Iron Powder and Spellcaster

It was late at night, but Tartai couldn't sleep.

Not only Tartai couldn't sleep, Tartai's cronies couldn't sleep either.

The red feathers of the Tartai tribe could not sleep all night not because of the defeat at dawn yesterday - if the slaves died, they could be captured again, and if the subjects ran away, they could be collected again. If the horses and armor were not lost, the Tartai tribe would not It hurts the foundation.

But because they were blocked on the river bank and couldn't move.

Where to go? The big and small bosses have been arguing for two days.

"That Yan! Gentlemen!" the old slave Chahan advised hard: "Look at your feet, it's all black! There's not even a patch of turf as big as your palm! This is a dead place! Let's go! While we can still go!"

As Chahan spoke, he bent down and grabbed a handful of soil, bursting into tears: "Everyone, nobles, open your eyes! The two-legged people are so angry that even the roots of the grass have been scorched! It's freezing cold, and the children can't find firewood for heating." He can only burn the horse dung to make it wet! His eyes are so smoked that he is sick, so how can he plunder it? In a few days, the horse dung will be gone!"

The old slave Chahan wanted to leave, but the "nobles" of the Tartai tribe did not want to leave. The harvest of the plunder was related to their status and wealth, and even their life and death depended on the success or failure of the plunder.

Immediately, someone scolded the old slave Chahan: "Why are the crows shouting indiscriminately? The one who warmed the fire ordered you and I to cross the river from now on, but you can leave if you want? The one who warmed the fire will not kill you, but he will kill the person wearing the quiver!"

Another Hong Lingyu, with gray beard and hair, said: "You can't walk, but you can't waste your time either. It's better to change the road and go upstream or downstream."

"Can you and I take the road of other ministries?" The man who spoke just now became more and more angry: "Father, father! Don't say nothing! Either leave! Fight! Make a decision!"

It turned out that the speaker was Tartai's son.

"Todog, don't be anxious." Tartai glanced at his eldest son and his eyelids twitched: "What you said makes sense."

Tartai wants to leave? Don't want to either. Now let go, aren't those hundred and ten subjects and slaves lost in vain?

But he also felt that he couldn't afford it - the two-legged people were so vicious that they burned the West Bank to scorched earth. The Hittites relied on livestock to fight the war, and the livestock relied on eating grass to fight the war. If there is no grass to eat, how can we plunder?

I originally thought that the vanguard was a rare and lucrative job, but now I am in a dilemma, and Tartai also regrets it.

"I think the two-legged people on the east coast are not as numerous as us. In yesterday's battle, they suffered a lot of losses." Tartai looked around, and the dried meat in his hand was almost twisted into floss: "Tomorrow, the disciples will be killed." Divide into left and right wings and cross the river from upstream and downstream respectively, leaving my flag here to catch people on the other side."

"What if we are found out?"

"It doesn't matter if you are discovered, just cross the river as far as a horse away. If they follow, you continue to fish for them. They only have two legs and can't go far.

If they don't see through it, just wait for me to feign crossing from here, and then attack them from behind. "

[Note: "As far as a horse" refers to a day's journey of a herding horse, about 10km]

"What if it still doesn't work?"

"If it doesn't work, you and I will just leave! You and I have tried our best, and the fire-warmers can't blame you and me."

The red feathers in Tartai's department couldn't think of a better way, and one after another they agreed to Tartai's strategy.

Chahan is Tartai's personal slave, and his status is an extension of Tartai's authority. Although he was worried, Chahan could not object to Tartai's words.

The red feathers in Tartai divided the left and right wings, stopped arguing, and went back to their tents to sleep.

Chahan also returned to his residence. He had no tent—none of the Terdun people below the leader had tents.

In winter, the weather gets colder. It’s cold during the day and even colder at night. Most tribesmen can only hold hot stones in their arms to keep warm.

Chahan's son and grandson also went out with the army this time. The father and son guarded the bonfire and did not sleep.

"How is it? Father?" Chahan's son asked.

Chahan shook his head.

