Palin Winterfort came to the high platform of the castle. From here, he could see the direction of the barracks. The flag of the Empire with a black background and red stripes fluttered high in the air. Fierce and combative soldiers were moving between the barracks. Further away, he could see many mage towers erected in the inner city. The Mage's Eyes on the towers were constantly monitoring the entire area.
He raised his head again and looked at the distant west. However, the gloomy sky and thin fog in the air blocked his vision. He could not see Winterwolf Fort, which was now in the hands of Cecil's people. Of course, he could not see Longwind Fortress, which was even further away.
Is Andesha safe in the territory of Cecil's people?
Count Winterfort sighed softly and put his meaningless worries aside for the time being. He then used magic to communicate with the few mage towers in the inner city and confirmed that none of the Mage's Eyes had found anything unusual.
The main task of these Mage's Eyes was actually not to guard the direction outside the fortress. What they were really guarding was the Knight Order's encampment inside the fortress and the few additional barracks outside the city.
Those barracks were filled with battle-ready Knight and soldiers, as well as devout and fanatical priests and battle priests. They were the main force of this war and the biggest expendable. Since the start of the war, the military strength in the Winterfort area had increased by more than six times. And now, there were still new soldiers and priests rushing to the frontline from the rear, making the narrow battlefield more crowded and more dangerous.
In Palin Winterfort's opinion, the magic trains were not transporting troops from the rear, but fresh corpses.
And unlike the ordinary 'corpses', these 'corpses' gathered in Winterfort could easily go out of control. They were filled with fanatical thoughts and impulses, and their nervous systems and external senses had mutated into something that was neither human nor human. They looked like ordinary humans, but inside … they had long become twisted things that even dark spells could not penetrate.
But at the frontline, there was still a way to control these dangerous and twisted corruptors. As long as they were restrained according to the rules of war, they could release the frenzied pressure of the Luna world in time, or they could be administered large doses of tranquilizers to suppress their destructive impulses or slow down their mutation speed, at least temporarily.
It was a dangerous balance. Every day was like walking on a knife's edge. Palin Wintercastle's mission here was to maintain the fragile balance on the knife's edge and consume these fresh "corpses" in the most efficient and optimal way within the threshold range of things going out of control.
He felt that he was like a technician who controlled the combustion furnace in a pyrolytic acid plant. Every day, he accurately calculated the fuel and alchemical accelerants that were thrown into the fire. Human lives were in his hands after a cold calculation, ready to be thrown into the blazing flames of war when the furnace was opened next time. He maintained the heat of the flames here, gradually eliminating the pollution of the Empire, exploring and weakening the strength of Cecil's people, collecting data on the battlefield, and adjusting the balance of the scales …
He knew that what he was doing had a great meaning, but he still found it disgusting.
War was not supposed to be like this, and he should not have done such a thing.
"It's colder here than I thought," a voice came from the side, waking Count Wintercastle from his thoughts. "But it's hard to say which side is more unbearable, Oldenheim or here. The coldness here is like the edge of a blade, hard and sharp, while the coldness in Oldenheim is like a swamp, humid and suffocating."
Count Wintercastle turned his head and nodded to Count Cremont Dart, who was standing beside him. The noble of Oldenheim came to Wintercastle with the troop train today. Nominally, he was the commander of the reinforcements, but in reality, he was also one of the "consumables" transported by the magic train.
"This winter is colder than the previous years," Count Wintercastle said. "The soldiers from the central and southern regions have a hard time adapting here. But compared to the Northern Region of Cecil, the environment here is mild. "
"Soldiers …" Cremont Dart repeated the word softly. He looked into the distance and scanned the barracks with the imperial flag. "Count Winterfort, these are all outstanding young men. Truly outstanding. They should have had a bright future. They shouldn't have died in this cold winter."
