Iron Powder and Spellcasters: Chapter 310 narrow road

  Chapter 310 Narrow Road

   Go back in time to two days ago - the most intense stage of the Gervoudan siege and the dam siege.

   The Tordun light cavalry, who was patrolling in the field, was surprised and delighted to find that the main enemy force, who had been advancing slowly with the strong camp, finally chose to take the initiative to attack, and it came out all over the city.

  The armed men and carriages left the camps in a steady stream, and finally converged into three columns on the plain.

  The three columns marched hand in hand, like three mighty torrents, and rushed to Gervodin with an indomitable momentum.

   "It's really...too..." Among the people on the hill overlooking the army, one of them was so excited that he was incoherent: "Indescribable..."

   This gentleman who can't think of an adjective for his brains is none other than the public opinion representative of Niu Hoof Valley, a lanky [Jacob Green].

   As the only intellectual in the military who had attended grammar school and university, Jacob Green had become Winters' temporary personal clerk, drafting proclamations and communications in his place.

   Previously, Jacob Green experienced more of the brutal and **** side of war.

   At this moment, when thousands of troops slowly unfolded in front of his eyes, Jacob Green was shocked by the other side of the magnificent war from his heart.

   The short fat man next to the lanky Mr. Jacob commented like a general: "Being able to walk out of this column is indeed worthy of the name of a large army."

   Needless to say, Mr. Chunky is none other than [Nandor Krylov], another representative of public opinion in Oxhoof Valley.

  Nandor refused to go home to recuperate because he was injured in the previous battle, so he was also transferred to the headquarters for protection.

  According to Mr. Nandore's own statement, he has already missed a battle due to injury and does not want to miss another one.

  According to the usual way of getting along, Mr. Thin must have a few words with Mr. Fat.

   But now Jacob Green is completely immersed in his blood boiling emotions, so he turned a deaf ear to the words of his old enemy, and he suddenly caught a few sparks: "War... The ultimate violence of mankind... A spectacle of mighty power manifests..."

  The fat Mr. Nandore was dazed, his mind moved, and he slammed his old enemy: "Then you write it out, write an epic! An epic played and sung by a drunken harpist in a tavern."

   Mr. Shou was stunned for a moment, and suddenly a strong desire to write came up, and in a blink of an eye, an inexplicable fear emerged: "I... I'm afraid I can't write..."

"What are you afraid of? Anything is better than nothing." Nandore showed a bit of regret and sadness: "How many battles have been fought in the world? I'm afraid I can't count them? But how many can be remembered? The thought of myself being completely forgotten makes my heart feel empty."

The hesitant Jacob Green gradually became firm: "I will do my best, Mr. Krylov, to let our children and grandchildren remember that someone has shed blood on this land."

   "Remember to add three inches to my height." Mr. Fat said leisurely.

  …

   The fire roaster was overjoyed to learn that the two-legged man from Sank Town was finally lured out.

"[Hedde] The two-legged people have already made a plan, and they are now foxes who stepped on the trap." Looking around the kotas in the big tent, the fire roaster laughed loudly: "[Hedde] killed them, and you can do it here. I take it! Slaves, women, and goods, all of them will be rewarded to you!"

  The big and small Kotak all cheered, but the old interpreter didn't say a word.

  …

  Three columns advanced rapidly towards Gervodin, while the light cavalry of the Terdons roamed around the army like ghosts, trying to spy on what was real.

  Angelo led the cavalry to attack in all directions, struggling to drive the enemy's exploration horses away from the marching route.

   When the Iron Peak cavalry returned to the column, they looked like the headhunters in myths and legends:

   Banners, weapons, and dead heads hang from the front of their saddles, and others return with gold and silver ornaments chopped from the dead.

   Seeing the corpses of their kin separated, the people of Teldun also became more cruel.

   They cut off the heads of the remains of the people of Tiefeng County, raised them high with spears, and showed them to the advancing Tiefeng County militiamen, and even rushed to the vicinity of the column to show off their might.

The army of    tens of thousands of people rolled forward along the foot of Tiefeng County.

  The cavalry of the two armies chased and fought in the plains, hills, and broken terrain, and they never died.

   Winters put the headquarters on the saddle, and the clerks, scribes, and messengers were all equipped with plural warhorses. Wherever he went, the headquarters went.

   When the vanguard was less than 20 kilometers away from Gervodin, Winters finally waited for the enemy's news:

   "An encounter between the front army of the left column and the barbarian vanguard!"

   Winters is not nervous, but has a feeling that his boots are on the ground: "The whole army stops! Let the left column and the right column move closer to me."

   He pointed to the flat, empty fields on both sides of the road: "There is no need to go any further, and here is where you will fight the Terdun people."

  …

The    outpost begins in the morning—a hundred cavalry from Turdtown is repelled by the front of the left column.

   Winters immediately stopped the troops when he heard the news. According to his order, the left and right columns began to shrink towards the central army.

   Tiefeng County consists of a battalion of five hundred men, commanded by a commissioned officer.

  After surveying the battlefield, Winters sent messengers to guide the battalions into their designated positions.

