Iron Powder and Spellcaster

Time goes back to two days ago - the most intense stage of the siege of Jevaudan and the siege of the dam.

Teldun Qingqi, who was patrolling in the wild, was surprised and delighted to find that the enemy's main force, which had been advancing slowly with strong fortifications, finally chose to take the initiative and attack in full force.

Armed men and baggage carriages left the camps one after another, and finally gathered into three columns on the plain.

The three columns marched hand in hand, like three mighty torrents, rushing towards Jevaudan with indomitable momentum.

"It's so... so..." Among the people on the hill overlooking the military situation, one of them was so excited that he could not speak coherently: "It's hard to describe..."

The gentleman who racked his brains and couldn't think of an adjective was none other than the lanky and tall man [Jacob Green], the representative of the public opinion of Cow Hoof Valley.

As the only intellectual in the army who had attended grammar school and university, Jacob Green had become Winters' temporary personal secretary, responsible for drafting announcements and communications on Winters' behalf.

Previously, Jacob Green experienced more of the cruel and bloody side of war.

At this moment, when thousands of troops slowly unfolded before his eyes, Jacob Green was struck from the bottom of his heart by the majestic and majestic side of war.

The short and fat man next to the tall and thin Mr. Jacob commented like a general: "To be able to get out of this kind of column is indeed worthy of being called a big army."

Needless to say, the short and fat gentleman is [Nandor Krylov], another public representative of the Oxhoof Valley.

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

According to the short and fat Mr. Nandor himself, he had already missed one battle due to recuperation and did not want to miss another one.

According to the usual way of getting along, Mr. Slender would definitely have a few words with Mr. Fat.

But now Jacob Green was completely immersed in passionate emotions, so he turned a deaf ear to the words of his old enemy. He suddenly caught a few sparks: "War... the ultimate violence of mankind... the miraculous manifestation of great power... …”

The fat Mr. Nandor heard it in a daze. He had a thought and tried to persuade his old enemy: "Then you should write it out. Write an epic! An epic played and sung by a drunken harpist in a tavern."

Mr. Thin was startled, and suddenly he felt a strong desire to write, and then he felt an inexplicable fear: "I...I'm afraid I won't be able to write..."

"What are you afraid of? It's better than nothing." Nandor showed a bit of regret and sadness: "How many wars have been fought in the world? I'm afraid there are countless, right? But how many can be remembered? They have all been summarily brushed off. .When I think that I myself will be completely forgotten, I feel empty."

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

"Remember to add three inches to my height." The fat man said leisurely.

…

Knowing that the two-legged people in Shengke Town were finally lured out, the fire-warmer was overjoyed.

"[Herd] The two-legged people have fallen into the trap. They are now foxes that have stepped into the trap." Looking around at the towers in the big tent, the fire-warmer laughed loudly: "[Herd] Kill them, and you can leave this place to you. I will take it! Slaves, women, and property, I will reward you with them all!"

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

…

Three columns advanced rapidly towards Gévaudan, while the Tertonian light cavalry wandered around the army like ghosts, trying to pry into the reality.

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

When the Tiefeng County cavalry returned to the column, they looked like the head-hunting warriors in myths and legends:

Flags, weapons, and dead heads hung from the fronts of their saddles, and some returned with gold and silver ornaments cut from the bodies of the dead.

Seeing the corpses of their kind being separated, the Teltun people became more cruel.

They chopped off the heads of the Tiefeng County people's corpses, lifted them up with spears, and showed them to the marching Tiefeng County militiamen. They even rushed close to the column to show off their power.

An army of tens of thousands of people rolled forward along the foot of Tiefeng County. The further they went, the more fierce the cavalry battle between the scouts became.

The cavalry of the two armies chased and fought on plains, hills, and broken terrain without stopping.

Winters placed the headquarters on the saddle, and the clerks, scribes, and messengers were all equipped with multiple war horses. Wherever he went, the headquarters would go.

When the vanguard was less than twenty kilometers away from Gévaudan, Winters finally waited for news from the enemy:

"The front army of the left column encountered the barbarian vanguard!"

Not only was Winters not nervous, but he felt as if his boots had landed: "Stop the entire army! Let the left and right columns move closer to me."

He pointed to the flat, empty fields on both sides of the road: "There's no need to go any further. Let's fight the Telluns right here."

