[Monta Republic]

[Capital Fort]

In the early morning, two soldiers, one old and one young, led their pack horses out of the city and headed towards the mountains west of the city.

The same pattern as most Monta cities, the Fort Horn is also located in a valley. However, the valley where the Fort Horn is located is larger and the hillsides around the city are also smoother.

After getting off the road, passing through the villages on the outskirts of the city, and following the winding paths trampled by the shepherds, the two soldiers climbed towards the top of the mountain with difficulty.

The higher I climbed, the vegetation around me became more and more sparse and the road became steeper. The white mountains began to be exposed to the surface without any cover, and from time to time, falling rocks rolled down the hillside, passing by the two of them in a thrilling manner.

It was not until the afternoon when the two arrived at their destination - a simple stone hut on the ridge. Both people and pack horses were already sweating profusely, and their knees and legs were trembling.

Standing in front of the stone hut, the young soldier wiped the sweat from his forehead, turned his head and looked at the veteran, and asked in confusion: "Is this here?"

The veteran who climbed up behind was gasping for breath and looking at the stone hut, but was a little confused.

He looked at the way he came, looked around the hut, and after thinking about it for a long time, he finally gave an answer: "It's here."

"It doesn't seem to be abandoned." The young soldier murmured in a low voice.

The veteran led the pack horse to the cottage: "You will know when you go in and take a look."

The door of the stone cottage was pressed from outside with a stump. Move away the stump and walk into the house. A simple bed was built with wooden boards and stone slabs in the corner of the wall, covered with some thinned hay.

There was also a blackened iron pot next to the bed, and the stone wall behind the iron pot was already smoked and blackened.

The veteran pulled out the mowing sickle under the bed board: "The sheep treats this place as a place to stay."

"What should we do?" the young soldier scratched his head: "Do you want to throw all these rags out?"

"Don't worry about him." The veteran waved his hand and signaled the recruits to work: "We will do our business."

Immediately, the two of them worked together to remove the saddle bag from the pack horse's back and carried the saddle bag to the roof from the steps outside the house.

Looking down at the valley from the roof, the lake in the middle of the valley is like a drop of mercury sprinkled on green silk, reflecting a metallic luster in the sun; the horn fort located on the lakeside is like a necklace, embracing the lake water in the arms, with red tiles and white walls, which are particularly beautiful.

After walking all day, it was the first time that the young soldier had the energy to look back at the road he came. He couldn't help but sigh: "Just rushing to this scenery, it's worth climbing a mountain for a day."

The veteran was also a little touched, but he just looked silently, as if trying to connect the horn fort at this moment with the scene in his memory.

After a moment, he turned around and turned his back to the quiet and peaceful valley, and continued to work.

As the cleaning continued, on the roof of the stone hut, something like a smelting furnace revealed its true form.

The veteran took out the dust from the bottom of the furnace, repaired the collapsed furnace wall with stones and soil, and then dried the firewood and wet it in the furnace.

"Is this how it is done?" the young soldier next to him asked with some distrust.

The veteran's hand paused, his eyes dimmed a little, and he soon continued to build up again: "It's been too long... I can't remember it."

The firewood quickly filled the furnace, and the veteran unloaded the oil pot from his waist and poured the lamp oil circle on the firewood.

At the last step, it was time to ignite the fire, and the veteran took out the scythe and flint, but he didn't knock it down.

The young soldier was puzzled when he saw that the veteran was slow to move.

"You should light the fire." A moment later, the veteran handed the flint and the scythe to the young man and said hoarsely: "It's your turn."

The young man happily took the scythe and flint.

As the fire was stuffed into the furnace from the bottom, the long-waste "melting furnace" once again burst out with flames.

Then there was smoke, first with yellow smoke like silk, then thicker and thicker, almost black. The smoke pressed over the flames and was pulled into an inclined stone pillar in the air by the whistling east wind on the top of the mountain.

The veteran narrowed his eyes and looked to the southwest. It was the place of the next beacon. If it was thirty years ago, less than a quarter of an hour, the next beacon should have responded.

But after waiting for a long time, there was no movement on the ridge in the distance. I think the beacon towers there, like the beacon towers of the Horn Fort, have long been abandoned.

However, the next second, the sound of desolate and low horns came from the city in the middle of the valley and echoed among the mountains.

The abandoned beacon tower was lit again, and the dusty copper trumpet on the roof of the National Government Palace was also blew three times.

Hearing the sound of horns, the Monta people who saw the beacon fire stopped and watched. The young were confused and the elderly were silent for a long time.

The war is the order of "armed" and the horn is the preface to "recruitment". They appear together at this moment, proclaiming the end of the war-free era to all Montals.

"Go back." The veteran turned his head and walked down the beacon tower.

This time, the peace lasted for thirty years, and it was the longest time in his memory.

But it came to an end after all.

...

[Monta Republic]

[Capital Fort]

[General Administration of Army]

The sound of trumpets that resounded throughout the city also made the officers and clerks of the General Administration of the Army temporarily put down what they were doing and looked up and listened.

However, as soon as the sound of the horn fell silent, both officers and clerks immediately devoted themselves to returning to their original work.

Everyone deliberately maintains the surface busyness and peace, as if only a few drops of rain fell into the lake.

