Iron Powder and Spellcasters: Chapter 305 go sightseeing

   Chapter 305 Sightseeing

   Gervodin, South City.

   "Learn so fast." Mason stared at the sand raised by the Teltown people and thought with a heavy heart: "Winters is right, the spread of invisible technology is more harmful than the visible loss of troops."

   The artillery captain thought so in his heart, but he did not express his emotions.

   He turned his head and sternly scolded his earth-colored subordinates: "Where is the cannon? Why isn't it in place yet?"

The   Telltowns chose to approach from the west of the city, while Mason's artillery had previously been placed at the south gate.

  Three generations of "wooden guns" used a three-layer structure of iron, leather and wood in order to prevent the chamber from blowing up, which directly led to the bulky and difficult handling of the gun body.

   The interim sergeant who was questioned looked left and right, hesitating for a moment before confirming that the tribune was speaking to him.

   Sergeant's forehead suddenly broke out with cold sweat: "I...I don't know..."

   "Then what are you doing standing here!?" Mason suddenly raised his voice and shouted.

   Not only the sergeant who was questioned, but the surrounding militiamen were all terrified.

   The sergeant was about to leave, and felt that he should salute before leaving. But he is not a soldier, just a temporarily appointed citizen of Gervoudan, and he does not know whether he is qualified to salute.

  The sergeant's mind went blank, he finally made a curtsy, turned around and ran away.

   The dozen or so militiamen under the sergeant look at me, I look at you, and hurriedly followed.

  Mason raised his face and continued to inspect the city wall. He scolded the panic-stricken peasants, whipped the cowards behind the walls, and occasionally gave a few words of praise to the brave.

   Although no one likes to be insulted and reprimanded, for some reason, a strange sense of stability spread among the militiamen.

   is too quiet, too quiet on the battlefield.

   Aside from the sound of the St. George's River, there was only the sound of the people of Teltown digging.

  Most of the militiamen standing behind the city walls had dry mouths, cold palms, and could even hear their carotid arteries throbbing.

   In this case, the tribune officials could be heard swearing in anger, and some militiamen were even moved to the point of crying.

  The gentle, quiet tribunal turned into a walking swearing machine, partly because Mason did it on purpose, and partly because Mason was really in a bad mood.

  The last time he fought with the Terdun team, the latter's siege level was still at the level of thirty years ago:

   Carts, ladders, trebuchets; sacks of soil, digging cities, and even a vain attempt to build a bastion with human lives.

   The final result was of course a bloodbath. The small fortress guarded by thousands of cavalrymen in Vanteltown had four incisors broken.

   In this attack and defense, the city walls of Gervoudan were much weaker than the previous bridgehead, but the technical ability displayed by the Terdun people was greatly improved.

   They started using specialized earthwork tools—that alone made Mason feel more dangerous than carrying a sheepskin bag.

  The more surprising thing is yet to come: the horse-drawn carriages are coming, and the Teltown people have tossed and unloaded four artillery pieces.

   To load and unload the four artillery pieces, the Teltown people assembled a small crane.

   Looking at it from a distance, Mason could roughly determine that the other party was using a six-pounder cannon. He wouldn't admit it wrong, because the 6-pounder was the model he used in the Battle of Pengli.

When    retreated from Bianli, all the light and heavy artillery captured were secretly nailed to Shen He.

   Where did these guns come from? Whether it was taken from the bottom of the river by the Terdon people after interrogating the captives; or whether it was newly acquired, Mason does not know.

   But one thing is unquestionable—the Terdon people had artillery.

   As to whether the Teltown people had the ability to use artillery?

   "We'll find out soon," Mason thought.

   The temporarily appointed militia captains were called to a meeting by Mason.

  The captains of the militia included the original village mayor, the mayor, the city councilor of Gervodin, as well as the owner of the manor and the ordinary farmer. They were all prestigious candidates elected by the militia.

   From this perspective, the militia forces in Gervoudan naturally have a certain degree of cohesion, because commanders at all levels are elected from the bottom up.

   "Officers" do not need to use actions to gain authority, they are appointed as "Officers" after having authority.

The    bottom-up structure also has shortcomings - the top commander lacks the ability to bind the officer ranks, after all, the tribunes are not elected.

