Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 449: Chapter 69: Master of Strategy

The Herders were still besieging the city when the general suddenly arrived, and Jeska was obviously flustered, “You… why have you come?”

“Me?” Sekler punched the lieutenant colonel’s left chest, grinding his teeth in fury, “I’m here to present. you. with. an. award!”

It was only after the general removed his hand that everyone saw a glittering gold medal had been added to Jeska’s chest.

“Gentlemen!” Taking the opportunity, Andre shouted as he raised his helmet, “Three cheers for Lieutenant Colonel Jeska!”

“Hooray!”

“Hooray!”

“Hooray!”

The other soldiers in the command post took off their hats and cheered, shouting in unison.

Only Jeska himself had a forced smile—because the pin behind the medal was painfully sticking into his flesh.

Mason and Winters were also urgently summoned to headquarters, but Sekler didn’t vent his anger on the centurions, presenting the awards to the two lieutenants with a pleasant demeanor.

Winters’s ears were buzzing from the cannon fire; he couldn’t hear a word Sekler was saying.

After accepting the commendation tied with the red string and bowing his head for the general to hang the medal around his neck, he hurried back to the ramparts.

The Three Swords Medal symbolizing “[bravery and fearlessness]”—two silver and one gold—was personally awarded by Sekler in recognition of Jeska’s department’s valiant raid on the Terdon camp.

Both the gold and silver medals were tied with blue ribbons, and they had pins on the back to attach to one’s clothing.

Although Jeska didn’t intentionally get close to his subordinates on regular days, he indeed took good care of his centurions through his actions.

When reporting back to headquarters, the lieutenant colonel was lenient with his subordinates, omitting such details as how “Lieutenant Richard Mason got lost.”

He merely reported that while retreating to shake off pursuers, the team detoured northward and stumbled upon the enemy’s camp by mistake.

However, there was a flaw in the story: according to the Herders’ habits, they would don their armor, change horses, and string their bows ten miles from the battlefield, so their camp should be set up at least ten miles away.

A detour? How could they have detoured ten miles away?

According to Winters’s thinking, saying they “stumbled upon Herder scouts returning to camp and followed them back” would at least make logical sense.

But the feather pen was in Jeska’s hand, and the lieutenant colonel didn’t want to boast too much.

In his report, the lieutenant colonel also didn’t mention a thing about the sacrifice of the golden figure—because it was still buried in the pit.

He only mentioned that some sacrificial artifacts and flags were captured and a few were sent to headquarters as proof.@@novelbin@@

Sacrificial artifacts and flags were trivial; the true spoils of war were the several thousand Herder horses.

The Terdon Tribe’s horses were scattered by a blast of the enhanced “Beast Panic” from Winters, and most disappeared into the night, with only a few being recovered.

The captured horses were brought to the south bank of the Confluence River, in groups of thousands, a fact that could not be faked.

However, after inspecting the horses, Bard’s evaluation was “unusable.”

Firstly, the best warhorses had already been led away by the Herder cavalry, and those left in the camp were of inferior quality;

Secondly, the Herder horses were not tall enough by Paratu cavalry standards, and even for light cavalry, these horses were a bit short;

Lastly, and most importantly, the season was wrong.

Supported by a large agricultural society, Paratu warhorses could be fed feeds, while the Herder horses living on the steppes mainly grazed on grass.

Herder horses struggled to find food in winter and had to rely on harvested forage and the fat stored in autumn to survive the cold—this was also one of the reasons why Paratu chose to wage war in winter and early spring.

In winter, the horses continued to lose fat, and in spring, the mares were near foaling, a time when the Herder tribes were at their weakest.

[Note: As horses have an 11-month pregnancy cycle, and the Herder tribes lack warm stable conditions, foals born in autumn and winter struggle to survive, so they try to ensure that mares mate in the warm spring and summer.]

For the Terdon Tribe to muster and wage war at this season, although it caught Paratu by surprise, they too would suffer greatly.

It was evident from the condition of these captured Herder horses: their bellies were sunken, ribs protruding, too thin even for the pot.

