Lesley Territory, Tanzania Town, the tall and thin Viscount Andrew walked up to the city wall and looked towards the dock area from the overlooking point of the city wall.
The newly built wharf tower stands on the bank of Baishui River. The beautiful spire of the tower reflects dreamlike brilliance in the sun, and below the tower, thousands of sails sail by on the Baishui River, and ships of all sizes are like Busy ants are coming and going endlessly, and the entire river is a busy scene.
This busy and lively scene started last year.
A gust of cool wind blew, and his throat, which had become sensitive due to excessive consumption of potions, suddenly felt uncomfortable. Viscount Andrew Leslie couldn't help but let out several violent coughs. The butler immediately stepped forward and put a warm long-haired coat on his master.
The new butler, who has been recruited for less than a year, is a little worried: "Lord Viscount, you should go back and rest."
"Blowing the cold air will help calm your thinking," Andrew said casually Said, his eyes returned from the dock and swept over the newly built warehouses, mills and Xicheng District. He suddenly sighed, "It's so fast."
The butler didn't hear clearly: "What?"
The newly recruited housekeeper is reliable and has a fairly flexible mind, but after all, his time is still short and he lacks a tacit understanding with himself. Viscount Andrew sighed slightly in this regard, then shook his head and said Some unpleasant memories came out of his mind: "Nothing. Is the messenger still waiting in the castle?"
"Yes," the butler nodded, "Count Horsman is waiting for your reply."
p>
Viscount Andrew was silent for a moment and suddenly asked: "Who do you think will win this war?"
"...Gawain? Duke Cecil's situation is not good," The butler hesitated for a moment and whispered. He knew that his master was very close to Duke Gawain, but his loyalty required him to express his true thoughts at this time. "Even if he is a legend himself, he only has a few coins in his hands." Thousands of people, but Count Horsman has organized an army of tens of thousands of people..."
Viscount Andrew was noncommittal: "An 'army' of tens of thousands of people..."
With the mobilization capabilities of this era, coupled with the desolate and decadent situation of the Southern Territory itself, being able to mobilize tens of thousands of troops is indeed a very impressive number. After all, the largest nobles here are only the earl, and the number of private soldiers that can be maintained is after all. There are limits.
After thinking for a few seconds, Viscount Andrew glanced at his butler: "It seems that according to your wishes, I should respond to Count Horsman's call as soon as possible so that I can stand on the side of the winner as soon as possible. Ah."
The butler bowed his head deeply: "My suggestion is insignificant. I am just a butler and I don't have enough ability to understand your business."
Andrew felt a little bit. Bored, he curled his lips at an angle that the housekeeper couldn't see, and then looked at the trebuchet pedestals on the city wall - those trebuchets were facing the direction of the White Water River. A century ago, the ancestors of the Leslie family relied on this direction. River walls to defend against attacks from waterwaysThe bandits and fleeing soldiers who came were not long after the civil strife in Ansu, and the southern border was far less safe than it is today. Now that a hundred years have passed, these trebuchets on the city wall have been replaced several times due to decay and fragility, but they have not been used for a long time.
Another gust of cold wind blew. The wind on the city wall always seemed to be particularly irritating to people's lungs. The viscount wrapped his clothes around his body and coughed twice: "Let's go back, Huo." Count Sman's messenger has been waiting for a long time."
The butler immediately followed: "Yes."
"Find me some more copies issued by Cecil. "Newspapers", as well as information about the "Noble Reorganization Act" and the "Land Distribution Act" they implemented... I have to find out."
A large army is coming. Gathering in the North.
Except for the 20,000 troops assigned to Count Peppo, most of the 50,000 people as the main force were in place after more than ten days of mobilization and gathering. The continuous tents and flags were in Carlo The plains to the southwest of the Er area spread out, and it was as lively as an unprecedentedly huge market.
Here are dozens of armies of nobles from all over the southern border. From baron to earl, all the glorious and orthodox bloodlines are gathered together. Each noble brought soldiers ranging from less than a hundred to thousands, and they set up their own camps according to their size. They first allocated a large area according to the rank of the nobles to whom they were loyal, and then redistributed the area in the order they came to the gathering point. Eventually, they formed a jagged, extremely chaotic and diverse garrison.
Dozens of different flags are flying over this huge camp. Between each camp is a maze-like winding and intricate road. People wearing various uniforms and armors hold various kinds of flags. Flags were planted, and heralds with various accents ran around the maze-like camp, shouting orders that only their own people could understand (or couldn't understand). Chaos broke out due to wrong orders. It happened - but it would soon be stopped by knights rushing out with force.
The equipment worn by the soldiers in the camp is as chaotic as their camp. It is even a lively exhibition. From the simplest half-body leather armor to the most sophisticated full-body steel armor, they are all gathered here. In the same place, they use completely different methods to identify themselves. Some rely on covering their bodies with a burqa with an emblem, some tie strips of cloth of different colors on their heads, and some rely on shields. There are signs on them, and some don’t have any signs at all. It’s up to the soldiers in the same village to remember each other’s faces. This makes people worry about whether someone will follow the wrong person on the day when this “army” disbands and returns. team, causing them to run to other territories - in fact, this worry is entirely possible, and has even happened.
