Black Iron’s Glory

Chapter 261: The Great Victory

“How is that possible?” Major Ledfank jumped out of his chair with the jet that Claude had just sent through the pigeon, which said that more than 4,000 enemies had been defeated. The alliance of nobles from the territories of the Principality of Kanas and the Principality of Eskilin, who had entered, had fled only the remnants of hundreds. They had also captured the nobles of six territories, more than 200 prisoners and seized countless others… Eight soldiers had been sacrificed and 19 wounded on their own side…

No one can believe it, especially Major Ledfank, who knows very well that Claude only has three squadrons and three artillery units, less than one hundred and seventy. Although the private forces of the nobles of the Territory were not strong, the ants bit more elephants, one regiment plus one battalion nearly 5,000 troops, against the defensive forces of less than one hundred and seventy men in Upper Claudena, Major Ledfank could only ask Claude to persevere in Squirrel Village for a longer time, consuming the logistical supplies of the noble coalition forces of those two Duchy Territories and forcing them to retreat was already a very good result.

Only a few days later, Major Ledfank broke his finger, and less than ten days later, Claude sent a jet stating that he had wiped out more than 4,000 enemies and captured more than 200, which was incredible. Did the aristocratic gates of the two principalities attack in haste of 5,000 cows and sheep? But it's not that easy to kill more than 400 cows and sheep a day with Claude's hands!

Major Ledfank, the queen of the ordination, picked up this paperwork and took a closer look at it. Fortunately, while Pigeon Communications requires that the report be concise and clear, Claude concludes the letter with a brief description of how he did it. He lured the enemy into Squirrel Village, where he set up plenty of fire, then came a barbecue...

Major Ledfank immediately instructed the Battalion's clerk and staff officer, as well as the officer in charge of the gendarmerie unit, to immediately accompany him to Squirrel Village with a squadron, which must be confirmed and confirmed. I am sure that when this battle report is passed on, it will be a big surprise. Such a battle newspaper will greatly enhance the morale of the Royal Army of the Front Line. And as Claude's immediate superior, Major Ledfank would naturally be able to share a cup in this military service.

Claude is in a lot of pain right now. It's not just him. All the soldiers are just like him. He's pale. Several soldiers can't walk anymore. Marcus swore that he'd never eat barbecue again in his life. The cantonment camp and the squirrel village are filled with a strange scent of flesh that smells very appetizing. But for Claude and his soldiers, who knew what the origin of this meaty scent was, they felt nauseous and wanted to throw up...

No one in Squirrel Village, which had been burned to ashes, was willing to step in, and the fire that broke out in the middle of the night was so fierce that Claude had expected it. Especially in the midst of a wind and fire, coupled with the fact that territorial nobles instructed conscripts to cut down a large number of trees to make wooden platoons and block them from the entrance of the village, it was almost a fire raise and blocked the escape route for militias and conscripts who had settled in the village.

No enemy would have thought that Claude would attack with fire, because in the eyes of the nobles of the Territory, that was simply impossible. The enemies guarding Squirrel Village have retreated into their cantonment camp and built it like a small fortress, which actually blocks their way out.

The camp is nearly 100 meters away from Squirrel Village, in the middle is a flat open space, the enemy wants to come and burn those wooden platoon cars will be easily discovered by the noble militia guarding the village, even if the gun performance in the hands of the noble militia is old-fashioned, it is not a firecracker, under the random gun the enemy will only come and go. For enemies with insufficient reserves, they are unlikely to make such a loss-making deal.

Claude had set up a fire tactic in Squirrel Village long ago, intended only to deal with the nobility of the territory of the Principality of Eskilin. It was unexpected that the territorial nobility of the Principality of Kanas would join forces with the nobility of the territory of the Principality of Eskirin because it was blocked at the corner of the hill. This forced Claude to set up defensive positions on the hillside behind Squirrel Village to reduce the enemy's strength. Because the aristocracy of the two Duchy Territories was united, and so many troops had entered Squirrel Village, Claude could not guarantee that the hands and feet he had done in the village would not be discovered.

