Even if unable to scout how many reserves the enemy actually hides, with impeccable tactical arrangents and a clearly advantageous situation, the Sea Clan still discreetly reveals the dawn of victory.
Roml’s performance today was very sluggish; every ti the Sea Clan deployed a tactic, Roml hesitated for quite a while before coming up with a corresponding counterasure.
Shortly after the four Shepherd-tree People joined the battle, the clockwork catapult positioned behind the Sea Clan stopped using bagged ramd earth bullets, instead launching packets of oil engulfed in flas. The orange-red fireballs, trailing thick black smoke, drew long parabolic arcs in the sky, spreading the stinging, unpleasant sll of burning seal oil far and wide with the west wind.
The fireballs ignited by seal oil posed a significant threat to the Shepherd-tree People, yet Roml, aside from instructing the Lucian warriors to extinguish the fires with dry earth, had no other ans to counter these dangerous fireballs, resulting in the Shepherd-tree People being badly burned, their bodies charred and in a sorry state.
"Make them move quicker, how can fitting an aerial bomb take so long!" Roml, anxious and fuming, urged the Zeppelin Aircraft to return and prepare for combat.
"Marshal Roml, may I speak out of turn and inquire, what kind of gas did your Zeppelin aircraft just use in its aerial bombs?" The Swan High Priest Mourinho tilted his handso face and courteously asked the half-blood Fawkes: "Perhaps I shouldn’t be asking this, but my airborne units currently use aerial bombs that might bear so resemblance in concept to yours!"
Except for a few Demonic Sea Clan mbers unfamiliar with the language, continuing to naively focus on the fierce battle, most of the observers perked their ears straight and kept their eyes locked onto Roml and Mourinho.
This type of military secret, even with a blade at one’s throat, would unlikely be willingly shared with others, and the recent events clearly suggested just that—even the weapons used by Lucian’s eagle-ox air force for ground attacks remained rather primitive javelins, while the fla bombs used by the Moore airborne knights were traditional and left their exact nature unknown; it was Roml’s personal guard that utilised poison fog missiles for ground attacks, and it was evident that Roml concealed the technology for this aerial bomb even from the Fallen Elves, otherwise the eagle-ox air force wouldn’t have resorted to javelins for battle.
Silence.
A tense silence.
The distant clamour of bloody combat on the battlefield shaded the silent oil mound into a desolate graveyard.
"I can unveil what type of aerial bombs our Bord air force uses first..."
"No need!
Since Lord Mourinho has spoken, there’s no harm in publicly sharing the manufacturing principle of this poison gas aerial bomb." Roml waved his hand decisively and with a straightforwardness: "This aerial bomb is made with sulfurous ground gas!
Mount Tarlarya has many fissures that emit sulfur gas, and so with higher concentrations of sulfurous ground gas, if inhaled, will severely damage the lungs and rapidly snatch life away!
But this sulfurous gas also disperses quite quickly; as you’ve seen, the sulfurous aerial bombs I’ve been using can only incapacitate the enemy, causing them to fall to the ground without rendering large-scale, substantial damage!"
"Wherever there are hot springs at Mount Tarlarya, there will be fissures emitting sulfur gas. If such high-concentration sulfur gas is inhaled, the lungs would solidify into sulfur-like stone fossils, and the local inhabitants call these fissures capable of ejecting deadly sulfur gas ’Leonidas’, aning ’baneful breath’!" Liu Zhenshock beautifully played the role of the armchair strategist, nodding continuously like the Jade Rabbit pounding dicine, both thumbs thrusting toward Roml: "An expert! As soone living at the foot of the snowy mountain...never thought...I’d be begging while guarding a golden bowl!"
"Indeed worthy of beauty and wit! Sulfur mines are a natural resource, inexhaustible and perpetual, perfect for making aerial bombs." Mourinho, full of admiration, deeply bowed to Roml: "Thank you for your generous enlightennt, Marshal Roml! In you, I indeed see the incomparable brilliance of the Fawkes bloodline."
The ever-composed handso Marshal was rendered sowhat flustered by Mourinho’s gesture, repeatedly expressing his humility, a tear almost burgeoning from his eye.
The military observers from several human nations were exchanging glances, especially the envoys from the Pompeii Empire and other nations in the northeastern Aegean, who were rather proud and complacent. Aside from the Northeast Province of the Bimon Kingdom, their countries were closest to Mount Tarlarya.
"There’s a matter I feel obliged to clarify: although the snowy mountain has plenty of sulfurous ground gas, most are harmless, and the ’Leonidas gas mines’ that can eject lethal sulfur gas are exceedingly rare. From what I’ve managed to explore so far, I’ve found just two deadly gas mines after six months of exploration!" Roml eased his emotions a bit, pouring a sizable cold bucket over the heads of the complacent humans: "Aside from the scarcity of lethal gas mines, filling the gas is also cumberso; at present, for manufacturing the ’sulfurous aerial bombs’, I choose containers with the best elasticity, which are large fish bladders.
Recently, on the Sanggan River in the Donau Wasteland, many large fish were let in by Sea Clan herders, so I seized that opportunity to gather so fish bladders and bubbles!
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