And everyone knows that in a not-so-large room above their heads, the Army Senior Officers, who were urgently recalled from the autonomous prefectures to the General Administration, were holding a meeting on the fate of the Monta Republic and even the fate of the Union.

Everyone who works in the General Army Department is extremely eager to know the outcome of the meeting. They only hate that their ears cannot fly and cannot hear what is talking about in the conference room.

However, in fact, nothing was said in the conference room.

This chapter is not finished yet, please click on the next page to continue reading the exciting content later! General Monta and the colonels who lived together were smoking their pipes silently, and no one spoke.

The suffocating smoke filled the entire conference room, and even the candlelight became dark, just like the gloomy expressions of the soldiers present.

The official letter sent from the National Government Palace was thrown on the table and was not even unsealed.

But even if the official letter is not opened, the senior officers present know what is written.

Although as early as two years ago, many Monta officers believed that the Paratu Civil War would be the fuse of the Alliance's full-scale civil war - no, to be precise, as early as the beginning of the Alliance's constitution, many people had made pessimistic predictions about this unstable political structure.

The dark clouds of the Civil War hugged the Alliance from beginning to end.

But when the "foresight" is really coming true, the prophets of disaster have no joy, but instead feel that the official letter on the table seems to weigh a thousand pounds.

Finally, someone broke the silence indignation: "What does the Palatus fight against the Palatus have to do with us? Why should we bleed when the war is to be fought by the Unionists?"

The speaker picked up the official letter on the table, held it in his hand, and said angrily: "I want to transfer the Seventh Legion to the table when I send a piece of waste paper? Who do Myerhouse thinks he is? The fake emperor? What kind of bastards in Guitucheng really treat themselves as the sect leader?"

These words expressed what most people thought, and a low voice of approval sounded in the conference room.

"The arrogance of the Unionists is as always." Another magnetic voice rang in the room: "But the most critical issue is not them, but us-we do not have the ability to refuse."

The magnetic voice said: "Our people must rely on the grains exported by the Vine Republic, our government must rely on the funds of the Union Bank, and our output must be acquired by the Federal Reserve's commercial banks. The truth will make dignity bleed, but ignore the truth, it is not just dignity that bleeds - whether the Montas are willing or not, the Montas have long been tied to the Federal Reserve's chariot."

The owner of the magnetic voice took the official letter and knocked on the brightly colored lacquer seal on the official letter: "More importantly, this order was not sent to us by the Unionists, but was issued by the General Assembly of the Monta Republic! In terms of law, we can only obey."

"Stop this!" The colonel who spoke before slapped the table: "The State Palace is full of puppets from the Unionists! Who doesn't know?"

"You are right, what are you going to do?" The owner of the magnetic voice asked in a hurry: "Are you learning from the Unionists to have a mutiny?"

This time, there was no agreement in the conference room, but it was terriblely quiet.

The colonel who had spoken before was also questioned. He blushed, clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth.

"If you can't take responsibility," the general sitting at the end of the conference table scolded with a calm face: "Don't say it."

The owner of the magnetic voice nodded and saluted, sat back in place in a steady manner.

The general glanced at both sides of the long table and continued word by word: "The spearmen can survive on the battlefield only by shoulder to shoulder. The more difficult the army is, the more they must clench into a fist. No matter what resolutions are made today, no one is allowed to sing the opposite tune."

"[a tone of obedience]." A low response rang out in the conference room.

The general saw a silent old subordinate on his right hand at a glance. He lit the latter's name without hesitation: "Marx, you were smoking at the beginning, why? Is there nothing to say?"

Colonel [Marx Bern], who was locked by everyone present, put down the pipe in his hand and turned the broken iron ring on his finger: "I'm thinking about... the fate of General Alpad."

"Don't talk nonsense." The General ordered directly: "Say!"

"According to the UN Provincial Plan," Colonel Bern said, his brows became tighter and tighter, and he asked seriously: "Is General Alpad... still possible to win the war?"

Looking around his colleagues, Colonel Bern saw the negative answer in everyone's eyes.

"This time the Unionists took out all their assets, not only mobilized us, but also mobilized Vine's army." The school official who spoke at the beginning said angrily: "We attack the Northern Line, and the Union and Vine's people attack the Eastern Line. Even if that old guy Alpad could fight, he would not be able to withstand the attack on both sides. What's more, he only had a few soldiers? He could not consume the Unionists even if he squeezed them out."

After saying this, many people in the conference room sighed.

The people attending this meeting were all senior professional officers. Although many people emotionally hoped that Alpad could beat the United Provincial People's Republic of China, the strength and situation of both sides were there, and the outcome was clear at a glance.

"But." The magnetic sound rang out again: "Who can tell the truth about what is happening on the battlefield?"

The school official who was speaking at the beginning heard this, picked up his arms and hummed with disdain.

The general stared at Colonel Bern: "You guys have figured it out until now, and they have figured out that 'The Unionists will definitely win'?"

"Yes. But what I'm worried about is not this. What worries me is not next year, the year after, but five years later, ten years later." Colonel Bern stood up, looked around the conference room, and asked his colleagues condescendingly: "What will happen next after the Unionists win this battle?"

"If the United Province defeats General Alpad and then masters Paratu, the balance of power within the alliance will be completely disintegrated. Once Paratu's resources are integrated, the United Province will gain an overwhelming advantage over Venetta."

"Will they be satisfied with that?"

"Or will continue to take military adventures?"
To be continued...