Free Web NovelChapter 420: Chapter 417: Plan Failed
"I hope the General calls off the attack soon. We can’t keep letting our brothers-in-arms die in these filthy gutters." Paul watched the hand-to-hand combat in the trenches. It was a slow, brutal affair.
For the attackers, the five trenches formed a muddy labyrinth of death where prepared enemies lay in wait around every corner. The narrow passages and the intensifying rain created a double handicap that rendered their long rifles almost useless. The Warriors who entered the trenches had no choice but to detach their bayonets and fight the enemy in a bloody melee.
’We need a new tactic,’ Paul thought, ’one that can slice vertically through the layers of barbed wire and trenches, instead of just being crammed into one spot like we are now.’ He was reminded of his favorite pastry, a mille-feuille—a dessert of layered puff pastry, cream, and fruit. It had to be sliced clean through with a sharp knife; otherwise, trying to take a bite would be just as messy as the infantry’s current predicament.
’To slice through this layered... defense, the ’knife’ needs a good ’blade.’ Something that can break through barbed wire, cross trenches, withstand gunfire, and open a relatively safe path for the troops that follow.’
"Send the Mages to the front? Or the Heavy Knights?" Druao wondered.
In the current campaign, the National Guard had boldly employed skirmisher tactics to maximize their advantage in morale. Combined with the use of radios, they had achieved impressive results in the first assault.
However, by coincidence, the Valois soldiers ran right into "Major Turtle’s" masterpiece. During the assault, the Valois Mages attempted to repeat their old trick and open more breaches, but the now-prepared Empire Mages furiously bombarded them with Shaping Spells before the palms of earth and stone could even land. And then there was that pesky Lightning Bolt. Every time the National Guard was on the verge of breaking through a gap, a bolt would strike, giving the exhausted soldiers a thorough jolt.
And so, the Empire Army’s line stabilized. Some officers even began to think their five-layered fortress was impregnable.
But Major Hench, the paranoid architect of these defenses, the creator of the trenches, disagreed. He couldn’t sit still, even inside the command tent. He chain-smoked hand-rolled cigarettes, the smell of cheap tobacco filling the air.
The General himself also smoked, but he would rather have been inhaling the fine aroma from a high-quality pipe bowl, not secondhand smoke mixed with the damp air.
Fortunately, "Major Turtle" was the man of the hour, so they couldn’t very well throw Hench out of the tent. The General and his staff could only shoot him occasional glances, letting him continue to pace back and forth, puffing away.
Richard now stood with Major Richard Hench, with whom he shared a name, listening in as the General directed the "counterattack." In truth, everyone knew that simply not being overrun by the National Guard today would be a victory in itself.
Finally, Richard Hench dragged the colonel who shared his name outside with him, and everyone else in the tent breathed a collective sigh of relief.
Richard knew why Hench was anxious. The two of them now stood in the rain, and the problem was the very water falling upon them.
Richard Hench explained that because they had rushed construction on the trenches, they hadn’t installed a proper drainage system. With the incessant spring rains of Valois, he continued, flooding in the trenches was inevitable.
No man, no matter how tough, could maintain his combat effectiveness while soaking in mud. What’s more, the weather wasn’t warm, and the cold rain would lead to hypothermia.
Hench pulled out his Pocket Watch. "This battle has been raging for nearly four hours. Other than the wounded who were lucky enough to be evacuated, the General has no reserve troops to rotate out the first wave. Just think about it... fighting for your life in cold, muddy slurry water, with no hot food or drink..."
Richard began to understand Major Hench’s near-paranoid insistence on building the trenches. It wasn’t just a tactical assessment; it was also about how he thought of his men. A qualified general is supposed to "care for his soldiers for the sake of victory." Hench, however, couldn’t bring himself to think that way.
"Perhaps the General is right," Richard said. "Everything you’ve said is just as much of a problem for the enemy. All our army has to do now is hold out for as long as we can, until the enemy gives up and retreats on their own."
"Yes, you and the General are both right." The rain extinguished the cigarette in Hench’s hand, and for a moment his fingers seemed unsure of what to do. After Richard cast a small spell to relight it, Hench took a deep drag. "But don’t forget the National Guard’s unnatural morale."
In an age where it took an average of four hundred bullets to secure a single kill, morale carried immense weight as a deciding factor.
Major Hench had read the books Richard found for him, so he had a basic understanding of the source of the enemy’s morale. However, he believed that on the battlefield, the ebb and flow of morale depended primarily on the tactical situation. Those slogans that "sounded better than a song" only served to raise their "baseline" morale.
Hench exhaled a puff of white smoke. "Right now, both sides are locked in a bitter struggle. At this rate, as the water in the trenches rises, morale on both sides will continue to fall. But we’re fighting a defensive battle. If anything unexpected happens to our main camp, not only will we suffer losses, but it will also be a huge boost to the morale of those Valois people."
What Hench wanted to guard against was exactly what Richard had done when he conquered Moncado Fortress. If the enemy succeeded in a surprise attack, the stalemate would be broken in an instant.
This was precisely why he had pulled Richard aside. The ones most likely to break through the lines and launch a surprise attack on the Empire Army’s rear encampment were Casters. And the only way to guard against a Mage was with another Mage.
Richard understood Hench’s anxiety and continued the line of thought for him. "Even without me, there are still three Middle Level Mages at the command post, so there’s no need to worry about that. The medical area and the quartermaster’s area aren’t high-value targets... In that case, we should report to the General and request that the defenses around the ammunition depot be strengthened."
"Exactly. Let’s hurry."
...
The battle and the rain both seemed to be nearing their end. The National Guard and the Empire Army had both reached their limits.
As more and more able-bodied men were rushed to the battlefield, the guard presence in the Empire Army camp grew increasingly thin.
In front of the ammunition depot, the soldiers originally assigned to patrol duty were now also tasked with transporting supplies. They were exhausted from running back and forth countless times, and they no longer covered the crates with the waterproof tarps as carefully as they had at first.
POP... After the soldiers left with the ammunition, a faint crackle mixed with the sound of the rain. At that same moment, a Caster slipped into the camp. He appeared out of thin air, and the illusory curtain that concealed him made the corner of the ammunition depot look slightly... off.
’Success...’ The infiltrating Caster forced himself to remain calm. He steadied his nerves and tiptoed deeper in, past open crates, stopping when he reached the area where the gunpowder was stored.
Just then, the effect of the Scroll wore off. The curtain that concealed him dissipated, revealing a boy’s anxious face and a uniform caked in mud. He’d even managed to acquire one of the Empire Army’s gray-blue uniforms, though it was a poor fit.
This was Apprentice Juer, a boy with a special talent in the Space System of Magic. If he hadn’t joined the National Guard, he would have been studying at the Tower of Stars, where his talent would have been recognized, allowing him to achieve a level of skill no less than Caroline’s.
He had used his most practiced spell, Soaring, for infiltration and breaking through the lines. A more refined version of Soaring was Mist Step, a displacement spell that was a true test of one’s talent. For now, however, he still needed to use Moonstone Powder to cast it.
The bold Apprentice grabbed another handful of Moonstone Powder from his material pouch. With so little left, he likely wouldn’t be able to make a safe return.
’But it doesn’t matter...’ he thought. There was no one else around. A tiny flame flickered into existence in Juer’s other hand...
"Caught you."
Richard’s voice echoed from behind a tarp. Caught off guard, Juer was struck by a Ray, and a cold numbness spread through his body. The tiny flame, and with it, the Apprentice’s plan, went out.
