I will be crowned king

In general, the facts prove that the Archbishop's son, Brigadier General Ludwig Franz, really does what he says, and he is really not short of money.

Standing surrounded by mountains of supply boxes, Anson, holding a list in his hand, was really speechless except for sighing. All his original opinions about Ludwig were gone.

With such a generous boss, no problem is a problem.

On the dazzling list, there are enough 600 rifles and bayonets prepared for him, plus a complete set of infantry equipment; including but not limited to military uniforms, shoes and socks, windbreakers, rucksacks... basically enough to arm a nearly full infantry force. corps.

In addition to these, there were also the grenades that Anson had requested before. Because they had to withhold supplies from the Grenadier Regiment, there were not as many as thirty boxes, but more than 400 were prepared, which basically exceeded Anson's expectations.

But these are nothing, because the account list clearly records that among all the supplies, there is also an infantry cannon!

Anson was shocked.

Ludwig mentioned when they first met that the people in the army who assigned him the responsibility of retaking Thunder Castle were prepared to laugh at him from the beginning; so except for the artillery company brought by Ludwig himself, there was no one else at all. It was impossible to get any heavy fire support.

Then there is only one truth - Ludwig bought this infantry cannon with his own money.

This is amazing!

However, even his exaggerated request was met, which also proved from the side how much Ludwig was eager for this victory; if he could not capture Thunder Castle within a month as agreed...

"Hey, Captain, have you seen enough?"

The unhappy Carl Bain woke up Anson, who was still feeling cold behind his back: "If you've seen enough, come here and see these good things you got!"

As he spoke, he pried open the wooden box in front of him and pulled out a very slender and smooth rifle:

"The Borni rifle is a new light weapon that has just been put into production in the Kingdom of Clovis this year. The body of the gun is made of imported oak, and the rifling in the barrel is also very beautiful. The trajectory is very straight, and the recoil is moderate. It is just a bit less powerful, but this Not a problem – since it’s also a breech-loading rifle, you’ll love it!”

"oh?"

Anson's eyes lit up and he took the weapon from the expressionless Karl: "Then...what's wrong with it?"

“It’s OK is the biggest problem!”

Carl Bain sneered until the corner of his mouth twitched: "Imported oak, good rifling, and low recoil - this kind of gun is not used for fighting, it is used by nobles to hunt ducks in the manor; rifles are consumables on the battlefield, what do you expect? Can those privates maintain their weapons like nobles?!"

"My suggestion is to keep two hundred and find a way to dispose of the rest. See if we can exchange a thousand old rifles from the people in charge of logistics, so as to save the soldiers from having to die with wooden sticks after two battles. "

"..." Anson.

Putting down the "Noble Gun" in his arms, Anson moved his eyes to an empty box aside: "Why is that box already open?"

"Oh, it originally contained grenades."

Karl nodded and said: "We used a box before you came back and wanted to test its power."

Tested the power...huh?

Anson noticed something and suddenly looked back at Karl: "Why didn't I hear anything?!"

"Yes, that's the magic of it!"

Karl was also puzzled: "We used a whole box, and none of them exploded - but white smoke kept coming out, and many people choked."

"Oh, by the way, there is also an infantry cannon." He scratched his head and pointed behind him: "You just happened to be back. May I ask where you plan to place it in the position?"

"Where is the cannon?" Anson looked in the direction he pointed.

"It's right there." Karl, expressionless, poked in the same direction with his chin: "Yes, that's it."

"that's it?!"

Staring at what Karl called an "infantry cannon", Anson was stunned.

If there are two wheels attached to a large shotgun, can this thing also be called a "cannon"? !

"This is called a one-pound cannon, also called a 'bang bang cannon'. I heard that in some parts of the empire, it is also called a gun lift - but it is really a cannon." This time Karl's expression was very serious:

"Of course, apart from the range, the power is really about the same as a larger shotgun."

"..."

Anson was really speechless.

Just when he was about to fall into a certain urge to grab the ground with his head and give up, a discordant note came from the trench behind him:

"Sir, when will dinner be served?"

"That's right. You promised to serve dinner when you called us."

"I've been hungry for several days. Can you please hurry up and start dinner?"

