The morning mist had not yet dissipated over Stone Bridge Town when the garrison commander, Major Hodgson, stepped onto the eastern wall, his feet sinking into the damp bricks. He adjusted his monocular telescope, the lens immediately fogging up. In the distance, the River Warren shimmered golden in the rising sun, and several fishing boats were slowly making their way to the opposite bank.
"Reinforce this breastwork," Hodgson said to the engineering captain, tapping his fingers on the weathered bricks, "and bring up two more six-pounder cannons—"
The rapid sound of hooves suddenly interrupted his command. A scout spurred his horse across the town square, the warhorse rearing up on the slope, splashing mud.
"Major!" The scout nearly tumbled off his saddle, his leather armor covered in grass clippings. "A large orc force has suddenly appeared in the direction of Green Dragon Forest! Abar's golden banner has been spotted, and he must be among them! Judging by their speed, they're less than a day's journey from Stone Bridge Town!"
Hodgson's binoculars clattered to the battlement. He grabbed the scout by the collar: "Did you see that clearly? The Staff Department clearly said—"
"Absolutely! This is what we saw!" The scout pulled out a charcoal sketch from his pocket, which clearly showed the Abar flag.
Soldiers on the city wall stopped what they were doing, and uneasy whispers spread through the morning mist.
Major Hodgson took a deep breath; he could almost smell the enemy's presence drifting from the east in the damp air.
Earlier, the Staff Department had instructed him that the Northwest Legion should strive to engage the orc army in a decisive battle at Laois.
Hodgson doesn't know how the Staff Department facilitated the matter, but it's clear that things didn't go as the Staff Department had anticipated.
No, the above description is inaccurate. It should be said that things did not develop as the Staff Department had hoped.
As the supreme commander of the Northwest Legion, Paul Greiman would not allow a group of Showa-era staff officers to appear under his command, assuming that the enemy would dance to his tune when formulating plans.
He always requires the Staff Department to anticipate all possible scenarios and prepare contingency plans for each one.
For example, in this war, the orc army will not fall for the trap and attack the large army gathered in Laois, but will instead turn around and attack the Northwest Legion's real "weak point," Stone Bridge Town.
Schroeder's Staff Department had contingency plans in place, and Northwest Bay's strong organizational and productivity provided assurance.
Major Hodgson's tone had returned to calm when he turned to the messenger.
"Immediately order the entire city to be on high alert, and notify the heads of each defense zone to act according to Plan Two. Send a Telegraph to Laois, informing them that the main orc force has shifted to Stone Bridge Town."
To prepare for the possible arrival of orcs, a three-meter-deep trench was dug around Stone Bridge Town, winding around the city walls like a giant serpent, with sharpened wooden stakes driven into the bottom. Outside the trench, newly erected barbed wire gleamed coldly in the morning light, its fine barbs capable of tearing apart any flesh attempting to cross it.
On the city wall, more than twenty cannons protruded menacingly from the crenellations. The artillerymen were calibrating their firing range with sights, and next to each cannon were piles of shells and silk powder pouches. At the highest point at the corner of the city wall, two heavy mortars stood proudly pointing to the sky, their dark muzzles powerful enough to launch incendiary bombs two miles away onto the riverbank.
The town's streets have been transformed into a killing maze. Sandbag barricades have been erected at every intersection, with scrap metal filling the gaps; firearms, some of whom are snipers equipped with rifled guns, are lurking on the rooftops of bakeries and clock towers; and artillery emplacements have been set up on various high points throughout the town, with cannons on them that can be turned at any time to bombard any orc squads that break into the town.
The suspension bridge over the Warren River had already been raised, and the bells hanging from the iron chains jingled in the wind. The river flowed swiftly through the artificially diverted canals, forming a natural barrier around the southwest part of the city.
In addition, Stone Bridge Town possesses another force: a large number of Militia.
Long before the Second War with the Orcs ended, Paul, using his marquess status, conducted a census in Northwest Bay and Blackstone Plain, just as he had done in Northwest Bay. He then used the census results to establish a Militia system in Blackstone Plain, similar to Alda's.
As the alarm bells rang urgently, the Militia of Stone Bridge Town poured out of every alleyway. Blacksmith apprentices still wore leather aprons, and bakery clerks had flour on their hands. They quickly lined up in the central square, their coarse cloth clothes mixed with standard military uniforms, yet their backs were equally straight.
Major Hodgson strode to the podium and shouted, "Bring out all the 'Apples'!" The soldiers immediately took out cast iron grenades from the wooden crates, their round bodies gleaming coldly in the morning light.
"Two for each person!" the quartermaster shouted in a hoarse voice, and the Militia stepped forward one by one to receive them.
"Remember the training groups!" Hodgson leaped onto an ammunition box, his voice cutting through the distant commotion. "John's team to the Mill Street barricade, Martha's team to guard the church steps!" He pointed to the northeast corner—the direction from which the orc army was coming. "Make those beasts pay a bloody price for every step they take!"
The Militia dispersed silently, their spiked boots striking a dense drumbeat on the cobblestones.
Militia Doyle followed the squad into the firing port on the second floor of the bakery, from where they could overlook the entire East Gate. He neatly stacked the grenades he had been given on the windowsill and suddenly realized that his palms were covered in sweat.
He cast his gaze into the distance, where, on the imagined horizon, a massive, dark army of orcs surged forth like a tide.
The entire Stone Bridge Town is like a curled-up hedgehog, with every quill coated with deadly poison.
One day later!
A cloud of dust billowed on the horizon, and the thunderous hoofbeats of the orc vanguard cavalry approached from afar. The leading commander reined in his horse, his single eye narrowing slightly— the fortifications of Stone Bridge Town gleamed with a chilling light in the morning glow, a stark contrast to the undefended town he had imagined.
"Damn it!" he spat, his eyes gleaming coldly in the sunlight. The trenches and barbed wire surrounding the city walls were like thorny thickets, and the dark muzzles of cannons made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. His warhorse pawed the ground restlessly, seemingly sensing the approaching death.
"Wasn't it said that there were only elderly and weak Militia here?"
The commander cursed as he ripped off the leather goggles, revealing the gruesome scars beneath.
His gaze swept over the meticulously arranged barricades and high points, and he suddenly sneered, " Glaeman certainly has a complete set of toys."
He turned to the messenger and roared, "Tell the Great Chieftain, the hedgehog is a bit prickly, but we can still catch it!"
The commander's voice carried out, and the orc soldiers behind him let out an excited roar.