Iron Powder and Spellcaster

[Monta Republic]

[Hornburg]

In the early morning, two soldiers, one old and one young, led the packhorse out of the city and headed towards the mountains to the west of the city.

Like most Monte City cities, Horn Castle is also located in a valley. It's just that the valley where the Horn Keep is located is larger, and the hillsides around the city are gentler.

After getting off the main road, passing through the villages on the outskirts of the city, and following the winding paths trodden by shepherds, the two soldiers climbed hard toward the top of the mountain.

The higher you climb, the surrounding vegetation becomes sparser and thinner, and the road becomes steeper. The white mountain began to be exposed without any cover to the surface. From time to time, broken rocks rolled down the hillside and passed by the two of them in a thrilling manner.

It wasn't until the afternoon that the two arrived at their destination - a simple stone hut on the ridge. Both the people and the pack horses were already so tired that their backs were covered with sweat and their knees and legs were shaking.

Standing in front of the stone hut, the young soldier wiped the sweat from his forehead, turned to look at the veteran, and asked in confusion: "Is this here?"

The veteran who climbed up later was breathing heavily, looking at the stone hut, and was a little undecided.

He looked at the way he came, and then looked around the cabin. After trying to think back for a long time, he finally gave the answer: "This is it."

"It doesn't look like it's been abandoned," the young soldier muttered.

The veteran led the packhorse towards the cabin: "You'll know after you go in and take a look."

The door of the stone hut was held up from the outside by a tree stump. After removing the tree stump and walking into the house, I saw a simple bed propped up with wooden boards and stone slabs in the corner, with some thinned hay spread on it.

There is an iron pot that has been burnt black by the bed, and the stone wall behind the iron pot has also been smoked black.

The veteran pulled out the lawnmower sickle under the bed board: "Sheep herders use this place as a place to stay."

"Then what should we do?" The young soldier scratched his head: "Should we throw all these rags out?"

"Don't worry about him." The veteran waved his hand and signaled the new recruits to work: "We will do our own thing."

Immediately, the two of them worked together to unload the saddlebags from the packhorse, and carried the saddlebags up the steps outside the house to the roof.

Overlooking the valley from the roof, the lake in the center of the valley is like a drop of mercury falling on the green silk, reflecting an almost metallic luster in the sunlight;

The Horn Castle located on the lakeside is like a necklace, embracing the lake in its arms. It is especially beautiful with its red tiles and white walls.

After a whole day of walking, it was the first time that the young soldier had enough energy to look back on the way he came. He couldn't help but sigh, "Just for this view, it's worth climbing the mountain for a day."

The veteran was also a little touched, but he just watched silently, as if he was trying to connect the Horn Castle at this moment with the scene in his memory.

After a moment, he turned around, facing away from the quiet and peaceful valley, and continued to work.

As the cleanup work continued, something like a smelting furnace was revealed on the roof of the stone hut.

The veteran dug out the dust from the bottom of the furnace, repaired the collapsed furnace wall with stones and soil, and then piled the loaded firewood into the furnace with a dry layer and a wet layer.

"Is that what happened?" The young soldier on the side asked with some distrust.

The veteran's hand paused for a moment, his eyes dimmed a little, and he quickly continued to build up: "It's been too long... I can't remember it either."

The firewood quickly filled the furnace. The veteran took off the oil pot from his waist and poured the lamp oil in a circle on the firewood.

At the last step, it was time to light the fire. The veteran took out the fire sickle and flint, but never knocked it down.

The young soldier was very puzzled when he saw the veteran's lack of movement.

"It's your turn to light the fire." After a moment, the veteran handed the flint and fire sickle to the young man and said hoarsely: "It's your turn."

The young man happily took the fire sickle and flint.

As the fire was stuffed into the furnace from the bottom, the long-abandoned "smelting furnace" once again burst into flames.

Then came the smoke, first silky yellow smoke, then thicker and thicker, almost black. The smoke overwhelmed the flames and was pulled into a sloping stone pillar in the air by the howling east wind on the top of the mountain.

The veteran squinted his eyes and looked to the southwest, where the next beacon was. If it were thirty years ago, within a quarter of an hour, the next beacon would have responded.

But after waiting for a long time, there was no movement on the distant ridge. Come to think of it, the beacons there, like those of the Horn Castle, have long been abandoned.

However, the next second, the desolate and low sound of the horn came from the city in the middle of the valley, echoing among the mountains.

The abandoned beacon was lit again, and the dusty copper horn on the roof of the Imperial Palace was blown three times.

When they heard the sound of the trumpet and saw the beacon fire, all the Monta people stopped to watch. The young people were confused and the old people were silent for a long time.

The beacon smoke is the order to "arm", and the horn is the preface to "recruitment". They appear together at this moment, announcing the end of the war-free era to all Monta people.

"Go back." The veteran turned around and walked off the beacon tower.

This time of peace, which lasted for thirty years, was the longest in his memory.

But it eventually came to an end.

