Chapter 1101: Chapter 1040: How Can a Chest-High Reed Marsh Hide People?

The September morning mist was like watered-down milk, thick and hard to dissolve.

The aerial roots of the banyan trees hung down, swaying in the fog like strings of gray shadows.

Amidst the chaotic footsteps, Falan clogs and army boots squelched the damp fallen leaves on the ground, squeezing out foul water.

Though the mist was cold, it made breathing difficult and oppressive.

The soldiers couldn’t resist rolling up their trouser legs and sleeves, but had to constantly slap at the leeches and mosquitoes.

Riding on the saddle, Gael’s pale hair was tied up, and his riding whip tapped idly against the boot barrel.

He looked at the snaking line of troops ahead, not feeling too anxious—after all, they were still far from the battlefield.

The Holy Alliance Army, no matter how fast they marched, had to put on armor, and this road was particularly hard to traverse.

With their few legs, they were likely still shuffling in the valley ten miles away.

The scout cavalry had been sent out three miles ahead, and could spot any signs long before getting close.

When real combat commenced, there would be plenty of time for Gael and his men to deploy.

Not to mention five thousand men, even five thousand pigs would take half a day to catch.

As long as I retreat fast enough, no one can defeat me, and no one can hold me accountable.

The marching Falan soldiers were in equally good spirits.

Though the environment was harsh, fighting meant hefty bonuses, especially rewards from nearby lords.

This exploitation of local power by the military was a classic royal tactic.

Compared to areas closer to the Holy Alliance like Red Leaf Hill and Clove Corridor, these Storm Cape soldiers had never had much impression of the Holy Alliance.

In the face of the impending formidable enemy, officers intentionally or unintentionally spread rumors to boost morale.

"Hey, did you hear that the Saint’s Grandson has four Saintess wives?" came a rough, mocking voice from the ranks, belonging to a blacksmith apprentice.

He carried a long spear, with a sweat-wiping piece of burlap wrapped around the shaft: "He forces others to have one wife, but he himself has four wives, and rumor has it they all sleep in the same bed!"

"It’s said that the Saint’s Grandson has four you-know-whats and eight balls, each you-know-what big as an ox horn, otherwise how could he satisfy four Witches?"

"They say those Witches are like the succubi in paintings and can conjure up flatbreads out of thin air!"

"And the guilds!" another soldier chimed in, "My cousin said his apprentice fled from Thousand River Valley, where the Saint’s Grandson dismantled all the guilds, and even the looms need registration numbers."

"I heard at night the Cheka climb over walls for inspections, checking any place with a lit lamp!"

"As long as they don’t catch the Saint’s Grandson on a new romantic rendezvous, it’s fine."

"Hahahahaha—"

A burst of laughter erupted in the ranks, causing the dew on the banyan trees to drip down noisily.

A tall infantryman poked the person in front with his spear shaft, his voice booming like thunder: "If you ask me, there’s no need to fight at all.

When we get there, just shout across ’Falan is hiring, 5 Dinars a month, three meals a day, living in stone houses, and freedom.’

That’ll ensure the Holy Alliance people drop their guns and run over, they’re following the Saint’s Grandson eating thin porridge and gnawing on black bread, while we’re here..."

"Pfft—"

A muffled sound like wet burlap tearing.

The tall infantryman’s laughter abruptly stopped as he clutched his throat, eyes bulging like copper bells.

Bright red blood oozed through his fingers, staining the coarse cloth uniform on his chest, spreading an iron smell in the humid air.

He opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but only emitted a gasping "huh huh" before collapsing heavily to the ground.

The ranks were momentarily frozen like a river turned to ice.

The next second, experienced veterans began to shout: "It’s the Helical Gun, take cover, enemy attack!"

"Enemy attack! It’s the spring-loaded gun!" The officers’ shouts pierced through the thick fog, "Form up! Long spearmen to the front..."

Gael, even more incredulous, reined in his horse, taking a while to realize they had actually been ambushed!

Weren’t the main forces of the Holy Alliance supposed to be on the other side of the valley? Where were the scout cavalry?

"Where’s the scouting team?!" An enraged Gael shouted, grabbing a scout cavalry who rushed over, "Didn’t you guys cover three miles? Are your eyes in your pants?!"

The cavalryman shook his head, his helmet askew: "Sir, we didn’t see a trace..."

"Whether you saw them or not, they’ve already reached our faces!" Gael glared, quickly noting down his name.

Damn undisciplined bastard!

