Iron Power And Sorcerer

Iron Power And Sorcerer Chapter 180

2021-01-23

Chapter 180. Introduction to Statistics

Tigers do not go down the mountain, and they lead snakes out of their holes.

Seeing that the fortress defenders did not move, the Hurds ran back and surrounded the bridgehead again.

As Lieutenant Colonel Jesska had expected, the Tertown Division was not out of order.

It would be better to say that the rout could be played out so real, and it did not lead to a real rout, which proved that the leader of Teltown still had strength control over his followers.

Overcast clouds and low pressure, the winter wind chills, and vultures circle in the sky, heralding more death and slaughter.

Watching the barbarian army return from defeat, the soldiers and militiamen were disappointed, but also a little nervous.

No one sang the chants anymore, and morale was not as good as before.

The gratitude I sang just now is full of misery now.

Winters was a little happy, he wanted to point his nose and ask the crowd: "It's clear that we brought you to victory, but you thank God in return, what kind of truth is this?"

But this is too outrageous, so I can complain to Bud.

Compared to the dull atmosphere of the soldiers, the officers were chatting and laughing easily.

Telltown's first round siege has proven the fortress defenses to be strong.

The cavalry, who lacked siege weapons, had no choice but to fill the trenches with their lives.

If the Hurd people are ruthless and want to bite the bone, then it's easy to do - there is a bridge behind the fortress, I really can't hold it, and if I withdraw to the other side and blow up the bridge, the barbarians can only stand on the river bank and stare blankly. .

This time, the Hurds behaved well and formed troops outside the effective range of the artillery.

In the distance, the smoke and dust are everywhere, and the number of enemies seems to be endless.

Up on the tower, Mason and Winters were chatting with each other.

"Huh? Did you notice it?" Mason looked surprised: "Every time I go, there seem to be more Hurd cavalry outside?"

Winters felt the same way: "In the morning, , I think the Hurds only have 10,000 cavalry. In this situation, let's talk about 20,000 less."

"Are there reinforcements?"

"Who knows?" Winters asked. Tanshou: "The lieutenant colonel said that the three major divisions grit their teeth and can pull out 100,000 people who control the strings. It is not surprising that the Terdun division dares to bring the people of sacrifice to the sky, and it is not surprising that the whole clan's young and old come out."

Mason shook his head with a wry smile, and suddenly hesitantly asked Winters: "Can I give you some advice, okay?"

Winters is somewhat unfathomable mystery, and sternly replied: "Senior, you can Say."

"In my opinion, instead of letting your musketeer hit fast, don't think of a way to make your musketeer hit more accurately."

Mason took out A page full of handwriting parchment asked Winters somewhat expectantly: "Do you have a statistics class in your infantry department?"

"We only have arithmetic and geometry." Winters shook his head desperately.

"Then let me explain to you the concept of percentage."

[Author's note: Careful book lovers may find that percentages have never been used in this book so far. Use descriptions like 'two percent', '1/4/2022', 'half'.

This is because Winters · Montagne did not study fractions and percentages, and only artillery officers took statistics classes.

Statistics has a long history, dating back to the 'Minutes of the City-States' written by Aristotle. The root of statistics statistics is from the city-state. But fractions and percentages have a very recent history, appearing only in the eighteenth century.

This book is tentatively a friend of Marshal Ned, the founder of artillery discipline, and General Lionheart Euler put forward concepts such as 'fractions' and 'percentages'.

Through Mason's teaching, Winters learned a little bit of statistics. So from here, the concept of percentages and statistics is officially introduced XD. Knowledge is power, start with new weapons! ]
After explaining what percentages are, Mason held the parchment and read: "Outside the fort, I counted 347 Heard corpses. But only 215 of them were at the edge of the trench, and the rest were out of range of the muskets. ."

Wintersp>, after more than 200 were killed, they retreated, and the Terton department was actually very tenacious.

Mason licked his fingers and flipped to the next page: "On the wall, you set up 341 musketeers to shoot six and a half rounds. In theory, 2210 shots should be fired. But because someone was misfired, I counted According to the data on your list, your pawns actually fired a total of 1147 shots."

