Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 521 - 96: The End (Part 2) - 2

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Waiting for the Paratu People will not be an "escape to heaven," but a "halfway ambush."

In front of them are tens of thousands of extremely vicious barbarians, and behind them, the only way to survive. If one person throws down their weapons and runs, morale will collapse like dominoes.

Sekler’s tone was ice-cold, "I need you to recapture the fortress in the Southern Highlands, not just for the cannons, but to block the enemy’s line of sight and clear out the Herders in the trenches. With the Southern Highlands in their possession, the enemy has a clear view of our camp; they know our every move. Tell me, can you walk away?"

No one could answer that question.

Sekler’s speech sped up, "When you strike, Alpad will lead another force to clear the enemy attacking the camp, and a platoon from the Northern Highlands fortress will move out to reinforce you. A squadron of Piaoqi has already crossed the river by boat downstream, and as soon as your battle begins, I will send people to build a bridge.

I need you to attract the attention of the Herders and beat the White Lion at the game of timing. Make him think we’re still fighting for the fortress, make him think the bridge isn’t fixed yet. Three hours! Within three hours, everyone must cross the river!

Survive and live! Fail and die! Do you think I’m speaking nonsense? After the army has been fighting for hundreds of miles, less than half can still wield a sword. You bleed, and you think others don’t?!"

Silence, only silence filled the tent.

"Strip him of his duties! If he doesn’t want to go, then he doesn’t have to go! Laszlo, Jeska’s battalion is now under your command!"

Having said that, Sekler turned and left, this time he did not look back.

...

After a brief rest and slight reinforcements, the raiding squadron once again set out from the camp.

This time they did not go directly to the Southern Highlands but first circled northwest.

There they would join with Colonel Bod’s troops before moving on the Southern Highlands fortress.

Meanwhile, another force was assembling outside the north wall of the camp, led by Alpad.

They would strike at the enemy’s flank who were attacking the south wall of the camp, repel these enemies, and prevent them from reinforcing the Southern Highlands fortress.

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A silver-grey warhorse stepped out of the night.

Anglu led Warhorse over to Winters, and upon seeing his master, the horse cheerfully snorted.

As he got closer, however, Warhorse twitched his nose in displeasure, clearly not liking the smell of blood on Winters.

Winters wanted to feed Warhorse a sugar cube, searched around for a while, and then suddenly remembered he had not brought his sugar bag.

"Do you have sugar?" Winters asked Anglu.

"Sugar?" Anglu widened his eyes, searched for a long time, and then apologetically said, "I didn’t bring any today."

"Quit your whining." Winters patted Warhorse’s neck and began to check the tack.

He adjusted the breastplate to the proper fit, carefully inspected underneath the saddle to make sure not a single straw was left; diligently smoothed Warhorse’s skin where it made contact with the saddle, leaving no wrinkle.

Lt. Col. Castor came over riding his black Warhorse, dismounted beside Winters, and admired Warhorse, "That’s a fine horse. It’s a shame it ends up in the hands of infantrymen like you."

Winters could not be bothered with Castor.

Castor was not offended and asked again, "Didn’t Sekler say you don’t need to go?"

"I’ll be damned if I volunteer!" Winters snapped back, irritated.

"That’s right, without you, your men would die even more." Castor chuckled and then got to the point, "Sekler talked about relieving you of your duties, just take it as a fart in the wind. You’re to be in reserve, and we’ll lead the charge."

"What the hell?" Winters asked with his eyes.

"Laszlo means that if we can win the fight, you follow up. If we get wiped out, you have every right to withdraw." said Castor nonchalantly, "In this war between Paratu and the barbarians, we can’t always let you Venetians steal the limelight."

Winters remained silent.

Castor was about to leave when he suddenly turned back and asked, "You always give me that side-eye. You still holding a grudge over that whip in Wolf Town?"

At the Mitchell estate, Castor had lashed Winters with a whip for no reason. While Winters didn’t hold a "grudge," his temperament wasn’t so good as to turn the other cheek after being slapped.

In short, Winters bore no good feelings toward Castor, maintaining only a reluctant courtesy.

Fortunately, their paths rarely crossed, and they encountered each other only a handful of times.

"No answer? So there is a grudge?" Castor asked.

"Damn right!" Winters retorted irritably, "What gave you the right to lash me out of the blue?"

Castor’s tone was full of resignation, "You Venetians are so petty! ’Revenge is the greatest joy in life,’ isn’t that what you Venetians say?"

Winters didn’t bother to argue and turned back to his tack.

Lt. Col. Castor pushed further, smirking, "How about you give me a punch? That would make us square..."

Winters turned, throwing a right hook into Castor’s left cheek.

Castor was knocked off his feet, stumbled like a drunk, and spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, "You really dared to hit me!"

Winters shook his wrist, mounted up, and rode off.

Lt. Col. Castor, holding his cheek, stood up and yelled at Winters’s departing back, "Now we’re even! Square and no debts!"

...

Colonel Bod and his troops waited in the valley between the Southern and Northern Highlands.

The troops departing from the camp first headed northwest, crossed the trenches, then turned southwest, and finally joined with Colonel Bod’s group.

As ordered by Lt. Col. Robert, each of the troops departing from the camp carried three torches.

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