Gael abruptly let him go, his gaze sweeping over the battlefield.

The lead bullets rained down like a deluge, piercing into the banyan tree trunks, rocks, and the soldiers’ armor.

They made a "clang" sound when striking the iron armor, and a dull "thud" when drilling into flesh.

In just a brief moment, more than twenty corpses lay on the frontline.

However, these Falan Legion soldiers were well-trained, especially since Thierry had learned the Holy Alliance’s contingency training system.

Before setting out, the Storm Cape Corps soldiers were rigorously trained on how to form up after a surprise attack.

The Standing Army is ultimately different from the regular Imperial Infantry, not to mention the elite officers selected from the lesser nobility and emerging middle class.

"Damn it, stand firm!" A Centurion jumped onto a supply wagon, his boot heels thumping loudly on the wooden planks, "Get behind the wagon, push down the supplies and wooden crates to block the lead bullets."

"The Long Spearmen in the middle, form a line and raise your shields to the sides, Gunners prepare to reload. Captain Bai, gather the men!"

Several Captains drew their swords from their waists and shouted amidst the chaos, "Third team to the left, move, and fifth team, don’t shove!"

The soldiers, like a herd being driven, stumbled into formation, their armor clanging with a mix of cries and sobs.

Yet amid this chaos, both the frontline and the rear were aligning towards the center.

With the support of the wagons, they actually managed to regroup from the ambush.

The spears stood upright one by one, and the Helical Guns extended from behind the wagons, remotely pointing towards the direction from which the lead bullets came.

As for the thrown clock bombs, their effect was limited.

Most of the Falan Legion had practiced one or two stages of the breathing technique, and the officers usually had three or four stages.

This kind of clock bomb, most effective against those without the breathing technique, only made the soldiers feel momentarily dizzy.

Amidst the pulling of lead bullets, swords, and arrows, the morning fog gradually became riddled with holes, billowing thinly into the air.

With a sudden gust of wind, visibility sharply increased.

Gael squinted and looked ahead, three hundred meters away, where a wide expanse of reed grass swayed in the wind, spanning several miles.

The reeds stood nearly half a person tall, lush and green—they must be hiding the enemy within!

"Didn’t you clear the reeds?" On the battlefield, no matter how well Gael kept his composure, his face darkened.

"The height of the reeds is just under chest level, and at the lowest only waist-high, the Standing Gunners need to stand to fire..." The reconnaissance orderly felt particularly aggrieved.

This abruptly woke Gael—indeed, it’s impossible to see people in the reeds, so how were they shooting?

The lead bullets broke the reed stalks with whizzing noises, at this time the five hundred Royal Constitution Knights of the frontline finally returned. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

"Can you determine how many of them there are?" Gael shouted at the returning Knight Commander.

"Not sure, from the sound of the guns, estimated four to five thousand people."

Could this reed field hide four to five thousand people? Gael wasn’t sure if his old eyes were failing him or if he misheard due to deafness.

"Sir, what should we do now?"

"Set it on fire!" Gael blurted out, pointing at the reed field and shouting, "Force them out!"

The Priest-in-Charge accompanying them turned pale, edged closer and whispered, "Sir, it’s September now, the reeds are still green and damp, they won’t burn... In November when the grass is dry, it will..."

"I don’t care!" Gael awkwardly ducked to avoid the lead bullets, "Then shoot arrows! Fire the guns! Just drive them out!"

Before the words were finished, the reed field suddenly resounded with orderly commands.

Gael’s pupils contracted, but he saw black and red ranks marching out from the reeds, lined up as neatly as if cut by a knife.

The Holy Alliance Army, were they coming out on their own?!

With their spears tilted upwards, the Holy Gunmen held up their stocks, gun barrels facing the sky.

Counting carefully, it seemed like a dense mass, but there were only two horizontal formations.

"Only... only two legions? At most one thousand people!" The Knight Commander of the Royal Cavalry shouted in disbelief.

Remembering his previous confident claim of five thousand, his face instantly turned red, "Sir! There are very few of them! I request to charge and break through them!"

"Can you manage that?"

"I believe I can!"

Gael was silent for a moment: "I grant you this authority."

Centurions also reacted, roaring angrily, "Mad, five thousand people letting a thousand push them around, charge!"

"Opposite side, Falan recruitment..." A soldier recalled the earlier conversation and suddenly shouted, only to be slapped on the back of the head by his Captain.

"Are you out of your mind, taking it seriously? Ready the spears, prepare for the charge, show them what kind of men we are in Storm Cape."