…

The outpost battle started in the morning - a hundred cavalry troops from Terdun's department were repelled by the front army of the left column.

When Winters learned the news, he immediately stopped the troops. According to his order, the left and right columns began to shrink towards the center.

Tiefeng County has a battalion of five hundred people, commanded by a commissioned officer.

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

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

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

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

"I don't think there's anything unusual about fighting." The monkey couldn't help complaining: "Isn't it just walking all the time?"

Doug said nothing. He just wanted to fill his stomach.

The covering of the carriage was torn off, and the militiamen were greatly disappointed. What was carried in the carriage was not bread and beer, but bundles of tools: picks, shovels, chisels...

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

With the tools in hand, the militiamen were immediately ordered to dig trenches in front of the formation without even having time to breathe.

"Trench should be left two meters clear for every twenty meters!" The battalion commander was appointed to mark the location of the trench for the militiamen at the front of the position: "It must be able to accommodate two horses or three people walking abreast!"

The militiamen were somewhat reluctant as they carried their tools.

"Sir, can you give me some food first?" Some militiamen shouted dissatisfied: "After walking for a day, I am very hungry."

"The bread is at the back, coming soon!" the appointed battalion commander scolded fiercely: "Don't be so lazy! Let me tell you, if you don't dig a handful of soil now, you will lose an extra pound of meat in the future!"

The third battalion is the "Youth Soldiers", that is, militiamen with poor equipment and training. Most of the time they are used as civilians, so everyone is used to work such as digging trenches.

But the monkey had sharp eyes, and he saw that the "young soldiers" in the second line of the front not only did not dig trenches, but were also distributing food.

The monkey immediately asked, jumping and pointing at the young soldiers in the rear: "Why don't they have to work? Do they still have food?"

When the militiamen heard the sound and looked back, they found that all the young soldiers were resting, eating and drinking, and they were immediately shocked.

"What the hell are you yelling about!" The appointed battalion commander jumped on the carriage and drew out his saber: "Shut up, everyone! If you keep yelling nonsense, you will be punished by military law!"

The third battalion quickly fell silent under the threat of military law.

Seeing that his subordinates had all shut up, the appointed battalion commander said coldly: "They don't have to work because they have to fight to the death! If any of you are dissatisfied, I will send you to join the prime-age army."

The militiamen were silent, and the monkey was unhappy. He couldn't help but stood up with his neck stiffened: "Send me there!"

"Okay." The acting battalion commander was too lazy to talk nonsense with the recruits: "Who else wants to go?"

The monkey looked at his friend with pleading eyes. Doug was worried about his friend and raised his hand: "I will go with him."

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

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

The sun gradually passed its highest point and tilted towards the west, and the rumble of war drums could be faintly heard in the wind.

The first thing that jumped out of the horizon was the horsetail flag blowing in the wind, followed closely by the blurry silhouette of the cavalry.

Only then did people realize that what was coming in the wind was not the sound of drums, but the vibration of horse hooves trampling the earth.

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

"What are you looking at?" the battalion commander of the third battalion scolded his subordinates: "Keep working!"

The militiamen worked harder to dig trenches. The commander of the third battalion looked at the enemy and remained silent for a long time.

The Tertons are coming.

…

Teltown's vanguard troops occupied the hills on the north side and did not launch an attack rashly.

The distance between the two sides was about four or five kilometers, separated by a hill, and they were facing each other faintly outside each other's field of vision.

As time passed, Winters' rearguard troops arrived one after another, and the Teltown people also continued to arrive on the battlefield.

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

Winters, who was walking in front of the position, casually said to Charles: "It's probably the monkey's butt and face."

"Just come." Charles muttered in a low voice: "You damn barbarian, what are you calling for?"

It has become Winters' habit to take a walk in the military camp during dinner time. Usually he takes no one with him, but today Charles and Heinrich must follow him.

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

The militiamen gathered around the campfire did not recognize this young man in an old coat. They thought he was also a militiaman, so they moved their buttocks to make way for Winters and the others to make room.

The cold wind howled, and the militiamen bundled up tightly in their clothes and stayed as close to the campfire as possible to keep warm.

"Drag us into the wilderness without even a tent!" Some militiamen were full of complaints. While stirring the fire, they complained: "We will freeze to death!"

"Okay, it's good to have a fire to heat them up, why are you complaining?" Another elderly militiaman lectured in a sullen voice.

