Chapter 1132: Revised: Chapter 5 Confrontation
When the spire of Shovel Port Church appeared in Botar’s line of sight, he let out a genuine sigh of relief.
The journey from the manor to Shovel Port was rely seven kiloters—at full gallop, it would take only a quarter of an hour to reach.
Yet those scant seven kiloters made Botar, a seasoned Dusack veteran who feared neither heaven nor earth, experience an unprecedented sense of unease, as though treading on thin ice.
Botar had deployed nearly every reliable rider under his command as scouts, forming a periter defense with a line of cavalry outposts to protect his main force. He knew well—the rebels had a formidable cavalry unit that could not be underestimated.
Botar’s worst fear was the rebel cavalry seizing the opportunity to ambush his yet-to-deploy forces, shattering the militia of Shovel Port mid-march.
Fortunately, the anticipated rebel cavalry, swift as the wind, never appeared. Botar’s troops completed the seven kiloters from manor to port safely and without incident.
When the church spire in the town center erged above the treetops, Botar felt a surge of vigor—and also a faint disdain for the rebel leadership: “So this is what passes for a rebel commander?”
A single glance revealed a hastily constructed wooden palisade brutally dividing the outskirts of the town. The original red swallowtail flags planted on the wall had been taken down, replaced by the rebels’ pale blue square banners.
Outside the palisade, to the north of the main road on the flat grounds of what used to be the livestock auction yard, the rebels who had ambushed Shovel Port had already taken up their positions, waiting patiently.
Gazing at the forest-like line of spears in the distance, Botar murmured, “They actually ca out of the city.”
Botar had received prior intelligence from his scouts about the rebels forming ranks outside the city walls. But it wasn’t until he caught sight of their spear tips glinting in the sunlight that he believed the scouts hadn’t exaggerated.
As a Dusack, Botar couldn’t quite fathom why the rebels chose open-field combat over remaining inside the city. However, he was no raw recruit making his first foray into battle. His long service career had exposed him to countless baffling decisions, many of them astonishingly foolish—whether made by the enemy or his own side.
“It seems fortune favors today,” Botar thought privately—since the rebels had voluntarily forfeited their terrain advantage, he definitely wouldn’t let the opportunity slip away.
The brass horns droned with an “oom-oom-oom” sound, blending with curses and clattering footsteps as Botar’s troops, amidst the chaos, transitioned from marching columns into square formations with practiced efficiency.
According to Alliance Army regulations, whenever infantry adopted square formations, each square should be assigned a senior officer called a “Square Leader,” responsible for organizing the formation and directing the troops.
In Botar’s force, the person most qualified to be Square Leader was undoubtedly “Mr. Alpha,” who personally trained the unit.
However, the young man known by the alias “Alpha” was absent at that mont, leaving his selected sergeants and centurions to manage instead.
Thankfully, the rigorous training endured by the Shovel Port militia proved its worth at the critical mont.
Even without Alpha’s guidance, Botar’s forces smoothly deployed and reford, assembling three battalion-level square formations with thodical precision.
…
“What’s his na again… Botar? That guy seems to have a knack for troop training—looks pretty professional,” Bart Xialing remarked as he approached Tamas. His right arm encircled his waist, and his left hand idly stroked the stubble on his cheek, chuckling lightly. “I dare say even so of our people couldn’t manage formation maneuvers that slick—as if they’re greased up or sothing.”
Fixing his gaze sternly on the distant enemy, Tamas gave a tacit nod. “They are impressive. We’re not as good.”
Slightly miffed, Bart Xialing let out a sigh.
He turned his warhorse back towards his n, grinning and swearing, “Look at them! Now look at yourselves! The Captain of the First Battalion said it loud and clear—you lot couldn’t catch up to those rookies on the other side even if you begged your horses to gallop faster! Alright! Stop standing around like fools! Shed a tear or two and get ready to surrender!”
A deep, rumbling laugh erupted among the ranks of the waiting soldiers.
“Not as good as them—that’s only First Battalion!” soone protested indignantly.
Imdiately, a voice ca shouting back, “Shut your damn mouth!”
With just one simple quip, the atmosphere among the tense soldiers subtly lightened.
Following the battle of Blood and Mud, where many veterans perished or were maid, the Iron Peak County Infantry Regint had to heavily replenish its ranks with new recruits. Even among the soldiers standing before Bart Xialing now, quite a few had never been to the battlefield.
Yet, after a single scolding from the Second Battalion Commander, amidst the carefree jeering of the veterans, even the unblooded recruits began to feel less afraid.
Furtively, Tamas cast a grateful glance toward the Second Battalion Commander—he knew he would never be capable of stirring his troops’ courage with such ease. He couldn’t understand why the Centurion had entrusted him with leadership of the First Battalion instead of choosing soone as talented as Bart Xialing.
But since the Centurion chose to entrust him with the army, Tamas could only resolve to give his utmost and prove himself worthy of such trust.
“Sound the horns. Ready the matchlocks,” Tamas ordered, “Prepare to engage.”
…
Observing the orderly ranks of the Shovel Port militia, Botar thought with admiration, “To train a group of farrs and thieves into what I see now… even the old duke would be proud.”
It was a sha the young man was absent at this mont, unable to witness the fruition of his labor.
During the brief pause as his troops adjusted their formations, Botar galloped toward Shovel Port, intending to get a closer view of the rebels’ true capabilities.
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