Iron Powder and Spellcaster

When the spire of Shovel Harbor Church appeared in Portal's field of vision, he breathed a sigh of relief.

The distance from the manor to Shovel Harbor is only seven kilometers, and it only takes a quarter of an hour to get there quickly.

However, this short seven kilometers made Potal, a Dussac veteran who was fearless and fearless, experience unprecedented fear and walking on thin ice.

Portal sent almost every reliable horseman under his command to act as a scout and protected his team with a peripheral defense line composed of riding sentries, because he knew that the rebels had a cavalry team that could not be underestimated.

Therefore, what Potal is most worried about is that the rebel cavalry accurately captures the undeployed fighter planes of his troops and defeats the Shovel Harbor militia in a hurry.

Fortunately, the rebel cavalry that was expected to come and go like the wind never appeared, and Portal's troops walked the seven kilometers from the manor to the port without any danger.

When he saw the spire of the church in the center of the town leaping out of the treetops, Portal couldn't help but feel excited, and he couldn't help but feel a little disdain that the leader of the rebels is nothing more than that.

At a glance, a temporary wooden fence roughly bisects the edge of the town. The red swallow-tailed flag originally inserted on the fence has been removed and replaced with the rebel's light blue square flag.

Outside the wall, on the north side of the road, in the flat open space that was originally the livestock auction yard, the rebels who attacked Shovel Harbor had already set up their positions and were waiting for a long time.

Looking at the forest of spears in the distance, Potal murmured to himself: They actually left the city.

From the scouts, Potal learned in advance that the rebels were leaving the city to form an array. But it wasn't until he saw the bright light reflected from the opponent's spear tip in the sun that he believed that the scout was not lying.

Dusak Potar didn't quite understand why the rebels chose to go out to fight in the city, but he was not a recruit who was fighting for the first time. In his long service career, he has seen too many incredible behaviors and too many unbelievably stupid choices - whether it is the enemy or his own side.

It seems that fate favors me more today. Portal secretly thought to himself - since the rebels voluntarily gave up their terrain advantage, he would not let the opportunity slip away in vain.

Brass trombones buzzed, scoldings and footsteps mixed together, and Potard's troops changed from marching columns to square formations in an orderly manner.

According to the regulations of the Union Army, when the infantry is deployed in a phalanx formation, each phalanx should assign a senior officer as a phalanx commander to be responsible for setting up the formation and deploying soldiers.

Among Potal's troops, the person most qualified to serve as the phalanx leader is undoubtedly Mr. Alpha who personally trained this troop.

However, the young man with the pseudonym Alpha was not present at the moment, so the sergeants and centurions he promoted could only do it for him.

Fortunately, the rigorous training of the Shovel Harbor militiamen came into play at the critical moment.

Even without Alpha's command, Potal's troops still expanded and reorganized smoothly, forming three brigade-level phalanxes in an orderly manner.

…

That guy named... Potal, it seems that he is good at training soldiers and makes him look presentable. Bart Shilling came to Tamas' side. He held his elbow with his right arm and rubbed his cheek with his left hand. With a stubble, he chuckled and said: I doubt that even our people can't change the formation like they did - as if they were greased.

Tamas stared at the enemy in the distance and nodded seriously: It's very good, we are not as good as us.

After feeling bored, Bart Xialing sighed.

He turned his horse around, faced the subordinates behind him, and laughed and cursed: Look at me! Look at you! The battalion commander said - you guys can't even keep up with those new recruits on the opposite side! Come on! Don't stand there stupidly. It’s over! Squeeze out some tears and prepare to surrender!”

A burst of deep laughter immediately broke out among the soldiers who were waiting.

It's not as good as others - that's a battalion! Someone shouted unconvinced.

Someone immediately yelled back: Fuck you!

With a simple sentence, the originally tense soldiers unconsciously became much more relaxed.

Because many veterans were killed or disabled in the Battle of Blood Mud, the Tiefeng County Infantry Regiment had to recruit a large number of new recruits after the war. Even among the soldiers standing in front of Bart Xialing at this moment, there are many who have never been in battle.

However, after being scolded by the second battalion commander, among the veterans laughing wildly, even the recruits who had never seen blood felt less scared.

Tamas glanced at the second battalion commander in shame - he knew that he would never be able to easily inspire the courage of the soldiers like the other party; he also did not understand why the centurion appointed him as the first commander. The battalion commander, rather than the more talented Bart Schalling.

But now that the centurion had chosen to entrust his army to himself, Tamas had no choice but to do his best to live up to that trust.

Blow the horn and light the match. Tamas ordered: Get ready to meet the enemy.

…

Watching the orderly actions of the Shovel Harbor militia, Portal couldn't help but think to himself: To be able to train a group of farmers and bandits into what they are now in such a short period of time, even if the old Duke is reincarnated, I'm afraid he won't be able to do it - Mr. Alpha should be proud.

Unfortunately, the young man responsible for training the militia was not present at the moment and could not appreciate his results with his own eyes.

