Iron Powder and Spellcaster

Gevaudan, South City.

"You learn so quickly." Mason looked at the sand thrown up by the Terton people and thought with a heavy heart: "Winters is right, the invisible spread of technology is more harmful than the tangible loss of soldiers and generals."

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

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

The Telltowners chose to dig trenches from the west of the city and approach, while Mason's artillery had previously been positioned at the south gate.

In order to prevent the barrel from exploding, the third generation "wooden cannon" adopts a three-layer structure of iron, leather and wood, which directly makes the gun body bulky and difficult to transport.

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

Cold sweat broke out on the sergeant's forehead: "I...I don't know..."

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

Not only the sergeant who was questioned, but also the surrounding militiamen were frightened.

The sergeant was about to leave, but felt that he should salute before leaving. But he was not a soldier, but a temporarily appointed citizen of Gévaudan, and he did not know whether he was qualified to salute the military salute.

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

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

Mason kept a straight face and continued to patrol the city wall. He scolded the panicked civilians, whipped the cowards who hid behind the wall, and occasionally praised the brave ones.

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

It's too quiet, it's too quiet on the battlefield.

Except for the sound of the running water of the St. George River, there was only the sound of the Telltown people digging in the earth.

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

Under such circumstances, one could hear the tribunes swearing in an angry manner, and some militiamen were even moved to the point of crying.

The gentle, quiet tribune turned into a walking swearing machine, partly because Mason was doing it deliberately, but partly because Mason was really in a bad mood.

The last time he fought against Terdun's troops, the latter's siege level was still at the same level as it was thirty years ago:

Carrying carts, ladders, trebuchets; packing earth, digging cities, and even trying to level the fortress with human lives.

The final result was naturally a bloody head and a bloody blow. Tens of thousands of Terdun cavalrymen had their four front teeth broken by the small fortress garrisoned by thousands of people.

In this attack and defense, the city wall of Gévaudan was much weaker than the previous bridgehead, but the technical capabilities displayed by the Telton people had greatly improved.

They began using specialized tools for soil work—and that alone was more dangerous to Mason than holding soil in a sheepskin bag.

Even more surprising things were yet to come: carriages kept coming, and the Teltown people took a lot of trouble to unload four artillery pieces.

To load and unload the four cannons, the Telduans assembled a small crane.

From a distance, Mason could roughly conclude that the opponent was using a six-pounder. He would not admit it, because the six-pounder was the model he had used in the Battle of Bien Le.

When retreating from Bianli, the captured light and heavy artillery were secretly nailed and sunk in the river.

Where did these artillery pieces come from? It was raised from the bottom of the river by the Telduans after interrogating the captives; or whether it was newly obtained, Mason did not know.

But one thing is unquestionable - the Teltuns had artillery.

As for whether the Teltun people have the ability to use artillery?

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

The captains of the militia, who had been temporarily appointed, were summoned to a meeting by Mason.

Among the militia captains are the original village chiefs, town mayors, and municipal councilors of Gevaudan, as well as manor owners and ordinary farmers. They are all prestigious candidates elected by the militiamen themselves.

From this perspective, Gévaudan's militia naturally possesses 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 first have authority before being appointed as "officers".

The bottom-up structure also has shortcomings - the top commander lacks the ability to restrain the officer team. After all, the tribunes are not elected.

In order to bring out the cohesion of the troops, the prerequisite is that commanders at all levels must set an example. This is also what gives Mason the biggest headache.

The surprise attack in the first battle failed, and the Teltown people did not launch any attack on the second and third days.

However, the psychological pressure they brought to the defenders by digging trenches and pressing forward step by step may be greater than directly attacking the city wall.

In particular, the news that the Telduans had four cannons spread like wildfire, causing panic inside the new city.

Mason glanced at the group of militia captains. Some of the latter had gray beards and hair, and some were still young men. But without exception, they were either staring at the toes of their boots without saying a word, or smoking cigarettes.

The battle hasn't started yet, but the atmosphere is so heavy that it seems like they have already lost.

A militia captain with a red birthmark on his face broke the silence, stood up and asked: "Your Excellency, since the barbarians have artillery, do they need to further thicken the city wall?"

Although the former sergeant and current militia captain [Ivan] did not speak, he nodded and cooperated.

After large-scale preparations for war began, the prisoner Ivan, a former member of the security guard and garrison sergeant, was re-recruited.