   In order to exert the cohesion of the troops, the premise is that the commanders at all levels must set an example, which is also the most troublesome place for Mason.

   The surprise attack in the first battle was unsuccessful, and the Terdun people did not launch any attack on the second and third days.

  However, their digging trenches and pressing step by step may bring more psychological pressure to the defenders than directly attacking the city wall.

   In particular, the news that the Teltown people had four cannons spread like wildfire, which made the people in the new city more and more panic.

   Mason glanced at a group of militia captains, some of whom had gray hair and white hair, and some were still hairy young men. But without exception, they were either staring at the toe of their boots without saying a word, or they were smoking.

   The battle has not yet started, but the atmosphere is so heavy that it seems to have been defeated.

   A militia captain with a red birthmark on his face broke the silence, got up and asked: "Your Excellency, since the barbarians have artillery, should we further thicken the city wall?"

  Former sergeant and current militia captain [Ivan], although he did not speak, he kept nodding his head in cooperation.

After the    large-scale preparations began, as a former member of the Security Guard and a garrison sergeant, the captive Ivan was recruited again.

  Ivan silently bid farewell to his wife and children, walked into the barracks again, and took up arms again. In previous battles, his performance was very reliable, and he was promoted to militia captain for his merits.

  Mason took a look around, and there were two people with positive attitudes, one was his old team, and the other was a prisoner from the correctional camp.

"I know you resent me because I coaxed you to the south bank and forced you to defend the city." Mason didn't take the words of his subordinates, but looked directly at the crowd and frankly broke their minds: "You may still resent Montagne for protecting the people. Officer, because he will not come to the rescue of Gervodin."

The    air became more dignified, as most militia captains thought. It was obvious that they could safely evacuate to the north bank, but now they were left to defend the city on the south bank, and everyone had complaints.

Mason said politely: "Gentlemen, I only tell you two things. If we abandon the new city, we will cut off the Montagne tribune's back, so the new city must be guarded; if the Montagne tribune comes to the rescue in a hurry , he will also be wiped out, so he can't come for the time being."

   The civilians who were appointed as militia captains basically belonged to the educated squire class. Most people actually understand what Mason said. But when it was their turn, they really didn't want to.

   "Do you understand what I said?" Mason asked gently.

   "Understood." The birthmark man and Ivan answered in unison.

   "Do you understand?" Mason asked again.

   A group of militia captains responded one after another.

"Now that you understand, there is another thing to tell you." Mason's expression became serious: "You have been bound by military law, and cowardice and escaping will be severely punished, including but not limited to the death penalty and confiscation of property. Now It is a wartime state, there is no defense and no trial, and whoever tries the law will be executed by my own hands.”

   A chill appeared in the hearts of the militia captains. Mason's tone was calm, but firm as steel, and even the most cowardly would have no doubts about his determination.

   Everyone answered yes again, this time it was a little louder and neater than last time.

After injecting some courage and fear into his subordinates, Mason began to talk about the business: "The original city wall was designed according to the standard of fireproof guns. Now that the Teltown people have moved out the guns, the city walls also need to be thickened. No trouble, in the corresponding position. Just pile the soil behind the city wall. Mr. Ivan, you are responsible for it."

   "Yes!" Ivan quickly got up and saluted.

   "The Teltown people currently only have four cannons, but I heard rumors among the militiamen that some said the Teltown people had forty cannons?" Mason thought for a moment, then said with a smile:

"The artillery is nothing to be afraid of, but the more and more rumors spread, the more frightening it is. Well, the militia teams take turns to the west wall to see the artillery of the Teltown people and the artillery of our army. If you see what it is, you will feel it. But that's it. I'll give you a schedule, and the teams will take turns changing the guard to see."

  The atmosphere became a little more relaxed, and the militia captains answered yes.

"In my opinion, the Terdun people put out this battle, but it shows that their main attack direction is not in Gervodin." Mason explained to everyone in the tone of chatting between friends: "With Gervoudan's city defense Intensity, they can't use this time-consuming and laborious trench siege method."

   Many militia captains suddenly pricked up their ears, they desperately needed good news.

   Seeing that everyone's attention was aroused, Mason felt that using words was not enough. He took out a piece of white paper and called everyone to come up.