“These horses, either find a good place to raise them until next year,” Bard held an absolute authority on this issue and suggested it to the lieutenant colonel during the meeting, “or eat them as soon as possible, as their condition will only worsen. Anyway, they are unusable, not even for feed fattening.”

“Why can’t they be fattened with feed?” Winters was puzzled.

For a prolonged siege, Paratu’s army had transported large quantities of grain and fodder from their homeland, or Winters wouldn’t be here.

“Herder horses have been grazing since young, feeding them directly can easily upset their stomachs,” Bard explained. “To keep these horses alive, they need to be allowed to graze freely for at least half of the day.”

Regardless of their usability, capturing thousands of horses was a significant achievement, enough to warrant eating them rather than leaving them for the Herders.

A medal weighed about 100 grams, of which at least 80 grams were earned by those Herder horses.

Thanks are also due to Lieutenant Colonel Jeska for passing most of the credit onto his subordinates, otherwise a couple of mere centurions wouldn’t have received the “[Knight’s Cross of the Sword]” medals.

Winters ripped off the medal the moment he stepped outside, hurriedly rolled up the ribbon, and stuffed it into his pocket.

If he had looked closely, he would have seen the inscription “Pro Patria” around the edge of the medal, meaning “[For the Fatherland]”…

On the battlefield, all is fair.

After the brief award ceremony was concluded, Sekler kept Lieutenant Colonel Jeska for a private talk.

Andre, kicked out of headquarters, ran up to the rampart in two or three steps, and on the northwest bastion, he found Winters.

Another round of siege had been repelled, corpses littered everywhere outside the walls; Herders were regrouping two hundred meters away—by now, they knew that the garrison’s solid bullets had been used up, so they were brazen.

Bard led some soldiers quietly into the trenches and started dragging bodies towards the river.

Winters, meanwhile, urged the musketeers to take the opportunity to clean their musket barrels.

The gunners were too exhausted to even lift a finger, and despite the centurion’s supervision, their movements were sluggish.

“Where is the medal?” Seeing nothing around Winters’s neck, Andre asked in surprise.

Winters gave a wry smile and tapped his iron helmet, “There are plenty of divine archers outside the city; wearing something so conspicuous is asking for death. I even swapped out my officer’s helmet.”

“Let me see it.”

Winters dug out a silver medal from his pocket and tossed it to Andre.

“Wow! A Grand Cross too!” Andre was so fascinated he couldn’t let go, his tone full of regret, “Why didn’t I follow along?”

“Don’t mention it! Mason took the wrong path, nearly leading us straight into the Herders’ den. It was only because the Terdon Tribe suddenly swarmed out that we were able to retreat in one piece.”

“You’ve got two of them now, right?” Andre’s mind was clearly elsewhere, not on Winters’ words.

Winters was baffled, “What second medal?”

“The Victory Medal from Red Sulfur Island.” Andre added, “Although I’m keeping it safe for you now.”

Winters snorted softly without taking the bait.

“It’s really nice!” Andre returned the Sword of Valor Medal to Winters reluctantly. “Good-looking!”

“If you want one, I’ll have my uncle make you a hundred when I get back! I have something to ask you.” Winters pulled Andre aside to a quiet corner by the wall, “What exactly is Sekler up to? Where are the reinforcements?!”

As Winters was interrogating Andre, Colonel Jeska was also enduring a storm from the general.

Seeing the expressionless one-eyed colonel, Sekler was nearly beside himself with anger.

The Paratu military’s strategy for the war against the Herders was simply damage, more damage, and even more damage.

The night before last, the Paratu forces adopted tunnel blasting tactics to launch a strong attack on Bianli. The Bianli defenders set the city on fire.

Yesterday morning, the camp on the north bank was attacked, the siege was halted, and Jeska’s company was stationed at the North Bridge fortress.

When Sekler and Alpad learned of the Herder reinforcements attacking the North Rampart, they weren’t panicked.

The most troublesome factor about the Herder tribes was never a head-on confrontation. They wanted to fill trenches with lives, and the two generals could hardly wish for more.

