Chapter 408: Chapter 48 Attack and Defense_3
The Herders’ cavalry had already been retreating when halfway through, they spotted an armored warrior scaling the wall and reluctantly turned back.
Winters swung his iron shovel, digging through the mud between the planks.
Disarmed Herders shot arrows from the ground, relying on their sturdy armor, and Winters ignored them. Gunners behind the rampart and on the shooting platforms also opened fire in support.
Due to a twist of fate, although the opponent didn’t dodge or evade, the Herders’ archers kept missing by a hair’s breadth.
The burly leader of the Herders, infuriated by the sight, leapt down from his saddle and pushed the other bowmen aside with a surge of anger.
“Bow!” the Herder chieftain bellowed.
A nearby cavalryman with red plumes took out an iron-spined bow and respectfully presented it.
The Herder chieftain stood his ground, let out a roar, and fully drew the iron-spined recurve bow with a creaking sound as the bow flexed and the string stretched to its limit.
With intense concentration, he experienced an epiphany at that moment and released the catch.
This arrow, as if blessed by the gods, flew like a shooting star toward the distant Paratu armored warrior, striking him squarely in the helmet.
A crisp sound of metal striking metal ensued, and the Paratu armored warrior fell off the carriage.
“Khosh Hazee! Khosh Hazee!” The Herders’ riders burst into exhilarated cheers, shouting the name of the man who shot the astonishing arrow.
On the other side of the rampart, the Paratu people fell disturbingly silent.
Khosh Hazee—the burly man raised on horse milk, laughed heartily, tossed the iron-spined bow to the cavalryman with red plumes and turned to walk to his warhorse.
The iron-spined bow had been bent out of shape.
Suddenly, the Herders stopped their chants, and instead, shouts of joy erupted from the Paratu people behind the earthen wall.
Khosh Hazee turned around, shocked to see the armored warrior climbing back onto the carriage.
“Go fuck yourself!” the armored warrior shouted, discarding his glove and gesturing offensively.
The warrior’s battle cry echoed powerfully across the battlefield.
With roaring laughter, the Paratu people also joined in the armored warrior’s shout: “Go fuck yourself! Go fuck yourself! Go fuck yourself!”
The collective yells of hundreds formed one voice that resounded over the desolate plains, reaching the highest skies.
Even the birds by the riverbank were startled, taking flight from the reeds in flocks.
The morale of the Paratu people skyrocketed at that moment.
Khosh Hazee’s face turned red, then white, and finally a shade of blue.
He couldn’t understand what the other side was shouting, but the message was clearly conveyed.
The irate and anxious cavalier with red plumes drew his sword, mounted his horse, and was about to engage in a desperate fight with the armored warrior.
“Don’t go,” Khosh Hazee, pale as iron, held back the cavalier: “That guy is waiting for you!”
Winters buried the shell casing into the muddy gaps of the carriage, covering it again with soil.
The fuse of the shell was wrapped in hemp rope, not worried about moisture in the short term.
He lit the fuse and ran far away.
After a few muffled blasts, the carriage blew apart. The layered soil where it was filled was completely destroyed, the debris even hurling into the barracks.
Despite some remaining fragments of the carriage, it was no longer feasible to use it as cover.
Winters climbed over the trench and wall, flung his dented helmet to the ground, and, gasping for breath, roared, “Bring it on!”
After sprinting back and forth in three-quarter armor, he was on the verge of hyperventilating. The only reason he stubbornly refused to sit was the fear that once he did, he might never stand again.
“That’s enough, you don’t have to go,” said Colonel Jeska with a stern face: “I’ll arrange for someone else to take care of the rest.”
“I will take people there,” Bard, who had arrived at the scene, offered calmly. After a pause, he said, “If it’s for blasting, there’s no need for shell casings. We can use a whole barrel of gunpowder instead.”
“That’ll work, do it,” the colonel decided: “Lieutenant Fulmontane, go rest.” New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on NoveI-Fire.ɴet
What Jeska’s supply regiment didn’t lack was gunpowder.
Berlion and Heinrich carried the Centurion towards the camp.
Winters tried to shake them off, but the arrow he had taken earlier made him dizzy and nauseous to the point of being unable to break free.
Soldiers, militiamen, laborers, and traders wordlessly gathered next to Lieutenant Montaigne, reaching out to touch his armor, hair, skin, and extending their salutations.
The Paratu people shared in the lieutenant’s courage, will, and fortune this way, also using it to express their respect.
Colonel Jeska murmured with a wry smile, “Is this bravery or recklessness?”
Xial, standing nearby, answered proudly and loudly, “Of course it’s bravery! Lieutenant Montaigne is known as ‘Blood Man Montaigne’ in Vineta, the most valiant officer in the city!”
The surrounding Paratu people exclaimed in surprise.
“‘Blood Man’ what a hell of a nickname. It isn’t flattering,” Colonel Jeska shook his head and casually suggested: “How about ‘Blood Wolf’? Looking at him… He really does seem like he has wolf blood surging in his chest.”
[Blood Wolf Montaigne: Wolf Blood Montagne]