Looking at his son and grandson's eyes that were red from the smoke, the old man sighed heavily and lay down wrapped in his leather robe.

Chahan's grandson vigorously played with the horse dung and said angrily: "If we lose the battle, you and I will die. If we win the battle, the leaders will divide the wealth. They are like wolves who have finally tasted blood. Of course they will not Let go easily."

"Shut up!" the middle-aged Hed man scolded his son in a low voice: "If that Yan hears it, pull out your tongue!"

"If he doesn't give up, I will talk about it all day." Chahan's grandson frowned and said to his father: "People who come and go say that in the Chihe tribe, even ordinary tribesmen can get wealth. But. Tartai leader? He puts everything in his saddlebags and doesn’t even give a single horseshoe to his men!”

The middle-aged Hed man couldn't stand up to his son, and angrily lectured him: "The Red River tribe is the Red River tribe, and the Tel Dun tribe is the Tel Dun tribe."

"All the Jin people are gone! What kind of Terdun tribe is there?!" Chahan's grandson became louder and louder as he spoke.

"Shut up!" The middle-aged Hed man flew into a rage, swung his arms and slapped his son hard in the mouth.

"boom!!!"

It was like thunder exploding in the ears, and the mouth shook so much that the earth trembled.

The horses neighed in fear, and old man Chahan jumped up suddenly, not as vigorous as an old man.

"What's the sound?!" Old Man Chahan's eyes widened like those of a cow.

"I..." The middle-aged Hed man was at a loss: "...Hit him in the mouth..."

"No!" Old Chahan shouted: "No!"

A flash of red light.

"boom!!!"

This time, the thunder exploded at the feet of Chahan's ancestors and grandson. Invisible fragments flew in the air, and a wave of air instantly pushed Chahan down.

Chahan's head hit something hard, his vision went dark and he lost consciousness.

Thirty meters away from the Tartai camp, Winters, whose hair was still wet, held up his saber and gave a stern order: "Get ready!"

Eighteen warriors crouched in the darkness behind Winters, each of them had purple lips and their bodies were shaking uncontrollably.

In front of Winters were four carefully selected burly warriors.

In order to avoid the Terton sentry post, twenty-two warriors followed Winters and swam across the river from two kilometers upstream holding a sheepskin bag.

The Hurds probably didn't expect that they had inadvertently taught their enemies how to use sheepskin bags to gain buoyancy.

Four burly soldiers each raised a palm-sized iron-colored grenade to eyebrow height, with a long lead extending from the top of the iron ball.

Winters walked behind the four men. He did not strike the scythe, but the four powder twists were already burning.

"Throw!" Winters shouted.

Like discus-throwing competitors in ancient times, the four burly warriors strode forward, turned their bodies in a full circle, and used all their strength to push the grenade towards the Tartai camp.

The hissing grenade disappeared into the darkness, and Winters roared even over the dull explosion: "Again!"

The iron that Carlos, the young blacksmith, smelted from the iron peak ore was of poor quality and brittle. But Winters found a use for brittle iron—making grenades.

Through improved technology, the weight of grenades produced in Tiefeng County has been reduced to less than 1kg.

The lighter weight eliminates the need to use the "hammer-ball" throwing method - that method is too dangerous, and the grenade will fly to the heads of friendly troops if you are not careful.

People were running, horses were neighing, and the Tartai camp was in chaos.

Tartai, who lacked cold-proof equipment, used sticks and ropes to arrange the horses outside the camp to keep out the wind.

Any one of bright lights, gun smoke and loud noises may cause a horse to lose control, let alone all three stimulating the horse's senses at the same time.

A frightened horse possessed by the instinct to escape wildly kicked the surrounding horses, broke through the rope, and ran towards the night.

More frightened horses rampaged through the camp, trampling the crowd and spreading panic to more horses and people.

"Don't panic!" Tartai ran and shouted at the top of his lungs: "Open the rope fence! Disperse the horses!"

The rumbling drums covered the desperate cry of Tartai, and just a glance at the scene in front of them would make the knees of Tartai's troops weak.

