Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

There were no campfires in the valley, nor were there any tents. On a small flat area at the bottom of the valley, Iron Peak County cavalrymen lay sleeping in their clothes, leaving no room to set foot.

However, the cavalrymen were in a deep sleep; even if a sentry accidentally stepped on them, they would just turn over and continue sleeping.

In the corner of the camp, the sentry found the commanders of this cavalry unit: Vashka Morozov and Pierre Mitchell.

The sentry immediately reported the urgent military situation, but the reaction of the two commanders was unexpectedly calm. After a brief report, they instructed the sentry to continue surveillance.

"Really." Vashka yawned and searched for lice in his clothes, speaking only after the sentry had gone far: "How does he still have the mind to plunder the common people?"

"If Felter is determined to retreat to Maplestone City," Pierre sketched on the map, his complexion poor but his eyes sharp, "he will need even more supplies."

Vashka sniffed hard, muttering under his breath, "I say, you shouldn't have let those deserters report back. When the Centurion returns, couldn't we squeeze him any way we want? Now he's panicking and wants to run, what do we do?"

Pierre rolled up the map and answered calmly, "Letting them learn of the main force's defeat can demoralize them."

"Fine, fine, all up to you." Vashka flicked his clothes a few times and put them back on, urging as if pleading, "Just tell me what to do."

"If Felter wants to run, he'll need our permission." Pierre carefully put the rolled-up map into a sealed leather tube and then carefully stored it away.

After this, Pierre stood up, brushing off dirt and grass stems from his clothes, "No matter what, let's first wipe out this small force of his. Since he's daring enough to send troops out, it would be impolite of us not to accept them."

Vashka grinned, placing his finger to his lips and blowing a loud whistle.

The light cavalrymen, who couldn't be awakened even by being stepped on, leapt up at the sound of the whistle, dashed to their warhorses, and then led them out of the valley—to avoid disturbing the grazing horse herd.

Pierre silently counted, and in less than a hundred breaths, his light cavalry were ready to move out.

He waved his hand, and the rumble of hooves sounded outside the valley, piercing through the coniferous forest, startling flocks of birds into flight, and eventually dissipating between the green mountains and the sky.

...

The useful troops under Alder Felter's command were already few.

Therefore, those selected into patrol teams, actually grain scavenging squads, were the most combat-ready soldiers in Felter's ranks.

Pierre, Vashka, and every Iron Peak County light cavalryman knew this clearly, and no one dared to slack off.

So when the light cavalry saw the white flag fluttering above the enemy from afar, they felt an odd sense of dissatisfaction, like punching into cotton.

The Iron Peak County light cavalry had not yet taken positions, and the forty-soldier grain scavenging squad was already in formation;

Before the Iron Peak County light cavalry could encircle them on all sides, the grain scavenging squad had already surrendered their weapons, neatly forming two circles.

The officer leading the patrol squad was sitting on a large stone, waving at Pierre and Vashka from afar.

Pierre and Vashka repeatedly confirmed there was no ambush before leisurely riding their horses over to the officer.

"Excuse me," Pierre, having never encountered such a situation, did not know if there were any special formalities, so he put on a businesslike attitude, "Do you wish to surrender?"

The officer leading the patrol squad was a dignified young man, around the same age as Pierre.

He looked as comfortable as if sitting in a soft chair in his own living room, perched on a large stone by the river, he said casually, "Yes, surrender, no more fighting. Just give me some water to drink."

Pierre and Vashka exchanged glances, the former nodded, the latter unbuckled his water pouch and tossed it to the other.

The young officer caught the water pouch, took a delightful gulp, and then looked up at Pierre, "Do you have anything to eat?"

Pierre stared at the young officer for a while, and the young officer blinked his innocent big eyes back at him.

In the end, Pierre nodded, and Vashka took a paper packet out of his saddlebag and tossed it to the officer.

The young officer couldn't wait to open the packet and found dried horse meat inside; he asked with a frown, "That's all you have for me?"

Pierre replied with knitted brows, "That's what we are eating too."

The young officer stopped complaining, struggling to tear off a small piece of dried horse meat, chewing it vigorously, and mumbled, "What will you do with these prisoners? You're not going to kill them all, are you?"

Pierre saw from the corner of his eye that his subordinates had surrounded the soldiers in brown uniforms and answered truthfully, "Follow the road to the northwest, over the Qingyin Pass, there is a supply station. We'll give you some food first, and then head to Changhai Town where there's a Prisoner Camp."

The young officer nodded, seemingly in acceptance of this arrangement, and asked again, "Did Winters Montagne really win?"

"Of course," Pierre answered without hesitation.

The young officer looked up at Pierre, "Really?"

Pierre did not shy away from eye contact, "Really."

The young officer sighed, stood up, handed back the dried horse meat packet to Vashka, but his eyes were on Pierre, "Take me to see Captain Montaigne."

Vashka snorted a laugh, but the next moment his expression changed abruptly, seemingly about to berate the brazen young officer in front of him.

But Pierre raised his hand to stop Vashka.

Pierre dismounted, looking the young officer in the eye, "I will convey your request to the Civil Guard Officer. Whether you can see the Civil Guard Officer or not is for the Civil Guard Officer to decide. I am Pierre Gerardnovich Mitchell, the appointed cavalry commander of the Iron Peak County Garrison."

Such a courteous and proper reply took the young officer by surprise, his face changing from astonishment to puzzlement and finally to a look of seriousness.

He did not offer his identity according to protocol, rather, he frowned and crossed his arms, questioning Pierre, "Since Captain Montaigne's main forces have not yet returned, why did you induce Major Felter to withdraw to Maplestone City ahead of time?"

The young officer paused for a moment, "Lieutenant Bato?"