Re: Steel and Gunpowder

Two days later, the winter winds howled through the industrial districts of Augsburg.

General Voss strode across the primary staging yardss. He took a breath.

"Look at this mess," one of the Jaeger lieutenants grumbled, adjusting his helmet as he stared at the cranes loading crates onto a line of reinforced freight wagons.

"Keep your complaints in your head, Lieutenant," Voss chuckled, clapping the younger man on the shoulder. "Unless you want to volunteer for latrine duty in the lower barracks."

Voss navigated the bustling yard. Before he even reached the central command pavilion, he vaulted over a barricade.

Standing amidst a flurry of scribbling quartermasters and armed sentries was King Konrad.

The monarch wore a greatcoat, observing a fleet of newly forged supply wagons being hitched to draft horses.

"Your Majesty," Voss called out. He marched up to the King, offering a salute.

Konrad turned, returning the gesture with a grip on the General’s forearm. "Voss. I see you managed to pry yourself away from the palace guard. I was beginning to think you had grown too accustomed to the heated floors of the royal wing."

Konrad stepped away from the busy quartermasters, gesturing toward a line of exceptionally large, canvas-covered shapes resting near the foundries.

"We are moving on the Brenner Pass," Konrad explained. "The Austrian coal shipments are the lifeblood of this city. If the Duke of Alba marches his Spanish pikemen through that crossing in the spring, our foundries will starve. We need the passage locked down and fortified with permanent artillery emplacements."

"Understood," Voss nodded, crossing his arms. "I will assemble the Third Battalion. We march south, dig a trench line across the narrowest point of the valley, and point the Gatling carts down the slope. Five hundred men should be more than enough to hold the terrain."

"You are not taking five hundred men," Konrad stated, his gaze fixed on the canvas-covered shapes.

Voss raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "A thousand, then?"

"At sunrise, you march with four thousand Ironstorm Jaegers," Konrad corrected. "You are also taking the first three operational traction engines and twenty heavy field mortars."

Voss stared at his King for a long moment.

"Four thousand Jaegers?" Voss repeated. "And the steam artillery? Are you entirely serious, Sire?"

While Voss trusted Konrad’s strategic brilliance without question, this felt like a gross miscalculation of resources.

Four thousand infantrymen backed by steam-powered cannons was a force capable of crushing a sovereign capital.

Deploying them to sit in the snow and guard a mountain road against starving mercenaries seemed like an absurd waste of Swabian steel...

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Voss said. "If I roll a single traction engine to the edge of that cliff and fire one fragmentation shell, the Spanish vanguard will scatter like frightened sheep. Four thousand men is overkill."

"The Duke of Alba is amassing over a hundred thousand men in the lowlands," Konrad replied. "I want unquestionable dominance over the alpine routes. Overwhelming firepower is the fastest way to ensure they do not attempt to test our borders again."

Voss sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. "You spend too much time staring at Bartholomew’s ledgers, Sire. But very well. If you want me to bring an avalanche to a knife fight, I will deliver it. We march at dawn."

"Ensure your men are properly equipped for the altitude," Konrad advised, turning his attention back to the ledgers on a nearby table. "And General... do not underestimate the desperation of a starving enemy."

Voss laughed, turning on his heel and walking back toward the staging yards. "I will have the pass secured and a secure supply line established before the end of the month."

After weeks of playing nursemaid to the nobles in the palace, a straightforward defensive deployment to the mountains felt like a long-overdue return to his true element...

"Make sure the quartermasters load the extra kegs of powder!" Voss shouted to a passing captain as he strode away. "And double the rations of winter coats!"

"The wagons are already packed to capacity, General," the captain called back.

Voss felt confident in the days ahead. However, as Konrad watched his trusted commander walk away, the King reached into the inner pocket of his greatcoat. He withdrew a small, folded piece of parchment.

It was a decoded intelligence dispatch from Princess Elise, rushed to his desk mere hours ago from the southern network...

Konrad stared down at the script.

If Alba’s men are freezing in their camps... then what in God’s name slaughtered our forward listening post?

Konrad thought, his grip tightening around the parchment until his knuckles turned white.

Up ahead, Voss suddenly stopped in his tracks. He turned around, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Hold on a moment," Voss called out, marching back toward the King. "You just said something that contradicts your own strategy."

Konrad slipped the parchment back into his coat before Voss reached him.

"You stated that you wanted to secure the alpine crossing before the spring thaw," Voss pointed out, his eyes narrowing slightly. "But if you just needed a permanent trench line built to protect the coal imports, why did you deploy that advance scouting company three weeks ago? If you wanted me to lead a dominant occupation force, why didn’t you just wait for the traction engines to be completed?"

Konrad pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a slow, breath into the air. "We were merely establishing a perimeter, Voss. That advance company was not ordered to engage the Spanish or conquer territory. They were tasked with mapping the snowdrifts, identifying the optimal firing angles for the Gatling carts, and erecting a basic communications camp."

