidst the rising steam, he simply and crudely cleaned away the remaining sparks and debris.

The artillery crews, who were slashing down the street, worked together very well and moved very quickly. The instant the purger pulled out the gun brush, the loader "Powder Jar" had already stuffed the standard propellant charge wrapped in oil paper into the muzzle.

"Solid shot!"

The roar of hacking through the street didn't stop; his eyes were fixed on the densely packed and menacing Leterian Knights that appeared in the dust ahead.

The distance between the two sides was too close; after hacking through the entire street, we could even see the shape of the knights' visors.

The artilleryman, nicknamed "Weight Cart," was already waiting by the side, holding a cold, three-pound solid iron ball.

As soon as the loader stepped back, he darted forward and slid the heavy iron lump down the breech with a dull thud.

"Tamp it down!"

The order to hack and slash down the entire street was concise to the extreme. The deputy gunner, "Hammer," picked up the thick, heavy push rod and, with all his might, shoved the shell and propellant charge into the bottom of the breech with a muffled groan.

The actions must be quick, accurate, and ruthless, because time is now the bullet, the military merit, and the prestige.

Even though several arrows and lead bullets landed near the cannon position during this process, and even someone who was hacking away down the street was hit and took two steps back with a muffled groan, none of the players who were working looked up at them.

Is he dead?

If he's not dead, then let's continue; firing cannons is the priority.

First shot!
"ignition!"

He hacked through the street without even looking at where the cannon was pointing. At a distance of 100 meters, and with the width of the charging knights, he could hit the target even with his eyes closed. He only needed to make sure that the general direction of the cannon was towards the place with the thickest smoke and the loudest hoofbeats.

He personally thrust the red-hot iron rod into the fuse at the breech of the cannon.

"boom!"

Orange-red flames and thick smoke spewed from the muzzle, and the cannon recoiled violently, the not-so-heavy steel carriage emitting a protesting scream.

The cannonballs, whistling through the air, flew over the heads of the friendly halberdiers and musketeers behind the breastwork, disappearing instantly into the dust raised by the enemy.

The next second after the firing began, on the flank of the charging knights, an unfortunate knight and his horse were struck as if by an invisible giant hammer. His upper body vanished instantly, and the immense kinetic energy also knocked over the two warhorses beside him.

"Clean the entrails... quick, don't stop!"

The roar of hacking through the street exploded amidst the lingering echoes of the cannon fire. He dropped the iron bar and lunged at the breech of the cannon, using every ounce of his strength, his arm muscles bulging, to forcefully push the cannon, which had shifted considerably due to the recoil, back by feel, so that the muzzle was roughly aligned with the direction of the enemy's charge.

There's no time for precise aiming now; the most important thing is to fire the artillery as quickly as possible.

Second shot!
The wrench's brush, still damp with moisture, plunged into the medicine packet in the medicine jar, followed closely by the cannonball slid in with the weight, and the hammer's push rod made a "heave-ho" sound as it pushed.

"ignition!"

"boom!"

Another cannonball roared out, this time hitting a position slightly ahead of the charging group. It did not directly hit the dense crowd, but the dirt and gravel that hit the ground swept across like shrapnel, causing two charging warhorses to neigh and roll, and tripping the knights behind them.

The third shot!
"Clean the chamber...load the propellant...load the ammunition...tamp it down!"

The entire artillery crew was like a precise killing machine, their movements so fluid it was breathtaking. Sweat soaked through their clothes, and their faces were covered in soot.

Because of the rapid firing, the cannon barrel, which had no time to cool down, was so hot that you could feel the heat even through the air.

"ignition!"

"boom……"

The shot went slightly off course, hitting the edge of the knights' charge path and only managing to take down one squire cavalryman.

He roared as he hacked through the entire street without even checking the results.

"Damn it, push it back a bit, faster! They're already clearing the barbed wire!"

Fourth shot!
Under such extreme maneuvers, the mistake of the "Crazy Slash Through the Street" artillery team was inevitable.

When the wrench was cleaning the breech, the wet burlap touched the scorching hot inner wall of the breech, and with a "hiss," even more white smoke billowed out. It delayed for a second, and when the weight was used to insert the shell, the hand was burned, and the movement paused.

"Hurry up, what are you dawdling for!"

He was so anxious that his eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he slashed down the entire street.

When the hammer was used to strike the target, the wooden handle of the ramming rod started to smoke because the cannon barrel was overheating.

"ignition!"

"boom!"

The shot was clearly fired hastily; the shell whistled over the charging knights' heads and landed on the open ground behind them.

But the loud noise and the imminent threat of death still caused the charge of the knights to falter.

Fifth shot!
The gun crew went completely mad. Everyone's eyes were bloodshot. Their movements were rough and efficient. The linen used for cleaning the gun barrel seemed to be on fire. They didn't even notice that the hands of the "powder gunners" were scalded by the heat from the muzzle.

The weighted weight was used to shove the heavy shell inside, and the force of the hammer pounding it in was so great that it almost shook the gun carriage apart.

"ignition!"

"boom!"

The shell seemed to have eyes, slamming into the very center of the knights who were trying to drag the barbed wire. This time, it ripped a bloody alley through the dense formation like a bowling ball.

This shot shattered at least three knights and their horses, sending them flying, but it managed to salvage a section of the barbed wire chevaux-de-frise that was about to be torn away.

The sixth shot!
"One last shot, shove it in for me!"

His voice, hoarse from hacking away down the street, was completely gone. He looked at the Leterian knight, his face contorted with rage, desperately hacking at the barricades fifty or sixty meters away. He could even see the cold glint of the sword on the knight's blade.

The front half of the cannon barrel had turned a faint dark red from continuous firing.

With his eyes practically closed, he shoved the smoking gun brush in and out, threw the powder canister directly into it, and slammed the shell into the breech with a weight that was almost thrown. The "hammer" rammed the shell rod down with a resolute and ruthless force.

"Ignition... Holy crap!"

He screamed as he hacked through the street, because before his red-hot iron rod even got close to the cannon, the cannon, enraged by its intense work, fired on its own, launching a shell.

"Boom..."

The cannon blast was unusually muffled, accompanied by a large amount of abnormally thick smoke. The flames spewing from the muzzle seemed to have a dark red tinge. The cannonball flew out with an ominous whistle, almost grazing the helmet of the knight who was charging at the front with his longsword raised, and cleaved a servant behind him and his horse in two.

After the shell fired, the frenzied Retalians finally came to their senses. They cried out and pulled on their reins, forced to run backward or to the sides, away from the area that had been heavily bombarded by the cannons.

The rapid-fire of the three-pound field gun... the artillery crew that slashed through the street achieved an incredible record: they fired six shells at the Leterian in one minute, almost one every ten seconds.

The Reterian people, who were targeted by him and had been hacked down the entire street, suffered heavy losses and had to temporarily avoid his attacks.

(End of this chapter)