blogombal Chapter 54 Abstract Art and Old Tom's Bet
Chapter 54 Abstract Art and Old Tom's Bet
"The second one is the cart and the carriage." Tiberius took out the second model.
"The purpose of these two things is very simple: to act as obstacles, hindering the enemy's advance," Tiberius pointed to the wooden carving. "Look at this wagon, Vito. The sides and wheels are covered with iron, and I plan to install a thick, foldable cover on top with holes in the middle. When our soldiers encounter the enemy, they can stop the wagons, lower the cover, and fire at the enemy through the holes. When we encounter the enemy while marching or encamped, we can link these wagons end to end to quickly form a temporary circular wagon formation. Our archers can then hide behind the wagon walls and safely unleash their crossbow bolts through these firing ports!"
Yes, Tiberius copied the Hussite chariot formation.
However, compared to the later renowned and highly successful Hussite wagon formations, Tiberius lacked artillery and arquebuses, thus significantly reducing its power and defensive capabilities. In the future, it could only compensate with more archers and temporary fortifications. It was more defensive than offensive.
But then Tiberius showed Vito another wooden carving: "And this wheelbarrow."
Vito examined Tiberius's wooden carving and noticed the peculiarity of this wheelbarrow: Tiberius had redesigned its structure, placing the wheel in the middle of the cart, rather than at the very front as was common in Essos.
Yes, Tiberius brought out a rooster-drawn cart.
Originating in China, this type of wheelbarrow with its axle in the middle allows it to support the weight of nearly six people because it does not place a large amount of weight on the person or animal pulling it, but rather distributes the weight evenly between the puller and the wheel itself.
Naturally, this type of vehicle can be found throughout East Asia and even Southeast Asia. It is perfectly suited for transporting goods across rugged terrain and rice paddy ridges.
European unicycles, on the other hand, are relatively less satisfactory: European unicycles have front-mounted wheels, requiring the rider to lift the unicycle while pushing it. Generally speaking, their load-bearing capacity is not as good as that of East Asian unicycles.
"This design allows the vehicle to be more balanced and to carry more supplies, such as arrows, shields, food, and even lightly wounded soldiers after the platform is widened."
"And look at the front of it, I deliberately left a structure to fix two spears, with the spear tips pointing outwards. When needed, pushing these wheelbarrows full of supplies and spears to the front lines will create a mobile bulwark with spikes!" Tiberius pointed to the wheelbarrow with considerable pride.
"There's absolutely no need to dig holes or sharpen wooden stakes. All you need to do is lower the vehicle and attach the spear to the front!"
"Now look at Vito, when he uses all this stuff together—spearmen, trenches, sharpened wooden stakes, shield arrays, and these modified wagons riddled with firing ports and wheelbarrows slung with spears. Vito, just imagine how quickly we can build a makeshift fortress that will give the enemy a headache in the field!" Tiberius said smugly.
"Um, Tiberius, may I make a suggestion?" In the end, Vito, impressed by Tiberius's intelligence (or rather, his cunning), pointed to Tiberius's wooden carvings.
"What is it?" Tiberius asked.
"Don't carve wood next time," Vito said sincerely. "Look at this shield of yours! Anyone who didn't know better would think it's a piece of broken wood, like it's been gnawed by a pig! And those figures are even more bizarre. If you hadn't told me, I would have thought it was a minotaur or some kind of twisted forest monster! The proportions of those arms and legs... God above, it gives me nightmares!"
Finally, his gaze fell on the "chariots" and "carts" with their strangely geometric wheels, and he couldn't help but burst out laughing, his shoulders shaking.
"As for your little cart and 'chariot'... forgive me, Tiberius, but can you tell me how square or triangular wheels roll on the ground? Our soldiers will go mad before a battle!"
Tippi, without changing his expression, tossed the wooden carving into the box and then said:
"Shut up! This is art!"
"Fine, fine, I'll shut up, Lightning Boy." Vito raised his hands in surrender, but couldn't hide the mocking smile on his face. "But you shouldn't waste your brain on carving wood. Next time you have such a good idea, just talk to me, and I'll find a craftsman to make a model. I guarantee it will be much better than your... well, 'ingenious' and 'artistic' work."