Ivan said goodbye to his wife and children silently, walked into the military camp again, and picked up the weapon again. In previous battles, his performance was very reliable, and he was promoted to militia captain due to his merit.

Mason looked around and saw two people with a positive attitude present. One was his old unit and the other was a prisoner who came out of the punishment camp.

"I know you resent me because I coaxed you to the south bank and forced you to defend the city." Mason did not take the words of his subordinates, but looked directly at everyone, frankly speaking to everyone's thoughts: "You may still resent Montagne for protecting the people. officer, because he did not come to Gévaudin’s rescue.”

The air grew thicker, or so the majority of the militia captains thought. It was clear that they could safely evacuate to the north bank, but now they were left on the south bank to defend the city. Everyone had complaints in their hearts.

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

The civilians appointed as militia captains basically belonged to the educated gentry class. Most people actually understand the two truths Mason said. But when it was their turn, they were really unwilling.

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

"I understand." The birthmark man and Ivan replied in unison.

"Do you understand?" Mason asked again.

A group of militia captains responded one after another.

"Now that I understand, there is another thing I need to tell you." Mason's expression became serious: "You have been bound by military law. Cowardice and desertion will be severely punished, including but not limited to the death penalty and confiscation of property. Now This is a wartime situation, there is no defense or trial, and anyone who tests the law will be executed by my own hands."

A chill grew in the hearts of the militia captains. Mason's tone was calm but steely, and even the most timid person would not doubt his determination.

Everyone answered yes again, this time louder and more tidy than last time.

After injecting some courage and fear into his men, Mason started to get down to business: "The original city wall was designed according to anti-fire gun standards. Now that the Teltown people have moved out the artillery, the city wall also needs to be thickened. No trouble, at the corresponding location. Just pile dirt behind the city wall. Mr. Ivan, you are responsible for doing it."

"Yes!" Ivan quickly stood up and saluted.

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

"Artillery is nothing to be afraid of, but the rumors are getting more and more scary. Well, each militia team will take turns to go to the west side of the city wall to visit the Teltown people's artillery and our army's artillery. If you see it with your own eyes, you will know what it is. But that’s it. I’ll give you a schedule, and each team will take turns changing their guard to have a look.”

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

"In my opinion, the fact that the Terton people have this formation shows that their main attack direction is not in Gévaudan." Mason said to everyone in a chatting tone among friends: "With the city defense of Gévaudan, Strength, they don't have to use this time-consuming and laborious trench siege method."

Many militia captains suddenly pricked up their ears. They were in great need of good news.

Seeing that it aroused everyone's attention, Mason felt that using words alone was not enough. He pulled out a piece of white paper and called for everyone to come closer.

Mason patiently drew a picture while explaining: "...With the soil work ability that the Turton people have shown so far, they can completely get close to the trench and use the cart as a cover to dig and fill the trench. The city wall of Gevaudan lacks The protruding corners and the approaching trenches are superfluous.

The Tertun people dug trenches to approach, indicating that they were in no hurry to attack the city. But they were busy on an expedition and there were no supplies nearby to plunder, so they should be anxious. This shows that there is something fishy... If I were the leader of the Teltun people, I would use..."

Mason became more and more enthusiastic as he talked, and the militia captains became more and more strange. Because the Mason tribune did not seem to be the supreme commander of the defense of the city, he enthusiastically gave advice to the Hurd barbarians who were attacking the city.

"...The city will be destroyed." Mason threw down the graphite strips without hesitation and smiled at his subordinates: "So you see, the level of the Telton people is just like this - half-learned, which makes people anxious. There is nothing good about it. Don’t worry, there are people in Jevaudan who have food. Let’s not say that we can keep it for ten and a half years, but there will be no problem if we keep it for one or two months.”

The militia captains nodded in confusion, and they did not understand how Tribune Mason concluded that "there is no problem in staying for a month or two." However, the tribunes talked eloquently and were confident, and this self-confidence was projected into their hearts to a certain extent.

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

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

"Oh?" Mason looked normal: "Bring him over."

"But." The messenger hesitated.

"Bring him here." Mason said in a commanding tone.

The messenger saluted and strode away.

"The Tertun people sent an envoy." Mason smiled and told the militia captains: "The purpose is not difficult to guess. Is it nothing more than persuading us to surrender or blackmailing us to give us money and food in exchange for peace?"

The hearts of the militia captains were raised again, and many of them actually showed a bit of hope in their eyes.

