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Chapter 1483: Chapter 40: Siege (10)

[Siege Camp]

Before dawn, the reserve cadets were pulled out of their tents by the piercing sound of a bugle and gathered on the open ground.

Richard Mason appeared at the front of the lineup and said a few encouraging words to the reserve cadets.

Actually, John Jeska hadn’t arranged for this process, but Mason was feeling a bit uneasy, so he made a special trip, after all, his na was still written in the role of Chief Officer on the “Second Academy” roster.

Then the reserve officers, with empty stomachs, were led out of the camp.

Houdel was in the lineup, following along without knowing where they were going, too afraid to ask.

The moon had long since set, and even if it hadn’t, it was as small as a tooth mark, useless.

In the long queue, only the front and rear had lit a few torches, most reserve officers could only hold onto the belt of the person ahead, advancing in complete darkness.

Stumbling along to a certain place, the few remaining torches were extinguished, leaving only the squad leader holding a specially made very dim lantern.

Reserve officers were then dispersed into smaller groups according to classes and continued marching.

Due to well-known reasons, the first recruitnt of the “Second Army Academy” far exceeded expectations, and it was a mixed bag, causing the original program to be completely unfeasible.

So a now-reclusive Vice Principal decided not to divide new students by specialty for the ti being, and wait until basic courses were completed to allocate directions.

Thus, during this process, filtering out so who should have been screened during entrance exams but weren’t due to lowered eligibility standards.

Since the “classes” of the Second Academy don’t link to military branches, they’re simply living and learning collectives, each with a full capacity of thirty people, managed by one squad leader.

The squad leader of Houdel’s class, coincidentally, was the baby-faced junior officer often seen beside Principal Jeska.

None of the junior officer staff at the Second Academy lacked sothing physically, except the baby-faced one who was fully intact.

Initially, students were curious about where the baby face was incomplete?

Until later, rumors spread that the baby face was actually a captive.

This explained it; students lost curiosity about the baby face and also lost respect.

Yet, Houdel was unusually well-behaved in front of the baby face, and tried his best to prevent others from giving baby face trouble.

Because when the baby face smilingly entered the classroom and announced to Houdel’s class that he was their squad leader, Houdel imdiately recognized:

This baby face was the captive who accompanied Blood Wolf practicing sword outside the prisoner camp, being very close to Blood Wolf.

Even if burnt to ashes, Houdel wouldn’t forget the “sycophantic” smile on the baby face when he rushed ahead to hand the canteen to Blood Wolf.

Houdel’s class had thirty people, arranged in two lines, following behind the baby face.

For so reason, as they walked further, the atmosphere beca tenser.

The smile vanished from the baby face’s face; he squinted and pursed his lips, carefully scanning the ground, seemingly searching for sothing.

As they walked on, a faint light appeared ahead.

Houdel initially thought it was fireflies, but soon realized the light was actually in the far distance, moving from side to side.

While Houdel struggled to identify the light source, a sudden flash of red appeared from that direction.

Imdiately, two sounds—a dull thunder and a strange whooshing noise—reached Houdel’s ears almost simultaneously, the latter sound giving Houdel goosebumps.

“Cannon!” Houdel scread, grabbing whoever was next to him, disregarding any decorum, and dropped to the ground in a panic.

In fact, when Houdel heard the sound, the cannonball had already arrived, but the impact was far from where he was, so many classmates in Houdel’s class hardly realized the cannonball had grazed past them, instead being startled by Houdel’s scream.

But soon, everyone was like Houdel, dropping to the ground—as red flashes continued in succession from the front, the rumbling thunder shaking the ground.

Even the most obtuse person realized it was cannons.

The cadets lay on the ground, not daring to move.

“Where have you taken us?” Houdel, disregarding the night march’s silence rules, sharply questioned the baby face.

“Where else could it be?” The baby face appeared innocent, not lying on the ground, just crouching, with a composed deanor. “Of course it’s Kingsfort.”

Houdel clearly felt the person beside him shiver. He didn’t know what to say, only cursing angrily, “[Paratu dialect profanity]!”

“Cadet Houdel, you lose a point,” the baby face flashed a friendly smile like the one during his introduction, then cheerfully told the other reserve officers, “Don’t worry, at this distance, only the unfortunate would be hit by a cannonball. Stand up, continue walking, we’re not there yet.”

With that, he rose first, carrying the lantern, and continued forward.

The cadets looked at each other, hesitated for a mont, but eventually, they too got up, bending low and cautiously following.

Only then did Houdel realize the baby face wasn’t walking aimlessly.

On the ground, both behind and ahead of them, a white line guided the way.

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