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"See that? Wow! Those Valantean archers are really awesome!" In a bar, Old Tom, who had just returned from the front lines, pointed to a wound around his eye and complained while drinking strong liquor.
"Look, so close, so very close! My eyes were about to go blind!" Old Tom gestured a very slight distance with his index finger and thumb. "Just that close!"
"Alright, old Tom, there's some big news about Rhys lately, do you want to hear it?" the drunkard interrupted him.
"What other news could there be? Which rich businessman's mistress ran off with his riding instructor? Or which rich kid spent lavishly on his lover at a brothel, almost driving his father to his death? It can't be some governor being cuckolded by his wife who tells him that his handsome heir is actually the child of her and a bard, can it?" Old Tom scoffed after taking a sip of his drink.
"Neither!" the drunkard said slowly, grinning and exhaling a breath of alcohol. "It's just a rich young master's crazy idea!"
"What the hell? Whose rich kid is this?" Old Tom muttered. "What does his crazy ideas have to do with us? I'm a high-flyer, I have my own mess to deal with, why would I care about him?"
"Hey, you know what, you'll understand after you hear it!" The drunkard slammed his glass on the table and said directly.
"He scours all of Lys for slaves, and only those who are indebted. He buys not only the slaves themselves, but also their families and children!"
"What's wrong with that?" Tom scoffed. "Isn't he just a young master with some quirks? He's either doing this to gain fame, or he has some shady hobby!" As he said this, old Tom blinked rather lewdly and let out a sly chuckle.
"I've heard some guys just love doing that in front of their husbands! They find it incredibly exciting to play around with their wives and daughters right in front of their husbands..."
"You don't know anything!" The drunkard rolled his eyes at Vito. "Later we heard that he was going to train those slaves to become soldiers!"
"puff!!!"
Upon hearing this, old Tom nearly spat out the wine in his mouth. He choked and coughed repeatedly, his face turning red.
"Turn slaves into soldiers?" he asked repeatedly, seeking confirmation. "Has he lost his mind? Or have the gold coins and pretty female slaves squeezed his brains out? Slaves as soldiers? What fighting power could they possibly have? They'd probably wet their pants at the sound of war drums!"
"Don't rush, Tom, there's one more thing!" the drunkard whispered mysteriously, leaning closer. "You don't know, but Rhys's underground gambling dens are open for business right now!"
"Opening? What are we betting on?" Upon hearing the word "gambling," Old Tom's alcohol-induced haze instantly cleared. "What's the odds? What's the market like right now?" He leaned forward, his eyes gleaming, eagerly asking.
"Let's bet on whether that kid can turn slaves into a group of soldiers! We heard that recently the governor and wealthy merchants of Ries have prepared a mercenary recruitment competition, saying that they want to select a 'new and powerful mercenary group,' but in reality, they just want to find an opportunity for their nephews and nieces to vent their energy and show off their wealth!" The drunkard chuckled coldly.
"That rich young master is probably aiming for this. So, we're all betting on whether he'll bring out a decent army or a bunch of utterly useless, low-class mercenaries that everyone will criticize! As for the odds... hehe..." The drunkard chuckled and then gestured with his fingers.
"Bet on his slave soldiers being able to at least stand in formation and hold weapons—15 to 1! Bet on his rabble not even being able to hold their weapons properly and making a fool of themselves—8 to 1!"
Tom estimated the latest pay Jules had given him and began to make his own calculations.
"Wait, they can even run a betting pool on this?" he wondered to himself. "With the Seven Gods above, isn't this a sure thing?"
[Damn it, go all in! Go all in! Slaves as soldiers? What a joke! Discipline, courage, tactics, sense of honor... what do they have? This bet is a sure win!] He could almost see the glittering coins beckoning to him, and a confident smile crept onto his face.
"Twenty gold coins!" Old Tom waved his hand, his voice trembling with excitement, but his tone was resolute. "Bet on that arrogant brat to lose! I want to see how he'll manage to build a war wall out of a pile of mud!"
He could almost see the "rich kid" and his "slave army" making a fool of themselves on the field in the near future, while he easily won back a small sum of money.