Mason patiently drew and explained: "...with the ability of the people of Terdon to work on earth, they can get close to the trenches and dig and fill the trenches with the cover of the carts. The walls of Gervoudan lack convexity Corner, trench approach is superfluous.

The   Terdun people dig trenches to approach, indicating that they are not in a hurry to attack the city. But they labored on an expedition, and there were no supplies nearby to loot, so they should be anxious. Which means there's something wrong with it... If I were the leader of the Teldon, I'd use..."

   Mason spoke more and more vigorously, and the militia captains listened more and more strangely. Because the Mason Tribunal does not seem to be the supreme commander of the city, he enthusiastically advises the barbarians of Heard who are attacking the city.

"...The city will be destroyed." Mason threw down the graphite bar with a lot of interest, and smiled at his subordinates: "So you see, the level of Teltown people is like this - learned a half-baked, and people are anxious. There is nothing to worry about. , there are people in Revodan who have food, not to mention ten and a half years, there is no problem in one or two months."

   All the militia captains nodded ignorantly, and they didn't understand how Mason Tribunal came to the conclusion that "it's fine to stay for a month or two". However, the tribunes talk freely and confidently, and this self-confidence is also projected into their hearts to a certain extent.

  It was getting late, and Mason planned to keep the militia captains for dinner—although the so-called dinner was the standard ration of a loaf of bread and a bowl of soup.

   A messenger ran over and said a few words to Mason.

   "Oh?" Mason looked as usual: "Bring him here."

   "But." The messenger hesitated.

   "Bring him here." Mason commanded.

  The messenger saluted, and strode away.

   "The Teltown people sent messengers." Mason told the militia captains with a smile: "The purpose is not hard to guess, is it just to persuade us to surrender or to blackmail us, to give money and food for safety?"

   The hearts of the militia captains rose again, and many people actually showed some hope in their eyes.

   "Your Excellency." The man with the birthmark stood up abruptly and eagerly discouraged: "Officers should not directly contact the enemy's messengers, they may be assassins..."

   Mason smiled and waved his hand. The birthmarked man sat down with pursed lips and stopped talking.

   The footsteps sounded again, the messenger brought the messenger of the Teldun people over, and everyone's eyes focused on the visitor.

   Two people came, both wearing Heard leather robes, but the one who walked in front was a Heard, and the robes behind were a little awkward to wear.

  The Hudd messenger saw that the tent was full of people, but he was not stage fright. He strode up to Mason, and said arrogantly: "[Hede] Feng..."

   He didn't finish his words, because Mason took a short gun from the table and aimed it at the envoy's head, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

   With a click, the tenon is dislocated, and the spring wheel rotates.

   The flares flashed twice, once for the fire pit and once for the muzzle.

  The buckshot was poured into the head of the Hurd messenger from the forehead, and it came out from the back of the head, splashing white and red.

   The messenger of the fire roaster was killed on the spot, and everyone was stunned.

   The slave translator who followed the messenger was so frightened that he lost his control and fell to the ground frantically begging for mercy.

   "Take him down." Mason pointed to the interpreter and carefully put the reed gun back in place: "Let's see if the interrogation can yield any valuable information."

  The man with the birthmark strode up, set up the interpreter and left the tent.

  Ivan followed silently and dragged the messenger's body away.

   "The messenger? It's nothing more than to shake our will and inquire about our truth." Mason wiped the blood spots on his hands with some discomfort - he was still not used to doing this kind of thing, and said slowly:

   "The Hurds have a rule, kill their messengers, and on the day the city is broken, everyone will either be killed or become slaves."

After a pause, Mason spoke again: "I'll tell you one more thing, the Hurds still have a rule that they don't kill their messengers. On the day of the city breaking, everyone will either be killed or become slaves. Don't worry. Luckily, there is no compromise between us and the people of Teltown, only life and death."

Among the    militia captains, a manor owner who was just fantasizing about making peace with the Hurds swallowed a spit involuntarily.

   He just confirmed one thing - this tribune who was kindly explaining the tactics of siege a second ago, the killer will not hesitate at all.

   Remembering the "military law" mentioned by the other party before, the owner of the manor couldn't help swallowing another mouthful of saliva.

   Another messenger ran quickly and reported another matter to Mason, who nodded slightly.