In the stories of some bards, there is such a story vividly described: a soldier named Tom may be a mountain man., or he may be a Conseil man who participated in a grand war, but when he returned in triumph, he mistook the face of his commander, followed someone else's army to an unknown place far away from home, and married a wife in a foreign land. Give birth to a child, live for eight years, and then end up with the wrong team again in a new war, and return to his hometown in a daze... This story is widely circulated in the southern border, and is even regarded by many knights as a "romantic battlefield life." symbol.
Karlof Horsmann, who was wearing a golden and red earl's coat, rode on his favorite maroon horse, and walked through this huge camp accompanied by several viscounts and barons. The one closest to him was Viscount Carroll, who was wearing a straight black coat.
Count Karloff Horsman had a relaxed and cheerful smile on his face. The astonishingly large camp in front of him, as well as the 50,000 troops in the camp, were all inspired by his supreme authority. This grand scene proved that the Horsman family was still glorious in his hands, and this was the best compliment he could receive as a member of the Horsman family.
“Look, with such a large-scale force, I really don’t know what our ancient hero is going to do to resist it,” Count Horsman pointed forward with his whip, and his tone couldn’t help but rise, “Said To be honest, I almost regret it now - maybe I don't need to summon so many people, every flag here must fairly distribute a share of the spoils."
"This just proves it. Your generosity, my lord," said a baron with a smile, in a respectful and admiring tone, "not only do you stand up to uphold the laws and traditions of Anzu, but you also generously look after everyone in this land. ”
Other people around him echoed, and while the nobles were talking, some noise suddenly came from nearby.
Count Horsman looked up and saw a group of soldiers wearing mail or half-body armor, noisily fighting with each other beside the camp, seemingly fighting for the right to get water first. , but not long after they struggled, a knight with bright armor came out and knocked all the brawlers to the ground.
"Look, the knights who are doing their duty are maintaining order. This is the duty and meaning of the nobility." Horsman looked at this scene with satisfaction and couldn't help but sigh, "I can't imagine what would happen if Without this power to maintain order, how chaotic this place would be... So I can't even imagine what our ancient hero wanted after depriving the knights of their privileges and destroying the role of the nobles in maintaining order. Do something."
"I'm afraid only the gods know what he wants to do, but he must have experienced the consequences of what he did," Viscount Carroll said, shaking his head and sighing. , "The insulted knights and mages destroyed his 'alchemy factory' and blew up his warehouse. He destroyed the order. Now the order has disappeared from his land, and it can only be said that he reaped the consequences."< /p>
Viscount Carroll had real regret and regret on his face - of course heHe would feel regretful, because since last winter, selling potions to the Holy Spirit Plains and collecting high taxes from Cecil merchants entering the city have been his important sources of income. Now that the alchemy factory in Cecil Territory has been destroyed, the supply of potions How can this sudden decrease not be regrettable and regrettable?
What made Viscount Carroll even more annoyed was that when he had to find the original alchemist in the territory and wanted to use traditional alchemical potions to temporarily alleviate the shortage, he turned out to be an alchemist. They can't be found...
If it weren't for this blow, the neutral Viscount Carroll would not have completely joined Count Horsman's camp so quickly and taken over the large plains on the edge of his territory. Come out and garrison the army.
“I don’t know what the situation is like with Earl Pepper,” a viscount in the team suddenly said, “That Andrew Leslie is very close to Cecil, and he didn’t respond to you this time. Maybe he will ignore your letter to him."
"I personally wrote a letter asking him to stay in the castle and not to block Count Pepo's way. This is the greatest courtesy and courtesy. "Tolerated," Karloff Horsman snorted softly, "It doesn't matter if he ignores it on purpose. With 20,000 people under his command, Count Pepo can take down the small town of Tanzania in less than two days. Even if the sick boy from the Leslie family went to Cecil to bring in reinforcements, he would not be able to put out the fire in his castle in time... So as long as his brain is not completely destroyed by the potion, he will know what to do."
Hearing this clear analysis, the followers around him agreed one after another.
Count Horsman raised his head and looked at the messenger running towards him in the distance.
He smiled: "We seem to have received a reply from the 'ancient hero'."
When he saw that the messenger handed him a very familiar paint tube, Count Horsman couldn't help but raise his eyebrows, and when he saw that the letter in the paint tube was the parchment roll written by himself, his expression was confused and even more angry at being fooled.
This anger reached its peak when he fully unfolded the parchment and saw the word at the end of the letter, but it turned into a burst of laughter.
Someone next to me was very puzzled by this: "My lord, is the letter a rebuttal?"
Count Horsman stopped laughing and snorted softly, The parchment roll in his hand caught fire out of thin air and quickly burned to ashes: "No, it's a 'war'."
(Oh my god, it hurts to consume the saved manuscripts.)