Five kilometers outside Richard Castle, in the central military tent of the chivalric army, Ryan and his men immediately returned to the camp. They met with Duke Furcard of Montfort and Duke Hagen of Gisoleaux, who had come to assist in the attack on Mousilon. Due to the imminent spring planting and the impact of Heinrich Kemler's undead attack on Bretonnia, both dukes had only sent a thousand elite troops each.
Duke Furcard of Montfort seemed to be in better spirits. Last year, the reopening of the Axe Bite Pass restored some revenue, although taxes were still lower compared to before Hemgart was destroyed. Duke Hagen of Gisoleaux also brought a considerable amount of food. After Kemler severely disrupted the duchy's production, Hagen was initially anxious. Fortunately, with aid from Ryan and Bellegar, and the establishment of trade stations with the dwarves, the duchy's economy slowly began to recover.
They brought a large amount of imported grain from the Empire, which significantly alleviated Ryan's food shortage.
As everyone took their seats, Ryan, as the Grail Knight, Duke, Regent of the Kingdom, and Supreme Commander, held the highest position. Following him was Duke Hagen, another Grail Knight with a ducal title, then Duke Furcard and Duke Aldereld. Karad sat in the fifth position.
The discussion began.
"We have currently surrounded Richard Castle," introduced de Lionnes, a strong and courageous Grail Knight appointed as Ryan's deputy, updating everyone on the military situation. "Richard Castle was established two hundred years after the founding of Bretonnia and is a crucial northern stronghold of Mousilon. It is ruled by Vampire Baron Dracula, and the castle is heavily guarded. Our trebuchets are insufficient to cause significant damage to the walls."
"The best blessed trebuchets are installed in Couronne. We can't dismantle and transport them here. Even ordering their removal now would take several days," Ryan said, sitting on a camp stool and understanding the problem. "We must wait for the Fireworks Academy mercenary group to arrive before launching an attack. Without heavy siege weapons and elite troops, we are at a disadvantage. Duke Hagen, Duke Furcard, I expected you to bring more reinforcements..."
"Spring planting is about to start, Ryan," Duke Hagen shook his head immediately. "My regent, Count Jean-Harlen, told me he could only send this many troops."
"Same here," Furcard agreed. "We didn't expect you to be in such a hurry to deploy. We can't muster more serf infantry during the planting season."
"How many reinforcements have come from southern Lyonnais?" Ryan asked Duke Aldereld.
"Not a single one," Aldereld said uneasily. The young duke, not yet thirty, had little experience handling such dire situations. Despite repeatedly writing letters asking the southern Lyonnais nobles to send troops, few responded. Their reasoning was simple: unless the northern rebellion was resolved, they couldn't divert forces to Mousilon.
In Lyonnais, anyone with sense understood the need to stay behind the walls. The southern nobles, having suffered heavy losses in previous wars, refused to send troops, needing their armies to maintain order.
Ryan listened to the dukes' complaints, his gaze shifting to the military flags inside the central tent, which displayed the great deeds of his ancestors. Behind him, the statue of the Lady of the Lake glowed faintly.
They outwardly obey my orders, but they only think of themselves. My lady, what should I do?
In his heart, Ryan made a silent prayer.
No one answered. He could feel his sacred and inviolable mistress watching his actions, but she offered no guidance.
This is a fair duel. My opponent is Lane Machado. The Lady is just; she won't guide me. She will only observe our performance. Ryan felt a new understanding.
"Speaking of troop numbers, we must address our army's combat effectiveness," Ryan continued. "With the current situation, we have three thousand troops from the three northern duchies, one thousand from Montfort, and one thousand from Gisoleaux. This is our entire fighting force. Five thousand imperial troops will arrive soon. My suggestion is not to attack until our imperial allies arrive."
"Not attacking is the right move!" Furcard said, puzzled. "Ryan, why are you bringing so many refugees? They aren't even strong enough to be laborers or porters!"
"Yes, these refugees consume a lot of food," Duke Hagen chimed in.
"I can't leave them behind!" Ryan said helplessly. "If I don't bring them, they might revolt at any time! Our supply points are within Lyonnais territory. If we leave, these refugees will attack warehouses and castles to seize food. We must bring them to prevent logistical problems when facing Mousilon's vipers. It would be suicidal otherwise!"
Ryan's analysis was evidently sound. The greatest fear in warfare is logistical failure during frontline battles. The gathered nobles nodded in agreement.
"The question now is whether we should train these serfs in basic combat skills, like spear thrusts?" Duke Hagen asked. The Grail Knight didn't understand. To him, if these serfs were useless, why not train them during this time?
The tent fell silent. Duke Hagen looked puzzled. "Why isn't anyone speaking? I know not all refugees are strong, but we can select the strong and smart ones, right?"
Neither Ryan, Aldereld, Furcard, nor any of the other nobles spoke. The logistics officer, in charge of supplies, opened his mouth, glanced at Duke Hagen, then lowered his head in silence.
Duke Hagen, nearly eighty years old, was not only a duke but a legendary Grail Knight with rich experience. Few dared challenge him, especially since he was clueless about internal affairs. No one wanted to speak up.
Karad, seeing no one responding, felt disappointed. Fighting alongside Ryan, southern knights, and nobles had been open and strategic. Both Ryan and François were highly strategic thinkers.
After some thought, Karad spoke, addressing the logistics officer rather than Duke Hagen's question directly. "What are the current rations for these refugee infantry?"
"Thin gruel," the logistics officer replied respectfully.