Hundreds - no, thousands of torches overflowed the river embankment like huge waves, rushed towards the river bank, floated to the surface, and pressed towards the west bank.

They want to cross the Bighorn River by force!

"What? How could it be possible?" Tartai grabbed a slave next to him who was trying to escape. With red eyes, he asked incoherently: "Beware of us! Two-legged people have to guard against you and me! Why? They Why cross the river?"

The usually submissive slave showed a fierce look on his face, pushed away the face, struggled to get on a horse without a bridle or a saddle, and walked away without looking back.

"Father!" Tartai's son, with two personal guards, immediately found Tartai in the crowd of people running around: "What should I do?"

"Fake!" Tartai suddenly realized: "The Two-Legged Man definitely does not have so many soldiers, and those torches are all fake!"

"What should we do?"

"Draw your sword! Mount your horse! Go to the river bank!" Tartai roared ferociously: "Come up and kill each one!"

At the same time, on the east bank of the Bighorn River, Bart Schalling's voice was hoarse and was no longer human, and he was still shouting at his best: "Shout! Shout! [Herd] Tartai is dead!"

Yesterday's dawn battle, the two armies had almost equal kills.

The night before today, Winters took away twenty of the best sergeants and veterans.

Bart Xialing only had a little more than one company of soldiers left, and he was able to create such a huge momentum by pulling out all the men, women, and children who could walk in the Oxhoof Valley.

The soldiers rode on a raft made of door panels and logs, waving their arms vigorously and paddling, heading towards the other side of the river.

The mobilized civilians did not have the courage to cross the river and fight. All they could do was shout.

"Shout! Shout for me!"

There were scattered shouts: "[Hidden] Tartai is dead!"

This shout contained the tender voice of a child, the muffled guttural voice of an old man, and the high-pitched voice of a woman.

"Shout! Shout!" Bart Xialing was on the verge of tears: "If you don't shout, the blood wolf will die! One! Two! Three!"

People gradually started to speak louder: "[Hidden] Tartai is dead!"

"one two three!"

The blunt shouts merged into one voice and soared into the sky: "[Hudian] Tartai is dead!"

"I'm not dead!" Tartai yelled angrily, beating the horse on his crotch like crazy: "I'm not dead! I'm here!"

On the outskirts of the camp, Winters, whose eyes were like hawks, pulled out his saber and pointed the blade directly at the particularly eye-catching fat man Hurd: "Over there!"

The twenty-two warriors no longer concealed their whereabouts, took off their spear coverings and jumped up.

"That person is Tal Tai!" Winters seemed to have entered another personality. All the emotions he had suppressed for a long time were released at this moment. He laughed happily, wantonly and cruelly: "Everyone! Come with me!"

But before Winters could take the first step, someone hugged him from behind: "No!"

It's Ciel.

"What are you doing!" Winters shouted angrily.

"You can't go!"

"There is no armor! There is no horse! You are not a centurion! I am!" Tamas stopped in front of Winters, raised his spear high and roared: "Follow me!"

Tamas took the lead and rushed towards the enemy camp without shouting for kill or war cry. Twenty warriors followed Tamas silently, like a dark dagger piercing the enemy's heart.

"let go!"

"No!"

Winters roared like thunder, and with a fierce force, Ciel's right shoulder was violently dislocated.

Ciel screamed, his left hand still clutching his right wrist and not letting go.

Perhaps awakened by Ciel's screams, Winters slowly became quiet and silent, and his breathing and heartbeat gradually returned to steady.

Ciel vaguely felt that Winters' fanaticism was fading. He tentatively put back a little strength, but he was still vigilant.

"Okay." Winters said suddenly: "Let go."

Charles then let go obediently and stood with his head bowed, holding his right arm.

Winters threw the knife into the ground with his backhand and silently connected it to Ciel's right shoulder.

"Tell me." Winters looked at Tamas, who was shouting and charging, and said to himself indifferently: "Am I never going to have the chance to go into battle myself?"

Charles didn't know how to answer. After thinking about it, he replied in a low voice: "At least not this time. The first company commander is right. We didn't bring armor or horses when we swam... If something happens to you, then ...What should we do then?!”

