Mage? Spell Engineer!.

Chapter 534: Winter Embers

The end of December.

It was supposed to be the "Holy Song Festival", but the soldiers hadn't celebrated it for two years. According to propaganda, this was progress in not being fooled by the church. There was nothing good about celebrating a fake festival, but in a foreign country where it was not easy, the people holding their guns tightly missed it in their hearts.

What we miss may not be the festivals, but the peaceful and tranquil days when we endured the cold weather with our families at home.

It is said that there is also a tradition of praying for a good harvest in the empire at similar times, but now the two sides are mortal enemies. The National Guard members who have penetrated deep into the enemy territory poked their heads out of the trenches and tents, but outside they saw nothing but a scorched earth plowed by artillery fire, and there was no sign of a good harvest or a happy occasion.

They were trembling and confused. Aren't they joining the National Guard? Why were they defending someone else's land?

Fortunately, the Guards have been doing ideological work from top to bottom, and most people can understand and comprehend that fighting here is to fight for a safe future for their country. "Only by hurting people can we make them understand that we are not easy to mess with!" Everyone can understand this.

So during the banned festival, the only comfort was some food from their hometowns, and the soldiers shared things they treasured or sent from their hometowns.

In the past, they always complained that canned food tasted bad, until the contract factory became Istani, which made everyone realize their mistake and ashamedly said that they owed their own factory an apology. Occasionally, there would be mysterious canned food with the labels erased, which tasted good and looked like the spoils captured from the empire.

Even these canned foods became scarce, and the speed at which winter uniforms and cotton-padded clothes were sent from their hometown could not keep up with the speed at which winter was getting colder and they were heading north.

By the campfire, no one knew who took the lead, but a slightly sad tune floated in the camp, but it couldn't enter the command post.

"There is one last big city left from the imperial capital, Oward. It is crossed from east to west by the Oward River of the same name, dividing the city into north and south banks. The defense line prepared for us along the river is the closest to the imperial capital." Pascal spread out the map: "It is said that the defending commander is the famous Turtle General of the Empire. I think we have fought with him before."

Paul was unwilling to follow his senior brother into meaningless memories: "It's not important. The key is our own situation."

He pushed aside all the fragments that were pressing down on the map, and his vision suddenly became clear, so that all commanders were no longer limited to their own locations and nearby battlefields, but the entire eastern part of the empire.

"We are now deep in enemy territory, out of the protection of the Black Forest. Our right side will be exposed to the defenders of the western part of the Empire. It is known that the Imperial Army in Valois has gradually returned to defend and is heading towards us. On the other hand, since we are away from the coastline and the Empire's navy has assembled, the supply from the sea has begun to lag behind.

"That is to say, our pressure will increase dramatically both militarily and logistically. I am considering whether to attack."

Other generals immediately said, "We are all about to meet 'His Majesty the Emperor', how can we give up halfway now? And since the supply can't keep up, isn't this city the best place for supply?" Many generals were imagining the glory of breaking into the imperial capital, so no one wanted to hear Paul's cold water, but fortunately everyone was willing to listen.

Paul explained: "I am even considering, not giving up the attack on Oward, but stopping the entire offensive." He complained impatiently: "What are those politicians, those guys who chatter in the National Assembly doing now? They should have sent envoys to sit down and negotiate with the empire long ago.

"Think carefully, everyone. Is our goal really the imperial capital? The capital of another country? Are you going to expand your territory there?"

"Of course not, we are." Paul took over the conversation: "We are here to defend our motherland. There are several factors that led us to choose the imperial capital as our target. First, attacking from the Lowland Principality is just the right way to break through the weakest link in the empire's strongest defense line. Secondly, our action this time is to take the initiative and tie down the main force of the imperial army, because our capital and the empire are also the closest and weakest on the eastern front. Therefore, it is appropriate to go straight to the imperial capital.

"What about now? The crisis in our motherland has been resolved, and the Empire's troops have basically returned to their homeland. In my eyes, our mission has been accomplished.

"Do we really have to change the systems of all countries and join some big family of 'sister republics'? I think that even if the whole world becomes a republic one day, as long as there are countries and ethnic groups, there will still be conflicts, clashes, and bloodshed, that is, wars. If that's the case, I don't understand the point of letting soldiers die in a foreign land."

There was one more thing he didn't say in his mind: The emperor doesn't necessarily have to be eliminated. The masses need outstanding people to lead them. Is calling him "Your Majesty" bad, and calling him "First Citizen" good?
Pascal couldn't help but interrupt: "If you say this to Valois, you will be invited to the National Square tomorrow."

"Is it the square where prominent figures were executed? Will the guillotine there have special historical value in the future?"

The command center did not agree with Paul's point of view, and the generals did not directly refute or approve it, but instead cleverly asked the National Salvation Committee for instructions.

The message coming from the telegraph wires was clear, brief, and powerful: Generals, please fight until the empire is destroyed.

Paul sighed and said, "Every member of the National Salvation Committee should be asked to serve as a soldier for at least ten days. No, it only takes three days. Then this telegram will say something different."

Paul did not yet have the power or prestige to make his words effective, so the order from the National Salvation Committee was the highest order, and the winter offensive to break through the empire's last line of defense began.

In order to solve the problem of supply shortage and create a stable rear and powerful supply center for future imperial offensives, almost everyone agreed to capture Oward.

Since no enemy has been able to enter the borders of the Kingdom of Marin for more than a hundred years, many large cities in the core area of ​​the empire are similar to Valois. The old and narrow city walls have long been of only cultural landscape value, and this value has not yet been discovered in the current era. Other new urban and industrial areas are exposed on both sides of the river, making the Valois people salivate.

Between the chimneys and on the south bank of the Ord River, all the giant mechanical attackers sounded the charge horns, and countless shells whizzed past their heads, back and forth.

The defenders of the inland cities had no chainmail prepared, so the only way they could resist the attackers was with ordinary artillery and a fleet of airships.

"The Empire's forbidden magic field has been deployed. Eleven machines have slowed down, but have maintained their mobility and limited firepower!" Now all the attackers who have not been killed on the battlefield have been equipped with a new generation of black coffin system, and can barely continue to operate in the long-term field.

Paul was quite satisfied with the progress of the battle. The south bank of the city could be taken today, and the resistance in the streets and alleys was not as strong as expected.
Suddenly he smelled a burnt smell. Paul frowned and sniffed carefully, then he saw gray "snow" falling from the sky.

"What.?"

Almost in an instant, the fruits of victory won by the National Guard - the south bank of Oward turned into a sea of ​​fire, and the ashes seemed to fall before the flames, and wherever they touched would be ignited in an instant. Just breathing the air would cause the nose and throat to be fiercely burned.

(End of this chapter)