On both banks of the lower reaches of the Mitoboro River, military camps were packed tight, tent after tent arranged in neat formations stretching out in endless rows. The once calm and expansive stretch of the lower Mitoboro, spanning over a hundred li, was now pregnant with the sparks of war. The moment the Northland side was ready, war would erupt. However, from the Madras Duchy's perspective, with their well-organized defensive lines and fortifications stretching deep into their territory, any attacking army from the Northland would only dash its head against a wall of stone. Even if they dyed the great river red with blood, it would avail them nothing against those sturdy defenses.
October 32nd, overcast skies, strong winds, with traces of drizzle mixed in.
"Of course. All the flat-bottomed boats and thick planks for constructing the pontoon bridge have been prepared. This stretch of river is over three hundred meters wide. The first hundred meters from the far bank are anti-landing barricades, trenches, and low defensive walls for ambush. Beyond a hundred meters from the shore are the arrow towers and ramparts. The arrow towers are octagonal, five stories tall at fifteen meters, with two siege crossbows mounted on each of the top three floors. Those fishing boats I sent over earlier were all shot to pieces in the river by the bastards across the way before they even crossed the midpoint," Henned said through gritted teeth.
"Then you can give the order to build the pontoon bridge now. You'll be able to get your revenge on those bastards across the river in short order," Lorist said with a smile.
Henned waved his hand. Behind him, several guards raised their war horns, and a resonant blast echoed across both banks. Crowds of soldiers and craftsmen poured out of the camps, while freight wagons loaded with timber rumbled toward the riverside. There, a group of workers and soldiers had already arranged flat-bottomed boats in a line and begun laying planks across them…
Lorist raised his telescope once more to study the far bank. On the opposite side, banners were likewise fluttering in the wind as ranks of Madras Duchy soldiers in varying styles of iron and leather armor rushed to their defensive positions. Everyone knew — war had begun.
The so-called flat-bottomed boats were large ferry vessels that had hulls but no superstructures. A layer of flat planks was laid across the top of the hulls, making the entire boat look bare and featureless, relying entirely on poles and oars to move at a sluggish pace. Nearly a hundred of these flat-bottomed boats were lined up along the rivershore in a long row. The craftsmen and soldiers worked ceaselessly, laying down planks a finger's thickness thick and securing them with heavy iron nails and thick iron chains as wide as a man's wrist. By around midday, a long platform — nearly three hundred meters long and over seven meters wide — had taken shape along the riverbank.
Lorist frowned slightly. "Henned, you could have built this platform beforehand. Starting now is a bit of a waste of time."
Henned laughed smugly. "I didn't build it earlier on purpose — the whole point was to fool those idiots across the river. Look, Locke, they've been convinced all along that our plan was to load soldiers onto boats and charge across for a beach landing. That's why they haven't been idle on their side either — they've been building chevaux de frise nonstop. Didn't you notice they've even placed them in the river? Now they're stunned. I had them waste over a month of effort on nothing. There was no way they'd guess we'd slowly push a platform across and use the thunderbolt catapults to smash their defenses and positions to splinters before ever setting foot on shore."
After lunch, the massive river platform had already moved over forty meters from the bank. The craftsmen now bustling along the riverside were assembling pontoon bridges to the platform, gradually extending its length to push the enormous, heavy structure further out into the current.
"Another thirty meters forward and Auvikis's thunderbolt catapult battalion can board," Henned estimated, glancing at the length of the pontoon bridges.
Lorist said, "Watch out for fire arrows from the opposite bank. That platform of yours is made of wood and all the sections are connected. If they concentrate fire-arrow attacks and score a hit, it'll go up like a bonfire."
Henned replied, "It's fine. I've done the calculations. After we advance another thirty meters, we'll be three hundred and twenty to three hundred and thirty meters from their shore. Their strongest siege crossbows can only reach three hundred meters at most — we'll be sitting right in the spot where they can see us but can't touch us. Our thunderbolt catapults, on the other hand, have an optimal range of three hundred and fifty to over four hundred meters, which puts them squarely within striking distance. Besides, I'll have the men douse the platform with river water. It won't catch fire that easily."
Count Kems yawned boredly from the side. "How much longer before the bombardment can begin?"
Henned thought for a moment and answered, "About two more hours."
"Fine," Count Kems said crisply. "Then I'll head back to the command tent for a nap. Wake me when it's time to fire. I drank a bit too much at lunch and my head's still spinning."
