Boom—boom—boom!
The cannons stationed on the Ice Sheet roared one after another. Ice sprayed upward as cannonballs shrieked through the air, climbed to their highest point, then fell toward the Ratfolk still four or five kilometers away.
This was beyond effective range, but they had brought enough cannonballs to last the entire battle.
Boom—boom—boom!
A series of rumbling tremors came from the distant ground, distinct from the thunder of the charging Ratfolk.
Elite Rats and Brute Rats fared alike against cannonballs weighing dozens of pounds: both became puddles of flesh with no pieces larger than a tooth.
Every Ratfolk within three meters became a bloody mess. Those within five meters stood dazed, blood seeping from their noses and mouths, as if they had forgotten what they were doing. The Rat Tide surged past them.
The first volley's gaps were quickly filled, and the shell closest to the Ratfolk Priest had landed seven hundred meters away.
The artillery officer raised a finger and gauged the distance by eye. He slapped the gunner beside him hard on the back and shouted, "Hit them with everything you've got! Whoever kills that Ratfolk Priest on the platform gets a commendation from the Legion Commander—I'll ask for it myself!"
"I want a commendation from Lord Annan!" the young gunner shouted back.
"Hit the bastard first!" the artillery officer roared even louder.
After several volleys, the Rat Tide's vanguard neared the mudflat, where simple low walls had been built from blocks of ice.
Their Centurions spread the five thousand Musketeers across dozens of formations. When the Rat Tide surged onto the mudflat two kilometers away and approached the Magic Muskets' maximum range, the Musketeers raised their barrels and pulled their triggers.
Bang!
Nearly five thousand muskets fired together. The report was even more staggering than the