The smoke of gunpowder and the pungent burnt smell floated in the distance. The Chancellor of the Finance Department was a little dazed. He clenched his fists hard: "Buck, is there anything I want me to do?"

At this moment, there was no gap between the two.

"I'll give you a squadron soldier, and this one." Marquis Brackbarn took out a silver nameplate with a golden sword ornament from his pocket and stuffed it into the hands of the Chancellor of the Exchequer: "This is my token, and everyone in the military knows it. You can call any unit with this... I'm going to fight the monsters in the north, and you have to ensure the safety of the rear, especially the king."

Laurent nodded calmly, and he lowered his voice and asked, "This is an opportunity, are you going to kill them?"

He refers to those of the sons of Duke Weimerson.

"You can do it!" Zhan Yan, Marquis of Brackbarn, smiled: "I really didn't expect to hear such words from you. I always think you are a pacifist, advocated and insisted on non-violent and non-cooperation."

"It's not surprising that war will change a lot of things." The Chancellor tightened the silver nameplate in his hand.

The Marquis nodded and patted his shoulder casually: "May the Holy Lord bless you."

...

The battle did not change in the direction that Marquis Brackbarn hoped.

The northern giants did not launch an attack. They stayed outside the city and continued to fire in the city.

This is a terrifying weapon that can explode and then release flames. The Marquis finally believed that those who escaped from the northern front line did not lie. The giant's weapons were indeed very advanced. On the other hand, the cannons on their own and solid shells were very low in terms of lethality and destruction. What's worse is that the range was extremely short and could not threaten the opponent's artillery positions at all.

The fire in the city was getting bigger and bigger, especially in the densely populated East District, where there were hundreds of thousands of civilians and more poor people. The poor with no money could only live in shacks, and they built their accommodation with anything available, especially the broken wooden boards. There was no problem in normal times, but now a few shells fell down and triggered large fires. The dilapidated wooden houses burned along and soon turned into a sea of ​​fire with a burning area of ​​more than a few square kilometers. Thousands of people were trapped in the fire and could not get out. They wailed and shook the sky, and the wind blowing from that direction had a strong aroma of barbecue.

All the soldiers staying in the trenches outside the city, including Marquis Brackbarn, showed fear. This style of fighting has exceeded the normal military scope and their normal understanding of war. It is more of a unilateral massacre than a battle.

The shocked Marquis issued an offensive order.

He knew very well that the northern giants would not attack the city of London until all the shells were shot. These tall monsters were so terrible that their wisdom was even far beyond the muscle strength. Without a city wall was the biggest deadly point in London? This meant that the defenders had no terrain support? What's worse was that the shells could cause fires and thus lead to large-scale civil unrest.

The first attack wave has as many as 40,000 people? They are all trained regular soldiers.

They were highly expected by the Marquis. Everyone took the 44th potion of Migaard, but the reduction of physical pain was not enough to reduce the fear of the brain. The attacking soldiers were shaking with guns. They seemed helpless in the face of the empty wilderness battlefield, but the military band behind them kept beating the war drums. The dense and rhythmic drum beats urged them to move forward and not retreat.

The engineer had built a dirt wall in front of the artillery position. He held a telescope in his hand and observed the movements in the distance. Looking at the white musketeers who were gradually approaching, he issued an order from his mouth with fangs: "Fire? Kill them all? No one left."

The dense ferry guns rang out, and bullets with hot energy drilled into the human body, blowing the fragile body to pieces.

The storm set the position very cleverly. He combined the terrain with the woods and divided it into three parts at different heights. In order to prevent the long-range artillery of the whites, minimize casualties, all the imperial soldiers assigned to the garrison sites were dispersed. The standard "three-three system" was combined with each other, and precise shooting plus a rifle range far exceeding the opponent's rifle, making up for the insufficient area firepower due to too few personnel.