Two more hours passed. The platform had reached its designated position, and the craftsmen finally stopped assembling pontoon bridges, earning themselves a rare break. Auvikis directed the soldiers of the thunderbolt catapult battalion to unhitch the horses from in front of their catapults, then carefully push the siege engines onto the platform and arrange them in two rows — front and back — before securing each catapult firmly to the platform's surface. Following that, teams of men hauled stone projectiles and stone spheres onto the platform.
After nearly an hour of hectic work, all preparations were finally complete. Count Kems didn't need anyone to call him — he emerged from the command tent on his own.
"The preparations are so tedious — the whole day is nearly gone already," Count Kems said.
"It's fine," Hened said. "We can fight through the night if we have to. It won't matter once it's dark — we'll be smashing them all the same. Sound the horn and let Knight Auvikis begin the stone bombardment."
Countless garrison soldiers poured out of the arrow towers that had not yet been subjected to the rain of stone, screaming like ghosts and wailing like wolves as they fled toward the rear. None of them wanted to end up like the poor souls in the towers that had gone before — buried under the rubble when the tower collapsed under the stone bombardment.
After the first and second volleys of stone projectiles, every arrow tower not already blanketed by the rain of stone unleashed massive crossbow bolts at the river platform almost simultaneously, half of them trailing fire. Unfortunately, every single bolt plunged into the river dozens of meters short of the platform — not one came close to reaching it. For the next ten-plus minutes, aside from a dozen or so garrison ballistae stubbornly testing their range once more, all the remaining arrow towers could do was watch as the towers that had been pounded into ruins by the stones falling from the sky crashed down in thundering heaps.
It could be said that every volley of stone projectiles tore a gaping hole in the Madras Duchy's riverbank defensive line. No fortification could survive a deluge of stones the size of washbasins. When Auvikis directed the stone-throwing battalion to turn its attention to the remaining arrow towers, every garrison soldier inside abandoned his post and fled.
With the threat of the garrison ballistae in the arrow towers eliminated, the craftsmen resumed building the pontoon bridge forward, continuing to push the platform toward the far bank. Auvikis, still on the platform, ordered the stone-throwers to launch jars of burning oil, targeting the rows of wooden chevaux-de-frise along the opposite shore. Flames erupted almost immediately along the far bank, and the river wind fanned them into the weeds and scrub across the shore and into the hills, spreading the fire far into the distance.
Standing on a low earthen mound by the riverbank, Lorist watched the thick smoke billowing and flames blazing on the far shore and let out a quiet breath. "The outcome is all but decided. We can land on the far bank tomorrow. But we'll still need to be careful tonight — can't let the Madras Duchy's army, cornered like desperate dogs, attempt a night raid or something of the sort."
Hened laughed. "Rest easy. We've long since prepared for that. Nothing will go wrong."
The Madras Duchy's army was nowhere near as formidable as Lorist had imagined. The next morning, as the platform neared the far bank and the craftsmen busily assembled a makeshift wooden bridge to allow the thunderbolt stone-throwers to roll ashore — a full battalion of soldiers already dispatched to level the ground on the opposite bank — nearly ten thousand troops of the Madras Duchy finally appeared in the distance, creeping furtively toward the riverbank, seemingly intent on driving the invaders back into the river.
But the moment Auvikis ordered the thunderbolt stone-throwing battalion to fire a volley of stone spheres at the approaching enemy, those soldiers collapsed almost on the spot. They turned and fled in no time at all, vanishing without a trace.
"Locke, with divine weapons like the thunderbolt stone-throwers, why don't we just sweep through the entire Madras Duchy right now? There's no need to wait until next spring for some decisive battle," Hened declared with boundless confidence.
Lorist shook his head. "We'll proceed according to the original plan, Hened. What we want from the Madras Duchy isn't just a single territory — its people are also a vital resource and source of wealth. If we march in now and sweep through the Madras Duchy, the Grand Duke will undoubtedly rally the entire duchy's forces to fight us to the bitter end. Even if we emerge victorious, the duchy we inherit will be nothing but ruins. Not only would we have to spend enormous amounts of capital and manpower to rebuild, but we'd also reap nothing but the hatred of the survivors.
If we want to turn the Madras Duchy into a territory of our family, we must minimize the harm inflicted on the common folk. Our target is the duchy's nobility. We'll follow the original plan — land and immediately begin fortifying a defensive camp. We'll make ourselves the defenders and force the Madras nobles to become the attackers. Let them stumble and break their teeth against our camp's defenses. After that, we negotiate with the Grand Duke, demanding guarantees for free passage and commercial trade rights along this stretch of the river, misleading them about our true purpose for this war. That is precisely why I had Count Kemas come here."
