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Translator: Cinder Translations

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The militia continued to advance, their faces showing hesitation and doubt, but their steps remained orderly and firm—strictly following orders was a crucial part of militia training.

On Schroder's side, twenty soldiers from Alden, armed with new firearms, stepped out from the ranks and took their positions at the front.

"Take aim!" At the command of the chief of staff, these twenty soldiers raised their weapons. If anyone looked closely down the barrels of their guns, they would see spiral grooves inside.

To Beluga, the scene opposite appeared quite strange.

Logically, shouldn't they immediately have all ranks raise their guns to face the enemy? Why were only twenty people ready?

Then he noticed something even more bizarre.

Currently, the flintlock guns were commonly equipped but often used in a volley fire method due to their low precision—soldiers would stand shoulder to shoulder in a tight row, all pointing their guns straight ahead, and fire together upon command. While the accuracy of each individual gun was low, the overall hit rate could be quite reasonable. Even if the bullets strayed off course, they wouldn't suddenly turn at a 90-degree angle, so there was a high probability of hitting someone in the opposing ranks—after all, the enemy would also be arranged in ranks or squares, leading to greater casualties from collective fire.

Thus, when shooting from a distance, soldiers didn't need to deliberately aim at a specific target.

However, in Beluga's eyes, the twenty soldiers in front of Schroder's unit had their gun barrels—pointed entirely at him.

What's going on? Were they going to shoot their own commander first? Would they even hit? A sense of foreboding enveloped Beluga, making every hair on his body stand on end.

But what could he do now?

Hide behind his subordinates in front of everyone? What a joke.

Beluga clenched his jaw, maintaining his chest-out posture while riding forward alongside the militia's ranks.

"Haha!" Colonel Claude, the commander of the Ninth Infantry Regiment, grinned and happily said to Chief of Staff Schroder, "He's looking for death."

As Beluga entered effective firing range, the old knight shouted, "Fire!"

At the command, all twenty flintlock guns fired simultaneously, the bullets spiraling toward their target.

As the head of the training department, Beluga often handled guns, teaching soldiers to shoot and supervising their training. He himself practiced shooting regularly. Each time he touched the cold gun barrel and bullets, he marveled at this marvelous creation from Paul Grayman—relentless, powerful, unstoppable, and deadly. It was truly a perfect weapon for taking lives. Swords, knives, and bows paled in comparison to such arms.

Beluga had imagined more than once what it would feel like to be hit by such a terrifying weapon. Having been on the battlefield, he had seen the wounds of those struck; the sight was undoubtedly horrifying. He had also asked wounded men about their experiences, but words could never replace personal experience.

What would it be like if he were shot by a musket?

Now Beluga knew. In just an instant, at least ten deformed lead bullets pierced his flesh, with one even going straight through his shoulder blade.

Was it painful? Beluga didn't know because, in that split second, the bullet struck in a fatal spot, perhaps his brain hadn't even registered it. The only sensation he felt was his life swiftly slipping away.

It was as if he were gradually cut off from everything outside by an invisible, transparent barrier; first, his sense of touch dulled, but he could still see the terrified expressions of the militia looking at him, and he could still hear their panicked cries. Gradually, even the sounds began to blur until he could see nothing, hear nothing, and the flame of consciousness began to extinguish.

Father, grandfather, would the ancestors of the Walter family be proud of me? Alas, perhaps the Walter family will cease to exist in the future...

But... how did Earl Grayman escape the attack? How did the lord's house learn of the news from outside? Where did the chief of staff's army come from?

The lord's guards were indeed elite, but they couldn't match the sheer number on their side. If it came down to it, they could set the forest on fire to block communications; several key signal towers were under their control, and they had imposed martial law on major roads leading to the town. In the end, they had waited until the garrison had retreated far before making their move. Every carefully considered and prepared measure ended up with unforeseen accidents.

With these mysteries in mind, Beluga's life completely faded away.

Beluga Walter, the commander of the militia, was dead!

This army, which he had organized just two days ago, lost its final restraint. The doubts swirling in their minds, the anxiety that he might be the traitor, and the fear of facing the regular army—especially those cannons exuding a chilling glint—finally crushed their spirits.

A clattering sound rang out; that was the sound of guns being thrown to the ground. The militia lowered their heads, slumped their shoulders, and awaited their fate.

Would they be executed by cannon fire? They were already facing cannons on the other side; many felt as if their hearts had turned to ashes.

Along with Beluga came a few of his close confidants, but their influence was not enough to reorganize the army. In fact, their own wills had already collapsed. The earlier cannon fire from the lord's residence had announced that they had no way out, so they raised their hands high.

Schroder shook the reins and rode forward to a closer distance, taking the trumpet to shout, "All militia listen up! Colonel Claude will take you back to the garrison at the Alden town; you will stay there temporarily and are not allowed to go out!"

He emphasized the latter part, "not allowed to go out."

"There will be people coming to talk to you one by one. If you were merely deceived by the traitor during the rebellion and have not actively committed any wrongdoing, the lord will be lenient with you. However, if anyone has long colluded with the traitors or committed crimes during the chaos, with solid evidence, they will not be spared!"

After hearing the chief of staff's words, most of the militia appeared relieved, like they had survived a disaster, while a few still felt anxious, cold sweat pouring down.

Beluga's close associates were bound hand and foot and received a good beating.

Colonel Claude pointed towards the direction of the Alden Town and said to Schroder, "Sir, someone is coming from the city."

Schroder looked and indeed saw two knights galloping towards them, raising a long trail of dust behind them.

"It seems to be the internal security troops."

The sharp-eyed Claude recognized the attire of the newcomers.

(End of the Chapter)

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