It was standard Swabian doctrine. Before mobilizing thousands of infantry and heavy artillery, Konrad always dispatched a small, elite unit.

"So you sent fifty of our best men into the mountains, and they haven’t sent a single pigeon?" Voss chuckled, shaking his head. "And this has the mighty King of Alemannia sweating in his greatcoat?"

"The mountains are treacherous, yes, but these were seasoned veterans," Konrad countered, his voice lacking its usual certainty. "The final dispatch we received from them was erratic. It detailed an engagement, but the numbers made no sense. And since then... nothing."

"An avalanche likely swallowed their camp. The snow up there does not care about our superior firepower, Sire," Voss reasoned, slapping his gloved hands together to ward off the cold. "You worry too much."

While Konrad still looked deeply unsettled by the missing patrol, Voss remained unbothered.

"Relax your jaw, Your Majesty," Voss teased respectfully, adjusting his collar. "I am going to get a hot meal and some sleep."

Voss walked through the crowded streets of the capital, heading for the central infantry barracks.

Inside the mess hall, Voss spotted Hans and Lukas sitting at a long table, surrounded by other soldiers.

"Eat every last bite, boys!" Voss announced, slapping his hands on the table as he sat down across from them. "Tomorrow night you will be chewing on hard tack and dried jerky in the snow, so fill your stomachs while the food is still hot."

Hans stopped chewing his sausage, wiping a smear of grease from his chin. He looked around the hall before leaning in closer to the General.

"Are you certain about this march, sir?" Hans asked. "Fifty veteran scouts do not simply vanish without a trace. Even if a blizzard buried their camp, at least one man usually survives to sound the alarm."

Voss took a long pull from his tankard, relishing the bitter taste of the ale.

"By the Maker, Hans, are you getting soft on me?" Voss grinned.

...

Night came and went, washing over Augsburg like a blanket.

"Get up on your feet, you lazy bastards!" General Voss yelled, kicking the wooden leg of Hans’s cot.

"The sun is cresting the chimneys, and we have an alpine pass to lock down!"

Hans groaned, pulling his blanket over his head. "General... my head is pounding. That bitter ale we drank last night feels like a brick sitting in my stomach."

"Drink some water and splash your face. We march at first light, and I refuse to let the quartermasters wait on us." Voss laughed brightly, tossing a canteen onto the man’s chest.

They spent the next hour packing their gear.Voss strapped his saber to his waist and threw a coat over his shoulders.

They stepped out of the infantry barracks.

Augsburg was already wide awake. Carts loaded with black coal rolled down the streets, and the citizens were rushing toward the blast furnaces for their morning shifts.

They walked down the sloping avenues toward the vast southern staging yards. As they turned the final corner, Voss actually stopped in his tracks, his eyes widening.

Standing still on the packed dirt of the yard were four thousand Ironstorm Jaegers.

They were lined up in impeccably disciplined rows, wearing the uniforms of the Kingdom of Alemannia.

Behind them, three immense traction engines hissed clouds of white steam into the air, hitched to a long train of heavy artillery and supply wagons, fully loaded and ready to roll toward the mountains.

For a journey into the unforgiving Alps, each of the primary supply wagons was loaded with forty large iron-banded barrels of fresh drinking water, sixty crates of hardtack bread, and thousands of cuts of salted pork.

More importantly, the brass cartridges for the Pattern-3 rifles had to be kept in the center of the convoy, wrapped securely in waxed oilcloths...

If the primer caps grew damp from the melting snow or winter sleet, the chemical ignition would fail, turning four thousand elite soldiers into men holding expensive iron sticks.

Standing at the front of this vast army were five officers. They wore slightly different uniforms featuring leather trench coats.

"Good morning, boys!" Voss cheered, throwing his arms open as he approached the front of the formation. "I hear we are taking a little trip into the ice today!"

The man in the center, a tall, serious-looking veteran with a braided brown beard, stepped forward and slammed his right fist against his chest in a salute.

"General Voss," the man said. "I am Captain Brandt. These are my fellow commanders: Richter, Meyer, Adler, and Klein. We command the five battalions of this alpine division. King Konrad told us to follow your orders the moment our boots hit the snow."

"Excellent!" Voss grinned, looking up and down the lines of soldiers. "You boys look sharp. But tell me, Brandt... do your men actually know how to fight in the mud, or do they just know how to stand in straight lines and look pretty for the palace inspectors?"

Hans let out a snort behind Voss. "I bet half of them cry if they get soot on their polished boots."

Brandt shifted his gaze to Hans. "Listen here, my men held the line at Veszprém when the Gatling carts overheated. If you think we lack grit, I will gladly show you otherwise."

Voss threw his head back and laughed. "Good! We are going to need that fire."

"We are well prepared," Brandt stated firmly. "But there is something you need to see. Baron Klaus ordered a significant change to our armory for this mission."

Voss raised an eyebrow. "A change? What kind of change? I thought the Pattern-3 rifles were the greatest weapons in the world."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!