When entering the defensive state, whether the weapons are advanced is largely determined by the outcome of the battle. Marquis Brackbarn guessed well? The reason why the storm did not send infantry attacks at the first time was to exert the power of the incendiary bombs and completely disrupt the situation in the city. However, he had another consideration in doing so, that is, to force the white defenders to leave the trenches and launch an attack on their own initiative, so that they could rely on temporary fortifications to cause as many casualties to their opponents as possible.

The white soldiers gathered in dense arrays and trot forward. This is not their fault. Military rituals stipulate that this must be done, and only by doing so can they form firepower advantages. But in the eyes of the imperial infantry on the defensive, this is simply synonymous with "stupidity". There are too many white people and too dense, and they don't need to aim at it. You can hit the target as long as you shoot. Balls of blood and flesh burst out from time to time in the attacker crowd. This is not simply being hit and fell down, just like a large amount of explosives buried in your body, which is triggered and detonated during this cruel time.

In less than an hour, the casualties rate of the offensive troops reached 60%.

The tragic situation of the dead is a kind of mental torture for the living. Especially when watching the companions around him instantly turn from living people to countless rotten flesh, and various tissues and organs are splashing everywhere, it seems that the white soldiers walking forward with mechanical steps are really unbearable.

The first person who turned around and escaped may have been because of a mental breakdown. He threw away the gun in his hand, turned around and ran away. This action immediately aroused the imitation of others, expanding from dozens to hundreds, and then turned into thousands of people... In less than three minutes, the entire offensive formation began to shake. Looking down from the air, the entire army seemed to be cursed. Everyone stopped in one go, like a large piece of human-shaped wave that was forcibly cursed by some force, and began to disperse at this moment. One, two, three, four... the molecules that aggregated into a wave began to retreat, and it also became dispersed from its thick state, and finally, along the way it came, it evolved into a overwhelming retreat frenzy.

On the rear position, the officers of the supervisory team shouted loudly.

"No retreat is allowed, you have made the wrong direction, the enemy is behind you."

"For Saxon, the last drop of blood must flow. Oh, you damn shameless deserters!"

"Do you want to go to military court? If you don't want to die, get back and fight the giants!"

"No, I will shoot one step further."

Looking at the chaotic battlefield, Marquis Brackbarn showed a bitter smile on his old face.

"Everyone, come with me!"

The adjutant beside him flaunted the flag, and as many as five flag bearers were clustered around him. This is Saxon's tradition—the flag must be followed closely on the battlefield, and the flag must be replaced immediately once the flag bearer dies to ensure that the flag does not fall.

Marquis Brackbarn knew very well that this was his last moment. Regardless of the outcome, it depends on whether he could lead his army to penetrate the defense line of the northern giants.

This battle was destined to be unfair from the very beginning.

There are too many loopholes here.

Corrupt bureaucracy, intrigue aristocrats, intriguing logistics supply system, unscrupulous businessmen who only have gold pounds but no country, and poor people with sharp class contradictions...

On the other hand, the northern giants almost had an advantage, especially in terms of weapons, which were astonishingly powerful in terms of power and effectiveness.

According to those who fled back from the northern front, the giant had a young king, just and wise, and a real hero.

Marquis Brackbarn strode forward with a melee gun, aiming at a soldier who had escaped from the front to pull the trigger. The gun rang, and the lead bullet penetrated the man's chest. He covered his wound with both hands, and looked at the Marquis who stopped and was filling the barrel with gunpowder and bullets. He struggled a few times and fell heavily.

With the twig of gunpowder, he picked up the mezzanine again, and took the pace of progress again, Marquis Brackbarn couldn't help but think of King George.

George was a child the year he met him.

Later he grew up, the old king passed away, the new king ascended the throne, and I got old too.

George was as impulsive and aggressive as all young people, and his body rolled in his so-called dignity that was meaningless to the old man. He seemed to have no idea that "face" could never be forced to claim, and only respect from the heart is valuable. George spent a lot of money on clothing and construction. He owned the most luxurious clothes in the world, and used pearls and diamonds as buttons. In order to obtain two superb tailors from the Kingdom of Plantain, he paid a full 80,000 pounds.