Fortunately, the aristocrats of the Territory decided to use the wooden platoon as a means of attack, and Claude simply delayed the fire for three days after three busy days of cutting trees to make the wooden platoon. When the allies of the nobles of the Territory blocked the entrance of the village with wooden platoons and filled it with vacant land, in Claude's view, it was a self-destructive act.

Attacking enemies with red-burning iron bullets is mostly a tactic used by naval warships against combat. Nobody would do that on land. The reason is simple: the warships are made of wood, they attack the enemy with red iron bullets, and luck will ignite the enemy's warships. But most of the terrestrial enemy's defences are earthen stone structures, and in such cases, attacking the enemy with red iron bullets is only more troublesome and reduces the efficiency of shelling.

Claude did not need to send soldiers out on adventures because he had fired with a burning iron bullet. The previous intermittent shelling, which lasted for almost half a day, had caused the enemy to lose consciousness and no one would pay any more attention to the cantonment attack on the wooden platoon. Anyway, the aristocrats of the Territory have already said that even if the twenty wooden platoon cars at the entrance of the village were destroyed, it would be a big deal to replace them tomorrow morning, see if they had more gunpowder from the enemy or if we had more wooden platoon cars...

So in the middle of the night, most of the well-fed aristocratic militants found a shitty den to sleep in, and didn't care about the shelling outside. Those conscripted colonists, after eating a full meal, rested in the early morning, worked for three days, were mostly exhausted, cutting trees and moving back to Squirrel Village was not an easy job, so most of the early rest was very deep asleep, after all, they knew that they were going to attack the enemy's cantonment camp tomorrow morning. Needless to say, the job of pushing those wooden platoons forward must be for them, the conscripts.

When the first red-burning shell crossed over Squirrel Village, the vigilant aristocratic militiamen looked up and said they had missed it, wondering which bad luck would fall behind the village. They did not know, Claude, that the first artillery shells they fired were aimed at the trenches behind the village and at the wooden fence of the fence, and they were concerned that the enemies stationed in the camp 100 metres ahead would not come forward to attack.

When the trenches behind the village and the log fence on the broken fence began to burn, the vigilant aristocratic militiamen in front of the village were unaware, but there wondered why the shelling had not hit the wooden trailer and made familiar collisions. Only when the fire grew behind the village and the sleeping conscripts woke up from their dreams and began to scream: “Fire...” Claude began to aim their artillery at the wrecked nest in the village, igniting the thatched roofs covered in the nest with flaming red iron bullets, connecting the fire into pieces, entering the noble militia and conscripts of Squirrel Village.

The nights in the mountains were windy, and the thatched grass on the top of the burning shacks danced with the wind, igniting more places where there was no fire. Squirrel Village is hardly able to find a house built of stone, a nest of tree branches and broken wood. Almost two months after the March rainy season, it had only been a few days before, and the shelters and everything were so dry that they burned almost a little. Together with the logging of trees, the creation of a large pile of wood scraps left behind by the trailer and the small pieces of wood left behind by the wheels, as well as the wheat rods and piles of dead branches of firewood all over the village, and the fire oil and powder that Claude sprayed three days ago, Squirrel Village became a huge fire heap in a very short time.

Not that noble militiamen and conscripts had no idea what to do with the fire, but they had punched around the fire or put out several burning woods with water, but it was unexpected that the wind would soon turn into a flare, and the whole squirrel village was burning. When they discovered that fire everywhere had been unsaved and wanted to find a way to live, it was too late. Even the two dozen wooden platoons arranged at the entrance of the village began to burn, surrounding the people in the village...

If the vigilant aristocratic militants at the entrance of the village rush out of the village during the first hours of the fire, their worst course of action will be to become captives. But unfortunately, all they remember is the enemy's cantonment camp in front of them, and in the case of most of the fire in the village, all they knew was to wake up their comrades in the front bungalow and run to the back of the village with the intention of leaving through the back door of the village.

