Ficool

Chapter 834 - A Prickly Hedgehog

Translator: CinderTL

The morning mist over Stonebridge Town had yet to dissipate. Major Burner Hodgson, the local garrison commander, stepped onto the eastern city wall, his boots damp from the wet bricks. He adjusted his monocular telescope, its lens immediately fogging up with moisture. In the distance, the Warren River shimmered with golden ripples under the morning sun, as a few fishing boats slowly made their way to the opposite shore.

"Reinforce this parapet," Hodgson said to the engineering captain, his fingers tapping on the heavily weathered stone bricks. "And bring up two six-pound cannons—"

His orders were abruptly interrupted by the sound of urgent hoofbeats. A scout galloped through the town square, his horse rearing up on the slope and splashing mud everywhere.

"Major!" The scout practically tumbled off his saddle, his leather armor covered in grass stains. "A large force of Orcs has suddenly appeared from the direction of Green Dragon Forest! Abal's Golden Banner has been spotted, and he himself is likely among them! At their current speed, they're less than a day's march from Stonebridge Town!"

Hodgson's telescope clattered onto the battlement. He grabbed the scout by the collar. "Are you certain? The General Staff clearly said—"

"Absolutely certain! This is what we saw!" The scout pulled out a charcoal sketch from his chest, clearly depicting Abal's banner.

The soldiers on the wall stopped their work, and uneasy murmurs spread through the morning mist.

Major Hodgson took a deep breath. The damp air seemed to carry the scent of the enemy drifting from the east.

Earlier, the General Staff had issued him instructions: the Northwest Legion would strive to engage the Orc army in a decisive battle at Laos.

How the General Staff had orchestrated this, Hodgson didn't know, but it was clear that things were not unfolding as they had anticipated.

No, that description wasn't accurate. It would be more precise to say that things were not unfolding in the most ideal way the General Staff had envisioned.

As the supreme commander of the Northwest Legion, Paul Grayman would never allow his staff to become a group of reckless strategists who assumed the enemy would dance to their tune.

He always demanded that the General Staff consider every possible scenario and prepare contingency plans for each one.

For example, in this war, the Orc army might not fall for the trap and attack Laos, where the main forces were concentrated. Instead, they might turn their attention to Stonebridge Town, the true "weak point" of the Northwest Legion.

The General Staff, led by Schroeder, had a contingency plan for this, and the strong organizational and productive capabilities of the Northwest Bay provided the necessary support.

When Major Hodgson turned to the messenger, his tone had already regained its calm.

"Order the entire city to go on high alert immediately. Notify all defense zone commanders to act according to Plan Two. Send a telegram to Laos informing them that the main Orc force has turned toward Stonebridge Town."

In preparation for the possible arrival of the Orcs, a three-meter-deep trench had been dug around the outskirts of Stonebridge Town, winding around the city walls like a giant serpent. The bottom of the trench was lined with sharpened wooden stakes. Beyond the trench, newly installed barbed wire glinted coldly in the morning light, its fine barbs capable of tearing through any flesh that dared to cross.

On the city walls, over twenty cannons protruded menacingly from the battlements. Artillerymen were calibrating their firing ranges with scales, with stacks of cannonballs and silk powder bags beside each cannon. At the strategic high points on the corners of the wall, two heavy howitzers pointed skyward, their dark muzzles capable of hurling incendiary shells as far as the riverbank two miles away.

The streets within the town had been transformed into a labyrinth of death. Sandbag barricades were erected at every intersection, filled with shards of iron; riflemen were stationed on the rooftops of bakeries and bell towers, some of them snipers armed with rifled muskets; artillery positions were set up at various high points throughout the city, their cannons ready to pivot and bombard any Orc squad that breached the walls. The drawbridge over the Warren River had long been raised, the bells hanging from its iron chains jingling in the wind. The river, diverted into man-made channels, flowed swiftly, forming a natural barrier around the southwestern district of the city.

Moreover, Stonebridge Town possessed another strength: its numerous militiamen.

After the second war with the Orcs, Paul, leveraging his status as a marquis, had conducted a census in the Northwest Bay and Blackstone Plains, much like he had done in the Northwest Bay. Based on the census results, he established a militia system in Blackstone Plains akin to that of Alden.

As the alarm bells rang urgently, militiamen from Stonebridge Town poured out from every alley. Apprentices from the blacksmith shops still wore their leather aprons, and bakery workers had flour on their hands. They quickly formed ranks in the central square, their coarse clothes mingling with the standard military uniforms, yet all stood with their backs straight.

Major Hodgson strode toward the podium. "Bring out the 'apples'!" he shouted, and soldiers immediately retrieved cast-iron grenades from wooden crates, their round bodies gleaming coldly in the morning light.

"Two each!" the quartermaster rasped, and the militiamen stepped forward one by one to receive their share.

"Remember your training groups!" Hodgson jumped onto an ammunition crate, his voice cutting through the distant clamor. "John's team to the Mill Street Barricade, Martha's team to guard the church steps!" He pointed toward the northeast corner—the direction from which the Orc army was advancing. "Make those beasts pay in blood for every step they take!"

The militiamen dispersed in silence, their nailed boots drumming a rapid beat on the cobblestone streets.

Militiaman Doyle followed his squad into a firing slit on the second floor of a bakery, which overlooked the entire eastern gate. He neatly arranged the grenades he had received on the windowsill, suddenly noticing that his palms were drenched in sweat.

He gazed into the distance, imagining the horizon where a dark tide of Orc legions was already surging forward.

The entire Stonebridge Town was like a curled-up hedgehog, each quill tipped with deadly poison.

A day later! A cloud of dust rose on the horizon, and the thunderous sound of Orc vanguard cavalry's hooves grew louder as they approached. The leading commander reined in his horse, his single eye narrowing slightly—the defensive fortifications of Stonebridge Town gleamed coldly in the morning light, a stark contrast to the unprepared little town he had imagined.

"Damn it," he spat, his eyes glinting coldly in the sunlight. The trenches and barbed wire encircling the city walls were like thickets of thorns, and the dark muzzles of the cannons made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The warhorses pawed the ground uneasily, as if they too could smell the scent of death.

"Weren't we told there were only some old and weak militiamen here?"

The commander cursed as he tore off the leather eyepatch, revealing a hideous scar beneath.

His gaze swept over the meticulously arranged barricades and high ground, and suddenly he let out a cold laugh. "Grayman's toys are quite complete."

He turned and barked at the messenger, "Tell the Orc Chieftain that the hedgehog is a bit prickly, but we can still catch it!"

The commander's voice carried, and the Orc soldiers behind him let out a roar of excitement.

TL/N: Is it just me or the writing quality seems to have improved in these last few chapters? This is also one of my most favorite chapters in the novel so far.

(End of the Chapter)

---

📖Read (FF) on Pa.treon@CinderTL - c896. [+1]

🔑Early Access at $5.

✍Translated (6) Series, (3.5K+) Chapters, (4.9M+) Words.

More Chapters