Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 385: Chapter 39 The Butcher’s Path_2

…

“Listen up! You are responsible for your own safety! You must also bear all risks along the way!” Winters was announcing policies to the miscellaneous followers, as they were about to cross the Border River tomorrow: “Any wagons other than the supply wagons are not allowed to join the formation! We will lead the way, and you will follow behind. Keep up if you can; if you fall behind, there’s nothing we can do…”

The second lieutenant stood on a rock, speaking until he was hoarse. The people in front of him listened silently; they all understood these rules.

After saying a load of unpleasant things, Winters saved the good news for last: “However, Colonel Jeska allows you to rest in the camps along the way! It is strictly forbidden to enter the supply wagons’ camp area during encampment, and violators will be dealt with as if spying on military intelligence!”

The mood among the crowd fluctuated slightly. Few officers in charge of the supply wagons liked these civilians who freeloaded protection, and in most cases, they strictly forbade them from entering the camp to spend the night.

It was rare for an officer like Colonel Jeska to allow these miscellaneous people into the camp.

…

Seeing Winters return, Colonel Jeska casually asked, “Did you finish talking to them?”

Winters nodded.

Having had the experience of escorting the Wolf Town convoy back and forth to Revodan, Winters was considered quite reliable, so Colonel Jeska gave him all sorts of troublesome tasks.

“Words alone aren’t enough; those who dare to follow are either brave or greedy, most are both. We need to discipline a few who try to fish in troubled waters to shake the rest up.”

“Then why don’t you just forbid them from entering the camp?” Winters countered.

“Allowing them into the camp makes it easier to keep them in check,” Colonel Jeska replied. “Besides, they have it tough, so we’ll take care of them as much as possible.”

…

Winter days are short, so the army must march as quickly as possible.

The dawn was just breaking when the Centurion on watch struck the copper bell vigorously.

Berlion was already awake before the bell rang; he had purchased sheep’s milk and eggs in town the previous night.

When Winters dressed in his military uniform and lifted the tent’s flap, Berlion brought in the warm sheep’s milk, bread, and boiled eggs.

Berlion was now the second lieutenant’s orderly, and his former tentmates, the Dusacks, had become Cavalry, so the second lieutenant simply kept the blacksmith by his side as both a bodyguard and an orderly.

The previously quiet military camp came to life. The militia wearily crawled out of their tents, stretched languidly, and began to prepare their food.

Those who were diligent made some hot soup, while the lazy ones simply ate cold bread.

It goes without saying that Berlion’s appointment as orderly had greatly improved Winters’ diet. Bard and Andre also benefited, now frequenting Winters for dinner every day.

While the troops were still bustling around, Andre and his five tents’ worth of Cavalry were already ready to go.

With the sponsorship of Gold Coin bars from a good friend, Lieutenant Chelini extravagantly had a Paratu Piaoqi officer’s uniform made for himself—at the best tailor in Maplestone City.

Despite often calling people “damn sheep lovers,” Lieutenant Chelini was quite enamored with the flashy Piaoqi uniform.

While Winters and Bard were still wearing their Land Academy student uniforms, Andre couldn’t wait to don the Paratu military attire.

“Cavalry, one never knows when one might die,” Lieutenant Chelini would say. “Shouldn’t I dress well? Otherwise, wouldn’t it be a waste?”

He had specially chosen a red belt and blue trim— the colors of the Vineta military flag. It could be said, “Wearing Paratu uniform, but my heart remains with Vineta.”

Lieutenant Chelini, wearing his fancy jacket and a tall leather hat, stood out conspicuously among the mixed-dressed militia.

After greeting the colonel, he led his light Cavalry out ahead to scout the way.

As the offensive side in the strategy, the Paratu military currently uses a fixed supply route, with a fortified camp set up roughly every ten kilometers.

Ten kilometers is the daily travel distance for large carts.

Soldiers can march twenty to thirty kilometers on foot in a day, but for large carts to trudge ten kilometers is already the limit.

The traditional four-wheeled farmer’s carts are extremely cumbersome in themselves. The front wheels are smaller than the larger rear wheels, resulting in a very large turning radius.

Without differentials, suspension, or bearings, they are very prone to breaking down. Passenger carts can be fitted with leather suspension frames, but cargo carts cannot.

Andre’s duty was to ascertain the situation within these ten kilometers and notify the camp ahead to prepare for reception.

By the time the other militiamen had eaten, packed up their tents, and were ready to depart, the day had already brightened.

Colonel Jeska didn’t waste words and directly ordered the march.

Once leaving Matou Slope Town, the Jeska Regiment would cross the Border River and enter the “no-man’s land”, inevitably causing some tension in everyone’s hearts.

Lieutenant Montaigne took the lead, with the double-hitched large carts rolling out of the camp one after another; Lieutenant Bard followed with a team of carpenters and a few empty large carts at the end.

Matou Slope Town was a very prosperous town, with a permanent population of hundreds of households. As the supply train passed through the town center, it drew many of the townspeople to stand by the road and watch the spectacle.

Among them, many men and women had smiles on their faces as Winters on horseback and the militiamen carrying weapons waved some kind of paper.

“What does this mean?” Winters slowed down his horse and asked the old charlatan in the cart, “Waving paper? Is this some local custom?”

Reed pulled back the curtain and yawned, petting the Little Lion and chuckling, “What kind of damn custom is that? If I had to say, it should be considered a custom of all Paratu People.”

…

The old friar sat in a special passenger cart equipped with a leather suspension frame, which didn’t jostle at all. The carriage was fitted with a charcoal stove and the walls were lined with felt. While the outside air was bitingly cold, inside the carriage it was warm and comfortable.

Having two chaplains with only a hundred men was incredibly extravagant; now, Priest Caman and Friar Reed had officially become the chaplains of the Gerard Regiment.

Who knows where the old charlatan got his abilities from, but now everyone in the supply train, whether porters, coachmen, or those small traders seeking protection, revered him as a living Saint.

Winters estimated that if the old man were to pass away one day, the believers in the convoy would fight over his body until the blood flowed like a river.@@novelbin@@

However, it was also for this reason that everyone had no objections to the old friar having a cart to himself. The old charlatan was happy to be comfortable, and Winters wanted to hide the Little Lion; the two were in perfect harmony.

…

“What do you mean?” Winters asked, puzzled, “What custom of the Paratu People? I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand?” Friar Reed raised his eyebrows.

“I don’t.”

The old friar asked with a smile, “Do you know what they are waving?”

“What are they waving?”

“What they are waving is the secret that has allowed the Paratu People to beat the Hurd tribes to a sorry state over the past thirty years.”

“What do you mean?” Winters grew increasingly confused.

“Kid, that’s bonds! War bonds!” The old friar’s smile was laden with significance: “Your military pay, your weapons, the gold coins burning in this war… all come from there. If you lose, they’re nothing but waste paper. But if you win, the waste paper will turn into land, slaves, real gold and silver! Them waving at you? They’re hoping you’ll win the battle!”

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