Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 218 Bombardment
8 month 23 day.

As dawn broke, a thin layer of morning mist enveloped the fields outside Amiens.

Behind the first line of defense of the Brittany expeditionary force, a cavalry patrol was assembling and preparing to depart.

The horses snorted, and the soldiers whispered among themselves, complaining about the unpalatable canned beef and the morning mist.

A young cavalryman mounted his horse, glanced casually at the distant wilderness, and prepared to begin the most dangerous patrol of his day.

But that one glance froze the relaxed expression on his face.

He blinked hard, wondering if he was seeing things because he wasn't fully awake.

Hey John, look over there!

He steed his horse to his companion's side and patted him on the shoulder.

"Isn't there something wrong with that piece of land?"

John's companion looked in the direction he was pointing, and his expression also became strange.

About seven or eight hundred meters in front of their position, several dark, winding scars seemed to have appeared out of nowhere on the originally flat land.

These scars stood out starkly in the morning light.

"It seems like there are some more mounds of earth?" John said uncertainly.

Were these things there yesterday?

"Who knows, maybe a Saxon came over in the middle of the night and took a dump?"

The surrounding cavalrymen burst into laughter, but the officer in charge, hearing the laughter approaching, could no longer laugh.

He raised his binoculars and carefully observed the distance.

When he saw the full extent of those 'scars', a bad look flashed across his face.

What looked like a series of freshly dug trenches didn't appear to be mounds of earth at all.
Moreover, he could see through his binoculars that soil was being thrown out from the very front of these trenches, and that they were extending toward their positions at a visible speed!
After the news spread, the commander in charge of the position immediately ordered the cavalry to conduct a 'crisis reconnaissance'.

"All riders! Prepare for battle!"

The cavalry officer, having received the order, shouted sternly, "Come with me and see what the Saxons are up to! Be careful, and retreat immediately if things look bad!"

More than a dozen cavalrymen immediately mounted their horses, spurred them across their own trenches, and charged toward the strange area.

The horses' hooves kicked up mud, and they quickly approached their target.

However, the closer they got, the stronger their unease became.

The trenches were deeper and wider than they had imagined, and they could even see some moving figures at the edges of the trenches.

Just as the officer in charge realized they could not advance any further and was preparing to order a turnback and report back, an unexpected event occurred.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

A series of crisp, rapid gunshots rang out without warning from the trench ahead.

The cavalryman at the forefront had a burst of blood mist erupt from his chest, and before he could even scream, he fell straight off his horse.

"Retreat! Retreat!!"

The officer roared at the top of his lungs and yanked the reins hard, trying to turn the horse around.

But it's too late.

More gunfire came from that trench.

Each bullet was like the Grim Reaper's scythe, precisely reaping lives.

The Brittany cavalry were in complete disarray. They couldn't find the enemy at all, and could only see clusters of gun muzzle flashes appearing in the trenches.

They wanted to fight back, but on the jolting back of their horses, they couldn't even raise their guns to aim.

A cavalryman's horse was hit by a bullet, fell with a mournful cry, and was thrown heavily to the ground.

Another cavalryman's head was blown off, and red and white matter splattered all over his comrade's back.

This was a completely one-sided massacre.

"Retreat! Retreat quickly!"

The surviving cavalrymen were terrified and turned tail and fled back to their positions in a sorry state.

Behind them lay seven or eight corpses and several warhorses still neighing in agony.

In the trench, a Saxon soldier slowly pulled back the bolt, ejecting the scalding hot cartridge case from the chamber.

"Is that all you've got? You dare to charge at me?"

His comrades chuckled softly, then quickly resumed their digging work.

The shovel rose and fell silently once more, as if the brief exchange of fire just moments before was merely a minor interlude.

News of the attack on the front lines spread like wildfire to the expeditionary force command in Amiens.

When Marshal John French heard the report, he was completely stunned.

"What did you say? The Saxons dug trenches in front of our positions?"

"Yes, Your Excellency the Marshal."

The officer who came to report said nervously:

"Our patrol was ambushed and suffered heavy losses. According to the survivors, the Saxons have now advanced to within about 7 meters of our position, and they are still digging!"

John French strode to the map and stared intently at the area north of Amiens.

In his mind, a somewhat outdated tactic emerged—trench approach.

Just like an ancient army besieging a strong fortress, they gradually eroded the defender's space by digging winding tunnels, eventually pushing the battle line to the city walls.

“These Saxon barbarians,” John French uttered through gritted teeth.

He couldn't believe anyone would use such a primitive and foolish method to attack. Yet, he had to admit, it seemed damnably effective!