   The spirits of everyone were tense again.

   "Good news." Mason showed a smile, and everyone saw in a trance that the friendly tribune was back: "Mrs. Montagne brought us hot food!"

  …

   On the banks of the St. George River, small boats carry barrels of hot, fragrant broth from the north bank to the south bank.

   The broth is specially packed in buckets, and the militiamen who come to receive the soup can easily take it away and bring it back to each team for a meal.

   It's winter now, and it's freezing cold. The militiamen guarding the south bank originally only had hard cold and dry food to eat, and they all cheered when they learned that there was broth to drink.

  Anna was wearing a mesh, a small top hat, and a simple dark blue jockey uniform. The old mayor Priskin accompanied her to the South Bank.

  [Note: Rider clothing refers to cycling clothing with a tight top and pants]

  Anna said to Mason a little embarrassed: "Mr. Montagne has told many stories about wanting to drink hot soup during the war... The bridge was dismantled in a hurry, I don't know if it caused you any trouble..."

   "[The stomach is the foot of the army], how can it be troublesome?" Mason replied with a big laugh: "It's a cold day, everyone can drink a sip of hot soup, it's more useful than me saying a hundred words of encouragement!"

  Anna became more and more embarrassed: "I mean..."

   "Don't worry, no." Mason smiled and shook his head slightly.

   "How about giving everyone soup every day?"

"It could not be better!"

   Old Mr. Priskin greeted Mason and escorted Anna back to the North Shore by boat. The old mayor originally wanted to accompany Mason to stand on the South Bank, but was dissuaded by Mason, because the defense of the old city could not be separated from him.

  The tall and thin Ivan paced to Mason's side, and asked in a low voice with embarrassment: "Your Excellency, do you want to... burn the boat..."

Mason looked up to the sky and laughed: "At that time, you can swim back to the North Shore without a boat. Do you want to cut off everyone's hands and feet? Demolition of the bridge is a sign of attitude and determination. Keep the boat, maybe you can Great use."

  …

   Meanwhile, on the Big Horn, seven kilometers upstream from the pontoon.

  The masked Captain Morrow and Samukin were leading soldiers and civilians to lay stakes into the bed of the Bighorn River.

  The two escaped and returned to the Oxhoof Valley the day before, and they went to another job non-stop - building a dam on the Big Horn River.

   To build a dam on the Huiqing River, which has a small amount of water, it is even possible to use the method of rough stacking in a cage full of stones.

   But not in the Dajiao River. Although the Dajiao River is not as vast and vast as the Styx River, it is also a large river that can exceed 100 meters in width during the high water season.

  In order to cut off the natural barrier of Ironbong County, another construction method must be used.

   Under the guidance of local fishermen, Moro and Samukin found a location with a moderate distance from the pontoon and the narrowest river channel.

   They first laid two rows of parallel wooden stakes on the riverbed, one next to the other, tightly sticking together, leaving no gaps as much as possible.

"The next step is to drive wood piles diagonally between the two rows of wood piles, and divide the two rows of wood piles into triangles." Moro used the branches as a pen to draw a schematic diagram on the beach and explained to Samukin: "There is no need to When the parallel stakes reach the river bank, it can be done now."

   "Okay!" Samujin's eyes were full of red blood, and he hadn't rested for a long time: "I'll arrange the manpower."

   "The manpower is not enough now." Morrow tapped the sand.

   "The tribune of Montagne has agreed to give full support to your plan, to as many people as you want."

  Samkin made a trip to Sank himself, bringing back Winters' unreserved support—manpower, provisions, and the incoming officers of Ronald's department.

"Winters Montagne? That's right, he's a tribune!" Morrow sneered a few times and threw away the branches: "That's it! As long as he kills the Hurds, it's none of my business that he proclaims himself a marshal. !"

   Samukin had no words.

   Although they didn't get along for a long time, Samukin deeply admired Moro's tenacious will and ability in the process of escaping the pursuit of the Teltown people and building the dam.

   But Moreau's attitude towards the Montagne centurion made Samukin unacceptable.

   So for the offensive words of the other party, Samukin chose to temporarily pretend to be deaf.

