Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 677: Chapter 387: Steam Tank (Part 4)

"I have money and railroads. Establish repair stations at all train stations and transport it to the front lines by train."

Louis’s voice became unusually firm, "Even if one explodes, I won’t feel heartache. Just six hundred Gold Coins, equivalent to the profit from selling two carloads of spices."

"But if a Knight like Lambert dies, or if a hundred youths like Grey perish, then that would be a loss the Red Tide cannot bear."

With all worries addressed, Louis looked at everyone present.

"Kosa, how long have you been practicing spears?"

"Fourteen years, Lord."

Louis pointed to the driver climbing out of the war chariot, an apprentice whose face was covered in oil, skinny like a monkey.

"His name is Bill, two months ago he was a farmer. But just now, he could beat you into a sieve with one hit."

These words completely shattered the last pride of the young Knights.

Many Knights present showed complex expressions in their eyes.

Excitement because the Red Tide has divine weaponry, but more was an indescribable melancholy.

Unless they were Extraordinary like Lambert, the glory of ordinary Knights seemed worthless in front of such an iron tide.

Lambert took a deep breath and knelt on one knee.

This leader felt no melancholy, as a soldier he understood well that with the Empire’s unfavorable situation and the growing southern threat, this brutal efficiency was the Red Tide’s security.

"Lord," Lambert’s voice carried determination, "The era has changed."

For Grey, Kosa, these young men who had practiced Martial Techniques from a young age, looking at the machine still spewing black smoke, the sense of loss in their hearts wasn’t something a few slogans could fill.

If ten years of practicing spear techniques was surpassed by a farmer pulling a lever, what was the point of the sweat?

Louis keenly captured these emotions. He didn’t immediately leave but stepped down from the observation deck, treading through the mud to the war chariot.

He reached out and patted the hot armor plate, feeling that rough vibration.

"What, feeling aggrieved?"

Louis turned around, his gaze sweeping over the dispirited young Knights, finally landing on Lambert who had just stood up.

"Lift your heads," Louis’s voice calm but with undeniable command.

He pointed to this imposing object beside him: "Take a good look at it. It’s certainly tough, its firepower is certainly strong. But Hamilton, tell them, how long did it take you to prepare it to run here for these ten minutes?"

Hamilton immediately wiped the oil and sweat from his face, and with a wry smile said: "Two full days, Lord. We had to preheat the boiler, check over two hundred valves, and have a dedicated convoy to transport water and coal to it.

The few shots just now were satisfying, but that was burning money. Just those high purity coals are enough to buy a pile of spears."

"Did you hear that?"

Louis looked at the Knights, "It’s a blind man, a deaf man, a picky glutton. It can’t see Death Warriors feeling their way from the side, can’t hear the sound of bowstrings being drawn in the dark.

Once the tracks break or the coal runs out, it’s just an iron coffin placed by the roadside. If fighting alone, a nimble assassin has a hundred ways to finish it."

Louis walked up to Kosa, looking at this Barbarian Race giant.

"Kosa, this can knock down walls, but can it climb cliffs? Can it infiltrate enemy camps and behead the commander? Can it engage in knife fights in the ruins of street battles?"

Kosa paused for a moment, instinctively shaking his head: "No, Lord. It’s too fat."

A sparse laugh came from the surroundings, the atmosphere slightly relaxed.

Louis turned his head, "Building this is not to eliminate you, but to liberate you."

"Think back on past wars. Even the most elite Knights had to brave showers of arrows, using their flesh to impact the enemy’s spear phalanx. That was sending them to die, wasting talent."

Louis pointed to the war chariot behind him.

"Now, this dirty work, this tiring work, give it to this."

"It will attract fire, it will smash defenses, it will eat dirt upfront."

Louis walked to Lambert, helping the commander adjust the slightly crooked shoulder armor.

"And you... you will be transformed from ’consumables’ back to ’scalpels’."

"When it shreds the enemy’s formation, you will cut in from the flank, using your swords to harvest those panicked commanders, to hunt down those fleeing leftover troops."

"The war chariot is a hammer, smashing all obstacles; while the Knight is a sharp sword, piercing the heart precisely."

Louis’s voice clearly transmitted in the morning breeze to everyone’s ears: "As long as war exists, human intuition, reaction, and courage will never be outdated. It needs you to protect its flanks, just as you need it to block the arrows from the front."

The last trace of loneliness in Lambert’s eyes vanished.

He looked at that ugly machine, and then at Louis. Until then, he truly understood the intentions of the young Lord; this was not substitution, it was complement.

"Mutual arms," Lambert quietly repeated, then saluted Louis with a standard military salute, this time, the gesture was filled with pure battle intent, "I understand, sir."

The rising Sun finally crossed the high wall, golden sunlight spreading across the muddy testing ground.

On one side was a smoking, coarse and cumbersome industrial monster, on the other was a phalanx of Knights clad in fine steel armor, wielding sharp blades.

These originally incongruous forces, at this moment, harmoniously fused together.

"Alright, don’t just stand there," Louis waved his hand and headed towards the exit, "Wash this big guy clean. Hamilton, don’t forget to open a few ventilation shooting holes for it, Bill’s face was almost purple when he got out just now."

"Yes, Lord!"

Laughter finally Burst out in the testing grounds. But this laughter no longer held contempt, but was full of anticipation for the future.