Iron Powder and Spellcasters - Chapter 482 Burning Flames (6)

  Chapter 482 Blazing Furnace (6)

  [Monta Republic]

  [Clarion Fort]

  In the early morning, two soldiers, one old and one young, led their pack horses out of the city and headed towards the mountains west of the city.

  Like most of the Montc cities, Fort Horn is also located in a valley. It's just that the valley where the Horn Fort is located is larger, and the hills around the city are gentler.

  Get off the main road, pass through the villages on the outskirts of the city, and follow the winding paths stepped by the shepherds. The two soldiers climbed to the top of the mountain with difficulty.

  The more you climb up, the surrounding vegetation becomes sparser and the road becomes steeper. The white mountain began to be exposed to the surface without any cover, and from time to time there were falling rocks rolling down the hillside, passing by the two of them in a thrilling manner.

   It was not until the afternoon that the two arrived at their destination—a simple stone hut on the ridge. Whether it is a man or a pack horse, they are already sweating profusely with trembling knees and legs.

  Standing in front of the stone hut, the young soldier wiped the sweat from his brow, turned to look at the veteran, and asked in confusion, "Is this here?"

  The veteran who climbed up later panted heavily, looked at the stone hut, and was a little undecided.

  He looked at the way he came, and then looked around the hut. After trying to remember for a long time, he finally answered: "This is it."

   "It doesn't look like it's deserted." The young soldier whispered.

  The veteran led the pack horse to the hut: "Go in and take a look."

  The door of the stone hut is propped up from the outside with a stump. Moving away the tree stump and walking into the house, I saw a rough bed propped up by wooden and stone slabs in the corner, covered with some thinned hay.

   There was still a blackened iron pot beside the bed, and the stone wall behind the iron pot was also blackened by smoke.

  The veteran pulled out the mowing scythe under the bed board: "The sheep herders use this as a place to stay."

   "Then what shall we do?" The young soldier scratched his head: "Should we throw all this junk out?"

   "Don't worry about him." The veteran waved his hand and signaled the recruits to work: "We will do our own business."

   Immediately, the two of them worked together to unload the saddlebag from the pack horse, and carried the saddlebag from the steps outside the house to the roof.

  Overlooking the valley from the roof, the lake in the center of the valley is like a drop of mercury sprinkled on the blue silk, reflecting a metallic luster in the sun;

  The Horn Fort located by the lake is like a necklace, embracing the lake in its arms, with red tiles and white walls, it is extremely beautiful.

  After walking for a whole day, it was the first time that the young soldier had enough energy to look back at the way he came. He couldn't help sighing; "It's worth climbing the mountain for a day just for this scenery."

  The veteran was also a little touched, but he just watched silently, as if he was trying to connect the Horn Fort at this moment with the scene in his memory.

   After a while, he turned around, turned his back to the peaceful valley, and continued to work.

  As the cleanup continued, on the roof of the stone hut, what looked like a smelting furnace was revealed.

  The veterans cleaned the ashes from the bottom of the furnace, repaired the collapsed furnace wall with stones and soil, and then piled the firewood they had carried in the furnace in a dry layer and a wet layer.

   "Is it like this?" The young soldier on the side asked with some distrust.

  The veteran's hand paused for a moment, his eyes dimmed a bit, and he quickly continued to build up: "It's been too long...I can't remember."

  The firewood quickly filled the hearth, and the veteran untied the oil pot from his waist, and poured the lamp oil on the firewood in a circle.

  At the last step, it was time to ignite the fire. The veteran took out the scythe and flint, but did not knock it down.

  The young soldiers were very puzzled when they saw that the veteran hadn't moved.

   "It's better for you to light the fire." After a while, the veteran handed the flint and fire sickle to the young man, and said hoarsely, "It's your turn."

  The young man happily took the scythe and flint.

  As the fire was stuffed into the hearth from the bottom, the long-abandoned "furnace" sprang out flames again.

   Followed by smoke, first silk-like yellow smoke, then thicker and thicker, almost black. The smoke overwhelmed the flames, and was pulled into a slanted stone column in the air by the howling east wind from the top of the mountain.

  The veteran squinted his eyes and looked to the southwest, where the next beacon was. If it was thirty years ago, the next beacon would have responded within a quarter of an hour.

   But after waiting for a long time, there was no movement on the distant ridge. Come to think of it, the beacons there, like those of the Horn Fort, have long been abandoned.

  However, in the next second, the desolate and low-pitched horn sounded from the city in the middle of the valley, echoing among the mountains.

  The abandoned beacon was lit again, and the dusty brass horn on the roof of the State Council was blown three times.

  The Monta people who heard the sound of the horn and saw the beacon fire all stopped and watched. The young people were puzzled, and the old people remained silent for a long time.

  Beacon smoke is the order to "arm" and the horn is the preamble to "conscript". They appear together at this moment, announcing the end of the warless era to all Monta people.

   "Go back." The veteran turned his head and walked down the beacon tower.

   This peace lasted for thirty years, the longest in his memory.

   But it came to an end after all.