"Yes, thin gruel," Karad said, unable to contain his frustration. "If we just want to stabilize them, thin gruel might suffice. But to train them for basic combat skills, they need at least one meal of solid food and one meal of gruel, mixed."
Silence fell again.
Karad's reference to solid and thin food referred to black bread and a porridge made of minimal grains and wild vegetables.
Currently, these seventeen thousand refugees survived on porridge, making training them for combat unrealistic.
"But... I've seen Count Ryan's serf infantry fight," Duke Hagen countered, arguing with Karad. "Count Ryan's trained serf infantry is very effective. Why can't we train them? These refugees have received our mercy; we give them two meals a day. Are they not satisfied? There are still disturbances in the camp. Is this how they repay our generosity? We import grain from the Empire to feed them. They should fight for the chivalric spirit!"
"Because you don't understand how Ryan and François train their soldiers!" Karad sneered, sharply addressing Hagen. "Ryan's serf infantry get two solid meals daily, vegetable rations, meat soup, or roast meat every three days, and meat pies on Sundays!"
"If war breaks out, each soldier gets one kilogram of bread, half a kilogram of vegetables and fruits, one hundred grams of meat, and one hundred grams of offal daily. Weekly wages of twelve copper coins are paid without delay. Well-fed soldiers fight to the death without complaint because they have no reason not to! They know they can become free men if they distinguish themselves!"
Karad stood up, his face red with anger. "Expecting to train serfs to fight without feeding them is ridiculous!"
He added angrily, "Do you expect the Lady's blessing to motivate starving serfs to fight?"
"Karad, you're insane! Comparing this to the Lady is blasphemous!" Duke Hagen stood up, equally enraged. "Do you know what you're saying? I think you're..."
"Am I wrong? As Ryan said, how can you expect a horse to run without feeding it beans and carrots?" Karad retorted, refusing to back down.
Everyone quickly intervened.
At that moment, the statue of the Lady of the Lake behind Ryan suddenly shone brightly. The goddess made a gentle hum, and before anyone could react, the divine light faded, leaving only the serene and inscrutable smile on the stone statue.
Ryan and everyone in the tent immediately knelt. No one knew what the goddess meant, but it was clear she wanted them to stop arguing.
"Alright, I can only say the southerners are truly wealthy," Duke Hagen, a devout follower of the Lady, quickly conceded. "I apologize for my irrationality, Karad."
"I was impulsive, Duke Hagen, please forgive me," Karad also had no intention of internal conflict before the battle. Moreover, Duke Hagen was not his opponent. Winning an honor duel by defeating Hagen would only complicate matters.
However, Duke Hagen had an admirable quality. Like the previous Duke of Artois, Gilfrey, he was highly skilled in personal bravery and military command but was naive and incompetent in internal affairs.
Unlike Gilfrey, Duke Hagen had self-awareness. He knew his internal governance skills were lacking, so he delegated responsibilities to his regents and officials, taking their advice and decisions while controlling the military and personnel appointments.
After the brief dispute, the discussion returned to the previous topic. Ryan, troubled, knew these refugees posed significant problems but had to bring them along to avoid worse issues. Hearing Karad's remarks, Ryan realized it was unrealistic to quickly train a capable serf army. He lacked sufficient meat
, and even with imported grain from the Empire, it would soon be exhausted.
He was in a predicament, with many factors contributing to his dilemma. The southern chivalric army had already taken Spire Palace, making Ryan anxious. However, he had to remain calm, ordering the soldiers to besiege Richard Castle, await the imperial reinforcements, and build defensive works. Ryan planned to avoid fighting the undead or launching an assault before the reinforcements arrived.
Matthew Bard was also in a predicament.
The Serpent of Mousilon had just been defeated at Spire Palace, a significant blow. To Matthew Bard, the gates had been breached, the defenders exhausted, and his undead army was ready to flood the castle.
How did he lose?
Yet he did. Facing Ryan's counterattack, Matthew Bard was utterly defeated. When he tried to retaliate, Richard Castle's siege dealt him another blow, forcing him to retreat.
With Spire Palace lost and the Holy Grail battle standard inspiring the enemy, he couldn't recapture it with a counterattack. But with Richard Castle still under his control, losing it would open the north and south gates of Mousilon, making the situation dire.
Matthew Bard, clear-headed, saw Spire Palace's loss as a sunk cost and needed to cut his losses quickly. He ordered his undead army to turn and head to Richard Castle.
Along the way, Matthew Bard's anger grew. He pondered why he always lost to Ryan.
Without Ryan, he would have met Sulia, the marquise, long ago. Without the motivation from Ryan's severe injury, he would have likely won the knight tournament and Sulia's favor.
Without Ryan, Morgiana, the Lake God Witch, would have been sacrificed to Nagash! Without Ryan, he would have taken Nagash's staff from La Maisonnelle Abbey!
Damn! Damn! Damn!!! Matthew Bard felt an intense rage, wanting to tear everything apart. His anger almost consumed his thoughts.
Can I still defeat Ryan?!
Yes! Definitely! But I need to change! The Serpent of Mousilon began to undergo a profound transformation, with something starting to erode his soul.
Unbeknownst to him, as his intense emotions echoed through the Warp, a certain being turned its gaze upon him.
It was the God of Trickery, masterful in magic and knowledgeable in fate, history, and all forms of deceit. It understood the changes and rules of the universe, with plans spanning millennia. Knowing every distant star's ultimate fate, a single person's destiny was trivial.
Matthew Bard's immense despair, collapsed state, and reborn hope provided significant energy, signaling the start of a grand plan.
"Change is good!"
"My plan is beginning."
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