Buckingham Palace is said to be the Saxon Palace in ancient times. King George ordered the gathering of all the craftsmen in the country to recreate the classics on this new land. His plan was huge and breathtaking, but due to financial resources and resources, the planned magnificent palace was forced to be suspended halfway. Despite this, this half of the palace can be described as "glorious". George has always lived in the new palace, and he never forgets the follow-up project... Even the military expenditure that is indispensable for this battle to defend the capital was forcibly seized by him using his royal power.

As they got closer and closer to the opponent's position, the Short Supervisor Team and the Marquis personally took the field to produce a powerful morale motivation effect. More fugitives turned around and joined the offensive ranks. On the one hand, they did feel a sense of fear, and on the other hand, they developed a strong sense of shame.

"Come on, boys, fight for Saxon!" Marquis Brackbarn kept repeating this sentence. He shot three deserters along the way, but he was saying the same thing when facing more deserters.

The Marquis was not willing to fight this war at all, but there was nothing he could do, and many things could not be decided by himself.

We should never covet the land in the north of the mainland, nor should we provoke giants.

This thought flickered in my mind.

How many people are fighting with me?

fifty thousand?

Hundred thousand?

Or more?

The specific numbers cannot be counted because the battle came too hastily. The Marquis knew the total strength of guarding London, but the number of defenses on the northern front battlefield was very vague. Especially in the previous shelling, too many civilians fled from the city. Even if they led their troops out of the defense line to this position, they could still feel that there were civilians running behind them, and they kept crying.

Maybe it's just an illusion.

The distance is very close, and the faces of giant soldiers can be seen.

The Marquis raised his gun and aimed it. Before he pulled the trigger, he felt his mind and body explode instantly.

The adjutant could see clearly from the side that a bullet hit the Marquis and his entire upper body was blown up.

Without crying or screaming, the ferocious adjutant held the flag in his hand tightly, facing the rows of black muzzles directly in front of him, and charged at the craziest speed of his life.

There is no shortage of warriors in any era, whether it is ethnic or nationality.

Long live Saxon!

...

When the Chancellor of the Finance Department led his troops to capture the Duke's son, he also received news from the front line - Marquis Brackbarn was killed in battle.

The lookout soldiers standing on the high ground saw the flag disappearing among the crowd. He waited for five minutes without seeing any signs of the flag erecting again. According to the battlefield practice, the lookout soldiers conveyed this desperate news to the city in the form of flag words.

Duke Weimerson's son was arrogant. Although he was pressed to the ground by strong soldiers, he kept laughing and mocking him.

"So what if I did it? I took back what belonged to me and my property!"

"That damn old bastard, Brack Barn, was forced to exchange most of the gold pounds for food because of his order. This caused me a heavy loss, and I lost two hundred thousand pounds overnight."

Earl Laurenter stared at him expressionlessly and said coldly: "Buck is dead."

The Duke's son raised his head and didn't quite understand: "What did you say?"

"Buck is dead..." The Finance Minister was in a low mood. He suddenly lowered his head, covered his face with his hands and sobbed: "He is dead... He led his troops to attack the giant's position, and was beaten to death just now."

The Duke's son was slightly stunned, and then burst into laughter with a hearty and heart-warming laughter: "This old bastard is finally dead. Hahahaha, he is dead... Praise the Holy Lord, this is his due outcome!"

Crying and laughing, two completely different voices echoed in the room.

After a long time, Laurent stopped crying, raised his head, wiped away the tears from his face, and said in a trembling voice: "If it weren't for you, Buck wouldn't have died at all...at least he wouldn't have died now."

The Duke's son was irritable, and his detached identity, so he was not afraid of accusations from the Chancellor of the Constitution. He was like a wild beast who was injured and crazy to pull his neck and yelled wildly: "Are you crazy? What does this have to do with me?"

"Buck needs a stable order in London, and you ruined it all." Laurent's eyes were emotionless, as if he looked at a dead man: "He did so much for Saxon, poor or rich, he never changed his wife, nor did he have a second woman."
Chapter completed!