  …

  [Monta Republic]

  [Clarion Fort]

  [Army General Administration]

  The sound of horns resounding throughout the city also caused the officers and clerks of the General Administration of the Army to temporarily put down what they were doing and look up to listen.

  However, as soon as the sound of the horn fell silent, no matter whether they were officers or clerks, they all immediately devoted themselves to returning to their original work.

  Everyone deliberately maintained a superficially busy and calm appearance, as if it was just a few drops of rain falling into the lake.

And everyone knows that in a not-so-big room above their heads, the army senior officer corps who was urgently recalled from the autonomous states to the General Administration is conducting a meeting about the fate of the Monta Republic and even the fate of the alliance .

  Everyone who worked in the Army General Administration was so desperate to know the outcome of the meeting that they hated that their ears couldn't fly and they couldn't hear what was going on in the meeting room.

   However, in fact, nothing was discussed in the conference room.

   It was rare for General Monta and the colonels to share a room, smoking their pipes in silence, and no one spoke.

  The suffocating smoke filled the entire meeting room, and even the candlelight became dim, just like the gloomy expressions of the soldiers present.

  The official letter from the Palace of State Affairs was thrown on the table without even being opened.

  But even if the official letter is not opened, all the senior military officers present know what is written in it.

Although as early as two years ago, many Monta officers believed that the Plato civil war would be the trigger of the alliance's full-scale civil war—no, to be precise, as early as the beginning of the alliance's constitution, many people had already expressed their opinion Stable political structures make pessimistic predictions.

  The cloud of the civil war hangs over the Union from beginning to end.

  But when the "foresight" was really about to come true, the prophets of the disaster did not feel any joy, but felt that the official letter on the table seemed to weigh a thousand catties.

  Finally, someone broke the silence aggrievedly: "Platus fights Plato, what does it matter to us? Why should we let us bleed when the Interprovincials want to fight?"

The speaker picked up the official letter on the table, held it in his hand, and said angrily: "Send a piece of waste paper, and you want to transfer the Seventh Army? Who does Myer House think he is? False emperor? The Guitu City gang You bastard, do you really regard yourself as the suzerain?"

   These words spoke out what most people thought, and there was a murmur of approval in the meeting room.

   "The arrogance of the federalists is as usual." Another magnetic voice sounded in the room: "However, the most critical problem is not with them, but with us—we have no ability to refuse."

The magnetic voice said: "Our people rely on the grain exported by the Vine Republic to feed their hunger, our government depends on the funds of the Union-provincial bank, and our output depends on the purchase of the Union-provincial business houses. The truth will make Dignity bleeds, but ignoring the truth, blood bleeds more than dignity—whether the Monta people want it or not, the Monta Republic is already tied to the Union-Provincial chariot."

The owner of the magnetic voice took the official letter and tapped the bright wax seal on the official letter: "More importantly—this order was not sent to us by the federalists, but by the Great Council of the Monta Republic! In terms of jurisprudence , we can only obey."

   "Don't do this!" The colonel who had spoken before clapped the case: "The State Palace is full of marionettes from the Interprovincials! Who doesn't know?"

   "You're right, so what are you going to do?" The owner of the magnetic voice asked calmly, "A mutiny like the Interprovincialists?"

   This time, there was no sound of approval in the meeting room, but a terrifying silence.

  The colonel who spoke earlier was also questioned. He blushed, clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth.

   "If you can't be responsible." The admiral sitting at the end of the conference table reprimanded with a sullen face: "Don't say it."

  The owner of the magnetic voice nodded in salute, and sat back in his original position.

The admiral glanced at both sides of the long table, and continued word by word: "Pikemen can only survive on the battlefield if they stand side by side. The more critical the situation is, the more the army must clench into one fist. No matter what resolution is made today, No one will be allowed to sing a different tune."

  "[The modal particle expressing obedience]." There was a round of low-pitched responses in the meeting room.

The general saw a silent old subordinate on the right at a glance, and he directly called the latter's name unceremoniously: "Marx, you have been smoking there since the beginning, why? Have nothing to say? "

  Colonel [Max Berne], who was locked on by the eyes of everyone present, put down the pipe in his hand and turned the broken iron ring on his finger: "I'm thinking about... the fate of General Arpad."

   "Don't talk nonsense." The general ordered bluntly: "Speak!"

   "According to the federal-provincial plan." Colonel Berne frowned more and more, and he asked seriously: "General Arpad... Is it possible to win the war?"

  Looking around at his colleagues, Colonel Berne saw a negative answer in everyone's eyes.

"The Union Provincials took out all their money this time, not only mobilizing us, but also mobilizing Vine's army." The school officer who was the first to speak angrily asserted: "We attacked the northern front, and the Inter-Provincials and the Vines attacked the East." Line, even if that old guy Arpad can fight, he can't withstand the two-sided attack. What's more, he only has a few soldiers? Squeezing them dry can't consume the interprovincialists."

   After saying this, many people in the conference room sighed.

  The people who participated in this meeting were all senior professional military officers. Although many people emotionally hoped that Alpad would beat up the interprovincialist, the strength and situation of both sides were there, and the outcome was clear at a glance.