"They've exposed their location, so why are they still continuing?" a staff officer asked, puzzled.

"I don't understand either, maybe it's because they don't care!"

John French shook his head, his tone tinged with coldness.

"Perhaps they intend to slowly push the knife to our throats right in front of us!"

Everyone in the command center realized the seriousness of the problem.

If the Saxons are allowed to continue digging like this, in less than a day—no, perhaps a few hours—their starting point for the attack will be built only a hundred or two meters away from their own trenches.

By then, the so-called open ground and fire network will become a joke.

"Can't wait any longer!"

John French slammed his fist on the table: "Order the magic crystal cannon units to immediately launch a full-scale bombardment of the target area!"

He raised his head and looked sharply at the messenger beside him.

"Tell the highland mages and the magic crystal cannon squad that I'm going to wipe those damn groundhogs, along with their burrows, off the ground!"

Inside Amiens, several cleared squares and open spaces immediately became bustling with activity.

The thirty-six 'Griffin IV' siege magic crystal cannons belonging to the expeditionary force's artillery unit lifted their canvases, revealing their ferocious appearance.

These colossal machines are the 'masterpieces' of alchemy and engineering of the Holy Britannian Empire, with complex energy circuits engraved all over their barrels and their massive, dark muzzles.

With Marshal John French's order given, the magic crystal cannon crew immediately sprang into action.

They pried open the ammunition box bearing the emblem of the Highland Mage Order and carefully took out the most frequently used 'Fragmentation Crystal Bullets'.

At the same time, three highland mages dressed in mage robes also arrived at the center of the square.

As they quickly completed their spellcasting, their bodies slowly rose into the air, easily passing over the rooftops of Amiens and arriving above the city.

When they used the [Flight] spell to enter the air and saw the scenery to the north of the city, even these highland mages couldn't help but gasp.

Overnight, that flat land was completely transformed.

A long, parallel trench stretches into the distance.

From this main trench, numerous communication trenches extend out like giant snakes, winding forward in a 'Z' shape.

After advancing a distance of several hundred meters, these trenches converged into a new parallel trench.

Now, from this second parallel trench, new "snake heads" are emerging, continuing to crawl toward the Brittany's positions.

Countless black dots were busy in those trenches, like a huge and industrious ant nest.

The scene is grand and spectacular, but from the enemy's perspective, it's rather chilling.

"What a bunch of crazy barbarians," a mage muttered.

"Enough with the nonsense, let's begin the guidance." The leading mage said solemnly, "We can't let them get any closer."

The three mages separated and hovered in different areas of the sky. Their mental energy, like invisible tentacles, connected with the twelve magic crystal cannons on the ground.

"First round of firing preparation, area coverage, 'fragmentation magic crystal bullets' loaded!"

On the ground, the gunners were shouting out commands.

The gunners quickly pushed the heavy shells into the breech, and then, following the guidance of the highland mage, adjusted the angle and position of the cannon muzzle.

"Loading complete!"

"You can fire!"

"All artillery crews, fire!"

"Boom - boom -"

The muffled sound of cannons echoed through Amiens, shaking the ground.

Thirty-six shells, trailing pale blue contrails, hurtled into the sky in a highly arctic parabola before flying over the city and crashing into the Saxon work zone outside the city.

"Bombard! Take cover!"

Almost immediately after the sound of cannon fire reached outside the city, piercing whistles and the shouts of officers rang out from the Saxon positions.

At the same time, the distinctive shriek of the magic crystal cannon rang out in the air.

The soldiers who were engrossed in their work immediately dropped their tools and rushed to the nearest artillery shelter or into the trench sections whose tops were reinforced with wood and sandbags.

The moment they had concealed themselves, a dazzling blue sphere appeared out of thin air and then exploded.

Tens of thousands of sharp fragments, carrying destructive kinetic energy, swept across the entire work area like a storm.

The soil was plowed up in large swaths, and some of the remaining wooden stakes and tools were instantly smashed to pieces.

However, when the smoke and dust cleared, the expected scene of carnage did not materialize.

Most of the steel balls and shrapnel were blocked by the thick mud and the sturdy top bunker.

The Saxon soldiers inside the trenches were mostly unharmed, except for a few who were hit because they were a fraction of a second too slow.

The first round of shelling yielded almost no significant results.

"what happened?"

The mage in the air frowned.

He could clearly see that after the shelling, the Saxons emerged from their burrows, dusted themselves off, picked up their shovels, and continued working.

His calm and composed demeanor made it seem as if the devastating bombardment just now was nothing more than a trivial drizzle.

(End of this chapter)