Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 757 - 57 Triumphal Song
Chapter 757: Chapter 57: Triumphal Song Chapter 757: Chapter 57: Triumphal Song “`
The night was deep, but Taltai couldn’t sleep.
Not only Taltai couldn’t sleep, but his close confidants were also restless.
The Hong Lingyu of the Taltai Division had a sleepless night not because of the defeat at dawn yesterday—slaves can be recaptured, subjects can be reconquered, and as long as the horses and armors weren’t lost, the Taltai Division wouldn’t be considered to have taken a fundamental hit.
It was because they were trapped on the riverbank, unable to move.
As to what to do and where to go, leaders big and small had been arguing for two days.
“Nayen! Esteemed ones!” The old slave Chahan pleaded desperately, “Look at your feet, it’s all black! There’s not a palm-sized patch of turf! This is a death trap! Let’s leave quickly while we still can!”
As Chahan spoke, he bent over to grab a handful of soil, and, with tears in his voice, said, “Esteemed ones, open your eyes! The bipeds have become ruthless, even the grass roots have been scorched dry! In the cold and freezing weather, the children can’t find wood for heating and can burn only wet horse dung! Their eyes are smoked red and sickened, how can we still raid and plunder?”
...
The old slave Chahan wanted to leave, but the “nobility” of the Taltai Division didn’t want to. Their status and wealth, even their life and death, were tied to the success or failure of plundering and raiding.
Immediately someone scolded the old slave Chahan, “Why does the crow rant so madly? The Fire Maker commands us to cross the river from here, but can we just leave because we want to? The Fire Maker won’t kill you, but he will kill those with quivers!”
Another Hong Lingyu with graying hair and beard spoke up, “We can’t stay, but we can’t just waste away either. Why not take another route, upstream or downstream?”
“Is the route of other tribes something we can take?” The man who had spoken earlier became even angrier, “Father, oh father! Don’t be silent! To leave! To fight! Make a decision!”
It turned out the speaker was Taltai’s son.
“Tuoduoge, don’t be anxious,” Taltai glanced at his eldest son and his eyelid twitched, “You both make sense.”
Did Taltai want to leave? Not really. To back down now would mean admitting the loss of a hundred-odd subjects and slaves for nothing.
But he also felt that they couldn’t afford to wait—bipeds had been too vicious, turning the west bank into scorched earth. The Herders relied on livestock for warfare, and the livestock relied on grass for sustenance. Without grass to graze, how could they raid and plunder?
He had thought commanding the vanguard would be an easy benefit but now found himself in a dilemma, and Taltai deeply regretted it.
“I’ve seen the bipeds on the east bank, they aren’t as numerous as us. They didn’t come out of yesterday’s battle unscathed either.” Taltai looked around, and the jerky in his hand was almost twisted into floss, “Tomorrow divide the young warriors into left and right flanks, each crossing the river upstream and downstream, while my banner remains here as bait for the people on the opposite bank.”
“What if they find out?”
“Even if they find out, it doesn’t matter—cross the river a distance of about a horse away. If they follow us, you continue to draw them. They only have two legs and can’t go far.
If they don’t find out, you wait for me to feign a crossing here, and then we’ll attack them from behind.”
[Note: “A distance of about a horse” refers to the distance a grazing horse would travel in one day, approximately 10 km]
“What if that still doesn’t work?”
“If it doesn’t, then let’s leave! We have done our utmost, and the Fire Maker cannot blame us.”
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The Hong Lingyu of the Taltai Division couldn’t think of a better solution, and gradually, they agreed to Taltai’s strategy.
Chahan was Taltai’s personal slave, and his status was an extension of Taltai’s authority. Although anxious, Chahan couldn’t go against Taltai’s word.
The Hong Lingyu of the Taltai Division defined their left and right flanks, and after no further disputes, each returned to their tents to sleep.
Chahan also returned to his dwelling; he had no tent—the people below heads of the Terdon Tribe didn’t have tents.
With the onset of winter, the weather turned chilly, it was cold during the day, and colder at night, the ordinary members of the tribe could only warm themselves with heated stones tucked in their embrace.
Chahan’s son and grandson had also joined the campaign this time; father and son sat by the campfire without sleep.
“How is it, father?” Chahan’s son asked.
Chahan shook his head.
Seeing his son and grandson’s eyes reddened by smoke, the old man sighed deeply and lay down wrapped in his fur robe.
Chahan’s grandson angrily poked at the horse dung cakes, uttering resentfully, “If the battle is lost, you and I die. If we win, the heads divide the spoils. They’re like wolves that have tasted blood for the first time and will never let go easily.”
“Shut up!” the middle-aged Herder chided his son in a low voice, “Nayen will cut out your tongue if he hears you!”
“He’ll hear me every day until he does,” Chahan’s grandson stubbornly retorted to his father, “People passing by say that in the Red River Tribe even ordinary members can get a share of the spoils. But the head of the Taltai? Everything goes into his saddlebag; not even a Horse Palm coin is given to the tribespeople!”
The middle-aged Herder couldn’t argue with his son and, frustrated, admonished, “The Red River Tribe is the Red River Tribe; the Terdon Tribe is the Terdon Tribe.”
“The gold is gone! What Terdon Tribe is there to speak of?!” Chahan’s grandson’s voice grew louder.
“Shut up!” the middle-aged Herder burst out in anger, whirling his arm and striking his son across the face.
“Boom!!!”
It was as if thunder exploded by their ears, the slap shaking the earth itself.
The horses neighed in terror, and old Chahan leaped up, spryly defying his age.
“What was that sound?!” old Chahan’s eyes bulged like a bull’s.
“I…,” the middle-aged Herder was at a loss, “…I just slapped him…”
“It’s not that!” old Chahan shouted vehemently, “It’s not that!”
A flash of red.
“Boom!!!”
This time the thunderous explosion occurred right beside Chahan and his grandson, invisible shrapnel whirling through the air, and a blast of air instantly knocked Chahan to the ground.
