Capítulo 1513: Chapter 60: Siege (30)
After nightfall, across from Magit Island, Winters and Mason are lying behind the river dike, observing the river while whispering softly.
“Colonel Skur,” Mason habitually uses the old military rank, quickly correcting himself, “Oh, Brigadier General Skur.”
Mason asks nervously, “Does Brigadier General Skur want to call off the siege?”
Talking with his schoolmate, Winters has no worries, unlike communicating with Gessa, where he has to be careful.
He chuckles slightly and replies bluntly, “Anyway, according to Brigadier General Skur Meklen himself, he doesn’t want to call off the siege but hopes to ‘preserve some forces’ to deal with possible threats. At the same time, he’s redeploying some cavalry to monitor the river mouths behind us to guard against the United Province Fleet invading the inland rivers…”
Mason easily digests Winters’s words, but his tone becomes more hesitant, “Isn’t that still calling off the siege?”
“Just phrasing it differently to save another general’s pride,” Winters laughs again, but this time his smile carries a trace of mockery, “With that person’s temperament, if Brigadier General Skur says directly that he wants to withdraw troops, then this siege, instead, has to be fought to the end.”
“That person” needs no further explanation.
Mason bites his lip, wanting to say something but ultimately doesn’t respond to Winters. He is naturally broad-minded and constantly has a psychological block about criticizing others.
A bit lower down, Bard Shaling guards alongside Winters and Mason, and he definitely doesn’t dare to speak.
Behind the river dike, three people, two remain silent, and the world suddenly quiets down.
Moments later, Mason breaks the silence, asking in a low voice, “Is that why Brigadier General Skur invited you back?”
“No,” Winters shakes his head, smiling bitterly, “Although I also believe that if I were to speak, there’s a higher chance of persuading that person.
“But the reason Brigadier General Skur Meklen insisted I return is not to have that person give up the siege — he genuinely believes the invasion by the United Province Fleet is imminent and could cut off your retreat at any time.
“The reason he needs me is to fight another battle, another battle where the enemy exists only in his mind for now.”
Mason is silent for a moment, frowning slightly, asking, “Do you support Brigadier General Skur’s judgment?”
Winters spreads his hands with self-deprecation, “Where do you see me now?”
Mason is somewhat reluctant, inevitably falling into self-doubt. He swallows, moistening his dry throat, asking hoarsely, “But… Brigadier General Skur’s speculation is too… fanciful. Just being harassed by a few warships, does that mean giving up the siege of Kingsfort? So much blood, so much sweat, wasted…”
“It’s not yet reached that point,” noticing his schoolmate’s somewhat off mood, Winters quickly reassures him, explaining, “I maintain a reserved attitude toward Brigadier General Skur’s judgment.”
“Then why are you…”
“The point is not whether the enemy will do this, the point is whether the enemy has the ability,” Winters explains his view, “It’s true that the United Province Fleet controls the Ashen Stream River. Their activities in Mirror Lake, along the Westwood Province coast, are more frequent, and that’s true too.
“Although Skur Meklen is excessively cautious, we should indeed consider the possibility of the United Provincials’ warships invading the Anya River or any navigable river behind us, cutting off our retreat.”
“But the Southern Front doesn’t have that much manpower, does it?” Mason’s breathing becomes rapid, “They only have… in Kingsfort…”
“Less than three thousand men,” Winters almost simultaneously speaks the last words with his schoolmate.
Mason can hear Winters’s skeptical attitude toward this figure and holds his tongue, waiting for Winters to continue.
“Less than three thousand men, you know, I know, General Gessa knows, General Skur behind us also knows, even that fool who defected knows,” Winters frowns deeply, “So is this intelligence still reliable?”
Mason ponders and asks in return, “Since everyone knows, doesn’t that precisely indicate that this intelligence is accurate?”
Winters coughs dryly.
Now it’s Winters’s turn to fall silent. After a while, he admits frankly, “You’re right, if all parties’ information can corroborate each other, then the fact that there are less than three thousand United Provincials in the city should be true.”
Yet Winters still cannot dispel the clouds in his mind, he unconsciously rubs his stubble, scraping blood marks on his chin without realizing it, “But I always feel uneasy, troop deployment concerning a army’s life or death, such important intelligence, how does it so easily fall into our hands, like, like it was handed over to us on a silver platter.”
“There are no secrets in the city,” Mason softly utters a saying.
“Then where is the source of the secret?” Winters asks in return.
This question stumbles Mason, but only for a moment, as he recalls all the documents he has read since taking over the siege.
After cross-referencing, Mason bites his nails and slowly answers, “The Southern Front itself.”
“That’s what I wanted to say,” Winters finally sees the same cloud in his schoolmate’s eyes, he hits while the iron is hot, pouring out all his doubts, “If it weren’t for the Southern Front having only four battalions, we wouldn’t have rushed to Kingsfort without filling all the vacancies;
“nor would we have launched a siege on Kingsfort when the rear was still not stable.”