...Looking at the ragged crowd in front of him, who were definitely as close as half a copper to a soldier, Anson, who finally recovered, pressed Carl's shoulders and stared at him with confused eyes.

The meaning is obvious: Where did these people come from, and who are they?

"Ahem!"

After coughing twice, Karl used all his strength to break Anson's hand off his shoulder: "They...are your skirmisher company."

"What?"

Anson's head was empty for an instant.

Skirmishers, in the Clovis military system, are a completely opposite type of soldiers to privates - they do not form in a uniform formation, but spread out in front of the formation and fight using rapid advancement and maneuvering.

Because of this, this branch of the military has relatively high requirements on soldiers' physical fitness and shooting accuracy, and because they are not in neat formation, soldiers often need to make their own judgments on the battle situation and decide on the next move.

Generally speaking, skirmishers are generally used as harassing firepower, scouts and snipers; in the Kingdom of Clovis, the rigid old tactics are no longer applicable, and a new type of arms was born.

The reason why Anson knows this so well is because "former Anson" studied skirmishers at the Royal Military Academy.

In order to retake the fortress, close-quarters offensive and defensive battles, street battles, and ambush battles are almost inevitable; the line soldiers who only know rigid and rigid tactics in the chaos are far less adaptable to this kind of battle than the mobile and flexible skirmishers.

And now Ludwig throws a bunch of guys who don't know where they came to him, and says that they are the elites he wants? !

The good impression I originally had on the brigadier generals around me disappeared in this moment.

"Hey, the one with black hair!"

An extremely childish voice came from the crowd: "I'm almost starving to death, why can't I start eating?!"

Anson slowly looked back, staring blankly at a little girl who had squeezed to the front of the crowd, with impatience written all over her face. He had an illusion in his heart that it was so ridiculous that it seemed reasonable.

Yes, there is a little girl among such an "elite" group. Is there anything surprising about it?

Karl next to him was completely numb. He took out the cigarette case from his shirt with an expressionless face, shook out a cigarette, held it in his mouth, and lit it "click-click-click" - he really didn't want to help at all. Anson cleans up the mess Anson made.

Sighing, Anson had no choice but to stand up and go forward alone.

The little girl looks about thirteen or fourteen years old, about half as tall as a rifle; her thin and small body is covered by a dusty, torn and torn linen shirt; her light brown hair is messy and twisted into a ball, and her face is dirty. A pair of green eyes stared at Anson hungrily.

"Excuse me, who brought you here?" Anson, who barely managed a smile, asked the crowd.

"do not know!"

The little girl raised her head desperately and glared at Anson, and continued to shout feebly: "When will dinner be served?!"

Almost at the same time as the little girl spoke, the crowd around and behind them collectively took a few steps back, staring at her and Anson without saying a word.

Holding down his inner impulse, Anson had no choice but to squat down and look at the little girl:

"where is your family?"

"What's that?"

"Are they your parents, or relatives or something?"

"I don't know, I've never seen it!"

"..." Anson, whose mouth was cramped, had to change the question:

"Who brought you here?"

"There was a guy in a cloak riding a horse who said that as long as he could shoot and shoot accurately, he could come here to eat, so I brought them all!" The little girl waved her hand behind her in a very "powerful" manner, but it was a pity that she was so thin. The thin arms show no strength at all:

"So when will dinner be served?!"

"Did you bring them here?" Anson felt like he didn't hear clearly.

"it's me!"

The little girl nodded vigorously, so much that Anson almost thought she would fall:

"It was cold and I couldn't find anything to eat outside. I met them on the road when I was looking for them. They had nothing to eat and wanted to take mine, but they couldn't beat me. So I took them to look for food together. I met them on the road. The one on horseback and wearing a cloak... And here we are."

The little girl Lisa stammered as she spoke. She described the refugees behind her as like hyenas prowling for food, but Anson probably had a sense of the image in his mind.

Although he was curious about why a group of refugees couldn't even defeat a little girl, and how she managed to get Lieutenant Colonel Roman to agree to bring them here, he really didn't want to worry about that much now.

Anson, who felt powerless all over his body, was silent for a long time. Looking at the increasingly anxious little girl in front of him, he reluctantly squeezed out a kind smile:

"Let's start dinner right away. After you're full, go find the guy in the cloak and ride the horse and ask him to help you find another place."

