Wisk’s complexion had not been looking good lately.
The words “Read” were nothing short of sarcastic, making Wisk wish he could immediately hurry to Graywhite Territory and take it down.
However, after reading the letter sent by the adventurers, Wisk couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
It was pretty obvious that Jefferson had been captured by the nobles of Graywhite Territory, but just as Lind believed, Wisk had no intention of saving him; in fact, he was spreading this letter widely among the alliance.
Well, one less person to share the spoils of war, but the cake had just gotten a bigger slice.
Excited by this, Wisk opened a bottle of champagne.
Although Jefferson knew the alliance’s timing for the attack, advance, and marching routes, Wisk was too lazy to change anything and would attack as planned.
Because every route was a result of the nobles’ repeated bargaining.
Which noble attacked where and who acted first had been discussed and finalized among them. If you had to say, it was a bit like betting on which direction and at what time the rebellious Lars would flee, while the nobles were betting on whose timing and location could catch Lars’s men.
As a commander of the alliance, Wisk even collected quite a bit of money from this situation. Having collected the money, how could he spit it back out?
This wasn’t because Wisk didn’t take the war seriously; rather, it was just the way of this age. Even as a commander of the alliance, Wisk had no real authority over it, and the situation was even worse than that of a vassal of a vassal who was not even his vassal, because Wisk had no authority to command his own vassal’s army.
Even if he had the authority, the training methods and command systems among the various nobles were completely different. Not to mention the weaponry of each army, even the military systems were not unified, and logistics were managed separately. This was why the logistics team of the alliance was so excessively large.
This wasn’t even the most ridiculous part; the command systems among different branches of the same family could be completely different. If there was competition, several branches would even add all sorts of chaotic titles to their military systems, just to make themselves look more impressive than the others.
To arrange such an alliance and even manage who would go first and who would follow was already a rare talent.
No wonder the Lars family had been able to oppress the nobles of the Northern Border for years. Achieving a complete unification of the military system within a family in this era was akin to a dimensionality reduction blow.
Although the nobles were also aware of the shortcomings of their military systems, the problems didn’t stop there.
Most of the nobles recruited local peasants and idle folks, with small nobles usually not maintaining professional soldiers.
And these people had almost no training, had extremely low combat power, poor quality, and shockingly high desertion rates.
Those who could execute military orders were already considered elite.
However, none of this was a problem, because these people were merely cannon fodder in war—this term hadn’t been coined yet, but it would be soon.
No noble would care about the life or death of these ordinary soldiers. The only meaning of their existence was to serve the professional soldiers among the ranks.
This was also a tactic inherited from Cape Kingdom, where professional soldiers led ordinary soldiers to fight in coordination, but this tactic had gradually been distorted and corrupted over a long legacy, transforming what should have been a comradeship between professional soldiers and ordinary soldiers into a clear hierarchy, or rather, a relationship between masters and slaves.
The soldiers’ weapons and equipment were all self-provided; even having leather armor and a pitchfork counted as being adequately prepared, while wearing chain mail would directly grant military status. But whether the gear was good or poor made no difference, after all, they were all consumables for the front lines.
The real core was still the professional soldiers within the ranks.
However, even with the professional soldiers, the entire army was still very chaotic. It wasn’t unusual for one soldier to be commanded by three or five professional soldiers from different factions.
The nobles were just as incompetent in this regard, compared to how Lena managed three or five knights supervising a serf.
It was completely normal for a soldier engaged in fighting to suddenly become a soldier of another noble’s army.
Of course, ordinary soldiers weren’t without benefits; for instance, during private plundering, professional soldiers would also help out, even if most spoils had to be handed over to the professional soldiers, ordinary soldiers fighting under a professional soldier’s banner could often snatch more than before.
You might ask why they would plunder? Sometimes, even if they won, noble lords didn’t pay wages, so who would keep working without plundering? This was even a primary source of income for certain armies, as soldiers under professional commanders were often more terrifying than bandits.
After waiting for several days, Wisk finally awaited the last noble.
“I’m sorry, I was worried my son wouldn’t get to eat foie gras on the expedition, so I asked my professional cook to prepare frozen foie gras for a long time, which is why I arrived late.”
This noble clearly brought his whole family along, hence the long preparation time.
“No worries, others have just arrived too.”
Wisk displayed the demeanor of a commander, beaming as he welcomed the noble.
This wasn’t politeness; many people had gathered at the last moment, and bringing family along wasn’t unusual either. In fact, many noble families hadn’t arrived yet and would join when the army passed halfway.
This was a war that would change the situation in the western Northern Border, as well as a grand feast. This war had swept all the nobles across this land.
After all, Doug Lars and the capital had both declared that any participation in this siege against the Lars family would be rewarded. All the nobles pulled every capable person from their homes to join the battle.
Even though these nobles knew that the rewards weren’t much, and more were of a nominal nature, who didn’t have dreams? If they captured someone important, wouldn’t that be an incredible turning point in their lives?
Moreover, there were bard factions that would compose epics for themselves; who wouldn’t want their name to be included in an epic?
But there wasn’t any rush before departure. Wisk and his allies first watched the performance of Lucanus leading the bards before setting off, the procession moving forward in a grand spectacle, with laughter and conversation among all, some nobles even too lazy to ride and simply climbed into horse-drawn carriages with their young lovers.
This was a war with an outcome already destined, a perfect footnote for their resumes; everyone believed so.
The entire expedition team carried with it a festive atmosphere, even accompanied by musicians and bards playing and singing.
These bands served mainly to ensure that the fifty thousand troops could confirm their positions relative to one another without getting separated.
Wisk, wearing a brand-new red cloak and donning his most impressive armor, looked proudly at the endless army stretching behind him, believing this would be the perfect starting point for his epic.
“Can we win?” asked a royal envoy next to Wisk.
“We will win,” Wisk declared confidently.