  The third battalion, composed of people from Niuhogu, belonged to the left column. As soon as they entered the designated position, they saw the red armband logistics soldiers driving the carriage.

  The skinny farmer nicknamed Monkey poked his companion, winked and said, "Look, the food is here."

   "Okay." The stocky farmer named Doug replied feebly: "I'm so hungry."

   "I don't think it's unusual to fight a war." The monkey couldn't help complaining: "Don't you just keep walking?"

  Doug didn't say anything, he just wanted to fill his stomach now.

  The veil of the wagon was torn off, and the militiamen were disappointed. Instead of bread and beer, the wagon carried bundles of tools: picks, shovels, chisels…

   "Don't rest!" The appointed battalion commander came over and ordered the militia: "All stand up!"

The    tools were handed over, and the militiamen did not even have time to breathe, and were immediately ordered to dig trenches in front of the formation.

   "Two meters for every twenty meters of the trench!" The battalion commander was appointed to draw a trench for the militia at the front of the position: "It must be able to accommodate two horses and three people side by side!"

   The militiamen were reluctant to carry tools.

   "Sir, can you send some food first." Some militiamen shouted dissatisfiedly: "After a day's walk, I'm too hungry."

   "The bread is in the back, come right away!" The appointed battalion commander reprimanded fiercely: "Don't be lazy! Tell you, if you dig a handful of soil less now, you will lose a pound of meat in the future!"

  The third battalion is "young soldiers", that is, militiamen with poor equipment and training. Most of the time, they are used as civilian men, so everyone is used to digging trenches.

   But the monkey has sharp eyes. He saw that the "strong soldiers" in the second line of the front were not only not digging trenches, but also distributing food.

  Monkey immediately asked aloud, he jumped and pointed at the strong-aged soldiers behind: "Why don't they have to work? They still have food?"

  The militiamen looked back and found that the prime-age soldiers were resting, eating and drinking, and they fried the pot all at once.

   "Shout out!" The appointed battalion commander jumped into the carriage and pulled out his saber: "Shut up, Lao Tzu! If you scream again, you will be dealt with by military law!"

  The third battalion quickly quieted down under the deterrence of military law.

   Seeing that the subordinates were all shut up, the appointed battalion commander said coldly: "They don't have to work because they have to fight hard! If you don't agree, I'll send you to join the senior soldiers."

  The militiamen were silent, and the monkey was not angry, he couldn't help but stand up with his neck: "Send me there!"

   "Yes." The acting battalion commander didn't bother to talk nonsense with the recruits: "Who else is going?"

  Monkey looked at his friend with pleading eyes. Doug couldn't worry about his friend and raised his hand: "I'll accompany him."

  The two young soldiers were immediately sent to the ranks of the senior soldiers, and the position of the third battalion returned to peace. Everyone was busy working, and the bread was quickly delivered.

   The army of Tiefeng County nervously arranged formations and dug trenches in the wilderness.

  The sun gradually passed the highest point and slanted westward, and the rumbling of war drums could be faintly heard in the wind.

   The first thing that jumped out of the horizon was the ponytail flags fluttering in the wind, followed by the vague silhouettes of cavalry.

   It was only then that people realized that what came with the wind was not the sound of drums, but the vibration of horses' hooves trampling the earth.

   The hooves became louder and louder, and the militiamen stopped what they were doing and craned their necks to look around.

   "What are you looking at?" The battalion commander of the 3rd Battalion scolded his subordinates: "Keep working!"

  The militiamen worked harder to dig trenches, and the battalion commander of the 3rd Battalion looked at the figure of the enemy and remained silent for a long time.

   Here comes the Teltown people.

  …

  Telltown's vanguard occupied the northern hills and did not attack rashly.

  The distance between the two sides is about four or five kilometers, separated by a hill, facing each other faintly outside the field of vision.

   As time went on, Winters' rearguards arrived one after another, and the Terdun people continued to arrive on the battlefield.

   As it was getting dark, Winters heard a tsunami of cheers coming from the Terdon positions.

  Winters, who was walking at the front of the position, said to Charles casually: "Probably the monkey's **** face has arrived."

   "Come here." Ciel muttered in a low voice: "God-killed barbarians, what are you yelling at?"

   It had become Winters' habit to walk around the barracks at dinner time, and he usually took no one, but today Charles and Heinrich must follow.

   After walking aimlessly for a while, Winters felt a little tired, so he found a campfire nearby to rest.

   The militiamen gathered around the campfire didn't know the young man in the old coat either. They thought he was also a militiaman, so they moved their buttocks to make room for Winters.

   The cold wind was howling, and the militiamen, wrapped tightly in their clothes, kept as close as possible to the campfire for warmth.

   "Drag us to the wilderness, we don't even have a tent!" Some militiamen were full of complaints, and while setting the fire, they complained: "Frozen to death!"

   "Okay, it's good to have a fire, so what are you complaining about?" Another elderly militiaman taught a lesson in a muffled voice.

   Tiefeng County could not build enough tents for tens of thousands of people for a while, so the troops could only rely on bonfires to keep warm.