As Mason talked, Winters was fascinated, and the image of the road-blind Senior became vaguely tall.

Mason cleared his throat and concluded, "That is to say, even if all 215 of your musketeers were killed by your musketeers, the hit rate would only be 18.7 percent, and the remaining 81.3 percent would be killed. It's an empty gun."

Winters breathed for a while: "There could also be a situation where two shots kill a person..."

Mason raised his hand to stop Junior Brother, and continued: "And Don't forget, the 215 people still have my artillery and the results of the musketeers you arranged under the city. The actual killing efficiency is much lower than 18.7%. According to my estimate, it is less than 8%.

In other words, you put 1147 shots and you kill less than 100 people. 52% of your musketeers average only 1.51 shots in six rounds, and less than 10% of musketeers make six shots.”

Mason rolled up the parchment and hit Junior Brother on the forehead, shouting loudly: "Wastrel! Aren't you wasting ammo? If you keep hitting like this, the gunpowder's consumption rate will be at least 3.5 times the original speed. We The gunpowder in stock will be ready in three days."

Winters was speechless.

He took over the parchment, and after reading it carefully, he raised his head and said, "The misfire rate is 48%? It's too high, and it has to be reduced further. The kill rate is actually 8%? It's okay!"

"It's okay!" Mason said with displeasure: "The killing efficiency of cannons is higher than yours."

"Senior, the problem is not how accurate the shot is, but how to make the shot as short as possible. Hit as many leads as possible within the time limit. The more you hit, the better. The faster you hit, the stronger the pressure. The Hurds were even pressed against the horse-rejecting stake just now and didn't dare to raise their heads. Although the efficiency is reduced, the actual combat results are still improved."

"The musketeer's salary is half higher than that of the lancer, because they are technical arms." Mason was distressed: "If you continue to practice like this, you will be more popular in the future. The gunmen will only shoot in one direction, and there is no way to find a musketeer who can hit it!"

Winters blinked, and a smile appeared on his face: "The matching head of the matchlock gun is always It's limited."

"Then fight randomly? Fight randomly? If you're not sure, you should fight carefully! Fight slowly!"

"Senior, don't be angry." Winters embraced He grabbed Mason's shoulder, bit his ear and said, "I have a new idea about the musketeer who can hit it."

"What idea?" Mason asked with a stern look at Junior Brother.

Winters pulled out his double-barrel reed gun and gave the flat end to Senior: "This."

"This?" Mason's eyelids twitched and he took the rifle:" What do you mean?"

"If you can't hit the right, let him fire the platoon gun. If you can hit the accurate shot, I will make him hit more accurately!" , precision shooting, I want them all."

It was Mason's turn to be speechless.

Suddenly there was a shout from under the sentry tower: "Sir Montagne!"

Winters looked out, and under the wooden tower was the lieutenant colonel's messenger: "What's the matter?"

"The barbarians want to negotiate." The messenger answered panting, "Lord Jesska asked you and Lord Bud to go."

"Talk if you want." Winters put the gun in Back to the gun bag: "I'm going to see what sly plan the barbarians are playing."

Winters rode Strong Luck, Bud rode his boneless yellow panther, and the two jumped out.

The two horses, one gold one silver, walked in unison and coordinated, not like walking on a blood-soaked battlefield, but like a dressage parade.

The Platoons on the fort couldn't help but burst into applause.

The red-faced Hurd was not present this time, only the interpreter came to negotiate.

Winters didn't want to talk about people when they saw them.

Without waiting for the other party to speak, he complexion sank, coldly said: "If you don't want to talk, forget it."

After that, Winters was about to leave, and Bud said nothing. Turn horses.

"Talk! Talk! Of course I want to talk!" The interpreter panicked and begged bitterly: "Sir, what do you mean?"

"Talk?!" Winters roared like thunder: "What thing are you! Also cooperate with us? Go back! Come over with someone else who is qualified. That monkey butt face! Let him come!"

The interpreter said awkwardly: " That monkey .>

Winters puchi laughed out loud: "Just the monkey butt face, the fire roaster? Why doesn't he come?"

"You have a cannon, and my lord doesn't want to risk himself." to answer.

The place of negotiation was only three-four hundred meters from the fort and within the effective range of the artillery.