But the trenches and log fences outside the back door of the village were the first places to ignite, which would make the fire impossible to get out, plus a large number of wooden platoons lined up in the open space and headless flies seemingly everywhere to recruit the colonizers, and the shanty shacks around which the bears began to burn, behind the village has become a fire, there is no escape.

When a large group of aristocratic militants and conscripted colonists tried to escape from the village in front, the wooden platoons, arranged at the entrance of the village and on the open ground, also began to burn, blocking the only escape route. Most of the trees that cut down to make the wooden platoon also sprang up smoke, a fatal blow to the noble militiamen and conscripts trapped in the fire...

Claude, they didn't expect the fire to be so fierce and fast, they felt the heat and smoke in the air 100 meters apart, listened to the screams and wails coming out of the fire and everyone was uncomfortable, but there was nothing they could do to save people, and there was no way to get near the burning squirrel village.

Several burning straw bars were blown down by the wind onto a rain shade above the fence, and a clever Claude ordered the soldiers to fetch water and pour it on all the buildings, never burning even their cantonment sites.

At the same time, Claude had Marquette take a squadron of soldiers to tear down the rows of wood that had been intercepted on the mountain road and lay them on the undiscovered traps of the mountain path. When the soldiers threw all the cantonment sites with water, all but the wounded soldiers set out to attack the enemy's barracks and took two light infantry artillery guns and rushed along the hillside towards the enemy's camp.

Noble militants on the side of the camp also found a fire in Squirrel Village, so big that everyone could see it, almost half the sky printed red. Apart from a few territorial aristocrats who could hardly wake up from hangovers, the remaining territorial aristocrats and their servants' personal guards clustered in front of the camp and looked in the direction of Squirrel Village.

Apart from rushing to find out what was going on, all the aristocrats of the terrified territories were cursing and discussing what was on fire. Although this was the location of Squirrel Village, the aristocrats of most territories were fortunate enough to believe that it should have been accidentally fired or burned by the enemy. In their view, even if all the wooden platoons were burned, it wouldn't matter. Anyway, there are a lot of people, and it's just a matter of taking a few more days to cut down the trees on the mountains and bring them back to rebuild the wooden platoons.

Only when the noble militia who went to investigate returned with nearly a hundred lucky escapees from the fire, did the noblemen of the territory know that the entire squirrel village had become a fire field, and that, with the exception of fewer than a hundred survivors, more than 2,000 others were trapped in the village. The noble private soldiers who went to investigate reported that they could not get close at all, the fire was huge, and they could hear the cry for help and screams coming from the village...

The news was as if a sunny thunderbolt had struck the heads of all the territorial nobles, who had spit blood on the spot and passed out. The nobles of the bloodless territories were unwell, lost their souls and paralysed on the ground without a word. Everyone knew that their plan to loot the southern three counties had been completely bankrupted.

Before the territorial nobles at the entrance of the camp had awakened, Claude, who had arrived from the side of the hill, gave the two principalities their final blow. Had it not been for the movement of wooden platoons laid on that big trap, the noble militiamen guarding the camp would have been alert, perhaps Claude, and they could have wiped out all the territorial nobles.

Only those aristocratic militias discovered the enemy guarding the Squirrel Village cantonment camp, Claude, and while they were laying rows of wood on that big trap, they did their part, hastening to drag those desperate territorial aristocrats into the camp, keeping their doors closed.

However, when Claude erected two light infantry artillery directly on the hillside to attack the log fence of the camp, the noble private militia battalion defending the camp knew that it had gone. They concentrated their battalion on all the rides and horses inside, lifted the nobles of those sobered territories onto the horses and demolished the other log fence of the camp and fled directly to the desert...

By the time Claude burst through the camp gate, they caught only dozens of servants and hundreds of wounded men who hadn't escaped, and six noblemen of the territory who couldn't make it and hung over in the tent. The rest of them had escaped clean...