"Yes. Ha, court mage, no wonder." Winters suddenly remembered an old man: "Forget it this time."

Charles nodded, thinking: "It's best to forget about it from now on."

"Give me your spear." Winters flicked his wrist.

"What do you want to do?" Ciel hugged the spear warily.

Winters took the spear without any explanation. He calmed down his breathing, took four steps, and used his strength as smoothly as running water to throw the spear.

The tip of the spear streaked across the battlefield like a meteor, and a horse-riding red feather on the edge of the rope fence was knocked off his horse in the blink of an eye.

"Mark it down." Winters declared with high spirits: "In this battle, Winters Montagne will kill an enemy with his own hands."

Charles took a deep breath and cheered to the calm river: "Winters Montagne! Kill an enemy with one hand!"

The raft carrying the reinforcements touched the west bank, and the soldiers jumped into the knee-deep water and rushed towards the enemy camp with shouts.

…

The fighting on the west bank did not last long. At first some firelight could be seen, but in the end the light of the torches completely dimmed.

But the sound of hoofbeats and shouts continued intermittently until dawn.

Bart Schalling, who stayed on the east coast, anxiously awaited the outcome of the victory or defeat.

Not only Bart Xialing, but also thousands of civilians from the Ox Hoof Valley stayed on the river embankment and refused to leave for a long time.

Many people were whispering prayers.

Finally, when the morning light showed, someone shouted in surprise: "Military drum!"

"It's the sound of a military drum!"

"Snare drum!"

"I heard it too!"

It's a snare drum! Bart Schalling couldn't conceal his excitement and ran all the way to the river bank, stood in the river, and cheered selflessly.

The common people of Oxhoof Valley also ran to the river bank, waving their hats and handkerchiefs, cheering heartily.

On the west bank of the Bighorn River, Winters urged the drummer: "March! Hit it harder! Louder!"

Tartai's tribe was defeated and fled in all directions. The enemy chief Tartai himself was captured alive by Tamas.

"It's a pity." Tamas was injured in his left arm and leg, and his face was a little pale: "The horses ran a lot, and they were only gathered together to more than 200."

"Meadows with a radius of dozens of kilometers have been completely burned. Let Bart Shilling get some wheat seedlings, water, and a few mares in heat. Before dark, all the horses that escaped can be found again. Come back." Winters laughed and said, "It seems Lieutenant Cellini is right. Robbing is faster than anything else."

The snare drummer blushed and beat the marching music hard.

Use the river water to wash away the dust and blood stains, and the soldiers waiting for the victory will hum along softly.

Winters always felt like something was missing.

After thinking for a moment, he suddenly realized that the lyrics were missing.

The army's marching songs, rally songs, assault songs... all have music but no words. The soldiers could only hum along, but could not sing happily.

"Come on! Come on! Get up!" Winters said without thinking, a new jingle gradually took shape in his mind: "Someone worships Alexander! Sing along!"

The soldiers didn't know why, and they read back unevenly and stumblingly: "There are people who worship Alexander."

"Someone admires Hercules!"

"Hector, Lysander!"

"The names of heroes are countless!"

"But even the greatest hero!"

"Not as good as Plato's good soldiers!"

Tamas followed the centurion and sang enthusiastically, but he didn't hear the last line clearly, so he added the last line according to his own ideas.

The cheerful songs gradually gathered and finally resounded on both sides of the Bighorn River.

“There are people who worship Alexander!

Someone admires Hercules!

Hector, Lysander!

The names of heroes are countless!

But even the greatest hero!

Not as good as the blood wolf's guards! "

[The author has modified the Grenadier March and added lyrics to the song. In my impression, this trend started in the 18th century. The previous songs basically had music but no lyrics. But let it appear here, it's good. The inspiring effect of songs on people's hearts cannot be ignored. ]

[Adjusting the time difference "successfully" means that I didn't sleep last night and successfully changed the update time from midnight to noon. Whether it is successful or not... it depends on whether there is an update at noon tomorrow...]

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