   "However." The magnetic voice sounded again: "Who can say exactly what happened on the battlefield?"

  The school officer who spoke first heard the words, crossed his arms, and snorted softly.

   Admiral stared at Colonel Berne: "You kid has been thinking about it until now, and you have figured out that 'the Union Provinces will definitely win'?"

"Yes. But this is not what I am worried about. What worries me is not next year or the year after, but five or ten years later." Colonel Berne got up, looked around the conference room, and asked his colleagues condescendingly : "After the United Provinces win this battle, what will happen next?"

   "If the Federation defeats General Arpad and then takes control of Plato, the balance of power within the alliance will completely collapse. Once Plato's resources are integrated, the Federation will gain an overwhelming advantage over Vineta."

   "Will they be content with that?"

   "Or will the military adventure continue?"

   "Are we going to end the Plato civil war?" Colonel Max Berne knocked on the long table and asked heavily: "Or will we move towards a larger all-out war?"

   There was a long silence in the conference room, and Colonel Berne directly tore off the curtain covering the elephant in the conference room. When the gloomy future that was intentionally or unintentionally avoided was clearly presented in front of them, the Montaigne officers were both angry and powerless.

   "Then what can we do?" The colonel who was the first to speak angrily said: "The root cause of the disease fell 30 years ago, and it has long been a terminal illness."

The magnetic voice also sighed helplessly, and said sincerely: "Colonel Bern, I understand your concerns, but... the Monta Army is not the Federal Army. What determines this is not whether we can imitate their wishes, but whether we have Emulate their strength."

The owner of the magnetic voice looked a little lonely, but his tone was still extremely calm: "We can only face this reality—from ancient times to the present, our homeland has not been a self-sufficient land. In the past, we depended on the empire to survive; now, Our republic depends on the existence of the federal republic."

The owner of the magnetic voice continued: "For the Monta Republic, insisting on getting rid of the Federation is like tearing off half of your body - even if you don't consider the feasibility - the cost is far more than participating in a full-scale civil war. Therefore, as soldiers of the Monta Republic, we can only obey the best interests of the Republic. That is to join the victor's side and get the best bonus for the Monta Republic—even if this behavior is humiliating, it is what we must do .”

  The meeting room was still quiet, and the participating military officers were smoking their pipes more vigorously, but this silent attitude itself meant that they had been faintly persuaded by the master of the magnetic voice.

   After a short pause, the owner of the magnetic voice looked at Colonel Berne and asked hesitantly, "Or, do you have any... plan to turn the situation around?"

   Everyone's eyes immediately turned to Colonel Berne.

   "No." Colonel Berne replied simply.

  The light of the candle dimmed even more.

For the senior military officers present, the light of idealism that was still exuding when they first left the ivory tower has long dissipated on them, and their enthusiasm has been smoothed by the trivialities of bureaucracy, but they still vaguely remember that they had the idea of What a sense of pride to take the oath to be a soldier of the Union.

   However, seeing that the great covenant has finally become a dead letter, leaving only cold interest considerations, although no one will admit it, everyone feels a kind of sadness from the bottom of their hearts.

   "However, even if only the interests of the Republic are considered." Colonel Berne flipped the iron ring on his finger: "We shouldn't let the Union Provinces win too easily."

  The others quickly understood what he meant.

"It's useless." The colonel who spoke at the beginning dismissed it: "Even if the Seventh Army didn't participate in the war, it would be impossible for the old, weak, sick and disabled left in Alpad to withstand the attacks of the Interprovincialists and the Vines." Joint attack."

The colonel who made the first speech was smoking his pipe vigorously, and said in a low voice: "In the final analysis, whether the Interprovincial wins the good or the bad, it does not depend on us, but on the Platonians. The Platonians have fought against themselves for several times. Round, now, even if the Platonians on both sides of the Jinliu River are pinched together, it is impossible for them to be the opponents of the Interprovincialists. What's more, how old is Alpad? Maybe one day he will die, Al Once Pade dies, who else in the Plato military government can take the lead?"

The colonel who spoke at the beginning became more and more hated that iron cannot be made into steel. Finally, he smashed his pipe vigorously and asserted: "Don't count on the Plato people. The Plato Army has long since had no successors. Side. It’s better to count on the Venetans to send troops to confront the Inter-Provincialists than to count on the Plato people. If that’s the case, the Inter-Provincialists might lower their heads.”

  Hearing his colleagues say that there is no successor to the Plato Army, Colonel Max Berne once again thought of the brave, resourceful and energetic Lieutenant Plato he met in Steel Fort.

  If all the officers under Arpad’s command are at that level—no, half of them—and less than half, as long as a quarter is—even as long as that one person can grow up—the outcome may not be certain.

  The confession of the imperial spy captured at Steel Fort flashed through Colonel Berne's mind again.

   "No, there are still 'people' in the Plato Army." Colonel Berne said: "Time is not necessarily on the side of the Federal Provinces."

   [Orz]

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  (end of this chapter)