Free Web NovelChapter 417: Chapter 414: The Quagmire Battle
Richard used his Storage Ring to quickly grab the square box and the radio components, then made his escape.
The Valois officer and communications soldier couldn’t comprehend what was happening. They inhaled the poison mist, and soon their mouths, noses, and even throats began to burn intensely. Their eyes streamed with tears, refusing to open. More terrifying still, as the rain fell, a strange chill invaded their bodies. Their movements slowed, and their lives began to draw to a close.
Unable to scream a warning and powerless to resist, the officer felt a military knife pierce his blue and white uniform. It plunged into the left-center of his chest. The entry was skillful, the blade turned sideways to avoid getting stuck on the ribs.
Richard pulled out the knife, thinking to himself: ’It’s raining. The poisoned Death Cloud Skill won’t last long...’ He slipped away, and by the time he made his way back to his own side, the proud Bayern Hunter was gone.
Just behind him, at the spot where the Death Cloud Skill had been cast, all sorts of Magic spells converged from every direction. They came from the Valois Mages embedded in the army, who had immediately launched their attack after getting a target.
Fortunately, Richard had judged the strange captured object to be highly valuable, so he didn’t linger to fight or confirm the officer’s identity and status. He retreated toward the rear along the edge of the battlefield, where the infantry from both sides were already entangled in a chaotic melee.
The National Guard attacked in skirmish formation. Their uniform style was a holdover from the era of the Sun King. Even spattered with mud, the striking blue of their jackets and their white linings were still visible. Most conspicuous were their bright red trousers which, when mixed with mud, turned the deep purple of venous blood.
The main force of the Empire Army was clad in grayish-blue. Once the turf was churned up and little grass remained, they blended in better with the earth. All the infantrymen wore round helmets. These small iron caps lacked a wide brim but featured a spike on top.
The difference in the two armies’ uniforms reflected a difference in philosophy. Valois believed that vibrant uniforms helped bolster a soldier’s courage, a point the Istanis also endorsed. The Empire Army, however, had learned from practical combat experience and opted for low-visibility uniforms and helmets that protected the head without an obstructive brim.
Perhaps it also hinted at a subtle difference in the two nations’ steel production.
The front line was shifting in a seesaw battle, to the Empire’s disadvantage. After a brief observation, Richard ducked back into the bushes beside the battlefield, using the vegetation as cover to return behind his own lines.
And just like that, the radio—on the battlefield for the first time—fell into the hands of the Empire Army. Faced with the complex device, however, they couldn’t figure out how to use it for the time being. On the other hand, the Mage who had originally been trying to call down lightning had recorded a series of signals.
"Long-short... long-long-short..." In the command post, the technical sergeant and the Mages looked at each other in confusion. Richard, having witnessed the communications soldier using it, reported everything he had seen in detail. Combining his report with that of the Mage who detected the signals, the general and his staff officers determined that this was how the enemy was rapidly transmitting battlefield commands.
"It has a longer range than the Communication Skill, and it’s more covert. Unfortunately, it seems they’re using a system of codes and encryption. Even if we can intercept these ticking signals, we won’t be able to decipher them anytime soon."
Since telephones had not yet been developed, the experimental military radio still operated by sending and receiving telegrams. This actually increased the difficulty for the Empire Army to crack the radio’s secrets. If it had been plain text communication, the commands would have been completely exposed in the common tongue.
The Alchemy Department and the Poincare Great Mage had chosen to deploy shortwave signals on the battlefield. Each unit’s radio had low power, charged by hand-cranking a lead-acid battery. In the command post, however, three large silver-mercury battery packs powered the main station, allowing it to override the signals of other units when transmitting the highest-level commands.
In Valois military tradition, a superior’s order was absolute, so the radio’s current characteristics suited the army’s needs. The Empire Army, on the other hand, was a professional force where junior officers were better trained and granted more authority to make flexible judgments on the battlefield.
"If we can’t crack it right away, don’t waste brainpower on it. We’d be better off figuring out how to stop them from using it again." After making his decision, the general told the lightning-summoning Mage to proceed with his plan.
"Report! The second line has been broken, and we’ve lost the high ground on the left flank!"
"Organize a feint attack on the lost high ground to draw the enemy’s attention. All other units, prepare to retreat... Fall back to the ’turtle shell’!" the general ground out between clenched teeth. The fortifications built by the "Turtle Richard Hench" sapper corps were naturally called the "turtle shell." Originally a derogatory nickname from other officers, these temporary earthworks had now become their best hope for defense.
’I hope it’s as sturdy as a real turtle shell!’ the general prayed silently.
...
"Watch the needle! You’re going too fast!" Pascal reminded Paul to take care of the new equipment.
They had captured the critical Right Hill 2. Comrades from the artillery battalion were pushing quick-firing guns and grapeshot cannons up the slope to defend against any counterattack from the Empire Army trying to retake the position. Artillery alone couldn’t hold the hill, of course, so Paul needed to request reinforcements from command.
It seemed the more urgent the situation, the more likely something would go wrong. For instance, they discovered the battery was dead.
Paul had to remove the battery from the radio, attach a hand crank, and generate power to charge it. To protect the circuitry, the cranking speed was limited—not too fast, not too slow. The needle on the simple ammeter had to stay within a specified range.
Pascal guided Paul while flipping through the manual, which made his junior brother impatient. "Stop nagging! I wish I could just use my Electric Claw." As he spoke, electricity began to arc across Paul’s right hand.
"Then you’d better just crank it fast. That’s better than an uncontrolled magical current frying the circuits." Pascal finally relented, letting Paul go all out and charge it frantically. The silver-mercury batteries at the command post were charged with Magic, but the battery capacity and circuit materials were worlds apart. If Paul really hit it with his claw, the artillery battalion’s radio would be toast.
After connecting it, however, they found the main station was broadcasting a repeating message.
"Station... 3 missing. Suspending... communications?" Paul’s face turned green. Of all the times for this to happen. He cursed, "Can’t they switch to the backup code?"
Pascal hurriedly flipped through the manual. "When Mages are on the battlefield, anti-Divination ciphers must be used."
Looking down from the high ground, the Mages from both sides were already fighting. The battlefield was intermittently wracked by small-scale attacks like flurries of stones, thunderstorms, and blasts of ice and fire.
"Then let’s use the anti-Divination cipher..."
Pascal spread the manual open for Paul to see. It was two blank pages, as if to say, "To be continued." The senior brother shrugged. "It’s an experimental device, so the manual is a work in progress, too. Besides, I’m guessing the question of what kind of cipher can actually counter Divination is still a topic of research."
"The Alchemy Department! They’ve jeopardized the entire operation! They should be court-martialed! When I get back to the Royal Capital, I’m going to shove Snow’s head on the Gallows!"
"And what about Master Poincare’s head? Think you can handle that?" Pascal saw enemies already charging up the high ground. As he spoke, he snatched up the short-barreled shotgun he carried, but when he pulled the trigger, it sprayed oil instead of shot.
"Senior brother, modifying standard-issue equipment without authorization is against regulations!"
"Don’t be so rigid. I’m just playing to my strengths on the battlefield." Pascal put his gun away, looking at the results with satisfaction: his Oily Skill, combined with the rain, had successfully sent the climbing enemies tumbling back to the foot of the hill.
