Three days passed quickly, and the defense line was basically in place.
From the elevated platform behind the front lines, Roland inspired the First Army's troops with the same fervor as when Evil Moon battled the demonic beasts, as if he were on the battlefield himself.
The Nightingale, entrusted with a special mission, has infiltrated the battlefield with Echo. Anna has taken over the protection duties beside him.
Roland himself donned the coated armor, with two revolver pistols tucked at his waist. Had the defensive line not completely collapsed, the few who had managed to slip through would hardly have posed a threat to him.
The enemy was still about ten kilometers away. "Whoa!" A huge pigeon swooped down from the sky and landed on his shoulder.
"Good job, keep watching." Roland pulled a piece of beef jerky from his pocket and handed it to Maxie. She pecked it open and swallowed it in a few swift motions, then spread her wings and flew eastward.
With the alternating reconnaissance by Lightning and Maxie, he had a crystal-clear grasp of the enemy's movements, allowing him to strategically position the battlefield with ease.
Forming a long, narrow battle line against the drug-fueled frenzied warriors is no strategy, especially when Lightning's report revealed hundreds of men carrying short spears—a weapon he was particularly wary of. If his assessment was correct, these were likely their first-strike weapons.
While standard throwing weapons typically have a range of no more than fifty meters – a limit for ordinary people – Roland couldn't be sure how far the medicated militiamen could hurl their short spears. But anything beyond a hundred meters would pose a serious threat to the musketeers. To counter this, he strategically deployed bunkers and implemented urban warfare tactics: using buildings to block access, muskets to cut off routes, and artillery to create an impenetrable defensive barrier.
When sufficient cement is available, constructing bunkers is easier than building city walls. Although single-layer brick bunkers appear structurally fragile, they serve as impregnable fortifications for militia units without heavy siege equipment.
Ten bunkers were arranged in a diamond pattern along both sides of the road, forming a crossfire formation. Each bunker housed twenty-four soldiers, half veterans and half recruits. The skilled veterans handled the firing, while the recruits took charge of loading ammunition. Soroya also designed an "optical camouflage" system for the bunkers. From a distance, the bunkers blended seamlessly with their surroundings, making it nearly impossible to distinguish them from the environment.
Behind the front lines stood the artillery units, with twenty cannons aligned in a straight line. The firing sequence remained unchanged from the previous operation, while the artillery crews adjusted the firing angles and loaded corresponding ammunition according to the signals from the command center.
A contingent of approximately a hundred emergency troops, armed with flintlock guns, stood guard around the artillery position to protect the artillery and Your Royal Highness in the rear.
Roland felt a twinge of emotion as he surveyed the soldiers in the defensive line—men brimming with vigor and high morale. The villagers, once frail and enlisted for the sake of eggs, had now grown strong through the trials of the Demon's Moon and the town's defense. They were ready to shoulder the responsibility of protecting their homeland.
"Your Highness, the enemy is only two kilometers away." This time, the one who flew back to report was the little girl Lightning.
"Very well, let's assign the surveillance mission to Maxie. You may now enter the forest canopy to signal the artillery strike." Roland nodded and turned to Chief Knight. "Issue the order: all First Army personnel, take combat-ready positions and prepare for the enemy!" "Understood!" Carter saluted.
...
Lehman felt his hands getting heavier and heavier.
Two days ago, the pain was still intense, but now it has almost completely subsided. The armor can no longer be worn on the swollen and bruised arm, which bears a reddish-black mark from the hammer strike. The skin appears to have developed a glossy, translucent layer of oil-like substance upon initial inspection.
The bone must be broken, he thought. Without immediate treatment, his arm would be lost forever. The painkillers recovered from the church could ease the agony, but they couldn't heal the fracture. He resolved to return to the capital immediately after the battle ended—Graycastle's finest alchemists and pharmacists were there, and they could cure this damned internal injury.
"Sir Lehman, your hand... is it alright?" Levin asked with concern.
"It's just intimidating," he said with a nonchalant air. "Besides, we don't need to attack Border Town ourselves—we can just watch from the sidelines." "I hope the armache hasn't clouded your judgment, Sir," Dorn sneered. "Have you decided how to assault the town?" The opponent's tone made Reman frown, but now wasn't the time to dwell on trivialities. "From what I've learned from the Wolf and Deer Nobles, they've primarily relied on a long-range offensive weapon to halt Knight's advance. This weapon fires before Knight can accelerate, accompanied by flames and thunderous blasts—similar to a massive crossbow—but its projectiles are far faster than crossbow bolts." "In other words, despite its power, it can't fire continuously, right?" Levin quickly grasped the crux of the matter.
"Indeed, the faster we advance toward the enemy's defenses, the fewer attacks we'll face," Reeman nodded. "And numbers matter. As I understand it, the Duke of Llane's Knights and the recruited Nobles' combined forces numbered merely two hundred, just one step away from breaching the line. We, however, have a full thousand five hundred men. These fools, once under the potion, won't run slower than horses—so the outcome will be entirely different." "Or perhaps none of this will happen," Dorn remarked dismissively. "Roland Wimbledon might still be waiting in the castle for the envoy's visit. We could simply enter the castle boldly and behead him." "No, he must have noticed us already," Reeman declared firmly. "Didn't you notice we haven't encountered any merchant caravans these past three days? Merchants from Long Song Fortress staying put or returning after spotting the main force's tail isn't unusual, but missing those from the town is. This only means the Prince has sealed off the border." "Now you understand why His Majesty chose Sir Reeman as captain instead of you," Raven mocked.
"Alright, your head's safe for now," Dorn shrugged. "That's a good thing. It's more fun to take down those traitorous gandals who dared defy His Majesty Tifeco than just kill Prince." "Sir Lehman, we've spotted the Border Town troops ahead," reported Knight, the scout.
"Let's go check it out," Lehman urged his mount forward. The outline of the town's castle was already faintly visible, and at the road's end, there seemed to be moving figures. He pulled out his binoculars and scrutinized the defensive lines they had set up. "Those wheeled contraptions must be the long-range attack weapons mentioned in the intelligence reports, but there are far more of them." "Should we have everyone charge in headfirst?" Levine asked.
"The path is too narrow to accommodate all the militia," he said, glancing at the woods to his right. "We could split up and circle around from the forest. It's fine if we move slower. If we can launch a flanking attack, this line won't hold for long." Just as Lehman was about to order a troop realignment, a white figure suddenly caught his peripheral vision.
He froze in shock. Could this be an illusion caused by the severed arm? Turning his head, he saw a woman. She wore a hooded cloak, her entire body shrouded in white. Before she could speak, a sudden burst of firelight flickered from her hand.
Lehman felt as if his head had been struck by a hammer, the world spinning and plunging into darkness.