Count Corbilly was furious. The golden goblet in his hand had been crushed into a ball yet again, and every servant and attendant held their breath, terrified of ending up like that unlucky fellow from the day before yesterday — who had accidentally made a sound when the count received bad news and taken a golden goblet to the forehead, returning to the embrace of the Earth Mother Goddess on the spot.
Count Corbilly unconsciously tightened his grip, and the golden goblet shifted through various shapes until a small gemstone embedded in it pricked his palm. Only then did he realize he had crushed the goblet into a solid golden ball. He tossed it onto the table, stood up, and began pacing back and forth irritably before finally walking out onto the balcony. Every person standing nearby immediately let out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness — safe for now.
Count Corbilly was sixty-three this year, but still looked like a middle-aged man in his prime. Although his debauched youth and unsavory reputation had made him a perpetual target of criticism among the nobility, none of that could overshadow his genius in
It was precisely by relying on these Gold and Silver-tier illegitimate children that Count Corbilly had conquered such a vast territory and sphere of influence, making the Corbilly family the most powerful clan in the northwestern region of the Kingdom of Redelis. On the verge of taking the next step — becoming the true ruler of this region and obtaining the Grand Duke title — how could the count not be furious at a setback at this critical juncture?
For over a decade, ever since befriending the First Prince in the imperial capital, Count Corbilly had served the First Prince loyally. From posing as bandits to raid merchant caravans to participating in the civil war, the count had sacrificed six Gold-tier and thirteen Silver-tier illegitimate children in exchange for the First Prince's promise of the title of Grand Duke of the Northwest. However, the count first had to unite the former Krisen Empire's territorial lords in this region and bring them to submission before the First Prince's throne before he could receive the Grand Duke investiture.
The northwestern region of the Kingdom of Redelis had been the fief of the Krisen Empire's meritorious nobles. Although these lords nominally fell under the First Prince's jurisdiction, they didn't think much of him. When the First Prince first raised his banner of rebellion to ignite the civil war, only a handful of territorial lords in this region had answered his call — a clear testament to their attitude. During the period when the First Prince established the Kingdom of Redelis, the lords of this region only sent representatives to pay nominal homage, promising to transfer the former imperial tithe to the First Prince. As for the subsequent tax increases and grain requisition policies the First Prince enacted, they met with resistance both overt and covert from the region's lords.
Count Corbilly also knew his reputation in the northwest was far from sterling. The "Stud Count," the "House of Bastards" — his name was so notorious that not a single territorial lord in the northwest was willing to marry into the Corbilly family. The First Prince demanded that the northwestern lords hand over twenty percent of their annual income to the kingdom. The count knew persuasion would never get them to agree, so he might as well use force to unite the northwest. After all, this territory would become his own fief, and the fewer territorial lords, the better.
Where had things gone wrong? Count Corbilly stood on the balcony, gazing at the distant city construction site shrouded in clouds of dust. The new city before him had been modeled on the layout of the royal capital and would serve as the seat of the Grand Duke of the Northwest — the administrative center of the entire northwestern region.
In the past, whenever the count stood here looking at the new city, he had felt a surge of pride and satisfaction. A human life spans but a century, gone in a flash. But this city, named after him, would endure for ages, weathering a thousand years of wind and frost. Once the entire city was completed, a massive stone statue of himself would be erected in the central plaza, and the count would ascend to the Grand Duke's throne at its feet.
Just two more years — in two years, his dream would be realized! The count clenched his fists. No one could stop him from achieving this dream. No one. The current situation was excellent. The noble alliance army had been beaten into disarray with no capacity to resist. More and more territorial lords were secretly writing letters to him, pledging their obedience. The Corbilly family's sphere of influence had expanded to its absolute limit — all surrounding lords had been eliminated, and the vast territory had become a silent wasteland. The only ones still stirring were those foolhardy bandits and rebels who refused to accept their defeat.
Speaking of those so-called resistance forces, Count Corbilly thought of that sweep force. They must have reverted to their old habits — spotting a merchant caravan and immediately wanting to raid it. And now they were still entangled with that caravan, completely forgetting his orders to sweep through the western mountain strongholds, destroy those rebel hideouts, capture the people, and put them to work as slaves and laborers.
The count never imagined that every unit he had dispatched had already been annihilated. He believed that a force composed of two lancer squadrons and five garrison companies was invincible in the northwestern region. Surely the merchant caravan had seized the military camp and held the high ground, which was why the sweep force could not break through and had not reported back — probably afraid of angering him. But he had already sent another lancer squadron with ample supplies, and he was confident good news would arrive within days.
This merchant caravan — which trading company did it belong to? According to the lancer who had come to report the camp's seizure (he had personally participated in the second attack on the caravan), the merchants had dared traverse the Corbilly family's territory without so much as notifying the northwest's ruler. They had clearly shown their contempt for the count.
But with the sweep force tied down fighting the caravan, it had given those vermin in the western mountains an opening. Those damned rebels and bandits had exploited the weakened defenses of the family's territory and launched a full-scale assault, capturing Bodork Manor Castle — the Corbilly family's ancestral holding! If a few fleeing villagers had not made their way here to report it two days ago, the count would have had no idea that his family's old domain had been ravaged by those rebels for five full days.
