Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 406: Chapter 48: Offense and Defense

While the Herders were hastily constructing siege engines through the night, another group of people thousands of miles away was also busy at work.

On the main island of the Tanilia Archipelago, upstream on the Liujin River on the side controlled by the Venetians, a small fortress was being feverishly built.

Spanning from west to east, the Liujin River divided the main island in half, with Golden Harbor, known for its prosperity and decadence, located on the southern bank of the river’s estuary.

The Liujin River served as a boundary, with the Venetians and The Federated Provinces each occupying half of the main island.

At dawn, the sun had not yet peeked over the horizon.

While Winters on the west bank of The Styx was anxiously awaiting the Herders’ next move, the shape of the fortress by the Liujin River was already becoming apparent.

The construction site of the fortress was only sparsely lit by scattered torches. As far as the eye could see, hundreds of soldiers were absorbed in digging trenches, and armed sentries were vigilantly guarding the area.

“Lieutenant Roy!” Colonel Evans, who was in charge of this operation, found his subordinate, “As planned, after the trenches connect, you all will officially take your posts. Remember…”

A piercing and shrill whistle sound interrupted Colonel Evans’s words.

A figure abruptly leaped out onto a clearing not far from the fortress, without any warning.

The person roared, “Da Weineta!”

More people rose from the ground shouting, “Kazar!”

The people at the construction site ran for their weapons, and the sentries around the fortress opened fire, but they could not stop the Venetians from charging over the trenches with resounding battle cries.

The Venetian soldiers, armed with clubs, lashed out at anyone they encountered, with only a few remembering the command to “not hit the head.”

The attackers came prepared, while the defenders were caught off guard. The Venetians swept through with an unstoppable momentum, all the way to the banks of the Liujin River.

By the time General Serviati arrived at the scene, the fight was over.

Apart from a few who swam away to escape, most of The Federated Provinces’ soldiers were taken captive.

The battered soldiers of The Federated Provinces were bound together in a line, squatting in the trenches awaiting their fate.

Captain Juan, who led the surprise attack, brought a sword—sheathed in sharkskin, with an ivory handle, and pearl decorations—and handed it to the general.

[Note: Last year’s Lieutenant Juan had been promoted and transferred to the Third Legion.]

“Well done,” Antonio said as he took the sword, and ordered the captain, “Release the prisoners and return their weapons and armor to them.”

“Return the captured weapons and armor as well?”

“Yes.”

Captain Juan, unable to accept it, protested, “Sir, we also lost men!”

“Captain, absolute mercy or absolute cruelty—those are the only two choices,” Antonio patiently explained. “We are still brothers in alliance with The Federated Provinces. Now that our goal has been achieved, there is no need to provoke them further. Execute the order.”

Juan saluted and left without saying another word.

Later, General Serviati met with Colonel Evans.

Evans no longer possessed his earlier elegant demeanor. Now, disheveled and disordered, he looked utterly dejected.

As he handed over the luxurious small sword, Antonio gently said, “Colonel, I believe you have crossed the boundary.”

Evans took the sword, avoiding the general’s gaze, and muttered in return, “We’ve never drawn any lines with you. This land is now, and will continue to be, Tanyria province’s territory.”

Antonio did not argue but turned to instruct a guard, “Bring Colonel Evans a horse.”

“No need! I have legs, I can walk,” Evans responded defiantly. “Your excellency, I take my leave.”

The Federated Provinces’ colonel raised his hand in salute and strode into the line of prisoners.

Behind them, Tang Juan’s company of a hundred men took occupation of the fortress, picking up pickaxes and shovels to continue the work.

…

The conflict by the Liujin River came to a temporary close, while on the west bank of The Styx, both sides were on the verge of coming to blows again.

In the morning light, Chiliarch Alaric, clutching his helmet, once again approached the camp’s gate.

This time, neither side dismounted their horses for the meeting.

Alaric asked directly, “Gentlemen, what is your decision?”

“Still considering it,” Jeska replied, smacking her lips. “But I’ve thought of a solution that won’t harm the atmosphere.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“We follow the ancient rites; a single mounted duel to determine the victor. You can send your fiercest warrior, and we’ll send him.” Jeska casually pointed to a young lieutenant behind her, Montaigne. “You see, this lad isn’t some burly muscle-man; very fair deal, right?”

The unexpectedly named Winters was completely astonished.

Without a word, Alaric just sneered and rode away.

“What are you doing?” Winters asked, puffing with annoyance.

“He’s not going to agree. And even if he did, are you afraid of losing? Aren’t you a spellcaster?”

“When did you find out…”

Jeska snorted lightly, “You might fool the laborers, but do you think you can fool me? Don’t worry, if all else fails, we’ll just burn the bridge and retreat to the East Bank.”

“Why not burn it now!” Winters pressed.

“Burn it my ass!” Jeska lashed the lieutenant with a whip, “There’s only this one Floating Bridge across the river; what would the army up front do if we burned it?”

The chill of winter was grim, and sudden violent winds arose. The howling west wind, laden with dry grass, made it hard to keep one’s eyes open.

Successive horn blasts came from a distance. Herd Barbarians, pushing various wooden machines, appeared on the horizon.

In the camp, Father Caman and Brother Reed were leading everyone in their final prayers.

The usually jovial and cursing old monk had transformed, his expression now exceptionally solemn and serious.

Father Caman used a small brush soaked in Holy Water to sprinkle it onto the kneeling crowd.

Moved by the atmosphere, Winters also knelt on one knee.

As he looked at the image of Anna in the palm of his hand and the wooden carving of Athena, he thought, “When faced with the inevitable, people instinctively seek help. If you can hear my heart, Anna, all I want is to return to your side.”

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