"Your Excellency." The man with the birthmark stood up suddenly and tried to dissuade him urgently: "Officers should not have direct contact with the enemy's messengers. They may be assassins..."

Mason smiled and waved his hand, and the birthmark man pursed his lips and sat down and stopped talking.

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

Two people came, both wearing Hud leather robes, but the one walking in front looked like a Hud, while the robe following behind looked a little awkward on him.

Seeing that the tent was full of people, the Hud envoy was not afraid of the stage. He strode towards Mason with his head held high and said arrogantly: "[Hid] serve..."

He didn't finish his words, because Mason picked up a blunderbuss from the table, pointed it at the messenger's head, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

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

The fire flashed twice, once from the detonator and once from the muzzle.

The lead bullet was poured into the head of the Hud messenger from the forehead, and emerged from the back of the head, splashing white and red.

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

The slave interpreter who followed the messenger was so frightened that he fell to the ground and begged frantically for mercy.

"Take him down." Mason pointed to the interpreter and carefully put the spring gun back into place: "Let's see if we can find out any valuable information."

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

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

"Messenger? He's just here to shake our will and find out our truth." Mason wiped off the blood spots on his hands with some discomfort - he was still not used to doing this kind of thing, and said slowly:

"The Hed people have a rule. If you kill their envoy, everyone will either be killed or become slaves when the city is broken."

After a pause, Mason spoke again: "Let me tell you gentlemen one more thing. The Hed people also have a rule. If they don't kill their messengers, when the city is destroyed, everyone will either be killed or become slaves. Don't worry. With any luck, there is no compromise between us and the Telduuns, only life and death."

Among the militia captains, a manor owner who had just been fantasizing about negotiating peace with the Hurds swallowed his saliva involuntarily.

He had just confirmed one thing - the tribune who was explaining the siege tactics cordially just a second ago would not hesitate at all to kill him.

Thinking again of the "military law" mentioned by the other party before, the manor owner couldn't help but swallow another mouthful of saliva.

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

Everyone's spirits were tense again.

"Good news." Mason smiled, and everyone suddenly saw that the kind tribune was back: "Mrs. Montagne has brought us hot food!"

…

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

The broth was specially packed in buckets so that the militiamen who came to receive the soup could easily pick it up and take it back to each team to share the meal.

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

Anna wore a mesh veil, a small top hat, and a simple dark blue riding uniform. The old mayor Priskin accompanied her to the South Bank.

[Note: Rider clothing refers to riding clothing with a tight and narrow top and pants at the bottom]

Anna said to Mason with some embarrassment: "Mr. Montagne told many stories about wanting to take a sip of hot soup during the war... The bridge was demolished in a hurry. I wonder if it caused you any trouble..."

"[The stomach is the foot of the army], why is it troublesome?" Mason laughed and replied: "On a cold day, if everyone can drink a mouthful of hot soup, it will be more useful than me saying a hundred words of encouragement!"

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

"Don't worry, it won't happen." Mason smiled and shook his head slightly.

"How about delivering soup to everyone 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 hold on on the south bank, but was dissuaded by Mason because the defense of the old city could not do without him.

The tall and thin Ivan walked up to Mason and asked in a low voice with some embarrassment: "Sir, do you want... to burn the boat too..."

Mason looked up to the sky and laughed: "At that time, if you don't have a boat, you can still swim back to the north shore. Are we going to cut off everyone's hands and feet? Destroying the bridge shows attitude and determination. Keep the boat, maybe we can Comes in handy.”

…

Meanwhile, on the Bighorn River, seven kilometers upstream of the Boardwalk.

The masked Captain Moreau and Samkin were leading soldiers and civilians to drive wooden piles into the bed of the Big Horn River.

The two of them had just narrowly escaped death and returned to Oxhoof Valley the day before, and they immediately devoted themselves to another task - building a dam on the Bighorn River.

To build a dam on the Huiqing River, which has a small amount of water, a rough stacking method of cages filled with stones can be used.

But not in the Big Horn River. Although the Big Horn River is not as vast as the Styx River, it is still a large river that can exceed a hundred meters wide during high water periods.

If you want to cut off Tiefeng County's natural barrier, another construction method must be used.

Under the guidance of local fishermen, Morrow and Samkin found a location moderately far from the pontoon and with the narrowest river channel.