…

[Monta Republic]

[Hornburg]

[Army General Administration]

The sound of the trumpet that resounded throughout the city also made the officers and clerks of the Army General Administration temporarily put down what they were doing and raised their heads to listen.

However, as soon as the trumpet sound fell silent, both officers and clerks immediately returned to their original work wholeheartedly.

Everyone deliberately maintained the appearance of being busy and calm, as if just a few drops of rain fell into the lake.

And everyone knows that in a small room above their heads, the senior army officers who were urgently recalled to the headquarters from various autonomous prefectures are holding a meeting about the fate of the Monta Republic, and even the fate of the alliance. .

Everyone working in the Army General Administration was extremely eager to know the outcome of the meeting. They only regretted that their ears could not fly and could not hear what was being discussed in the meeting room.

However, in fact, nothing was discussed in the conference room.

General Monta and the colonels, who rarely lived in the same room, smoked their pipes in silence, and no one spoke.

The suffocating smoke filled the entire conference room, and even the candlelight became dim, just like the gloomy expressions of the soldiers present.

The official letter from the Imperial Palace was thrown on the table without even being opened.

But even if they don't open the official letter, the senior military officers present here all know what is written inside.

Although as early as two years ago, many Monta military officers believed that the Plato Civil War would be the trigger for a full-scale civil war in the Alliance - no, to be precise, many people had already been concerned about this as early as the establishment of the Alliance's constitution. The unstable political structure predicts gloom.

The dark cloud of civil war hung over the Alliance from beginning to end.

But when the "foresight" was about to come true, the prophets of disaster did not feel any joy. Instead, they felt that the official letter on the table seemed to weigh a thousand pounds.

Finally, someone broke the silence angrily: "What does it have to do with us if the Platuan people fight the Platt people? Why should we bleed in the battle that the federalists want to fight?"

The speaker picked up the official letter on the table, held it in his hand, and said angrily: "You want to transfer the Seventh Army just to send you a piece of waste paper? Who does Malhouse think he is? The false emperor? The gang in Guitu City You bastard, do you really think of yourself as your suzerain?"

These words said what most people were thinking, and a low voice of agreement sounded in the conference room.

"The people of the Federation are as arrogant as ever." Another magnetic voice sounded in the room: "However, the most critical problem does not lie with them, but with us - we do not have the ability to refuse."

The magnetic voice said eloquently: "Our people rely on the grain exported by the Republic of Van to feed themselves, our government relies on the funds of the Federal Bank of China to operate, and our output depends on the purchases of the merchants of the Federal Province. The truth will make Dignity bleeds, but if you ignore the truth, it is not just dignity that bleeds - whether the Monta people are willing or not, the Monta Republic has already been tied to the chariot of the United Provinces."

The owner of the magnetic voice took the official letter and tapped the bright paint seal on it: "What's more important is that this order was not sent to us by the people of the United Provinces, but was issued by the Grand Council of the Monta Republic! In legal principles We can only obey."

"Don't do this!" The colonel who had spoken earlier said, "The State Palace is full of puppets made by the federal government! Who doesn't know?"

"You're right, what are you going to do?" The owner of the magnetic voice asked calmly, "You're going to imitate the people of the United Provinces and stage a mutiny?"

This time, there was no sound of approval in the conference room, but it was eerily quiet.

The colonel who had spoken earlier was also questioned. He blushed, clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth.

"If you can't take responsibility." The admiral sitting at the end of the conference table scolded him with a stern face: "Don't say it."

The owner of the magnetic voice nodded and saluted, and sat back down in his original position.

The admiral glanced at both sides of the long table and continued word by word: "Spearmen can only survive on the battlefield if they work side by side. The more critical the situation, the more the army must clench into a fist. No matter what is decided today, No one is allowed to sing the opposite tune anymore.”

"[Modal particle expressing obedience]." A low response sounded in the conference room.

The admiral saw a silent old subordinate on his right at a glance. He called the latter's name without politeness: "Marx, you were just smoking there from the beginning. What's wrong? You have nothing to say?" "

Colonel [Max Bern], who was locked in the eyes of everyone present, put down the pipe in his hand and turned the broken iron ring on his finger: "I am wondering... General Arpad's fate."

"Stop talking nonsense." The admiral ordered bluntly: "Speak!"

"According to the plan of the federal provinces." Colonel Berne frowned more and more as he spoke. He asked seriously: "General Arpad...is it still possible to win the war?"

Looking around at his colleagues, Colonel Bern saw a negative answer in everyone's eyes.

"The people of the United Provinces have spent all their money this time. Not only did they mobilize us, they also mobilized Van's army." The colonel who first spoke angrily asserted: "We attack the northern front, and the United Provinces and the Vans attack the east. Line, even if that old guy Arpad is good at fighting, he can't withstand attacks from both sides. What's more, he only has a few soldiers? If you squeeze them dry, you won't be able to consume the people of the United Provinces."

After saying this, many people in the conference room sighed.

The people participating in this meeting were all senior professional officers. Although many people emotionally hoped that Arpad would beat up the people of the United Provinces, the strength and posture of both sides were there, and the outcome was clear at a glance.