Palin Wintercastle was silent for two seconds and said slowly, "Mortals are so fragile in the face of the malice of the gods. Our motherland needs to be reborn in the fire, and what you see … is the price of being burned by the fire. "
"I only see meaningless consumption and a long tug-of-war, but I don't see any effective counterattack, whether it's against Cecil's people or against the gods," Cremont said in a low voice. "Tell me, is it really meaningful to bury the mentally contaminated soldiers and priests on this narrow battlefield? Is it cutting their blood to release the poison, or wasting their vitality in vain? "
Count Wintercastle looked into Cremont's eyes and nodded slowly after a long time. "I choose to believe in Your Majesty's judgment."
"… That's a good reason." Cremont smiled and took a deep breath of the cold air from the north. Then he turned around and walked slowly to the exit of the high platform. "Anyway, I'm already here. Save me a good place."
Palin Wintercastle watched Cremont walk away slowly. He narrowed his eyes slightly. In his mind, he had begun to calculate the value of this "conservative opposition noble" here and where the reinforcements he brought should be used.
…
On the defensive line between Winterwolf Fort and Shadowy Swamp, the cold wind was blowing through the rolling hills and the low woods along the frozen land. Some loose snow was blown up by the wind and swirled on the relay piles on both sides of the railway. Inside the shimmering rail shield, the heavily armored and majestic Iron Throne — Python on Earth was cruising along the railway line at a cruising speed.
The repulsion generators on both sides of the train flickered with the brilliance of runes. The mechanical devices at the connection between the repulsion points and the carriages adjusted the angle slightly, slightly increasing the speed of the train. The snowflakes that were blown by the wind from afar passed through the shield harmlessly and were swept into the bottom of the roaring train. On another parallel track some distance away from the train, there was an Iron Scepter light armored train that acted as an escort, running side by side with the "Python of Earth".
At the rear of the Iron Scepter's artillery carriage, in the engineering carriage responsible for the maintenance of the railway, a war technician had just finished adjusting the valves and screws of some equipment. He looked up from his work and looked out at the snow-covered plains through the inlaid narrow window on one side of the carriage. He whispered softly, "This damn snow has finally stopped. We haven't seen many sunny days since the middle of the Month of Mist."
"Sunny days may not be a good thing. Those Typhon people may be more active than before." Another war technician shook his head. "They have come to destroy the railway more than once. Although most of the time it's not very effective. But I heard that they almost succeeded in blowing up Line 7 last time."
The war technician who spoke earlier curled his lips and did not continue the topic. He came to the side of the carriage and looked at the snowy world outside more carefully. The military train covered in armor, narrow windows, and all the windows were covered with a layer of steel mesh. Of course, there was no good sightseeing. All he could see was a vertical, narrow landscape. In this landscape, the listless woods and snow-stained hills were quickly receding, and in the sky further away, he could vaguely see iron-gray shadows floating in the sky.
That should be a sign of another snowfall — this damned winter.
"What's wrong?" His companion asked casually. "What do you see?"
"There are dark clouds in the sky. I'm afraid it's going to snow again." The war technician muttered. "Judging from my experience, I'm afraid it's going to be a snowstorm."
"You're just a mechanic. How can you judge the weather?" His companion curled his lips in disdain and turned to look at the window on the other side of the carriage. Outside the narrow, thick glass window, the massive body of the Iron Throne — Anaconda of the Mortal World was crawling on the track not far away, rumbling forward.
…
In the tactical section of the Anaconda of the Mortal World, the frontline commander Maryland was standing in front of the command seat, looking at the many marks on the map attentively. On the table in his hand, there were communication devices, mapping tools, and organized data files in order.
A moment later, Maryland suddenly looked up and looked at the adjutant beside him. "How long until we reach the battle site?"
The adjutant immediately replied, "Reach the firing range in 30 minutes. Leave the firing range in 40 minutes."
Maryland nodded. "Well, the time is just right. Inform the Arsenal Division to start pre-filling the Prismatic Generator with cooling water. Heat up the two power ridges in advance. We will soon enter the alert range of Typhon's people. Their reaction speed has been much faster than before."
"Yes, sir."
