Chapter 1476: Chapter 37: Siege (Part 7)
[Magit Island]
[Temporary Ferry Crossing]
The United Provincials’ attack was launched under the cover of morning fog.
The Paratu People accurately predicted this move.
The United Provincials’ first strike wasn’t aimed at Bishop’s Castle, but targeted the “Rebels'” ferry crossing.
The Paratu People also anticipated this strategy.
So when the silhouettes of the United Provincials appeared in the fog, the musketeers of the White Mountain County Infantry Regiment, already in position, didn’t rush to fire, patiently waiting for orders.
Unlike the Paratus who charge into battle amidst thunderous war cries, the United Province Infantry and Monta Infantry share a heritage of valuing silence and discipline as the foundation of victory, never shouting on the battlefield regardless of attack or retreat.
Watching the United Provincials advancing rapidly in silent stealth, the veteran White Mountain County soldiers behind the parapet immediately recognized that the mud-besmeared troops arriving this morning were far from the rookies encountered last night.
In the silence, the gap between the two sides grew ever smaller.
“Close enough, they’re too close,” the newly appointed sergeant Pocho nervously whispered, “Lieutenant.”
Alanni Arthur gently shook his head.
Wait, continue waiting.
Sweat dripped from Pocho’s forehead, slid down his jaw, and shattered upon the parapet.
It wasn’t until the figures of the United Provincials were clearly visible, and Pocho could already see the dark red embers of the matchcord wrapped around their wrists, that the lieutenant’s shout exploded in Pocho’s ear.
“Fire!”
The small drum sounded urgent beats, and the flag used in the Battle of Wailing Valley unfurled at the center of the position.
Pocho cursed and pressed the firing mechanism, unleashing a precise volley with his comrades.
The lead bullets carved paths through the dense fog, like invisible long spears hurled into the bodies of the enemy.
Alanni watched as the vanguard soldier at the forefront of the United Provincials line suddenly toppled over without warning.
In his scope, several other foes staggered, “nailed” in place, yet they uttered not a sound.
Until a sharp whistle blew from behind the fog wall.
The United Provincials’ counterattack quickly followed—a cascade of lead bullets showered the temporary crossing, the wooden fence around the crossing crackling loudly.
Some bullets pierced through the gaps in the fence, flying towards the parapet behind, stirring up clouds of earth.
Alanni, caught off guard, was blinded by the sandy soil, his vision blurred instantly. He collapsed onto the ground, leaned against the parapet, cursing, loudly calling the service soldier’s name.
Sergeant Pocho was startled, quickly propped up the lieutenant, relieved upon realizing the lieutenant’s eyes were merely fouled.
He handed the lieutenant to the service soldier, picked up the matchlock gun, bellowing as he reloaded, continuing to shoot hateful bullets at the United Provincials.
The service soldier hastily unscrewed the canteen, helping the lieutenant cleanse his eyes.
Unable to see, Alanni was nearly driven mad with anxiety.
Yet simultaneously he felt fortunate, grateful they had scrambled last night to repair the fence around the temporary crossing, otherwise, what would be splattering now wouldn’t be lead and wood, but blood and flesh.
But the next second, a crisp shattering sound reached the lieutenant’s ear.
Regaining vision, Alanni turned to see the side, Pocho, who was vehemently cursing the United Provincials just moments ago, now had his skull opened up. He lay on the ground, his head unnaturally tilted back, his lifeless eyes widely open, staring blankly at the sky.
Alanni merely froze for a moment; Pocho’s body was dragged away, his brain matter spilling like yogurt, another musketeer promptly replacing him.
Alanni stared at the bone fragments on the ground for half a second, then pushed the service soldier aside, picked up Pocho’s matchlock gun.
“Keep firing!” Alanni shouted, pressing the firing mechanism, “Kill them all!”
As both sides continued shooting, the smoke further obscured visibility of the battlefield.
The White Mountain County soldiers within the temporary crossing could hardly see beyond the fence, only firing blindly.
Using the cover of smoke and fog, United Province engineers reached the front of the fence.
A horrifying dull thud echoed, as if the United Provincials weren’t chopping wood with axes, but were cleaving at the flesh of this position.
“Protect the fence!” Alanni drew his sword, shouting anxiously.
The battle around the temporary crossing immediately escalated into the fiercest stage of close-quarters combat.
The Paratu People employed every weapon available, killing the United Provincials beyond the fence at any cost.
The United Provincials were doing the same.
A White Mountain County soldier had just stabbed a United Provincial, only to be felled by a firearm at close range the very next moment.
The United Province engineers were also continuously shot execution-style by the Paratu in close-quarter firefights.
Even distant Bishop’s Castle echoed with cries and gunshots, following the original setup, the musketeers at Bishop’s Castle should have attacked the United Provincials’ flank when they advanced on the crossing.
But the fog was too thick; despite the distance between Bishop’s Castle and the crossing being under two hundred meters, neither side could see the other’s situation.
Moreover, judging from the sounds, Bishop’s Castle was engaged in combat too.
The isolated and unsupported defenders of the crossing were forced to deploy their last-resort weapon—the iron-shelled grenades—in the first round.
This weapon, provided by the Iron Peak County Arsenal, demonstrated its power in River Valley Village.
And the White Mountain County soldiers who amassed substantial battle experience were even more adept at using this weapon than the Iron Peak County folks.
They cut the fuse of the grenade down to mere finger length, denying the enemy any chance to extinguish the flame. Some particularly skilled grenadiers could even make the grenades explode in mid-air.