"However." The magnetic voice sounded again: "Who can say accurately what happens on the battlefield?"

When the school officer who spoke first heard this, he crossed his arms and snorted disdainfully.

The admiral stared at Colonel Berne: "You kid, after thinking about it until now, you have figured out that 'the people from the United Provinces will definitely win'?"

"Yes. But that's not what I'm worried about. What worries me is not next year or the year after that, but five years from now or ten years from now." Colonel Berne stood up, looked around the conference room, and asked his colleagues condescendingly : "After the people of the United Provinces win this battle, what will happen next?"

"If the United Provinces defeat General Arpad and then take control of Plato, the balance of power within the alliance will completely collapse. Once the resources of Plato are integrated, the United Provinces will gain an overwhelming advantage over Veneta."

"Are they going to be satisfied with this?"

"Or will the military adventure continue?"

"Will we end the Plato Civil War?" Colonel Max Berne knocked on the long table and asked seriously: "Or will we move towards a larger-scale all-out war?"

There was a long silence in the conference room, and Colonel Berne directly pulled down the curtain covering the elephant in the conference room. When the gloomy future that they intentionally or unintentionally avoided was clearly presented before their eyes, the Monta officers were angry and powerless.

"Then what can we do?" The colonel who first spoke said angrily: "The root cause of the disease was found thirty years ago, and it has long been delayed into a terminal illness."

The magnetic voice sighed helplessly and said sincerely: "Colonel Bern, I understand your concerns, but... the Monta Army is not the Federal Provincial Army. What determines this is not whether we have the will to follow them, but our There is no power to imitate them.”

The owner of the magnetic voice looked a little lonely, but his tone remained extremely calm: "We can only face this reality - from ancient times to the present, our homeland has not been a self-sufficient land. In the past, we relied on the empire to survive; now , our republic depends on the existence of the Republic of the United Provinces."

The owner of the magnetic voice continued: "For the Republic of Monta, trying to get rid of the federal province is like tearing off half of one's own body. Even if the feasibility is not considered, the cost is far higher than participating in a comprehensive war. Civil War. So as soldiers of the Republic of Monta, we can only obey the best interests of the Republic. That is to join the victor's side and get the best for the Republic of Monta - even if this behavior is humiliating, it is what we must do Things to do."

The conference room was still quiet, and the participating officers smoked their pipes more vigorously, but this silent attitude itself meant that they had been faintly persuaded by the owner of the magnetic voice.

After a pause, the owner of the magnetic voice looked at Colonel Berne and asked hesitantly: "Or do you have any... plan that can reverse the situation?"

Everyone's eyes immediately turned to Colonel Berne.

"No." Colonel Berne replied simply.

The light of the candle grew dimmer.

For the senior officers present, the light of idealism that was still emanating from them when they first left the ivory tower has long since dissipated, and their enthusiasm has been dulled by the trivialities of bureaucracy. However, they still vaguely remember that they had the ambition to What a sense of pride, taking the oath to be a soldier to defend the Union.

However, seeing that the great covenant was finally turned into a piece of paper, with only cold profit considerations left, although no one would admit it, everyone felt a sadness from deep in their hearts.

"However, even if we only consider the interests of the Republic." Colonel Berne twitched the iron ring on his finger: "We should not let the Federal Provincial people win too easily."

The others quickly understood what he meant.

"It's useless." The colonel who spoke at the beginning was dismissive: "Even if the Seventh Army does not participate in the war, it is impossible for Arpad's remaining old, weak, sick and disabled to withstand the attacks of the United Provinces and the Waans. Combined attack."

The colonel who spoke at the beginning smoked his pipe vigorously and said in a deep voice: "In the final analysis, whether the people of the United Provinces win good or bad, it does not depend on us, but on the Platuan people. The Platuan people have fought with themselves for several times. Wheel, now, even if the Platoans on both sides of the Jinliu River are squeezed together, they cannot be the opponents of the United Provinces. What's more, how old is Alpad? He may die one day, Alpad Once Pad dies, who else will be able to take the lead in the military government of Plato?"

The colonel who spoke at the beginning became more and more resentful that iron cannot be made into steel. Finally, he smashed his pipe hard and asserted: "Don't expect the Plato people. The Plato army has no successors for a long time - time, it is the people of the United Provinces." Over there. It is better to expect the Venetians to send troops and fight head-on with the United Provinces than to count on the Platuan people. If that is the case, the United Provinces might lower their heads."

Hearing that his colleagues said that the Plato Army had no successors, Colonel Max Bern once again thought of the brave, resourceful and energetic Plato Lieutenant he met in Steel Castle.

If all the officers under Arpad's command were of that level - no, half of them were - it would be less than half, as long as a quarter were of that level - or even as long as that one person could grow up - I'm afraid the outcome could not be determined.

Colonel Berne's mind flashed again to the confession of the imperial spy captured in Steel Castle.

"No, there are still 'people' in the Plato Army." Colonel Berne said: "Time is not necessarily on the side of the United Provinces."

[Orz]

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