Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 410: Chapter 49 Reinforcements_2

However, the typically reticent Lieutenant Colin was now so agitated that his face turned red and his ears reddened.

[Note: In Paratu naming convention, the family name comes first, followed by the given name. The so-called “glorious tradition” of the Paratu People is actually a legacy of the Herders.]

The lieutenant spoke vehemently, and Andre’s temper flared, “If the floating bridge is that important, then why did they only leave your company of a hundred to guard it? If they’d left a battalion, would we need to fight to the death?”

Colin was temporarily at a loss for words, struggling for a while before saying, “Originally, there was a battalion.”

“Where are they?”

“The chief tents have already retreated two hundred kilometers to the west! Who could have expected the Herders to appear here, now?”

Andre glared with anger, questioning resentfully, “You ‘thought’ the Herders wouldn’t come, so you moved the battalion away?”

Colin shouted in frustration, “Higher-ups were urgently requesting troops, I’m just a centurion, what could I do? I opposed the transfer of the troops, but tell me! What could I do?”

Before the Herders even attacked, it looked as if the defenders would begin infighting first.@@novelbin@@

“Enough! Shut up!” Colonel Jeska roared.

Andre and Colin immediately fell silent, sitting back down on their stools and glowering at each other.

Jeska sighed, pointing at Lieutenant Colin, “Others are fighting for glory at the front, while he’s guarding the bridge at the rear. He’s already in such a state himself, what could he do when orders come down?”

On hearing this, Colin froze, his lips trembling as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he remained silent.

Andre’s face turned pale, as if he were reminded of the situation of his comrades in Vineta, and his anger dissipated.

“The bridgehead fortress must be defended,” Jeska set the tone, “until it can be defended no longer.”

The meeting fell silent for a moment.

“The Republic hasn’t treated me that well. I served overseas for twelve years, not a day without resentment,” the colonel smacked his lips, his attitude as indifferent as always. “But without it, my family would still be enslaved as serfs for the landowners. Without it, I would be either robbing or had been hanged already. So we have to defend this bridge until we can no longer defend it.”

Lieutenant Colin stood up and saluted the colonel solemnly.

“As for you few.” Jeska looked at Winters and the others with his one good eye. “Paratu has only grievances with you, no favors. Strictly speaking, you owe nothing, but by some twist of fate you’re under my command…”

The colonel stood up and bowed deeply to the three lieutenants, “I owe you an apology.”

The lieutenants dared not accept such a gesture, hastily stepping away from their seats.

“You only need to hold until I fall in battle,” Jeska said, pulling a letter from his chest, his expression solemn, “After my death, you’re to return directly to Paratu. This letter will prove you did not desert in the face of the enemy, but retreated following my orders.”

Winters and Andre were at a loss for what to do. Bard took the letter silently, saluting the colonel.

After arranging for the aftermath, the colonel began to reorganize the defenses.

Lieutenant Colin’s standing army company was reassigned to the west wall, responsible for defending the most critical position.

Bard was in charge of organizing the wagons, while the others were responsible for covering Colin’s flanks, leaving only sentries on the other three sides of the camp walls.

“Lieutenant Montaigne.” Jeska finally called Winters’ name.

“Yes.”

“You’re in charge of arranging the barrels of gunpowder on the bridge. If it becomes untenable, destroy it,” the colonel said coldly, “In any case, the Herder cavalry must not cross the bridge.”

“Yes.”

“Gentlemen, carry out your duties. Victory or defeat is yet unknown,” Jeska revealed a rare hint of a smile, “What if reinforcements arrive after all?”

The door to the plank room burst open, and Xial, breathless from running, yelled out, “Reinforcements! The reinforcements are here!”

…

…

The West Camp was bustling with activity, men chasing from behind and pigs running ahead, tents being knocked over one by one.

The free-range castrated pigs were fat and strong, too much for even two adults to hold down. Especially when they were hungry castrated pigs… over a hundred of them.

Seeing the pigs running amok through the camp, Colonel Jeska’s nose twisted in irritation.

“Reinforcements?” Colonel Jeska seldom lost his composure, seizing Xial and bellowing, “This is your reinforcements?”

“They really are reinforcements from the east,” Xial said in his own defense, “but how was I to know they were driving so many pigs over here?”

A man with half his face covered in a dark red birthmark was leading people to catch pigs within and outside of the military camp, with even more pigs crossing the bridge behind him.

Winters arrived at the floating bridge to investigate and was surprised to find the pig herder was an “old acquaintance.”

“Lieutenant Mason?”

…

As the person responsible for the penal labor ranch, Richard Mason had been ordered to escort the livestock.

The Paratu People in the West Camp did not receive the long-awaited reinforcements, but instead Lieutenant Mason’s convict laborers and over three hundred pigs.

“Defend? Defend my ass!” Lieutenant Mason turned pale upon learning the situation, “Why wait? Why not run?”

Winters was frantic, “Never mind defending, just get these pigs out first, the camp is in disarray!”

A series of urgent bell tolls rang out, signaling an agreed-upon alert.

“The Herd Barbarians are coming!”

…

…

As the Herder cavalry slowly approached with their siege engines, the oppressive atmosphere made it difficult for the defenders to breathe.

At the West Camp’s wall at the artillery positions, the exasperated Lieutenant Mason was attempting to gauge distance using the jumping eye method.

“Will it work?” Winters asked anxiously.

“Shut up!” Mason snapped irritably, “Or you try it.”

“Weren’t you an artilleryman?”

“After spending years with pigs, I’ve damn well forgotten everything! This cannon doesn’t even have a firing chart, what’s the point!” Mason cursed as he adjusted the gun’s elevation, “Fire a trial shot.”

…

The convict laborers, the pigs, and Lieutenant Mason himself were all conscripted by Colonel Jeska.

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