plumnovel #333 - Battle of Moncruz (IV)
#333 - Battle of Moncruz (IV)
Standing on a makeshift observation platform, Heerwin gazed into the distance at the three-story fortress.
The fortress was composed of five protruding corners, unlike normally connected city walls, it was discontinuous.
In the patrol passages on the fortress, soldiers in uniform patrolled back and forth, holding long spears and holy rifles.
Each protruding corner had a dedicated gun platform for firing without blind spots.
The nearly two-meter thick wall was exceptionally solid, made of unknown materials.
Whenever he thought of this, Heerwin couldn't help but click his tongue.
After yesterday's defeat, although he believed that Alex's meddling was a factor, the real reason was the solid walls and continuous firing.
A look of confusion mixed with anger appeared on Heerwin's face, he still remembered the scene.
On that khaki-colored wall, there were dense firing ports, with iron pipes sticking out, and sharp whistling sounds rang out from time to time.
Even though the brave knights had braved the devil's wind and rushed to the front of the wall, they still couldn't break through their thick walls.
In the flying lead bullets, the warriors rushing in the front fell one by one, but those cowards fled back instead.
Touching the wound on his stomach that was oozing blood, Heerwin finally understood why the knights stationed on the border had such a peculiar attitude towards spring-loaded rifles.
The biggest core of knights dominating the battlefield is their ability to maintain agile movements and ample physical strength while in heavy armor.
Impenetrable defense, ability to run, and inexhaustible stamina, allowed them to remain undefeated most of the time, even when facing countless peasants in a human-wave tactic.
This noble composure was the confidence that knights had when facing farmers.
But since the spring-loaded rifle came out, everything has changed.
It can not only penetrate armor but is also a ranged weapon, which led to the near-complete annihilation of the first two advantages of knights in field battles.
The last advantage left was stamina, but the Salvation Army didn't need to consume too much stamina to use spring-loaded rifles. When the holy power was used up, they could just pick up their armed swords and start fighting.
However, this doesn't mean that they are completely helpless. Heerwin slowly retracted his gaze. On both sides of the earthen platform, thousands of infantrymen were slowly passing by.
They didn't have uniform military uniforms, their clothes were tattered, and clothes pieced together from various colors of cloth fluttered in the wind, appearing disorganized.
Among them were more than 2,000 Night Watch guards and armored sergeants, as well as more than 2,000 ordinary old and young farmers who were pulled from the fields to the battlefield.
The gloomy sky seemed like a torrential rain could fall at any time, and the low-hanging clouds were like their mood, depressing and sultry.
"I don't know what your devilish things consume, maybe it's blood or maybe it's lifespan, but it can't be endless!"
Heerwin confidently raised his head. Rather than letting the devil's wind blow on the noble knights, it was better to blow on these lowly farmers.
Heerwin drew his knight's sword and pointed forward: "Charge!"
…………
Swaying heads leaned together stickily, sharpened wooden sticks and stone hammers and axes waved together with tattered flags.
Looking at this posture alone, one would think it was the primitive era.
Declama and the stewards hid on a small slope closest to the two-story fortress, just able to see the peasant soldiers charging in two groups of thousands through the top of the wall.
They were crowded together like a flood, with armored sergeants at the rear, Night Watch guards pushing the back rows of farmers, and the back rows of farmers pushing the front rows of farmers.
Declama, who was on the battlefield for the first time, and several stewards were so frightened that they couldn't even speak. They huddled together like quails, not even daring to peek out to watch.
They usually only watched battles from afar on the edge of the battlefield, how could they have such face-to-face stimulation like today.
Declama was slightly better, he knew that the battlefield was changing rapidly, and the opportunity to escape would only appear once or twice.
Even if he was afraid, he still had to stare and watch.
The fierce running peasant soldiers, the waving weapons, and the armored sergeants and Night Watch guards at the rear, when they rushed over, it seemed as if they were aiming at themselves.
Disordered and heavy footsteps approached constantly, Declama breathed heavily, expressing the fear and tension in his heart.
"Prepare!"
"Aim!"
One command after another sounded, Declama heard clearly, it was the squad leader who had ordered him to be dragged away earlier.
Beside the squad leader, fifty holy riflemen holding spring-loaded rifles rested their gun barrels on the inverted triangular firing gap.
They turned their heads, squinted one eye, and aimed at the charging peasant soldiers.
Although the trajectory of the spring-loaded rifle was very random, the holy riflemen would still aim, at least to ensure that it wouldn't deviate too far.
"Fire!"
"Praise the Holy Wind!"
In the neat praise of the Holy Wind, Declama saw in a daze that a whirlwind actually rolled up near the holy riflemen, and everyone's hair and nearby grass blades were shaking.
The front row of peasant soldiers charging towards them instantly fell straight down by a dozen.
Their falling bodies even tripped their teammates behind them, and a group of people fell down like dominoes.
In the cries of the peasant soldiers, five peasant soldiers were trampled to death by their teammates under the dust and straw sandals in a short while.
In the cries of the peasant soldiers, Declama could clearly see the actions of the holy riflemen.
It was just an iron pipe, an iron box, and a wooden stock. It didn't even have a bowstring, just twisted the small box twice.
But the sound, light, and killing power seemed like a curse wind blown out by a demon.
"Devil's wind..." Declama murmured, then he immediately slapped his mouth, "It should be Holy Wind! It's Holy Wind! Don't learn a lesson."
