Chapter 1477: Chapter 37: Siege (7)_2
Facing the fierce offensive from the United Provincials, Alanni Arthur and his grenadiers threw iron-cased grenades outside the fence like throwing stones.
The deafening explosions erupted continuously, and the United Provincials’ sappers were blown to pieces.
The shockwave rolled over, scattering limbs with the dirt into the sky. The mist was constantly pushed away, only for new, scorching gunpowder smoke to burst forth.
Finally, unable to withstand the horrific casualties, the United Provincials retreated from around the fence.
The painful groans of the dying could be heard amid the mist.
“Are you starting to cry out too?” Alanni, with bloodshot eyes and tears streaming, shouted into the unyielding gunpowder smoke, “United Provincials?!”
In response to him were a dozen or so crystal-clear glass jars.
Each was filled with pure, colorless liquid, surrounded by flames, emerging from the mist, tracing elegant arcs in the air, landing inside the fence.
“Get away!” Alanni pulled aside the subordinate who was gasping while supporting his knees, shouting hoarsely, “Liquid Fire!!!”
Before he finished speaking, a liquid fire had already landed on the head of a White Mountain County soldier who hadn’t yet recovered from the slaughter.
With a crisp shattering sound, the soldier hit directly by the liquid fire instantly turned into a human torch.
The soldier, engulfed in flames, rolled frantically on the ground, making screams that sent chills down everyone present.
The comrade next to him tried to help extinguish the fire, but the flames couldn’t be doused, and instead, their own clothes caught fire.
Liquid fire landed elsewhere, flowing like liquid in every direction.
The open ground behind the fence was rapidly covered by flames, leaving no place to step.
The scorching flames kept people from approaching, and White Mountain County soldiers fled from the fire scene like escaping demons, rolling and crawling.
Alanni rushed to the soldier consumed by liquid fire, quickly taking off his coat, just about to cover the soldier, but was pulled away by a strong force on his belt.
“Watch out! Lieutenant!” The service soldier’s voice was already high-pitched with urgency, “Here they come again!”
Another dozen jars flew out of the mist, shattering near the fence, instantly turning the already battered south side into a wall of flames.
However, the United Provincials hadn’t finished using the liquid fire; another round of throwing commenced, this time aiming further inside the position.
Alanni realized something bad was about to happen, frantically shouting, “Move the grenades away!”
But it was too late, a liquid fire had already landed in the wooden box filled with grenades.
Several breaths that felt like a lifetime later, a dazzling flare exploded inside the dock.
Empty grenade boxes flew up, full boxes shattered, heavy grenades were sent flying in every direction by the shockwave, some failed to explode, some were ignited by the fire.
In Alanni’s desperate gaze, fatal red glows burst once again.
…
Southeast of the temporary dock, fifty meters away, was a completed temporary battery.
The battery was made of a triangular wooden frame filled with earth, simple but sufficient to withstand musket fire.
The battery was about two hundred and fifty meters from Bishop’s Castle, just out of accurate musket range but within effective cannon range.
The battery was only fifty meters from the Rebels’ temporary dock.
Setting up a cannon at such short range was almost like pointing the cannon’s muzzle at the Rebels’ heads.
Colonel William Lodewijk lowered his eyes, tilted his head to listen, confirming that the continuous explosions were coming from the enemy’s position.
“What’s going on?” Colonel Lodewijk asked with a frown.
Colonel Montekucoli, who was directing the cannon into position, turned his head, thought for a moment, and uncertainly speculated, “Could it be that the ammunition wagon exploded? If so, we’re lucky.”
“I never count on luck,” Lodewijk said coldly, “Colonel.”
“I used to be as confident as you, Colonel,” Montekucoli squinted, deliberately dragging out the word Colonel, “but now I believe good luck is the greatest skill.”
“Get the cannon ready as soon as possible,” Lodewijk, unwilling to spar verbally with Cornelius’s men, said, “Let me see if you ‘elite’ teachers have any skills besides good luck.”
“Don’t worry,” Montekucoli retorted, “You complete your mission, and I’ll complete mine. Have your men withdraw. Once the fog clears, we’ll start bombarding the Rebels’ position.”
The two stared at each other like two bulls with locked horns, face to face, for a long time, and the surrounding officers worried that the two officers’ foreheads might collide at any second, but dared not intervene.
Ultimately, Colonel Lodewijk nodded first, summoned the messenger, and issued a reorganization order.
The cannon battery was briefly silent.
Until Colonel Ludwick remarked, “Actually, that kid on the other side is quite impressive, correctly judged our main attack direction, and even guessed right the timing of our attack.”
“They understand us as much as we understand them.”
“Understanding is one thing, decision-making is another. You artillery guys always like to confuse the two.”
“How can one decide without understanding?”
Colonel Ludwick did not want to debate and so silence fell once more.
“Given time,” the infantry colonel spoke up, “maybe that kid across the way would be more capable than us.”
“Yes,” the artillery colonel sighed lightly, “but unfortunately, he won’t have that chance.”
…
On the west bank of the River Shijian, Woods Frank stood by the shore, staring intently in the direction of Magit Island.
The fog was dense, obscuring everything from view.
The fierce gunfire and explosions had now ceased.
Woods constantly gnawed on his nails, the nail of his thumb had already bitten down to the flesh, yet he remained oblivious.
“Should we send reinforcements to the island?”
This question was driving him to the brink of madness.
But this time, someone made the decision for him.
The White Mountain County troops on Magit Island had taken the initiative to cut the crossing ropes.
…
The fog dissipated, and the sky cleared.
William Lodewijk and Raymond Montecuccoli were surprised to find that the rebels had withdrawn from the ferry and completely retreated to the Bishop’s Castle.
The ferry positions had become mere empty shells, leaving only the charred remnants of explosions everywhere.
And on the beach, whirlpools formed by stained blood.
…
[Camp of the White Mountain County Infantry Regiment]
“This is the situation,” Woods Frank said, his face pale, “The United Provincials cut our connection with Bishop’s Castle. It was I who sent Arthur and his men into a trap…”
Woods stood up, his nose twitching slightly, he fought back tears as he bowed deeply, “It’s my incompetence… I am deeply grateful you could come to take over.”
In the tent, Richard Mason, who had hurried through day and night, felt completely at a loss.
Because he was only there to deliver supplies.
“No! Please don’t!” Mason jumped off the chair as though he’d stepped on a mousetrap, “I’m not here to contend for command of the siege at Kingsfort with you.”
“Do you think the command of this siege,” Woods countered, “is something worth fighting for?”
Mason was practically in tears: “Then why are you pushing it onto me?”
“Because you are the most suitable person,” Woods said firmly.
“I… I’m not,” Mason found himself unable to argue, “Winters is the right person, I… I don’t have his decisiveness.”
“Then where is Major Montaigne?” Woods bluntly asked.
“Uh,” Mason deflated instantly, “he’s gone to the Newly Reclaimed Outlands.”
“So, you are the most suitable person,” Woods, like a drowning man grasping at a lifeline, refused to give up, “And you are the highest-ranking officer from the new artillery in the new army, you should be the one to command.”
Mason was indeed stumped, because he was, in fact, the highest-ranking artillery officer within the new army—though just a major.
The key was, he sensed that Woods Frank’s mental state was very poor, even on the verge of collapse.
Mason bit his lip, grabbed his hat, and lightly patted his junior’s shoulder with feigned ease, “Let’s go—let’s take a look at the terrain first.”
Woods Frank seemed to have all his strength drained from him, tears flowing as he bowed to his senior.