Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 490: Chapter 83 Uneven Combined Military Forces

Winters was utterly unaware of what was happening behind him.

All he could do was to urge his troops to keep moving, moving, moving.

The emergence of the Hurd cavalry was like an invisible whip, fiercely lashing across the backs of the Paratu People, and all at once, the speed of the march sharply increased.

“Centurion Montaigne,” Colonel Jeska called Winters to his side, his expression extremely serious, “take your centuria as the vanguard. Control the pace, slow it down.”

“Slow it down?”

Colonel Jeska released his right hand that had been checking his pulse and pointed at the column, saying, “The troops are currently marching at a pace of one hundred twenty-six steps per minute. They’re fast because they are afraid. What use is there in hurrying when we still have hundreds of kilometers ahead of us?”

“Understood.” Winters raised his hand in salute, steered his horse, and was about to leave.

“Bring the speed down, walk at the regular rhythm.”

[Note: A regular pace is seventy-two steps per minute]

“Yes!”

“Go.” Colonel Jeska lightly flicked Winters’ shoulder with his whip.

…

Behind the vanguard, the two armies’ reconnaissance cavalry fought in a chase across the vast wilderness.

These skirmishes, of a handful of soldiers each, were tests of horsemanship, skill, and bravery.

The Herders were armed with bows and arrows, while the Paratu had superior warhorses. Both sides suffered casualties, and for a while, it was difficult to tell which side would win.

On the Paratu side, before the first group of messengers returned, Sekler’s second group set out, closely followed by a third.

Consequently, not long after the White Lion returned to the Red River Tribe’s camp, Grey Eyes summoned him for council again, this time also requesting the presence of the Firekeeper.

“You go back to the tribes and bring back the women and children, Uncle,” the White Lion, fully armed, switched to a fresh horse, and once again became that silent and steadfast leader, “The tribal chieftains and I have an agreement; they will not make it difficult for you.”

“And then what?”

“Then you take the Eagle Forest Tribe to escort the women and children north, take them back to the old camp.”

“You want me to leave here? If the Eagle Forest Tribe isn’t here, how can I share in the spoils of war?”

“You escort our kin to the old camp and then return; you should be back in time.” The White Lion spoke with calm certainty, “Mark my words, Uncle, there is still much fighting to be done.”

…

The Paratu People’s stance grew more humble with each visit.

When the first group of messengers arrived, the conditions they presented for peace were to leave with their weapons and flags—barely different from retreating.

Of course, the chieftains of the Herder tribes would not agree.

The second group of messengers’ conditions had already changed to: The Paratu army would leave with their weapons and flags, and would provide compensation based on the tribes’ losses.

The conditions of the third group of messengers were to cede territory, pay compensation, agree to ten years of peace, but the Paratu army still had to leave with their weapons and flags.

The tribes held a great council, with the chieftains arguing incessantly.

“What messengers! They are clearly scouts!” the Firekeeper roared, overpowering the voices of others, “The Paratu take advantage of the fact that the tribes do not kill messengers, and thus they keep sending wave after wave of people to investigate us! Catch those messengers and kill them all!”

“If you want to kill, then kill,” the Blackwater chieftain said, visibly displeased.

[Note: The Herder tribes have a tradition of not killing messengers, the Paratu… used to have the same tradition]

The Firekeeper glared at the Blackwater chieftain: “Is this only a matter for my Terdon Tribe? You don’t want blood on your hands, yet you want me to do the killing?”

“What else to consider? Are we supposed to agree? Knowing there’s a trap ahead and still jumping in?” the newly appointed war chieftain [Eater-Healthy] slapped his thigh and scolded the chieftains, “The thoughts of the two-legged are as twisted as sheep’s intestines. What’s there to discuss with them? They are running away without food or drink, we should be sending troops to attack them, not sitting here idle and inactive!”

A chieftain agreed, saying, “Yes! We sit in our felt tents while our people huddle together for warmth. Along the way, countless horses have died. The sooner we eliminate the two-legged folk, the less our losses will be. The various tribes have at least thirty thousand warriors; if we join forces and attack, how could we not defeat the two-legged?”

The Herder tribes waged war in winter, with warhorses first losing flesh until their ribs were showing, and then dying mysteriously.

In their hurry to come, they had brought few tents, and huddling together for warmth was not an exaggeration.

A day or two they can endure, but over a longer time, even iron-clad men would fall sick from the cold.

The sooner they defeated the Paratu army, the smaller the losses the Herder tribes would suffer.

The Firekeeper refused to be outdone and immediately retorted, “Eater-Healthy, let me ask you this: Knowing there’s a trap, will you still jump in? You want to act blindly like a blindfolded bull without understanding what the two-legged want to do?”

“The one who lost the golden idol to the sky has no right to speak to me,” Eater-Healthy shot back.

The Firekeeper rose without a word, and suddenly pounced on Eater-Healthy like a bear.

The two grasped each other’s cloaks, and it took a great deal of effort from the other chieftains to separate them.

Grey Eyes calmed the two: “It wouldn’t hurt to send a few observant ones to follow the two-legged messengers back, to probe their reality.”

The White Lion sat in a corner, silent.

The Little Lion sat behind the White Lion, his face full of disdain.

When Eater-Healthy saw these two, he pointed at the White Lion and asked, “White Lion, you summoned us here. Why do you not speak? Speak!”

“If I speak, the tribes will not listen, it’s better to stay silent.”

“How do you know I will not listen?” Eater-Healthy was furious.

“Very well then!” The White Lion patted the Little Lion, “Bring me my tapestry.”

The Little Lion stood up and left, returning to the tent after a short while with a woolen blanket in his arms.

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