The branches crackled in the fire pit, bringing a rare hint of warmth in the winter day.
Was Colonel Jeska praising him behind his back? Winters found it hard to imagine since the one-eyed colonel rarely gave Winters a kind face to face— to be precise, Colonel Jeska rarely gave anyone a kind face.
But what Winters was concerned about now was something else, so he went straight to the point, "Colonel, your Paratu people do not place enough importance on 'water,' let alone have recognition for 'naval forces.' You're accustomed to riding horses, but Paratu has many large rivers too. If you had brought a fleet with you, you would never have fallen into the perilous situation you face today."
What the Venetian said left Colonel Robert confused and deep in thought.
Winters punched his own thigh hard, speaking rapidly, "The pressing matter is not building bridges, but shipbuilding! The Styx blocks not only us but also the Herders' movements. The Herders don't have a single plank, and even if we only have twenty small boats, the Herders on the opposite bank are isolated troops, dead troops! We are trapped on the West Bank, and we are fearful. If the Herders are trapped on the East Bank, wouldn't they be fearful as well?"
"Don't forget, the Herders have cannons! The Legion headquarters is now set on building a bridge. But if we can't control the water, allowing the Herders of the West Bank to get their cannons to the East Bank, what good does it do to build the bridge fast? Then real trouble will arise!"
Colonel Robert blinked in surprise, "Weren't the barbarians' cannons destroyed by us already?"
"Who knows if they have more?" Winters grew more agitated, "With a width of less than two hundred meters, even a large musket-like one-pound swivel gun could easily shoot from the East Bank to the West Bank. If I were a Herder, I'd get the cannons to the East Bank at any cost! Place them right opposite the bridge! Bombard the pile drivers day and night, sinking every single one of them! Those rafts, they go down the water, they get sunk!"
The cold wind blew into the tent, and the flames in the iron pan churned violently, just like Winters's mood.
"I am now glad that you are not a barbarian," Colonel Robert said with a wry smile, "Haven't you discussed this with the headquarters?"
"I sent a report to headquarters the day before yesterday, but it sunk without a trace, and there was no response."
"Haven't you discussed it with Jeska?"
"The day before that, I was assigned to chop trees. If you hadn't come today, I would be on my way to find Colonel Jeska."
Colonel Robert supported his knees with both hands and said earnestly, "If the Herders get the cannon across to the opposite bank, there won't be any need to build the bridge. Don't worry, I'll go straight to Colonel Bod and have him see the old man."
"With you here, I'm not worried," Winters breathed a little easier, "We have no ships, the Herders have no ships either. We only need twenty oared boats to control the water surface, which should be enough."
"It's a pity I know nothing about naval warfare. When there's a chance, you definitely have to explain more to me about naval warfare and ships."
"Actually, I don't understand either," Winters thought of another old acquaintance, "The Venetian Navy has a captain named Spire, and he is the expert in oared-sail combat. If there's a chance, I'd like to introduce him to you."
"Good," Colonel Robert laughed heartily, "It's a deal."
The Paratu People first cleared a space in the woods, then used the felled trees to construct a forward camp—also known as the Bridge Forest Camp.
Construction materials were easy to come by, and with the assistance of eighteen logging teams coming over, the construction of Bridge Forest Camp progressed rapidly, almost completing within a day.
Because of the extensive use of timber, Bridge Forest Camp's fortifications were even stronger than the earth walls that typically formed the main camp.
With the logging teams and the two infantry battalions and two cavalry battalions brought by Colonel Robert, there were more than three thousand men and over five hundred horses.
[Note: Warhorses as well as packhorses and draft horses]
The camp was built to the standard size of a Legion camp, which more than accommodated these men and horses.
In addition to the camp itself, Colonel Robert also planned to build a series of watchtowers to provide early warnings.
But those would have to wait until tomorrow.
After working hard all day, Winters was exhausted to his limit, only wanting to sleep well.
Bridge Forest Camp was roughly completed, and the various logging teams moved from the fields into the camp area.
Although they still stayed in tents, being surrounded by trenches and camp walls provided more security than sleeping in the open fields.
After making a final patrol around the camp, Winters hurried back to his own tent in long, quick strides.
By now, night had fallen. Winters, mustering his energy, hastily wrote, "Miss Navarre, I chopped trees for an entire day again today," before quickly burrowing into his blankets.
No sooner had he lain down than Winters fell asleep.
Winters walked into a bathroom, where several blurred-faced, shapely classic beauties slowly approached, reaching out to undress him. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on novel·fire.net
He was startled and clutched his bathrobe tightly.
Seeing that they couldn't remove Winters' clothes, the beauties leaned in to kiss his cheek.
"Stop it!" Winters desperately leaned back, but there was a wall behind him, pinning him in place.
The beauties began to lick Winters, starting from his chin and slowly moving toward his cheekbones.
The only thought in Winters' mind was, "My God! How can she have so much saliva?"
He reached to wipe away the saliva and then woke up from his dream.
The awakened Winters was scared half to death, nearly casting a "Luminosity Spell" in a panic.
Something he couldn't identify was licking him.
Winters drew his dagger and activated the Luminosity Spell, only to find himself facing a literal horse face.
He recognized the face shape, the color of the fur, the star pattern on the forehead all too well.
"[Language of terror]!" Winters was about to collapse, "How did you get into my tent! Fortuna?!"
What kind of beauty? No wonder there was so much saliva!
The horse gently huffed and nuzzled Winters with its nose.
"I don't have any sugar! How did you escape from the stable?" Winters clambered off his camp bed in distress, "Get out, I'll take you back to the stable!"
Hearing this, Fortuna neighed and shook his head, lifting Winters' entire tent.
The tent pegs were pulled up one by one, and a bone-chilling cold wind swept over Winters' body, taking with it his precious warmth.
Winters couldn't help but shiver uncontrollably from his toes to his chest.
He was genuinely angry.
"You little rascal!" Winters grabbed Fortuna's mane, "Get back to the stable now!"
But Fortuna seemed relentless, biting Winters' blanket and dragging him outside.
The horse's eyes twinkled, as if trying to communicate something.
Fortuna continued to drag Winters outside.
Winters steeled himself, grabbed the blanket to wrap around him, and mounted the horse.
Without a saddle, he rode on the bare back of the horse.
"Go!" he nudged the horse's ribs lightly, "Tell me what you want to say?"
Fortuna ran with Winters out of the camp.
The sentries at the gate saw Centurion Montaigne wrapped in a blanket, riding a saddleless horse, and although they found it strange, they didn't dare to stop him.
Fortuna hadn't run far when Winters understood what he was trying to say.
A light scent of smoke wafted in with the west wind.
"Damn!" Winters' face went pale, "Fire!"
In Bianli, The Paratu army had sent a fire to the White Lion.
Tonight, the White Lion returned the favor.