Maryland's attention returned to the map in front of him. Between the meandering and straight lines on the map, Typhon's and Cecil's respective territories were intertwined in a crisscrossing pattern.
Thirty minutes later, the Anaconda of the Mortal World, the Iron Throne, would enter a designated firing range. In about ten minutes, the train would use the Prismatic Cannon to launch a powerful bombardment at one of the outposts on Typhon's side. But in reality, the distance was a little far, and the Prismatic Beam could only burn some of the enemy's outer walls and ancillary buildings to a limited extent. There might not even be many casualties, but that was not important.
The sudden Prismatic Beam attack was enough to make Typhon's people on the entire defensive line highly nervous. They would make a large-scale mobilization to deal with the upcoming attack, and send out a large number of scouts to try to determine the Iron Throne's next route and whether there were more armored trains and convoys nearby. After they were all busy … the Anaconda of the Mortal World would return to the station in the Shadowy Swamp, where Maryland would reward himself with a cup of fragrant coffee and a hot bath if possible. At the same time, he would think about when the next armored train would depart, and where the next real frontal assault would begin.
As for the collection and analysis of Typhon's military operations in the process … he would do it together with the staff officers.
This was what he had been doing recently, and was also one of the tactics he and General Philip came up with together. Its core idea was to fully utilize the mobility of Cecil's mechanical army and their ability to deliver a large amount of firepower in a short period of time. Relying on the several railway lines and the temporarily built forward railway in the Winterwolf Fortress and Shadowy Swamp area, with the three armored trains — Zero, the Anaconda of the Mortal World, and the recently installed War Citizen — as the core of the battle, they would continuously harass, advance, harass, and advance.
The new Rainbow Cannons of the armored trains were extremely powerful and had an extremely long range. When the shooting angle was suitable, they could deal a huge blow to the enemy from extremely far away. Relying on this, the armored trains and their escorts would constantly patrol the railway and randomly attack the fixed Typhon strongholds near the maximum firing range. The enemy would have no choice but to frequently move and fight or avoid the attacks. However, if they directly gave up on those strongholds and fought while maintaining a distance from the Iron Throne in the plains, then the tank squadrons on the Iron Throne would immediately enter the battlefield to reap the lives of the enemy or simply retreat to exhaust the enemy's energy.
If the Typhon's army retreated during this process, then the engineering teams accompanying the armored trains would immediately start moving. They would lay down the 'forward railway' and further expand the Iron Throne's range of activity. They would also set up temporary stations and energy transfer stations to provide energy supplies for the tanks and infantry. If the Typhon's army did not do anything, then the Cecil Army would be able to build a large number of crisscrossing defensive nets and fortifications in the newly occupied areas within a week.
And if the Typhon's army did not want to see all this happen, then they could only pay a huge price and charge back into the Cecil's territory.
At first, Maryland would still choose to fight the fearless Typhon's army head-on. However, after realizing that the huge army of Extraordinary individuals with constant morale and no fear of death could cause huge damage to the mechanical army once they went all out, he chose another plan. If the Typhon's army counterattacked, then they would fight them for a while and immediately retreat once they achieved victory. The speed of the mechanized army on the railway was far beyond the reach of regular infantry. The Iron Throne and its affiliated forces that were carrying out the 'harassment-advance' mission could quickly retreat to the protection of the artillery bases and permanent fortifications. The only thing the enemy could do was to destroy the unfinished fortifications and the temporary 'forward railway'.
This kind of loss was almost negligible to Cecil's engineering team.
This kind of advance could be endless. If it were not for the orders from the Imperial Capital, Maryland felt that he could completely rely on this improved version of the 'Steel Advance' tactic to flatten the entire Winter Fort Defense Line before the end of the Month of Fog, and even push all the way to Oldenheim …
But the Imperial Capital had given the order … at least for now, the Empire had no plans to attack Oldenheim.
Maryland sighed softly.
This was fine. After all, that place was a polluted area. The shadow of the out-of-control god shrouded the land of Typhon, and it was not a good idea to go too deep.
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