"The plan is to speed up, don't wait for the wooden pile to be completely completed. Every time a triangular area is divided, pour stones into it." Morrow stood up and looked at the people who were working near the river bed: "First pour the big stones, then the small stones, Fill it with sand at the end. Stakes are inserted and stones are poured."

   Samukin also stood up. Still a little worried, he couldn't help but ask, "Are you really sure this will work?"

   "Don't believe me? Then you ask Winters Montagne to come by himself." Moreau said coldly: "He can build a bridge over the Styx, and it's not difficult to build a dam, right?"

   Samukin stopped talking again.

Morrow stood quietly for a while, and said, "The method I used is essentially the method of masons to repair bridge piers - cofferdam, pumping water, pouring mortar. Now I am not trying to build a stone bridge that can stand for a hundred or a thousand years. So there is no need to pump water or mortar, just lay down the cofferdam to hold the stones in place.”

   "Thank you." Samukin saluted.

  Morro didn't return the salute, just turned his head to look at the river, his back to Samukin, and sneered disdainfully: "Thank you! Think about how to protect this dam first!"

   No one saw him, his dry eyes were a little red.

  …

   At the same time, in the once blackened ruins of Forge Township, the old translator secretly met with several guests.

   There were five guests in total, the leader was a blond man with green eyes who was about thirty years old, and there were four other guards wearing iron masks.

  The blond man walked among the ruins, picking up some gadgets from the scorched earth with great interest.

  The old interpreter accompanies the blond man for a "walk", and the four guards stand a little further away to protect him.

   "[Old language] It seems that they are in a hurry." The blond man picked up a small spoon that was burned and twisted, and said softly to the old interpreter: "[Old language] Your Excellency the Earl."

The old interpreter was noncommittal about the title of His Excellency the Earl, and was completely untouched. He said coldly: "[Old language] In this robbery, the most important advantage of the Teltown Department is the raid, and the rebels in Iron Peak County are obviously early. Know that the Teltown people are coming."

   "[Old language] So who told them?" the blond man asked with a smile.

   "[Old language] Who do you think told them?" the old interpreter asked rhetorically.

   The blond man widened blank green eyes.

   "Don't pretend to be stupid?" The old interpreter impatiently changed to common language: "Besides your little pets, who else is there?!"

"[Old language] No, no, you are wrong." The blond man patiently corrected the other party: "[Old language] Who would treat a lion as a pet? [Those who play with beasts will surely die in the mouth of beasts]. "

  The old interpreter narrowed his eyes and stopped: "Since you're not here to lend a hand, what are you doing here?"

   "[Old language] sightseeing." The blond man replied with a smile.

   The old interpreter spit.

“[Old phrase] to observe, to evaluate… that is, sightseeing.” The blond man said sincerely: “[Old phrase] You want to know our purpose, and some people want to know what is going on here. The world is too big, so [a late entry] true news is more useful than a hundred timely false news].”

   The old interpreter groaned. Although he called the current Plato regime a traitor, he had no respect for the blond man.

"[Old language] It's not that I don't give you a helping hand. It's..." The blond man hesitated for a moment, then spit out a name so carefully that it was offensive to mention it here: "[Old language] Your Majesty...has power, but he uses it carefully. If you want the Supreme to fund your 'great' cause, at least what you're relying on must survive first. But now..."

  The blond man looked around at the scorched earth and ruins, shrugged his shoulders, spread his hands, and said nothing.

  The old interpreter was silent and left a sentence: "[Old language] Wait and see."

   "[Old language] No problem." The blond man replied with a smile.

   [I'm late again... Sorry, because it's a big chapter, I didn't finish it at noon...]

   [Thanks to book lovers for their collection, reading, subscription, recommendation tickets, monthly tickets, rewards and comments, thank you all]

   [A book friend mentioned in the last chapter that such signs as "[Herde]" would account for the number of words. Please put some, these are free parts. Each chapter [n*500—(n+1)*500] is free of charge. For example, the 6000-6400 word part of this chapter]

   [Although I always write where I count, but most of the time there will be more. Sometimes it happens that the stop writing is 400X words, and I will delete some and return 399X words]

   [As for the language, I still like to mark it. After all, language is also an important part of the plot. Books can use two fonts to represent two languages, but there is only one font at the starting point, and you can only mark them casually…]

  

  

   (end of this chapter)