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

"The next step is to drive the wooden piles diagonally between the two rows of wooden piles and divide the two rows of wooden piles into triangles." Moreau used tree branches as pens to draw a schematic diagram on the beach and explained to Samkin: "No need to This can be done now as soon as the parallel wooden piles are extended to the river bank.”

"Okay!" Samujin's eyes were filled with bloodshot eyes. He hadn't rested for a long time: "I'll arrange the manpower right now."

"The current manpower is not enough." Moreau knocked on the sand.

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

Samkin personally went to the town of Shenk and brought back Winters' unreserved support-including manpower, food, and the incoming officers of Ronald's department.

"Winters Montagne? Yes, he is a great tribune!" Moreau sneered a few times and threw away the branch: "That's all! As long as he kills the Hurds, it's none of my business if he calls himself a marshal. !”

Samkin was speechless.

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

But Moreau's attitude towards Centurion Montagne was unacceptable to Samkin.

Therefore, Samkin chose to temporarily pretend to be deaf to the other party's offensive words.

"The plan needs to be accelerated. There is no need to wait for the wooden piles to be completely completed. Every time a triangular area is divided, stones will be poured into it." Moreau stood up and looked at the workers working near the river bed: "Pour the big stones first, then the small stones. Finally, fill it with sand. While inserting wooden stakes, pour stones at the same time.”

Samkin also stood up. He was still a little worried and couldn't help but ask: "Are you really sure this will work?"

"Don't believe me? Then let Winters Montagne do it by himself." Moreau said coldly: "He can build a bridge on the River Styx. It's not difficult to build a dam, right?"

Samutin stopped talking again.

Morrow stood quietly for a while and then said: "The method I used is essentially the method used by masons to repair bridge piers - cofferdam, pumping water, and pouring mortar. Now we are not building a stone bridge that can stand for a hundred or a thousand years. , so there is no need to pump water or mortar, just build a cofferdam and fix the stones.”

"Thank you." Samkin saluted heavily.

Moro didn't return the greeting. He just turned his head and looked at the river, with his back to Samukin, and sneered disdainfully: "Thank you! Let's think about how to defend this dam first!"

No one saw that his dry eyes were a little red.

…

At the same time, in the former Forge Township, now a charred ruin, the old interpreter secretly met with several guests.

There were five visitors in total, headed by a blond man with green eyes about thirty years old, and four guards wearing iron masks.

The blond man walked among the ruins, and from time to time he enthusiastically picked out some knick-knacks in the scorched earth.

The old interpreter accompanied the blond man for a "walk" while four guards stood slightly further away to protect him.

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

The old interpreter was noncommittal about His Excellency the Earl's title, and was not touched at all. He said coldly: "[Old language] In this robbery, the most important advantage of the Terdun tribe is the surprise attack, and the rebels in Tiefeng County have obviously Knew the Teltons were coming.”

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

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

The blond man's blank green eyes widened.

"Stop pretending to be stupid?" The old interpreter impatiently switched to common language: "Who else can it be besides your little pet?!"

"[Old saying] No, no, you are not right." The blond man patiently corrected the other person: "[Old saying] Who would treat a lion as a pet? [Those who play with wild beasts will surely die in their mouths]. "

The old interpreter narrowed his eyes and stopped: "If you are not here to lend a helping hand, then what are you doing here?"

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

The old interpreter spat.

"[Old slang] Observation, evaluation...that is, sightseeing." The blond man said sincerely: "[Old slang] You want to know our purpose, and some people want to know what is happening here. The world is too vast, so [One True news late is more useful than a hundred false news promptly].”

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

"[Old saying] It's not that I won't lend a helping hand to you. But..." The blond man hesitated for a moment, then softly spoke out a title. He said it so carefully, as if mentioning this title here would be an offense: "[ Old saying] His Majesty... has power, but he uses it with caution. If you want the Supreme to inject funds into your 'great' cause, the things you rely on must at least be able to survive first. But now..."

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

The old translator remained silent and said: "[Old saying] Wait and see."

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

[Late again...Sorry, because it is a big chapter, I didn't finish it at noon...]

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

[In the previous chapter, a book friend mentioned that signs such as "[Hidden language]" will take up the number of words. Please put some, these are free parts. The [n*500-(n+1)*500] word portion of each chapter is free of charge. For example, the 6000-6400 words in this chapter]

[Although I always write as far as I can, but most of the time I write more. Sometimes I just stop writing at 400X words, and I will delete some and return it to 399X words]

[As for 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 the starting point is only one font, so I can only mark it casually...]