Tiefeng County could not assemble enough tents for tens of thousands of people, so the troops could only rely on campfires to keep warm.

The grumbling militiaman caught a glimpse of Winters wearing a coat, and enviously stretched out his hand to touch it: "Brother, your coat is really nice! Is it warm?"

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

"That must be quite expensive."

"It's a bit expensive."

"It's great." The grumbling militiaman sighed and wrapped himself more tightly on the mattress used to make the floor: "It's great."

The elderly militiaman heard the word "Shuangqiao City" and asked tentatively: "From your tone, you are a veteran?"

Winters nodded: "That's right."

"Look at your age."

"Enlisted early."

"What about this battle?" the elderly militiaman asked anxiously, "Can we win it?"

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

"Tell us about...the beheading order." The grumbling young militiaman asked in a low voice, "Is it true? Is it really possible to cut off one head and give him an acre?"

"As far as I know, there has been no example of non-delivery."

The grumbling young militiaman suddenly became interested and asked happily: "Then if I cut off ten heads, wouldn't I make a fortune? And become a landlord?!"

Winters thought for a while and told everyone a joke about "the old marshal's one hundred thousand soldiers each fired two shots."

He had the air of a grim smiler, and the militiamen around the campfire burst into laughter.

"It is actually quite difficult to kill an enemy." Winters said honestly: "Otherwise, it would not be possible to give as much as one hectare of land. If one hectare of land can be obtained casually, wouldn't the new government suffer a huge loss?"

"That's true." The whining young militiaman's ambition evaporated. After sitting there for a moment, he murmured longingly to himself: "It doesn't take ten hectares, it would be nice to get one hectare of land."

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

"He is my grandfather." The young militiaman replied carelessly.

The old man glared at his grandson and said to Winters somewhat flatteringly: "You look like a learned person."

Ciel couldn't help but chuckle, and Winters didn't know how to respond.

"Can you write documents?" 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 crackling sound of firewood could be heard.

The old militiaman hurriedly explained: "My old bones may be favored by the Lord. I plan to leave the land at home to this boy and some to my younger daughter. I am afraid that the future will not be clear, so I want to make a will."

"Oh, what are you talking about?" The young militiaman impatiently stopped his grandfather from talking anymore.

Winters took out the notebook and graphite strips from his arms and looked at the old man: "Should you dictate it, or should I draft it?"

When the young man opened his coat, the old man accidentally saw the tassels and ribbons on the other man's clothes.

The old man was stunned, so Winters asked again.

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

Winters read in the dim light of the campfire while writing as fast as he could.

The illiterate militiamen looked on with admiration. Everyone has a natural respect for educated people.

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

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

The old militiaman saluted, said words of thanks, and took his will with both hands.

The militiamen looked at the old man with envy, and then looked at the learned young man with longing.

Winters did not yet know that the inheritance laws of the new land were a mess: common law and copper table law were mixed, old laws and new regulations were contradictory, and if the deceased was a believer, the church would have to intervene again. .

Although the big guys didn't know whether the will was useful or not, seeing the old man put the small piece of paper into his arms like a baby, they also wanted a copy - at least they would have peace of mind!

Winters raised his head and suddenly met everyone's expectant eyes.

He sighed helplessly: "Who else wants to write, please do it one by one..."

The people of Tiefeng County owned so few things: a piece of land, a house, a few pieces of clothing... Even those who could own these were considered relatively wealthy farmers.

Winters sat late by the fire and helped write a few letters home, until the last militiaman left contentedly, and until the alarm bells sounded at the edge of the battlefield.

Immediately afterwards, gunshots and shouts of death came from the east and west directions.

The militiamen beside the campfire couldn't help but be horrified and looked around in panic.

"It's nothing serious." Winters slowly moved his sore joints: "The Teltown people don't want us to have a good rest, it's the same old trick. I'll take a look."

After that, he stood up and left, and Charles and Heinrich quickly followed.

Everyone watched as the young veteran who came from nowhere disappeared into the darkness.

After a while, rapid footsteps sounded again.

Charles ran back to the campfire and threw an old coat to the grumbling young militiaman.

"I'll lend it to you and return it after the battle." After saying that, Ciel left.

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

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

[Phew, no more debt, I feel relaxed]

[Redefine redefine - double redefinition of taboo]

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