After firing the first shot, the holy riflemen took a step back neatly, giving way to the spearmen in the back row, and began to reload the holy rifles.
Sticking the spears out of the crenellations, the battle monks neatly raised the spears, aiming at the charging peasant soldiers.
But before their spearheads touched blood, the sound of "bang bang" came from the second floor above.
Blooms of blood bloomed again from the peasant soldiers, and the cries and tragic casualties (more than thirty) instantly made the remaining thousands of peasant soldiers lose their desire to fight.
They cried for their parents and mothers and bypassed from both sides, running towards the rear.
"Who let off the gun!" Momri's stern roar sounded from the second floor, "The second floor is not allowed to fire guns, save holy power, whoever dares to use it again, be careful I won't be polite."
Looking at the messy peasant soldiers running away in all directions, a steward asked Declama full of hope: "Is it over?"
Declama shook his head in pain: "Not yet, how can Lord Knight give up after only one attack?"
Sure enough, as Declama said, less than fifteen minutes later, the second batch of hundreds of peasant soldiers, driven by knights and armored sergeants, changed direction and charged towards Munkrus Fortress.
Still, before they got close, they were directly repelled by the holy riflemen in another direction.
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Before the holy riflemen had any rest, the third batch of hundreds of peasant soldiers had already launched an attack, and the previously scattered peasant soldiers were gathered again to prepare for the fourth round of attack.
The fifth round, the sixth round, the seventh round...
As Heerwin expected, the Salvation Army was tenacious because of the fortress, but also bound by the fortress, unable to pursue and counterattack, and unable to expand the results of the battle.
If they dared to launch a counterattack, the transcendent knight at the rear would immediately rush out and slaughter the battle monks who had lost the protection of the fortress.
After wave after wave of attacks, the Salvation Army, which had fallen into a passive state, began to be a little overwhelmed.
Most of the holy riflemen had only one or two shots of holy power left, sitting on the edge of the earthen slope closing their eyes to meditate and rest, and the front line was replaced by melee spearmen.
"Puff—Sizzle—"
The sound of spears piercing flesh and blood continued to sound, and corpses fell from the fortress wall.
Grip the gun barrel, rotate the right hand forward and stab, insert it into the peasant soldier's unprotected throat, and then lightly pull the gun back to its original position.
The Salvation Army spearmen were like machines, constantly stabbing and retracting, stabbing and retracting...
Everyone was like a wooden puppet produced according to the "Soldier's Holy Code" design drawing, taking lives in an assembly line manner.
"Ouch, what are you doing!" In the originally neat assassination team, a recruit who had been training for two and a half months was knocked down by his companion and complained loudly.
"Hurry up, hurry up!" The Night Watch guard hiding in the peasant soldiers was overjoyed. He stepped on the shoulders of the peasant soldiers and suddenly climbed over the high wall, slashing down at the holy rifleman next to him with a sword.
The holy rifleman raised his spring-loaded rifle to block, sparks flew, he retreated two steps, fell to the ground, and the gun barrel cracked.
The Night Watch guard did not pursue, but waved his long sword, taking advantage of the close-quarters combat, and killed the new recruit spearman, clearing a space around the gap.
Behind him, seven or eight Night Watch guards climbed over the high wall, waving half-swords and round shields, slashing at the surrounding battle monks.
In an instant, seven or eight spearmen and holy riflemen fell, and the surrounding squad leaders rushed over with spearmen and holy riflemen.
But the passage was narrow after all, and the area became a bit chaotic, and they failed to organize a defense in time.
"Bang!"
It was still a retired lame veteran who picked up the holy rifle and shot the Night Watch guard who was slashing the sappers in the head.
The companion who had just climbed up the wall behind the Night Watch guard had blood flowers burst out on his forehead and fell straight down.
"Damn goat!" The Night Watch guard was startled, turned around, and rushed towards the lame veteran with a ferocious expression.
"Holy Father is above!"
Throwing away the spring-loaded rifle, drawing out the armed sword, despite having a lame leg, the veteran still shouted and limped forward.
"Fall down!"
At the critical moment, Zhuerdan's shout sounded from behind, and the veteran's body involuntarily fell to the ground.
Continuous lead bullets were fired, and the few Night Watch guards rushing in front of him had several blood holes appear on their bodies before they could react.
Beside Zhuerdan, there were a dozen holy riflemen who had just been called up.
Taking advantage of the fear period when the enemy was still being shocked, the several spearmen led by the squad leaders finally broke free from the chaos and rushed up.
They rushed two steps, using inertia to eject the spear and stab it out, the blade rubbed against the chain mail, and instantly entered the bodies of the remaining Night Watch guards.
Fresh blood flowed down from the corners of their mouths and chests, and the few remaining Night Watch guards made inexplicable sounds of "gurgling" in their throats and fell to the ground on their backs.
"Clean up the corpses, medics, drag the wounded down, fill the position! What are you looking at?" Giving orders to the surrounding squad leaders, Zhuerdan walked while frowning, this was the second time the Night Watch guards had broken through.
"Brother Zhuerdan!"
Zhuerdan raised his head, but saw Momri sticking half of his body out from the second floor: "Brother Zhuerdan, change shifts!"
"Is there enough time?"
"I'll fire a few shots and drive them back, and then we'll change, peasant soldiers are also people, they can't keep charging."
"Okay!" Zhuerdan didn't hesitate much and directly blew the whistle.
"Repel this wave! Change shifts! Change shifts!"