Taking advantage of the opportunity for the troops to adjust their formation, Potal galloped towards Shovel Harbor, intending to take a close look at the strength of the rebels.

He didn't bring any guards, that would have been too conspicuous. To be cautious, he didn't dare to get too close.

Portal controlled the distance and rode his horse past the edge of the effective range of the musket. Seeing that the opponent did not fire, he turned his horse and came again - just like he did when he served as a scout under the old Duke.

During the third close reconnaissance, two rebel light cavalry surrounded them on the left and right.

Of course, the experienced Portal would not be entangled. He pulled the reins and retreated to his own formation without hesitation. The two rebel light cavalry chased for a short distance before no longer entangled and retreated.

The contest between light cavalry was the prelude to the battle. When the two armies have taken up positions but are not actually fighting, the light cavalry on both sides will do their best to reconnoiter the enemy at close range, and at the same time do their best to expel the enemy's light cavalry with the same purpose.

The long-lost actual combat made Botar's blood boil - he had almost forgotten what it felt like to chase each other with the enemy's light cavalry and fight with fast horses.

However, no matter how hot the blood is, it cannot melt the cold steel.

About seven or eight hundred people, no more than nine hundred at most. And at least half of them are musketeers, and the rest should be spearmen. But... Botar exclaimed in his heart as he galloped towards the formation. : When did they have such good equipment?!

Portal could not see the rebel soldiers in the rear row, but he was sure that the rebel spearmen in the first row were all wearing half-body plate armor with iron skirts, and even the styles were uniform.

The number of muskets equipped by the rebels is also terrifying. They are not old antiques like portal guns, but all heavy matchlock guns.

The opponent's equipment was so sophisticated that Potal was frightened. He couldn't figure out where the rebels got so many plate armor and muskets.

Potal's troops are not as wealthy as the rebels - most of them only have spears, swords and shields in their hands; there are only a few muskets of varying calibers and ages; and there is even less armor.

Portal's mouth went dry, and he finally realized that he had taken it for granted that the rebels' equipment was at the same level as his own militia, and therefore seriously underestimated the rebels' combat power.

However, the two armies had already set up their positions and were just waiting for the war to begin. It was too late to regret. It no longer matters where the rebels' equipment came from. The only important thing now is how to defeat the rebels.

Botar suppressed his racing heart and nervously weighed the pros and cons of both sides:

Our biggest advantage is our military strength, there is no doubt about this - the number of rebels is about 800, and Potal, who was thrown by Qiankun, brought more than 1,300 soldiers;

Although the rebels were well-equipped, the rebel commanders brought too many musketeers, which was also their weakness.

Once the fighting starts, we must move in immediately. Potal subconsciously gritted his teeth and thought firmly: We cannot give the rebels' muskets a chance to exert their power. Move in! Surround them! Fight with them hand-to-hand!

The rebel formation was also a bit strange, but Portal couldn't understand it.

For an old Dusak who has retired for many years, he has already thought of the limit of what he can think of. But thinking like a commander is not what Portal is good at.

It would be great if Mr. Alpha was here. Portal thought with a headache: It would be great if he was here!

Although our own army was good at hand-to-hand combat, the rebels had their backs against the wall, and even Portal could guess that the rebel commander would definitely place a large number of musketeers on the wall.

A hasty attack would definitely result in a bloody blow, so Potal decided to continue the confrontation and wait for the fighter plane to appear.

Then he heard a crash of thunder.

…

On the wall, a group of gunners stared closely at the trajectory of the cannonballs in the air. When they saw the black iron ball passing over the enemy's head, they all let out a sigh of regret.

Only Captain Moreau was unmoved. After seeing the impact point of the artillery shell, he recorded a line of numbers on the paper and then calmly ordered: Second artillery group, lower the altitude for three quarters.

Lower altitude for three quarters! the gunner almost shouted and repeated the order - although it was not necessary at the moment, once the guns were firing at full speed, the message could not be conveyed without making a louder sound.

The wedge-shaped wooden block under the gun barrel moved three scales. Then the gunner shouted again: Two points down! Over!

Moreau nodded invisibly - Richard Mason trained his artillery well, God knows how he trained a group of farmers and accounting apprentices into qualified artillerymen - but a cold mask covered Moreau With an expression on his face, only a cold command came from under the mask: Fire.

This was the first round of firing. The other gunners retreated to a safe distance as usual. A man with a large red birthmark on his face stepped forward and lit the propellant with his own hands: Fire!

There was a flash of fire, the cannon body recoiled suddenly, and the shells flew towards the enemy with the roar of the cannon.

This time, Captain Mason's daughters did not disappoint the gunners - the shells flew right into the center of the enemy's formation, knocking down several people in an instant.

The enemy soldiers around the impact point of the shell fled in all directions like a school of frightened fish. For a while, no one even dared to lend a helping hand to the wounded.

