Chapter 44: Unexpected Reinforcements

The soldiers of the Territorial Defense Brigade, withdrawn from the front, disembarked from the train less than twenty kilometers from their previous position.

On the platform of the train station hung numerous cloth curtains, behind which a group of burly Lacia women warmly welcomed them.

“Boys! You’ve worked hard! First, take off those ragged uniforms, have a hot bath, then change into your new military attire. Over there, we’ve prepared freshly baked rye bread and borscht for you.”

“Hoorah!”

On the battlefield, washing up was a luxury few could afford; even a warm meal was a rare indulgence.

No one knew if they would survive the next moment.

In such a state of tension, both physical strength and mental endurance were severely taxed.

These soldiers, mostly peasants and workers by background, were no strangers to hardship, but this considerate reception felt foreign and surprisingly heartwarming to them.

It was completely different from the harsh military life described by veteran soldiers.

The healthy men clamored excitedly to take their baths.

The Lacia women smiled as they took the dirty clothes from the soldiers and washed them in large wooden basins beside the platform.

Some lightly wounded soldiers were ushered away by a group of nurses dressed in white.

Young Dimitri blushed as he looked at the young nurse opposite him.

“Son, your wound is infected! Doesn’t it hurt?”

“A little.”

“It will hurt more soon. You must bear it.”

“Okay.”

The nurse skillfully used a technique Dimitri had never seen before to swiftly remove the bullet fragment embedded in the skin of his left hand, then poured a glass of vodka: “Drink half.”

The young man drank half the glass, and—oh, it was so delicious he ended up drinking a bit too much.

He swore he had never tasted such a fine spirit.

The nurse shot him a sideways glance and silently refilled the glass, then poured it over his wound.

“Ah—”

“Told you to bear it!” The nurse roughly bandaged the injury with white gauze. “Itching doesn’t matter. If it starts to hurt badly or pus develops, come see the doctor again. Otherwise, you might lose your hand.”

“Okay.” The shy young man finally mustered courage: “Hey, are you free tonight?”

The nurse glanced him up and down: “I finish work at eight.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Alright.”

After this brief exchange, Dimitri was sent away.

“Next!”

On a vacant lot beside the train station, hundreds of wounded soldiers—some missing hands, others missing feet—looked at the officer on the platform with complex expressions.

Probably a lieutenant colonel.

“The great Prince Andrei, moved by your bravery, acknowledges the value of your experience for our army’s training. While your current pensions remain unchanged, we hope to employ you as instructors for new recruits until the war’s end. The salary is 20 rubles per month, with food and lodging included.”

After the announcement, the wounded soldiers stirred.

To be honest, even if the authorities coldly sent them away, they would bear no grudge. The land they had been allotted had been their ransom.

Whether they would survive once they returned home was anyone’s guess.

Now, the leadership displayed such kindness and allowed them to continue contributing.

Many wounded soldiers were moved to tears on the spot.

“Praise Prince Andrei!”

“Long live the Crown Prince!”

The cheers drifted far, reaching Zhang Shan’s ears from the second floor of a hotel opposite the station square.

Anna pushed up her glasses. “Your Highness, did you hear? The soldiers are praising you.”

Zhang Shan sighed softly. “A speck of dust in the era, but to ordinary people, it is a mountain.”

That simple sentence caused the two women beside him to shiver slightly.

Anna whispered to Natalie, “Did His Highness always woo women like this?”

Natalie’s expression was priceless. “No! He used to be blunt and rough, just saying, ‘I am the Prince of Berlia, beautiful lady, want to spend a good night with me?’”

“Didn't he write love letters to the Orlov family princess?”

“He did, but only one line: ‘My love for you is like the ocean.’ Then the princess asked how big the ocean was, and he had no answer.”

They both chuckled.

Once a model of ignorance, now he seemed almost wise from birth.

Such a ridiculous contrast… maybe war really can change a man…?

Zhang Shan said little.

Within his means, ensuring proper supplies was the greatest support he could offer these Lacia lads.

The Yamato people focused their main offensive on Red Tower City, but other fronts were also active, with multiple Yamato second-class divisions attacking in Bria and Primorsky provinces. Coupled with guerrilla warfare on the steppes, the Grand Duchy of Berlia lost at least a thousand soldiers daily, with wounded numbering roughly 3.2 times that.

Before crossing over, Zhang Shan had heard the saying: “War is two giants fighting, constantly bleeding each other. The one who bleeds dry first is the loser.”

Now he felt it deeply.

Even though many wounded could recover and return to battle, what of those who were severely injured or disabled and had to retire?

Given the current intensity of war, the worst-case scenario was a permanent daily loss of two thousand soldiers nationwide.

And these were young and able-bodied men!

In a year, that’s over seven hundred thousand!

Don’t be fooled by the Far East’s population of twenty million—it seems large, but when narrowed down to men aged twenty to thirty, it’s less than two million.

At this rate, after two or three years, an entire generation of men would be wiped out.

Afterwards, they would have to send forty-something men, women, even sixty-year-old elders to the front to fill the ranks.

Zhang Shan was unsure how long the Northern Garrison could hold out without faltering. As a decision-maker, he had to prepare for the worst.

What surprised him was that on the seventh day of the Yamato’s full-scale assault on Red Tower City, a special batch of reinforcements arrived.

At headquarters, he saw the man in a white top hat—the holy man, or rather, the revered Patriarch.

He greeted solemnly, “Welcome, Patriarch Gonif.”

Lacia’s religion was unique, unfamiliar to Zhang Shan. It was one of the world’s more obscure ancient Lacia faiths: the chief god was the war deity Sventovit, the great god was Perun, god of thunder and lightning, supported by various other divine offices.

Zhang Shan dared not underestimate these holy men. First, they held the secret to creating Steam Knights. Second, the ancient Lacia church was one of the empire’s seven prince-electors.

Indeed, these holy men held a seat—and a very important one.

The empire was divided by the Raoul Mountains: to the west lay the core region with four veteran prince-electors; to the east, vast lands with smaller populations and influence, controlled by the Orlov and Berliastan families.

Additionally, there was a prince-elector who transcended regions with strong influence throughout the empire—the Ancient Holy Church.

Often, prince-electors formed alliances of three against three, making the church the deciding vote for imperial succession.

No matter the prince-elector, all showed humility, or at least deference, toward the church.

Zhang Shan was no exception.

Before the white-bearded elder, he offered a heartfelt embrace.

Not out of choice, but instinct.

Patriarch Gonif spoke directly: “My child, forgive my tardiness, but I bring you the divine mandate to exterminate the Yamato, along with five hundred thousand crusaders!”