At the time, the count had not believed a word of it and had ordered the refugees soundly whipped. But the wretches had wept and cursed even as the lashes fell, swearing that every word was true. Half-believing, the count had dispatched a small lancer squad to investigate the old family territory. This morning, only forty-odd of the hundred-twenty-man squad had ridden back. They reported encountering Sharpshooter
Sharpshooter Jossk. Just hearing that name sent a chill through the count's shoulder — right where one of Jossk's arrows had once pierced clean through. With Jossk there, it went without saying that the Gold-tier illegitimate son stationed at Bodork Manor Castle was very likely dead, which meant the castle's fall was only natural. Based on the lancer squad's encounter and the refugees' reports, the count estimated that over a thousand horse bandits and more than two thousand rebels and rioters had gathered in the old family territory. These three-odd thousand fighters matched the total number of resistance forces he had gathered intelligence on in the western mountains. It seemed the rebels had thrown everything they had into this assault.
Very well. It seemed the count would have to move. Let no one think that sixty-three meant he was old — a lion, no matter how aged, was still a lion and would never lie idle in its den to become a house cat. If these rebels and bandits were not crushed quickly, word would spread that the Corbilly family's ancestral domain had fallen to vermin, and people would start questioning whether the family was on the decline, unable to even handle a mob of rioters. The count swore he would teach these pests a lesson they would never forget — once he caught them, he would not stop until half had been hanged.
Geldos City could field a battalion of over two thousand garrison soldiers, plus a lancer squadron. Recently, an additional lancer platoon and two garrison platoons had been organized. Leaving two garrison platoons and the battered lancer platoon to guard the city should suffice. Recalling the lancer regiment from William Mills Castle would bring the force to around three thousand. Additionally, he could demand each of the territorial lords who had pledged allegiance to him contribute a squadron, bringing the total to a five-thousand-strong army — more than enough to sweep through the western region, let alone deal with a rabble of rioters and bandits. Decision made. The army would march in three days.
With that settled, Count Corbilly called out loudly: "Someone, relay my orders..."
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"They lost about two hundred men," Jossk replied. "If I hadn't happened by with a small light cavalry scout squad, they might have been wiped out. But I left all the captured lancer weapons and equipment with them. They were quite pleased and very grateful for our generosity."
"That is exactly why I said you did well. Now the news has reached Count Corbilly's ears, and he will definitely march. We have already decided to make our stand here, and without those stronghold fighters backing us up, our family's forces alone would look far too weak. If Count Corbilly got it into his head to fixate on our caravan and hammer us relentlessly, even a victory would cost us dearly."
"Where is Sir Shi's family caravan now?" Lorist asked.
Bodfenger pointed to a spot on the map: "About here. It will reach Bodork Manor Castle by tomorrow afternoon. I have already sent Sir Ross with a heavy-armored lancer squadron to meet them. The rest of the journey should be safe, my lord — rest easy."
"How can I rest easy before the caravan arrives? Everyone, bear with the extra burden for a few more days. Yuri, your light cavalry scouts need to strengthen reconnaissance and surveillance of the surrounding area. Turn a blind eye to whatever those stronghold fighters do — I do not want us getting into conflicts with them over some disagreement."
"Yes, my lord. I will make sure my men are on their toes," Yuri replied.
"Just hold on for now. Once the caravan arrives, we will rally those stronghold fighters, round up the displaced villagers, send Sir Stallack to enforce military law, and if anyone still refuses to listen, we will kill a chicken to scare the monkeys. For these next few days, with our forces still insufficient, we have to endure," Lorist said with a bitter smile, shaking his head.
The stronghold fighters were running rampant throughout Count Corbilly's family territory — looting, pillaging, all manner of atrocities. That was inevitable and understandable, given that these resistance strongholds were enemies of Count Corbilly and had just overrun his ancestral holdings. But transferring their hatred of the count onto innocent villagers was crossing the line. As Jossk had noted, several of the stronghold forces that normally fled at the sight of Count Corbilly's troops were now venting their bravery on unarmed civilians, inventing new and cruel ways to torment them. Even Yuri's light cavalry scouts could not stomach it, and clashes had broken out several times.
"Jossk, how is your horse archer squad coming along?"
"My lord, it is hard to find the right men. They need exceptional horsemanship, natural talent for archery, and they have to have awakened their Combat Force. So far I have only managed to gather about a dozen," Jossk complained.
"Take your time. I believe horse archers will prove devastating on the battlefield of the future," Lorist said with an encouraging smile.
...
The next day,
That night, in the spacious great hall, Lorist stood before the map and laid out the situation: "Today Sir Yuri sent word — he discovered several territorial lords who had pledged allegiance to Count Corbilly gathering their forces and converging on Geldos City. This means the count is marshaling his troops and will likely march within the next two days. Our time is tight. Tomorrow we rest and regroup. The day after, at dawn, Bodfenger will lead a heavy-armored lancer platoon and three spearman companies to this position and establish our main camp.
"At the manor castle, we will leave two spearman companies for defense, under Sir Shi's command. Sir Stallack, tomorrow you will lead patrols through the territory and round up the villagers — they have been suffering under those stronghold fighters these past few days. Make those stronghold fighters comply with our agreement and follow our orders. Have them all assemble at Bodfenger's position. If anyone refuses..."
Lorist's killing intent showed through at that moment: "Sir Ross, you know what to do..."
Ross's face twisted into a bloodthirsty grin: "I do. My heavy-armored lancer squadron will teach these scum what happens when you break your word."
"Good. Mr. Tim, do not worry — as a faithful ally of the