Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters-Chapter 781 - 65 Opportunity

Chapter 781: Chapter 65 Opportunity Chapter 781: Chapter 65 Opportunity A single stone stirred up a thousand ripples, shocking cold spread across three counties and nineteen states.

Messengers sped through the starry night to Revodan, Shovel Port, Vernge County, and Mont Blanc County, conveying the latest military intelligence.

Within Iron Peak County, order-transmitting cavalry frequently traveled between towns, and the number of patrolling troops on the roads surged.

As the war’s blockade made the public increasingly thirsty for news from the outside, the temporary military headquarters began posting announcements in the town square every morning since the military control of Niutigu Valley began, reporting on enemy movements, battle outcomes, captures, and casualty lists.

In an atmosphere of extreme oppression, the men distracted themselves by discussing the war situation, while the women anxiously searched the casualty lists.

Originally, the announcement had no formal name, but the people referred to it as “War Communication.”

Ever since the inception of War Communication, the town square was always crowded with people, who occasionally requested, “Read it again.”

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Everyone “read” the War Communication with an insatiable thirst, eagerly awaiting the next day’s news as soon as they had finished with today’s.

Today’s War Communication was posted later than usual, which greatly dissatisfied those who had been waiting by the bulletin board since early morning.

As soon as the notice was put up, the crowd gathered around it.

Though it arrived late, the notice was also larger than usual; normally it was one and a half sheets, but today there were three full sheets.

[The enemy chief’s personal army has an unknown destination]—This first line alone triggered panic among the crowd.

Like a solid cannonball plowing through a column of troops, the crowd erupted like a boiling kettle. Those at the front shouted and clamored nonstop, while those at the back desperately inquired about what had happened.

After careful consideration, Winters decided to inform the public of the real enemy situation.

For bad news is like a bald head: no matter how thick the wig, there will come a day when it’s exposed. Better to face the music and inform the military and civilians uprightly than sit idle and watch rumors spread.

“Quiet down!” an elderly man with hair as white as snow and a walking stick shouted in front of the announcement, “It’s not done being read yet! If you don’t want to listen, I’ll just leave!”

The old man was an esteemed doctor and gentleman from Niutigu Valley, well-known for his kindness in reading letters and announcements to the illiterate every day, commanding great respect among the townspeople.

Hearing the rebuke from the old doctor, the crowd gradually quieted down.

The old doctor squinted his eyes at the bulletin board, his upper body unconsciously leaning back.

“What’s it say, good doctor?” an inpatient person couldn’t help but ask.

The old doctor gripped his cane tightly, a glint in his eye: “The next piece is a personal letter from the protector of the people, Montaigne.”

…

In Iron Peak County, Shovel Port, at the church,

Alpha leaned against a bench reciting word by word, “…If you ask what our goal is, I can answer with a single word, victory! At all costs, we must seize victory! In the face of all terror, we must seize victory! No matter how perilous the road ahead, we must seize victory! For without victory, there is only destruction…”

The old doctor from Niutigu Valley wasn’t accurate; not only the letter but all the words of War Communication were painstakingly chosen and written by Winters, who had chewed through countless feather quills.

However, all other communications were issued in the name of the temporary military headquarters. It was only this public letter that bore Winters Montagne’s full name.

This public letter was also the first “emotional” article published in War Communication.

Previous reports were mechanical in nature, devoid of emotion and warmth, as if a steel automaton were spitting out cold, hard numbers.

But this public letter was different; one could feel the passionate fervor of the person behind the pen between the lines.

After listening to the entire text in silence, Mayor Botar asked, “Is that all?”

“There’s also a title,” Alpha flipped through the earlier pages of the announcements, a barely perceptible smile tugging at the corner of his mouth: “A Letter to All Military and Civilians of Iron Peak County—his rhyming has improved a lot, but his naming ability remains as lackluster as ever.”

“A Letter to All Military and Civilians of Iron Peak County?” Mayor Botar noticed something unusual: “Does that mean every village and town will receive this announcement?”

“Should be,” Alpha dusted off the announcement. “If we can receive it, other villages and towns certainly can.”

Mayor Botar’s guess was correct; it was indeed the first edition of War Communication sent to the entire Iron Peak County.

Previously, due to printing limitations, War Communication was only posted in limited quantities in Niutigu Valley and Revodan.

It was thanks to Senior Mason’s idea: Winters would write the content the night before, and it would be sent swiftly by horse to Revodan. Making use of Revodan’s printing facilities, they would print overnight and then distribute across the entire county and to neighboring counties.

Mayor Botar smacked his lips: “Aside from these notices, the rebels also sent us fifty warhorses and three hundred iron-tipped clubs…”

“They’re called Stinger Hammers,” Alpha corrected him, adding with a chuckle: “But ‘iron-tipped clubs’ does have a certain ring to it.”

“Right, Stinger Hammers.” Mayor Botar’s expression grew subtle: “Previously when we asked them for weapons, they refused. Now they suddenly turn so generous; it’s really unclear what they’re up to…”

“They refused before because they could send troops to Shovel Port at any time. Giving us weapons and warhorses now is to tell us—Shovel Port must rely on itself henceforth.” Alpha let out an almost imperceptible sigh: “Winters Montagne is going to fight with all his might.”

…

Late at night,

Winters Montagne stood fully armored with his hand on his sword at the banks of the Big Horn River, a blood-red military flag rustling behind him.

It was not the East Bank, but the West Bank.

A floating bridge that spanned across Big Horn River lay quietly before him, hundreds of soldiers and warhorses were crossing the bridge to the West Bank.