Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 744 744 52 Contact_3

?Chapter 744: Chapter 52 Contact_3 Chapter 744: Chapter 52 Contact_3 “`
There are advantages and disadvantages to this approach.

The benefits need not be mentioned, but the downside is that Shovel Port’s defenses have become extremely weak.

Now that Shovel Port’s attention is all on the riverbanks, it’s like exposing our backs to Revodan’s blades.

Keep in mind that Shovel Port is less than forty kilometers from Revodan, and Revodan has cavalry…

“Has the messenger been dispatched?” Alpha asked, holding his helmet.

He had. “I’ve already told Revodan that we’re safe here and that we don’t need any support,” Polta said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “Otherwise, should we call the troops back? We suffered a defeat tonight, and the Herd Barbarians probably won’t come again. And the more we try to keep the Rebels away, the more likely they are to come. It’s more important to deal with the Rebels right now.”

“Gathering the militia in the first place took great effort, and calling them back would be even harder,” Alpha replied, shaking his head. “What if the Herders notice our movement and cross the river again? We didn’t manage to destroy their boats.”

Polta asked anxiously, “But what if the Rebels come to attack us?”

“The Rebel leader knows what’s at stake,” Alpha said with a smile. “He’s not a despicable man.”

…

Before dawn, just outside the north gate of Revodan.

“Open the gate! Open up!” a dust-covered rider shouted, pounding furiously on the gate: “I have urgent military intelligence to report to the garrison officer!”

The walls of Revodan were low, but not so low that one could just climb over.

“What’s all the noise for?” the Centurion on the city’s head scolded the newcomer. “Seek the military protection officer his excellency, and wait till morning to speak!”

“I have urgent intelligence!” the rider shouted. “I am a messenger from Shovel Port!”

“Even so, that’s not allowed!” the Centurion responded. “Who knows whether you’re a spy for the barbarians?”

“Then lower a basket down, and I’ll climb up!”

“There’s no basket.”

“Lower a rope, and I’ll send the letter up.”

“There’s no rope.”

The Shovel Port messenger stood dumbstruck for a while, then suddenly pointed at the city head and cursed: “Are you deliberately refusing to let me in? Can you afford to delay urgent military intelligence?”

Without further words, the Centurion on the head of the city gestured, and seven dark gun muzzles pointed at the rider.

“Military protection officer Montaigne said,” the Centurion looked down at the messenger. “‘Anyone who disturbs his sleep will be shown no mercy and executed on the spot.’
…

Winters slept soundly in the second half of the night, as no one came to disturb him.

Still, he didn’t get much sleep, as habit caused him to wake up naturally at the crack of dawn.

After washing up, he went for breakfast at Anna’s residence, full of energy.

The “Montaigne couple” were publicly separated at the moment, and breakfast was a rare opportunity for him to spend time with Anna.

However, the table was starkly divided: the women’s food was still quite ample, but on Winters’s plate were only two pieces of black bread — the standard ration for the Iron Peak County Military.

Catherine, resting her chin in her hand, looked at Winters and said with a tone that was half admiration, half jest, “You really do set an example.”

Winters was particularly bad at dealing with Lady Navarre, so he just nodded with a smile and said nothing.

Anna gently stepped on her sister’s foot and poured Winters some warm water.

“Will you still be on the south bank all day today?” Anna asked softly.

Winters replied guiltily, “That should be the case for the near future.”

Xial knocked and came in, whispering to Winters, “The messenger from Shovel Port has arrived.”

“When did he arrive?”

“Last night, and he’s been waiting since then. Do you want to see him?”

“No.”

“He brought a letter.”

“Don’t accept it.”

“Send him away?”

“Tell him to bring a message back to Polta,” Winters said, gnawing on the hard black bread. “‘Send over twenty heads.’
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