   The grumbling militiamen caught sight of Winters wearing a coat, and touched it enviously: "Brother, your coat is really good! Is it warm?"

   "It's quite warm." Winters smiled: "I bought it in Shuangqiao City last year, cashmere."

   "That's pretty expensive."

   "It's a bit expensive."

   "It's great." The grumbling militiaman sighed, and wrapped himself even more tightly on the mattress for the floor: "It's great."

  The elderly militiamen heard the word "Shuangqiao City" and asked tentatively, "Listen to your tone, are you a veteran?"

   Winters nodded: "That's right."

   "It doesn't matter how old you are."

   "Enlist early."

   "Then you said this battle." The elderly militiaman asked anxiously, "Can we win?"

   Winters stirred the bonfire and sighed: "It's hard to say. Anything can happen on the battlefield, but I think we still have some chance of winning."

   "Tell us about... that order of beheading." The grumbling young militiaman asked in a low voice, "Is it true? Can you really cut a head for an hour?"

   "As far as I know, there are no examples of non-delivery."

   The complaining young militiaman suddenly became interested and asked cheerfully: "Then if I cut ten heads, wouldn't I make a fortune? I'll also become a landlord?!"

   Winters thought for a while, and told everyone the joke that "each of the 100,000 soldiers of the old marshal fired two shots".

   He had the demeanor of a cold-faced comedian, and the militiamen by the campfire laughed when they heard it.

   "It's actually quite difficult to kill an enemy." Winters said honestly: "Otherwise, it would be impossible to give so much. If you can get an hectare of land casually, wouldn't the new government make a big loss?"

   "That's right." The ambitions of the grumbling young militia vanished. After sitting for a while, he muttered to himself longingly: "It doesn't need ten minutes, it's fine if you can get one."

   Winters looked at the militiamen, one old and one small, and asked the old man kindly: "Old man, are you two relatives?"

   "He's my grandfather." The young militiaman replied carelessly.

  The old man glared at his grandson, and said to Winters somewhat flatteringly: "You are a learned person at first sight."

  Ciel couldn't help laughing, and Winters didn't know how to answer.

   "Can you write a paper?" the old man asked tentatively.

   "What type of paperwork?"

  The old man swallowed: "Will."

  The lively atmosphere around the campfire suddenly turned cold, and everyone fell silent, only the sound of firewood crackling could be heard.

  The old militiaman hurriedly explained: "This old bone of mine may be blessed by the Lord. I plan to leave the land at home for this kid and a little for the younger daughter. I'm afraid that I can't explain what will happen in the future, so I want to make a will."

   "Oh, what nonsense are you talking about!" The young militiaman impatiently stopped his grandfather from saying any more.

  Winters took out the notebook and graphite strip from his arms and looked at the old man: "Will you dictate or I will draft it?"

   At the moment when the young man opened his coat, the old man inadvertently saw the fringes and ribbons on the other's clothes.

The old man was stunned, so Winters asked again.

   "You... please draft it." The old man said respectfully.

   Winters recited by the dim light of the campfire and flew his pen.

  The illiterate militiamen watched with admiration. Everyone naturally had a kind of respect for the learned.

   Unconsciously, more and more militiamen gathered around the campfire, almost forming a human wall.

  Winters finished writing, signed his full name after the "witness", and handed it to the old man.

  The old militiaman gave a salute, said thanks, and took his will with both hands.

The    militiamen looked at the old man with admiration, and looked eagerly at the learned young man.

What Winters didn't know yet, the succession laws of the new land were a mess: customary law mixed with bronze table law, old laws contradicted new rules, and if the deceased was a believer, the church had to intervene again. .

Although the    big guy doesn't know whether the will is useful or not, but watching the old man put the small piece of paper into his arms like a baby, they also want a copy - at least peace of mind!

   Winters raised his head and met the expectations of everyone.

  He sighed helplessly: "Who else wants to write, come one by one..."

  The people of Tiefeng County have so few things: a piece of land, a house, a few pieces of clothing... Even those who can own these are considered relatively wealthy homesteaders.

   Winters sat by the fire late and helped write letters home until the last of the militiamen left contentedly, until the alarm bells sounded on the edge of the field.

   Immediately after, the sound of gunshots and shouts of killing came from east and west.

   The militiamen by the campfire couldn't help but look around in panic.

   "No big deal." Winters moved his sore joints slowly. "The Teltown people don't want us to rest, old trick. I'll take a look."

   After saying that, he got up and left, and Shire and Heinrich hurriedly followed.

  The crowd watched as the young veteran from nowhere disappeared into the darkness.

   After a while, the sound of rapid footsteps sounded again.

  Charle ran back to the campfire and tossed an old overcoat to the grumbling young militiaman.

   "I'll lend you some clothes and return them after the war." After speaking, Ciel left.

  The young militiaman looked at the person who looked at him, and then looked at the coat in his hand, inexplicably: "Who is that person?"

   "I don't know." The old militiaman was silent for a moment: "You don't need to know either."

   [Call, I don't owe a debt, I'm relaxed]

   [Redefine redefinition—double redefinition of taboo]

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

  

  

   (end of this chapter)