Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Chapter 798 798 72 Interlude

?Chapter 798: Chapter 72 Interlude Chapter 798: Chapter 72 Interlude Raid, the magician’s trick for playwrights, often glossed over by historians in their writings.

Records and historical materials often focus on the outcomes of raids, while the preparation processes receive only scant mention.

As if generals only need to give the resounding command “raid,” and everything else will fall into place.

However, the essence of raiding actually lies not in the moment the battle commences, but in the time preceding the strike.

High-risk military operations need meticulous planning and reconnaissance: What about the fortifications? The terrain? How many sentries? From which direction should we attack to catch them off-guard?

Raiding the camps of the Herders is even more challenging.

Because the Herders know their defenses are weak, they often set up a mass of mounted patrols and roaming sentries, with very close communications between the watchmen.

Advancing with infantry, unless favored by Lady Luck, would likely expose their tracks before they could get close.

The only method is to use a large force of Cavalry, to outpace with speed, to strike horsemen with horsemen, breaking the Herders before they can organize effectively.

Unfortunately, Ronald didn’t have this capability.

He only had a few dozen horses seized in raiding, most of which were unfit for use. Moreover, to avoid the Terdon Tribe’s patrols, he had set up his striking position two kilometers away from the crossing.

Two kilometers, too far, a charge would be nothing but a waste of energy.

So Ronald chose a different form of “raid”—to walk there.

Of course, it wasn’t as simple as just “walking”; more precisely, it was “walking across the riverbed.”

Witnessing thousands of Paratu People file out of the forest and slowly advance along the riverbank, Duodai from Green Plumed Feathers instinctively wanted to flee.

It wasn’t that Duodai was cowardly, but for the Herders, who live a nomadic life, fleeing was almost instinctive.

An instinct honed from living in an environment perpetually surrounded by predators.

Like horses. Horses seem very skittish, even bolting at the sight of a rabbit darting from a hole.

But if it took the time to identify the threat, the next thing might not be a rabbit, but a bear ripping open its belly.

In any case, fleeing is never wrong.

If the enemy is strong and we are weak, fleeing is appropriate; if the enemy is weak and we are strong, first flee to clarify the situation, then you can turn around and charge back, right?

Duodai couldn’t make sense of the intentions of the bipeds, and was more worried about ambushes in the forest.

The force from the Terdon Tribe at the crossing was about the size of three hundred-strong Cavalry squads, but “three hundred tribesmen” does not equate to “three hundred-strong Cavalry squads.”

These tribesmen belonged to over a dozen different families and leaders, disunited in heart and weak in strength.

If there were a direct confrontation, who would fall was uncertain.

Conversely, if they fled temporarily, things would be much simpler.

The Paratu People only had two legs and could neither catch up with them nor carry off any women and wealth.

Once there was a gap, the Terdon Tribe on horseback could easily seize the initiative.

By then, wouldn’t it be easy for three hundred Terdon light-horsemen to deal with a group of Paratu People burdened by women and children?

The “battle plan” was lovely, but difficult in practice.

Perfect, but challenging to execute,
for one, Duodai couldn’t force others’ kin to move—Kotas were already scrambling for sheepskin rafts, each one eager to ferry his own spoils across the river first.

For another, Duodai couldn’t bear to abandon his plunder.

He had already experienced the way of the Paratu People—if they couldn’t take it with them, they’d burn it all, ruthless and devoid of mercy, even more so than the Terdon Tribe’s cherish of wealth.

If Duodai forced the Kotas to leave behind their belongings only to have the bipeds burn everything, then there would indeed be trouble.

The drama “The Wheelbarrow, The Miserly Merchant & The Wolf” was being played out again at the crossing on the banks of Big Horn River.

Was it to be the flesh on their backs, or the goods in the cart? Duodai of Green Plumed Feathers faced a tough decision.

Once, a great military strategist wrote this principle: “If you want to win an assault, you must attack where the enemy’s defense is weakest.”

Sometimes, this adage can be applied in reverse.

For example, the crossing that Ronald led the militia to attack—Terdon Tribe’s defensive strength was not very formidable, but their will to defend was not weak at all.

His personal guard quickly brought news to Duodai—the nearby forests had been scoured, and no ambushers were found.

That is to say … were these Paratu People a standalone force? Duodai suddenly felt confident about a significant victory.

Elsewhere, Ronald held unwavering faith in victory.

With both army commanders harboring certain conviction of triumph, a clash was inevitable.

Just as a shepherd easily sorts mixed sheep herds, the Terdon chieftains arranged their tribesmen.

Duodai himself took command of the armored elite, dismounting at an elevated position to observe the battle. The armored Terdon soldiers sat on the ground, quietly awaiting their opportunity.

The unarmored subjects and slaves were led by their leaders, groups of about a dozen.

They either shot arrows from afar, skirting around the formation, or suddenly charged directly, taking turns probing and pulling at the Paratu People.

This tactic might disperse a disorganized mob, but it could not shake Ronald’s “Mournful Soldiers.”

It was precisely these men, full of rage and volunteering for battle, that emboldened Ronald to go all out.

The militia of Iron Peak County formed up by the river, using palisades and barricades to withstand the savages’ assault.

To their north lay an inward-curving river channel, and to their east, a mound created by the collapse of the riverbank.

The shape of the mound was somewhat like a terrace, with a height of about a meter. The drop was greater the closer one got to the riverbank, and lessened towards the land.

The militia of Iron Peak County hadn’t occupied the mound, putting them at a disadvantage.