Chapter 1295 The Devout Army that Doesn’t Care About Their Lives
"Forget it, it's all about luck. I think there will be more and more battles, and more and more opportunities to make money in the future."
The captain laughed at himself. He heard from the news leaked from Altdorf that the emperor had agreed to the expedition to the Norsca Mountains. There was no need to think too much. He must want to let the veterans go to the battlefield.
They have no shortage of money, and experience is also the backbone of the army. The only thing they need is a trial of ice and fire to prove who is the real hero.
"Brother Mok, don't talk about it so far. Have you seen the battle for a few days? Can we win... I heard that there are hundreds of thousands of greenskins in the valley of Karak Dreadnought.
Although dwarves and elves can fight, they are too few in number. We still have to rely on our Rick men."
The captain took a sip of wine and rubbed his two fingers, as if he wanted to get some benefits from the crowd.
In a moment, the thin man who had just boasted about how many treasures he had picked up had thrown a golden bean to Mok.
Putting this seemingly traditional share of spoils into the bag, the tradition of the elder brother leading the younger brother in the army is too common. In wartime, it is a large group, and in peacetime, they have their own lives.
People from different regions, cultures and habits will naturally be divided into small groups to help each other.
"I heard a rumor that the Honor Company of Altdorf has arrived in Uberrick with the Pious Legion of Wisen. Now the route to Karak Dreadnought has been opened. The only reason for not attacking immediately.
I'm afraid it's just waiting..." The captain's words stopped abruptly. He didn't want to say that the emperor wanted to show the strength of the empire in front of the monarchs of the dwarves and elves.
"Honor Company and Pious Legion... They will definitely win! They are the pride of the empire!"
…………
"Honor Company and Pious Legion... When did the empire have such a number?" Imrick paused, listening to Issarion's explanation and couldn't help but wonder.
The former is easy to understand. It is an elite corps formed by the newly crowned emperor. All members are selected from the citizens of Altdorf. They are fanatically loyal to the Elector Family and passionate about the land under their feet.
But at best, it is just a group of reinforced halberd soldiers to stabilize the front line for the long-range firepower in the rear.
The Pious Legion... This name is not simple at first glance. It must be related to a bald man with monocles.
"The formation of the Honor Company refers to... the method of the Black Guard. It is divided into thirteen battalions, each of which elects the strongest warrior to serve the emperor." Eltharion looked a little strange. He thought that someone might have leaked the information about the Black Guard of Naggarond to humans, saying that the training method of the Phoenix King Guard is extremely harsh and strange. Only the most severe method can select the best warriors.
"I hope they haven't done something unethical." Imrick shook his head and said nothing. Whoever can take the initiative to choose the traditional training method of the Black Guard is mentally ill and should discuss the doctrine with the big bald man Walkerma.
"Tell me about the Pious Legion. I'm very interested in it... in the literal sense."
"It's about you."
"Of course, it must be about me. If it weren't for me, Magnus would have died in Kislev."
The completely careless answer made Eltharion sigh even more. You really remember that deep friendship. If it weren't for the fact that they rarely went to the Empire in person, many elves would have suspected whether the Dragon Prince at that time had some unusual relationship with the human emperor.
"Their main force is three Conqueror tanks, which have been transformed by the hands of the Vaal priests, equipped with dragon blades and various magic matrices, and hung with complicated pure seals like family trees on the surface... and a Sigmar altar."
Hanging an altar on the tank is probably something the Empire can do. If they have an Ark-level sea battleship, they will definitely build a church.
"I don't think this is too much. If possible, I hope that every elf gathering place should have an altar of the Val, and use the fire to praise the forging god of the elves."
"But you are the Phoenix King, the Chosen of Asuryan."
Imric rolled his eyes. What the hell is the Chosen of Asuryan? I am Caledor, who can trust a fool.
"What does this have to do with my being a follower of the Val?"
The increasingly speechless warlord could only continue to say something: "Their legion configuration... is not simple. It is hard for me to imagine that a force with a complete industrial system would make such a choice."
Looking at the speechless look of Issarion, Imric was curious about what could make the Watcher so... interesting.
At the signal of the Phoenix King, a white light appeared in the palm of the warlord's hand, and what he saw appeared clearly in his palm.
Thousands of bald heads, wearing tattered linen clothes, dragging crude iron flails and sticks in their hands, and the wounds on their bodies were probably caused by themselves from the traces.
The symbols and emblems carved with nails clearly showed their piety to the gods.
The leading priest held up the blessing scroll and chanted the names of Sigmar and Magnus. Three tanks with whistles roared, leading the confused lambs to run towards the endless darkness ahead, with their faith and piety, finding salvation in the death of war.
Of course, if it was really a group of whippers with tanks, it would only make Wissen Territory too stupid.
The army behind the whippers seemed to be made of steel, except for the white gas emitted from the masks when the mountains breathed, and they walked like steel marching.
The ironclad army that Wissen Territory was proud of had long-barreled muskets and grenade launchers.
All kinds of artillery, from mortars to Hell Organ rocket launchers... and some individual products that seem to imitate the New World Military Factory, single-person flamethrowers, and three-person miniature machine guns.
From the equipment worn by several leaders, the Phoenix King, who is so familiar with his own rune technology that he can memorize it in his dreams, was also shocked.
"They dare to take this kind of rubbish to the battlefield?!"
The essence of runes is to bind the wind of magic to an object, which requires the object itself to be reliable and the skills of the engraver to be stable.
But they cast rune spells and gave the Holy Seal of the Church of Sigmar. Are they ready to explode and die?
Steel, faith and gunpowder, these are what the pious say are the foundation of the empire, but now Wisen seems to want to smuggle some private goods and secretly add some magic.
Thinking of what the Grand Master of Amethyst Academy said before, the Phoenix King vaguely guessed that it was not that the Wesen Lord did not want to continue to do it secretly, but that if he continued to do it, he would probably be dragged down by the rune technology, turning a large number of apprentices who instinctively used combat spells into mummies in their twenties.
The war lord who was well versed in magic was also silent. The mark of the Sigma Church had a strong magic suppression attribute. I really don’t know how well this pious legion was stitched.
The front was a whipper with a tank, and the back was a bald head with spells... It turned out that the empire could not be judged by common sense. (End of this chapter)