Chapter Sixty-Six: The March to War

Time passed swiftly, and in the blink of an eye, several more months slipped away.

By now, Cecil City, which had once been troubled and restless in the wake of war, had finally regained its tranquility. Across the streets and alleys, people once more appeared, their faces gradually shedding the anxious expressions they had worn so long, making way for a new rhythm of daily life.

There were subtle shifts in the flow of fortune as well. Above Cecil City, threads of scattered luck slowly rose, gathering endlessly into a pillar of heaven, growing ever more solid and dense. At the center of this heavenly pillar stood a small, delicate tree, quietly absorbing the city’s fortune, its branches and leaves stirring, releasing gentle waves of energy.

All around, a radiant light of faith enveloped Cecil City. The vast domain of the gods expanded, dispelling all darkness, transforming the city into a kingdom of divinity upon the earth.

“From the flow of fortune, it’s clear things are becoming stable,” Artis murmured to himself in a grand hall, contemplating the scene.

As his words faded, a guard entered from outside. “Your Highness, Lord Bill and Lord Nadir request an audience.”

“Let them in.”

Soon, the two men entered, kneeling upon one knee before Artis.

“Your Majesty, we have received news from the Duchy of Brook,” Bill addressed Artis.

“Since the king of Brook awoke, the rivalry between the two princes has grown ever more fierce. The eldest prince commands the support of the royal knights and military forces, while the second prince is backed by powerful noble lords with real authority.”

Here, Bill paused, producing a scroll. “Following your orders, we sent agents disguised as subordinates of the eldest prince to assassinate the second prince, and likewise targeted the eldest prince in the same manner. As expected, this provoked a violent confrontation between them.”

“Our priests report that, since then, there have been no fewer than ten assassination attempts within the city alone.”

“However, after so long, it seems they’re beginning to suspect something.”

Artis nodded lightly. “Ignore them. Even if they have sensed something amiss, the conflict has already reached a point where it cannot be stopped.”

Such intense struggles cannot simply be halted by the will of those involved. Even if they realize the assassins are not their rivals, the backing of their supporters forces them onward—stopping is no longer an option.

“At present, the frequent assassinations have affected not only the princes themselves, but also their families and key supporters. Important figures have already been killed.”

“And the king?” Artis inquired.

“Through the careful manipulation of our priests, the king remains alive, but only just. He is powerless to intervene in the princes’ actions.”

“Still, with the king alive, the princes are somewhat restrained, conducting their attacks in secret.”

Artis smiled. “In that case, let us add fuel to their fire.”

“Bill, set our agents in motion,” he commanded, his eyes cold.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Bill bowed.

“Nadir, how goes the training of your legion?”

Nadir stepped forward. “After months of rigorous training and the ongoing elimination of bandits, we have made considerable progress. We are ready to march.”

“Moreover, the priests have been preaching among the soldiers for months, yielding excellent results. Many have already mastered divine arts. The distribution of battle energy has also proven effective, with notable improvement among the troops.”

“However…” he hesitated, “Unlike before, all soldiers are now recruited and supported by the state, with substantial provisions of food and supplies. Lord Barton is beginning to show dissatisfaction.”

With the soldiers serving full-time, vast amounts of labor were lost, and the state had to provide monthly stipends and supplies for their families, as well as quantities of food and meat for training. The consumption required by five thousand men was staggering.

This level of support matched the training standards of weaker noble knights. Without years of accumulated wealth and the confiscation of numerous noble estates, sustaining it would have been impossible.

“Do not worry about finances. Once the harvest and taxes come in, the situation will ease somewhat,” Artis reassured Nadir.

Despite the enormous expense of maintaining career soldiers, the principality’s population had neared a million, thanks to annexed tribes and absorbed refugees. The total professional soldiers amounted to just ten thousand—a mere one percent. Once the lean season passed, the burden would be bearable.

Furthermore, Artis had assembled a Ministry of Agriculture staffed by skilled priests. With divine arts and superior seeds, crop yields had soared; a single acre could produce five or six hundred bushels, nearly a thousand pounds—five or six times higher than other lords. The realm’s capacity to support its forces had increased accordingly.

“In three days, take your five thousand men and march with me.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!” Nadir replied, though he hesitated. “Who will guard Cecil City?”

“Leave two thousand men behind. Let Carter oversee the city. With the support of priests and believers, it will be sufficient.”

Thus, three days later, Artis led three thousand barbarian warriors and five thousand infantry—eight thousand men in total—on campaign.

“The Duchy of Brook lies in the far north, with high mountains and dense forests. If we wish to approach unnoticed, our best route is to circle west and attack from that side.”

“To the west of Brook is a barren mountain range, with few villages and frequent monster incursions. Hardly any lords settle there.”

“If we march through the mountains, reclaiming villages along the way, we can approach Brook City before they realize what’s happening,” Bill explained as he rode beside Artis.

Hearing this, Nadir frowned. “Such a detour is risky. After such a long journey through rough mountain roads, our troops will be exhausted when we arrive. If our movements are discovered, we will be in grave danger.”

“And transporting provisions will be difficult.”

Indeed, traversing such a distance through treacherous terrain would extend supply lines and increase the likelihood of mishaps and detection.

Artis frowned, then asked, “How long will it take to reach their territory by this route?”

“At our current pace, if we’re lucky, just over a month. If not, it could take more than two,” Bill replied.

“Then we’ll take this path,” Artis decided resolutely. “We march for ten more days, then discard unnecessary supplies at the border. We carry two months’ worth of provisions and advance from the west.”

Both men nodded.

The arduous journey, leading thousands through mountains and forests, would be difficult, but it would allow them to avoid the enemy’s gaze as much as possible.

The northern Duchy of Brook was far stronger than the former Principality of Cecil. If news of Artis’s advance spread, the rival princes would inevitably unite, at least temporarily, to oppose him. Though Artis might not fear them, capturing Brook City afterwards would become much more difficult, and losses would be heavy regardless of the outcome.

Compared to those consequences, Artis was willing to accept a few risks and hardships.