The position of the North Rampart blocked access to the north side of Bianli City; if the Herders wanted to break the siege, they had to conquer it.

Thus, Sekler sent six companies to support the North Rampart, intending to use it as bait to trap the Herder reinforcements and annihilate them in one fell swoop.

However, Sekler’s forces were ambushed halfway there—a surprise, yet not unexpected, for the Herders were fishing too.

They used the North Rampart as bait to lure out the main Paratu forces and cut off their support.

The plan had changed, but for Sekler, the situation was still under control, needing only a technical adjustment.

Whether it was using the North Rampart as bait or his six companies, there was no difference as long as the strategic objective was achieved.

Through interrogating prisoners, Sekler had roughly figured out that the Herder reinforcements in front of them were actually composed of two parts.

The Herder army besieging the North Rampart was led by the uncles and brothers of Yasin, chieftain of the Red River Tribe, considered an outer force of the Red River Tribe.

And the Herder army coming to their aid was in fact the Terdon Tribe, personally led by the leader known as the Fire-watcher.

In every past campaign, not only did Herder tribes not come to each other’s rescue, but tribes unaffected by the war would eagerly swallow up those defeated by the Paratu People.

No one knew how Yasin had managed to persuade the Terdon Tribe to send troops, but it seemed that the Fire-watcher was adamant about fighting the Paratu People.

However, it wasn’t a problem, as the Paratu military’s combat power was still more than adequate to handle the situation.

Unlike the brave, fiery, and ever-passionate General Alpad, Sekler was a strategy master—calm, cautious, and preferring to achieve victory through meticulous prior planning.

But plans never move as fast as changes. Who could have expected that just last night, a seemingly insignificant pawn suddenly moved to a position surprising to everyone?

Now that the Terdon Tribe was attacking Jeska’s forces with a frenzy, Sekler’s six companies were left hanging.

The Herders’ forces were thus dispersed, with the Red River Tribe feigning an attack on the North Rampart, and the Terdon Tribe fiercely assaulting the Bridgehead Fortress.

Isn’t it good that the enemy’s forces are divided?

The problem lies in the fact that the Paratu forces are also spread thin.

Bridgehead Fortress—Sekler’s forces—North Rampart, these three camps are distributed along the northern bank, forming a shape similar to a long snake.

The Bridgehead Fortress had the least manpower, just Jeska’s company plus two centurion units.

The North Rampart had two companies, and Sekler’s forces had six.

Sekler originally intended to lure the Herders to attack either the snake’s head or midsection but the tail took initiative, striking fiercely at the Fire-watcher’s groin.

Now, the Herder reinforcements had thrown out two fists, one punching at the head and the other at the tail.

From Bridgehead Fortress to North Rampart, the straight-line distance was about seventeen kilometers, taking five to six hours for infantry to cover.

But for the Herders with their many horses, it was only half an hour of forced march.

The cavalry’s advantage in short-term mobility over infantry was fully displayed across those seventeen kilometers.

No one can control war; it always controls humanity. The situation was spiraling out of control, for both sides.

In this game, the Herders had the initiative. Their two forces could quickly join at one place, while the dispersed Paratu army couldn’t support each other.

“No need for further explanation.” Colonel Jeska took off the Sword of Valor Medal, holding it in his palm. “Just speak frankly.”

Sekler was momentarily startled but quickly steadied his mind.

“No reinforcements will come here,” the general informed him.

“The eight companies from the main camp?” Jeska asked.

“Six companies suffered heavy losses in the siege; they are responsible for surrounding the city. I need the other two companies elsewhere.” Sekler fixed his gaze on Jeska, “I’m making a fist to strike the Red River Tribe and will not split my forces. It’s possible the Terdon Tribe will be drawn away, and it’s possible they won’t be.”

Jeska fell silent for a long time, looking at the medal in his hand and said, “This thing… indeed burns the hand.”

“Consider it given to you in advance.”

“Then I must request another thing from you,” the one-eyed colonel assessed calmly, “If we hold out today, the Terdon people will never take this place again.”

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