To capture Thunder Castle, Anson needed a group of elites who could fight hand to hand, hunters who knew how to use bunkers to protect themselves, who could calmly reload and shoot within fifteen seconds at any time and anywhere, and kill with one hit.

Not a bunch of cannon fodder.

"That won't work!"

The little girl's face turned pale instantly - although there was no blood on her thin face, she hurriedly grabbed Anson's clothes:

"The guy in the cloak said that if you don't accept him, he will drive us away!"

Well, it's like something the brigadier general's cronies would do.

"It's cold, and there's nothing to eat outside! We can do whatever you want, just don't drive us away!" The little girl stared at Anson and shouted as if she didn't know what she had done wrong:

"Aren't you looking for someone who can use a gun? My gun is very accurate! Please, let us stay!"

"It's not just that you know how to use a gun..."

"I really know how to use a gun! I know how to shoot a rabbit through the eye from a long distance away. How do you want to believe me?!"

"This has nothing to do with whether you know how to use a gun. From the beginning..."

Just when Anson was getting impatient, a black shadow suddenly appeared in the hands of the little girl in front of him.

Is that...his own gun? !

Shocked, he instinctively stretched out his hand to take it back, but the little girl in front of him seemed to have guessed his actions and dodged the outstretched right hand like a magic trick.

The next second, the little girl holding the revolver in both hands was standing behind him, and Anson could already hear the sound of her cocking the hammer.

not good!

Anson turned around suddenly and grabbed her calf; the little girl lost her balance and her thin body fell forward uncontrollably.

The revolver in his hand was also thrown into the air.

"Snapped--!"

Anson took advantage of the situation and planned to hold her down before he could take action. The caught little girl twisted around in mid-air, and her black feet hit him right in the face.

"Plop!"

The thin figure in the air fell into the mud pit of the trench. Regardless of the pain, he reached for the revolver that fell from the air like crazy.

The next second, Anson grabbed her slender arm and pushed her to the ground.

The little girl who was grabbed by her left leg and right hand struggled desperately, and her small body exploded with strength that was absolutely inconsistent with her size.

"Click."

Um? !

The revolver fell from the air and landed firmly in the little girl's left hand.

Anson's eyes widened in shock.

"boom--!"

The straight trajectory of the golden-red gunfire flashed past, and before anyone noticed it, the cigarette at the corner of Karl's mouth opposite him had been split into two.

The stunned adjutant still maintained his puffing posture, staring at the severed cross section of the cigarette, his index finger holding the cigarette trembling slightly.

"Is this okay? Is that okay?!"

The little girl who screamed at the top of her lungs threw the gun aside, turned her head suddenly as if she felt no pain, stared at Anson with gritted teeth, and tears poured out uncontrollably.

"Otherwise, what else do you want? Just tell me! You can do anything you want me to do, but don't drive us away!"

Anson was stunned, with the little girl's footprints still on his face.

"Karl!"

"Ah? Here!"

Carl Bain, who suddenly came to his senses, stood there like an adjutant.

"Find the chief of staff here." Anson said without raising his head: "Tell him to start dinner immediately!"

"But it's not lunch break yet, the food in the military camp kitchen..."

"Go quickly!"

"yes!"

The panicked Karl ran away as if running for his life.

Anson let go of the little girl and walked to the place where the cigarette butt fell without saying a word.

He glanced behind him, almost twelve meters away.

Twelve meters, one shot to cut off the cigarette, and still under the premise of being completely controlled by myself...

coincide?

Even so, the opponent's sensitivity, reaction speed, and explosive power are completely disproportionate to his body. These are definitely not coincidences.

Standing up slowly, Anson looked at the little girl.

The little girl, whose face was covered in stains and tears, noticed Anson's gaze and raised her head as well, nervously motionless.

The refugees she brought behind her all backed away in fear, fearing that they would be implicated in the resistance of the little girl just now.

"you……"

Anson, who spoke subconsciously, realized that he had not asked a very crucial question:

"May I have your name?"

The nervous little girl was stunned for a moment, then blurted out:

"Lisa, Lisa August!"