The scene was like a giant swinging a heavy hammer and slamming it into a group of flesh and blood dolls that were standing still.

The gunners' scalps were numb, and they felt both pleasure and cruelty. But there was no time to sigh. The gunners of the second artillery group immediately returned to the cannon, reset the cannon, and reloaded.

The wall of Shovel Harbor is the product of rush work. The inner side was originally only a half-meter wide wooden tripod, which could barely accommodate a person standing behind the parapet and shooting.

But this was not a problem for Captain Moreau. The engineers brought by Moreau transformed the bracket that was originally only half a meter wide into a temporary artillery fort.

They used boards to widen the tripod, then added piles and piled soil under the boards to make them load-bearing.

The three six-pound cannons captured from Teltown's troops were now deployed on these temporary artillery forts, waiting to harvest blood and lives.

Moreau confirmed the impact point of the shells and wrote down a line of numbers: Third artillery group, lower altitude for a moment.

…

Portal saw another flash of red light on the wall in the distance.

A terrible scream filled the air. Then as if he suddenly hit something soft, the scream disappeared. This was followed by a continuous and short 呲-呲-呲-bang!

Next to Portal, a soldier's calf and knee were separated.

The remaining power of the shells continued to shatter the tibia of a soldier behind him. The broken bones pierced the flesh and blood, revealing the white stubble.

The solid iron ball that injured two people broke another soldier's ankle before sinking into the soil.

This time Portal saw clearly. He saw the shell hit the ground, bounce, hit again, bounce again, ricochet into the human wall, plowing flesh.

The whole process only took a breath, but it was as long as a century.

Then, there was another flash of red light on the far wall.

Another bloody trench.

The screams for help and screams echoed in the phalanx, stinging everyone's eardrums.

The injured was lying on the ground rolling and struggling, and the soldiers around him stared blankly - they had never seen such horrific injuries, nor had they seen limbs flying everywhere. Even if they wanted to save people, they didn't know how to help.

Carry the person away! Potal ordered: Carry him away.

Only then did the others act belatedly, scrambling to carry the injured soldiers to the rear of the phalanx.

But what if you take it away? Still can only wait to die.

After a round of shelling, although the phalanx of the Shovel Harbor militia still maintained discipline, their morale was inevitably shaken.

The injured soldiers were worse off than dead, and the uninjured soldiers were terrified.

The wailing of the wounded also made Portal upset. He wanted to kill the wounded simply, but he was worried about the impact on morale.

After four thunderclaps, the cannon roared no more.

But Portal knew—it was only temporary. Rebel gunners were reloading and a new bombardment would soon begin.

Where did the cannon come from again! Potal gritted his teeth: Where did the cannon come from again!

This battle of a thousand people was originally supposed to be conducted in the manner of choosing a location, setting up a formation, one side marching, and the other side fighting - which was also a method that Potal was familiar with.

As the attacker, Potal has the initiative. He can choose to attack, or he can choose to confront and wait for the rebels to be unable to restrain themselves and take the initiative to attack.

But after the rebels showed off their artillery, the rules of the game changed.

When the rebels took advantage of their range and occupied defensive positions to bombard Potar's troops, they had only two options in front of Potar:

Retreat beyond artillery range;

Or attack.

Portal's troops could not withstand the continuous bombardment, and he did not dare to gamble with the morale of his own army on the opponent's gunpowder reserves.

Retreat? Or attack. Cold sweat began to break out on Potal's forehead, and he asked himself frantically: Retreat? Or attack?

If they retreat, will the morale of the troops collapse instantly? Even if morale does not collapse, what will happen if the opponent catches up? There are also cavalry, and the rebel cavalry that has not appeared so far...

If attacking...

Just when Potal was in a dilemma, the cannon in the distance roared again.

Drum! Unable to bear the pressure, Potal gritted his teeth, drew his saber, and roared an order: March!

After a brief hesitation, the drummer hurriedly beat the snare drum. Accompanied by the rapid beating of drums, the three phalanx formations under Potal's command began to move.

Portal prayed that Mr. Alpha also heard the roar of the cannon.

…

Behind the Tiefeng County Army's formation, Bart Xialing squinted his eyes to observe the rhythm of the enemy's spears shaking, and whispered: It has begun.

After a moment of silence, Bart said again seriously: It's begun!

Musketeers come forward! Tamas ordered loudly: Fire in turn, prepare!

…

At the same time, Andre, who was sleeping with his head covered, jumped up: Did you hear that?

What did you hear? Tulin was confused.

Cannon! Andre didn't bother to explain. He strode towards his mount and shouted at the same time: Everyone - mount up!

Deep in the woods, resting riders rushed to their mounts and got back on their horses as quickly as possible.

But! Tulin didn't know whether to move or not. He cried sadly: My lord! It's not time yet!

Andre didn't care about that and waved his hand: Let's go!

After that, he took the lead and galloped out of the hiding place.

[42508/100000]

[The first official appearance of Winters' new army]

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