Hened said with a touch of regret, "I understand. I handle the landing operations, and Kemas handles the negotiations. I really do wish we could have a proper battle with them."
"Have you forgotten about the
Hened nodded, still somewhat unconvinced.
"Hened, you've fallen into a misconception — you think that possessing the thunderbolt stone-throwing battalion makes you invincible. In truth, the thunderbolt stone-thrower isn't nearly as formidable as you imagine. I can think of dozens of ways to neutralize its threat. Light cavalry alone is one such method. The thunderbolt stone-throwers are truly effective against fortifications and castles; on an open battlefield, their utility is limited. Against mobile enemies, their killing power falls short. That's because the stone-throwers require pre-calculated drop zones — they fire slowly, and the stones spend a long time in the air. Any opponent with decent agility can dodge the impact area.
That's why I mentioned light cavalry as a counter to the thunderbolt stone-throwers. If you're willing to accept some casualties and send light cavalry charging into the stone-thrower positions with fire-oil jars, there's a real chance of burning the siege engines to the ground. Other methods include ambushes and night raids during marches or encampments — all can pose a serious threat to the stone-throwers. Right now, the Madras Duchy's army has only just encountered thunderbolt stone-throwers for the first time. It's their ignorance that makes them so terrified. If the fighting drags on and they gain more exposure, they'll naturally devise countermeasures of their own."
These words made good sense. Hened thought it over and broke into a smile. "I was looking at it the wrong way. I'll follow your lead, Locke. Don't worry — I won't act on my own."
Lorist patted him on the shoulder and was about to offer a few encouraging words when the sound of urgent hoofbeats reached their ears. In the distance, several fast horses galloped toward them, their riders gasping for breath. They quickly arrived at the base of the hillock. Three messengers in
When the messengers were about ten paces away, they halted. Erle walked over to inspect them, then turned back to report, "My lord, they're from the Guard Battalion. They've come from the family estate, bearing an urgent message from Silowas Island."
"An urgent message from Silowas Island? What's happened now?" Lorist took the letter and opened it, his expression changing to shock. The envelope bore the signatures of Governor Hansk and Knight Faleya — one responsible for administration and the other for military affairs. For both to co-sign could only mean something truly major had occurred.
He unfolded the letter and froze. Beside him, Count Chemais asked curiously, "What is it? What happened? May I know?"
Lorist thrust the letter into his hands. "Read it yourself."
Count Chemais picked up the letter and read aloud, "On the evening of October 24th at seven o'clock, the Second Prince and his companions, disguised as fishermen, arrived at Silowas Island aboard a rundown fishing vessel. In their company were Lady Norton Crisia and four guardsmen — one Gold-ranked and three Silver-ranked. Governor Hansk received the party. Knight Faleya hoped they would rest on the island for a time while awaiting a reply from Northland, but the Second Prince and Lady Crisia insisted on departing for Northland immediately, wishing to meet with your lordship. Unable to dissuade them, he could only escort them onto a northbound passenger ship on the morning of October 25th and dispatch the Dawn's Flying Fish ahead to deliver this letter…"
"The Second Prince is still alive? And he's coming to Northland?" Having finished reading the letter, Count Chemais stared at Lorist with a dazed expression. This was truly shocking news.
"You're no longer a noble of the Andinak Kingdom. What would the Second Prince want in Northland?" Hened asked, puzzled.
"How dense of you! He may not be the king of the Andinak Kingdom right now, but by the legal doctrine of noble succession, he is still the Norton Family's nominal liege lord. He must have come to borrow troops to reclaim his throne," Count Chemais said with certainty.
Today was October 33rd. The Second Prince's party had left Silowas Island on October 25th, and the passenger ship to Northland took seven days — meaning they had already arrived. Although Faleya had dispatched the Dawn's Flying Fish ahead of time to deliver the message, arriving two days early, his own detour to the lower reaches of the Mitoboro River to receive the letter from the family estate had added three more days. Even if he raced back now, it would already be too late.
"I'll ride back through the night. The two of you stay here and handle things — just proceed according to our original plan. If anything changes on my end, I'll notify you immediately." Lorist made his decision. "Erle, tell everyone to prepare immediately. We depart for the family estate in half an hour."
"Yes, my lord."
……(To be continued.)