"Bold!" Winters said angrily: "You look down on our credibility?! Then there's nothing to talk about."

After saying that, he raised his whip again.

"Please don't go, my lord, please give me a look." The interpreter smiled bitterly: "The Paratus and the Hurds really have no trust at all. They said they wanted to negotiate, but they violently murdered. This happened. Many times."

The history of grievances and feuds between Plato and the Heard tribes touches Winters' intellectual blind spot.

Winters remain unmoved, flies into a rage: "Look, you are also a Paratus, and you actually work for the Hurds!"

The old interpreter with gray temples burst into tears: " My lord, there is nothing I can do. Thirty-one years ago, I was kidnapped as a slave by the previous chief, the Bowless, and I have been living in wasteland since then. I'll give you a chance." Bud suddenly said, "Follow me directly, and I'll take you back to the fort. Once you enter the fort, the barbarians won't hurt you. You can go home by yourself after the battle, how about that?"

The old interpreter was stunned for a while, then trembling and cowardly said: "Sir, I have no family left in Palato, and I have married and had children in Teltown. I..."

"Don't talk nonsense!" Buddy was cold and severe, his eyes flashing cold glow: "Would you like to go?"

The blood on the old interpreter's face was gone, and he shook his head slightly.

"What did the barbarian chief ask you to talk about?" The suave Bud rarely revealed a murderous aura: "Speak directly!"

"My Lord Fire Boiler." The old interpreter licked it Lips, and sweat dripping from his forehead on a cold day: "May the lord of your army carry out a Mak'gora - life and death duel according to the ancient ritual. If my lord wins, you will hand over the sacrifice. The people of Tianjin. If your army leader will win, the Teltown division will withdraw its troops and will not participate in this battle."

Rao Shi had all kinds of expectations, and the enemy's proposal still made Winters and Bud stunned. People looked at each other in blank dismay and didn't know what to say.

"Your Excellency can trust Macgola." The old interpreter continued: "Your army and our army will definitely respect it. In history, Hurd and Palatu had a total of thirty-six Macgola games. La, no matter who wins or loses, they will fulfill their promises."

"The soldier, the major event of the country!" Budd brows tightly frowns, and scolded in a deep voice: "How could it be possible to use a duel to Decide on a major event for the military? What kind of madness is your monkey butt-faced chief?"

"But..." The old interpreter swallowed: "Que Yehan was killed by your army's Ned Smith in Mack. Beheaded in Gora ceremony..."

Hearing the old marshal's name in this hellish place, Winters suddenly came to his senses.

"And this thing?" He asked with interest: "Why haven't I seen it in the history of warfare? Can you tell me? What are the limitations of this makgeolli? Horseback riding? Foot combat? ?"

The old interpreter wiped the sweat from his head and said, "The two sides can make an agreement, both on foot and on cavalry. Generally, weapons are not limited..."

"Then Can you use a gun?" Winters widened his eyes.

Without waiting for the old interpreter to answer, Bud hurriedly interrupted his cheerful friend.

Bud reached out and took Winters' reins, and said to the interpreter: "You wait here, I'll go back and tell my general."

"Don't go! I haven't Do you understand!" Winters was dragged all the way, farther and farther away from the old interpreter, and still shouted reluctantly: "Hey! The interpreter, can you use a gun? Use..."

Back to the bridgehead , the two were surrounded by other officers.

“What are the Hurds trying to say?” Lieutenant Colonel Jesska asked.

"The Hurds are crazy!" Winters was elated: "They really can't do anything about this fort! They're so desperate that they want to try any tricks."

Bard Frowned said: "If the interpreter didn't lie, it's not good news that the warchief of the Tordun division, the Fireboiler, is leading the army. And they seem so confident that the interpreter doesn't even want to go to us."

"All the golden sacrificial people have moved here! How could it not be the Barbarian Chief himself?" Jesska sneered: "Is there anything else?"

"hahaha!" Winters burst into tears: "They want to duel you!"

[Note: I finally took out the weapon of statistics, but I held it back for a long time. Although the subject of statistics is still in the primary stage, and its analytical ability is very weak, it will be of great use in Winters' hands]
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