Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 825 - 83 Sightseeing

Chapter 825: Chapter 83 Sightseeing Chapter 825: Chapter 83 Sightseeing Revodan, the southern city.

“Learning so quickly.” Mason watched the earth thrown up by the Terdun people, his mood heavy as he thought, “Winters was right, the intangible dissemination of technology is a greater threat than tangible losses of troops and generals.”

The artillery captain thought this way, but his emotions didn’t show.

He turned his head and sternly reprimanded his ashen-faced subordinates, “Where are the cannons? Why are they not yet in position?”

The Terdun people chose to approach from the west of the city by digging trenches, while Mason’s cannons had been previously positioned at the southern gate.

The third generation “wooden cannons,” to prevent burst barrels, adopted a three-layer structure of iron, hide, and wood, making the barrels heavy and difficult to transport.

The questioned temporary sergeant looked left and right, hesitating for a moment before confirming that the Civil Guard Officer was indeed speaking to him.

...

Sweat broke out on the sergeant’s forehead, “I… I don’t know…”

“Then what are you standing around here for?!” Mason suddenly raised his voice and yelled.

Not just the questioned sergeant, but all the surrounding militiamen were startled into a tremor.

The sergeant started to leave, feeling he should salute first. But he was not a military man, just a temporarily appointed citizen of Revodan; he didn’t even know if he was entitled to salute.

The sergeant’s mind went blank, and in the end, he gave a half-hearted knee-bend of a salute and turned to run away.

The sergeant’s dozen or so militiamen looked at each other and hastily followed suit.

Mason kept a stern face and continued to inspect the city walls. He scolded the panicked laborers, whipped the cowards hiding behind walls and occasionally gave some praise to the brave.

Although no one liked to be insulted and yelled at, for some reason, a strange sense of security spread among the militiamen.

It was too quiet, too quiet on the battlefield.

Besides the sound of the St. George River flowing, there was only the sound of the Terdun people digging.

The majority of the militiamen standing behind the city walls had dry mouths and cool palms, even able to hear their own carotid arteries throbbing.

Under these conditions, hearing the Civil Guard Officer’s robust scolding, a few militiamen were even moved to tears.

The gentle and quiet Civil Guard Officer had become a walking curse machine. On the one hand, this was deliberate on Mason’s part, and on the other hand, it was because his mood was indeed not good.

In his last encounter with the Terdon Tribe, their level of siege warfare was still stuck thirty years in the past:

Shield carts, siege ladders, catapults; filling bags with earth, digging trenches, even absurdly trying to level the bastion with human lives.

The result, of course, was a resounding defeat, thousands of Terdun Cavalry were crushed by the teeth of the small fortress manned by a mere thousand men.

In this defense of Revodan, the city walls were much weaker compared to the former Bridgehead Fortress, yet the Terdun people showed a greatly improved technical capability.

They began using specialized earth-moving tools—this fact alone made Mason feel more threatened than using sheepskin bags to carry dirt.

What was more surprising was yet to come: carts arrived continuously, the Terdun people unloaded four cannons after some effort.

In order to unload these four cannons, the Terdun people assembled a small crane.

Mason could tell at a glance that the enemy was using six-pound long cannons. He could not mistake them, as these were the models he had used in the battle at Bianli.

When they retreated from Bianli, all captured artillery was secretly nailed shut and sunk in the river.

Where did these cannons come from? Whether the Terdun people dredged them up from the river’s bed after interrogating captives, or if they were newly acquired, Mason did not know.

But one thing was certain—the Terdun people now had cannons.

As for whether the Terdun people had the ability to use the cannons?

“We’ll know soon enough,” Mason thought.

The temporarily appointed militia captains were summoned by Mason for a meeting.

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Among the militia captains, there were original village and town leaders, Revodan city council members, estate owners, and common farmers—people of influence elected by the militiamen themselves.

From this perspective, the Revodan militia naturally possessed a certain level of cohesion, as the commanders at all levels were elected from the bottom up.

“Officers” did not need to earn their authority through actions; they were appointed “officers” because they already had authority.

The bottom-up structure had its drawbacks—the highest commander lacked binding power over the officer corps, after all, the Civil Guard Officer was not elected.

To harness the troops’ cohesion, it was prerequisite that commanders at all levels had to set an example, which was exactly what caused Mason the most headache.

After the initial surprise attack failed, the Terdun people did not launch any attacks on the second or third day.

However, the psychological pressure from their digging of trenches and steadily approaching was perhaps greater than a direct assault on the walls.

Especially as news of the Terdun people possessing four large cannons spread quickly, causing more panic within New Town.

Mason scanned the gathering of militia captains. Some had white in their hair, some were still young lads. Without exception, they were either staring silently at the tips of their boots or quietly smoking.

The battle hadn’t even started yet, but the atmosphere was as heavy as if they had already been defeated.

A militia captain with a red birthmark on his face broke the silence and stood up to ask, “Your Honor, since the barbarians have cannons, should we further fortify the walls?”

Former sergeant, now militia captain [Ivan], although silent, nodded vigorously in agreement.

After the large-scale preparations for war began, Ivan, as a former member of the security guard and a garrison sergeant, was conscripted again.

He silently bid farewell to his wife and children and once more entered the barracks, picking up weapons again. In the previous battles, he had proven to be reliable and was promoted to militia captain for his merits.