Chapter 64: Chapter 64: Pre-Battle Conference

Louis closed the intelligence panel, got up to wash and prepare to attend the battle meeting.

He changed into a noble attire with dark gold embroidery, a sword slung diagonally, and his boots polished to a shine.

In such occasions, one must dress appropriately, at least appear like a young hero.

He pushed open the tent flap and headed straight towards the camp’s central area.

Along the way, many knights and young officers saw him, their expressions either of awe or curiosity, nodding their heads in salute.

After all, the feat of him killing the elite warrior of the Snow Swearer the previous night had spread throughout the Fifth Legion.

A moment later, Louis arrived at the central tent.

The guards outside stood solemnly, with two rows of military flags bearing the emblems of various noble families of Snow Peak County on either side. Faces both familiar and unfamiliar were continuously entering.

The inside of the tent was spacious, with a round sand table filled with tactical maps and models in the center, surrounded by circles of high-backed wooden chairs that were almost completely filled.

Due to his remarkable performance yesterday, Louis managed to secure a spot in the innermost circle.

At the forefront, Count Fos was slumped in his chair, his face flushed, eyelids drooping as he dozed.

It seemed he had enjoyed last night’s drinks too much.

Replacing him to preside over the meeting was a spirited old man with a head of silver hair.

He wore an old-style noble military uniform with a black base and blue patterns, stood robustly, hands clasped behind his back.

He was Viscount Webster.

The oldest and most dominant vassal of the Forrester Clan, a true Northern Lord.

He was also the only Extraordinary Knight in Snow Peak County.

Although he was now aged, he was still considerably stronger than the elite knights.

As soon as he appeared, the atmosphere of the meeting instantly became more solemn.

“Nobles, officers, secret envoys, welcome to this pre-war meeting of the Fifth Legion for the extermination of the Snow Swearer.”

The nobles present were distinctly divided into factions, the older Northern Lords wore cold and stern expressions, whereas the pioneering southern nobles whispered amongst themselves.

There were also officials and military advisors mingling in the crowd without a clear purpose.

Louis recognized a few from the Governor’s secret envoy delegation, silently observing.

Viscount Webster scanned the room, his gaze falling on each noble and officer before unrolling a scroll and reading aloud:

“Duke Edmund has specially established a military award system for this Snow Swearer campaign.

Anyone who kills an enemy leader or annihilates the main force will be awarded a first-class military merit. Rewards: five thousand gold coins and three hundred square kilometers of territory in the Northern Territory.”

For a moment, the tent was dead silent.

Webster’s tone remained unchanged, continuing to read:

“Capturing enemy strongholds or killing important leaders will merit a second-class military achievement. The reward is two thousand gold coins and one hundred square kilometers of land.

“Effective support on the main battlefield or scout operations will earn a third-class military merit, rewarded with five hundred gold coins, armor, and a warhorse, with priority supply rights.

Of course, there’s also a special award which will depend on merit, though that’s not something to consider right now.”

At this point, his voice grew colder:

“And those who shrink from battle or act deceitfully will have all military merits stripped, possibly resulting in accountability and the confiscation of their fief.”

As soon as he finished speaking, the tent was silent again.

Soon after, a murmur of whispers spread along the meeting table.

“Three hundred square kilometers of Northern Territory land, that’s practically a Baron’s Domain.”

“Five thousand gold coins could fund a Baron’s domain for a year.”

“The Duke is truly willing to bleed for this, he seems to mean serious business this time.”

Many nobles’ eyes gleamed with greed, evidently having already focused their thoughts on the post-war merits and lands as if they were already within grasp.

Louis sat in his seat, fingers lightly tapping the armrest, maintaining a composed expression.

Yet his heart was already stirred.

With three hundred square kilometers, the Red Tide Territory could double in size.

If he could execute a successful surprise attack and create a formidable situation…

That would start with at least a second-class merit, and after a series of additional battles, a first-class merit would likely follow.

Viscount Webster laid down the scroll and slowly stated, “Next, we have the intelligence on the enemy.”

He gestured towards the sand table on the desk, showing the map of Snow Peak County.

Three locations were marked in red on the map, standing out significantly.

Viscount Webster tapped the sand table with his finger:

“These rats… no, these cockroaches, have always operated in the shadows.

When you find one, there are likely many more. Once you show any weakness, they crawl out of their cracks to bite.”

His tone was calm, but the metaphor was unsettling.

“Currently, it’s confirmed that within Snow Peak County, there are three major areas of enemy activity.”

He pointed at the three red spots on the map, located in the northern deep mountains, northeastern ridges, and near the northwestern mines:

“The first is near the Snow Shadow Highlands, in the mountains, though their exact hideout is unknown.

The second is in the Qingyu Ridge area, where scouts frequently go missing.

The third is near the Ice Tooth Ore, where an old mine started experiencing unusual phenomena six months ago.”

He scanned the room, “This is the general intelligence we have on the Snow Swearer.”

“The Snow Swearer doesn’t operate openly like us; they manage to survive in caves and tree hollows and are relentless.

Although there’s no sign of a large-scale offensive, they are active at night, pretending to withdraw during the day, luring enemies in deeper.

“To put it bluntly, they aren’t many, but they hit where it hurts.

Also, because they utilize deadly skills, each warrior is significantly stronger than an Apprentice Knight, with a few approaching Extraordinary Power.”

“If it came to a life-or-death battle, it’s uncertain who would truly suffer more.”

He slowly surveyed the room, lowering his voice: “If you’re expecting them to line up for an honorable battle, you better prepare a coffin for yourself first.”

After the Viscount finished speaking, the tent was silent for a moment.

A few older nobles, who had experienced the Northern Territory skirmishes, wore somber expressions, nodding thoughtfully, as if recalling unmentionable memories.

The younger nobles from the South seemed less convinced.

“Just some mountain bandits, acting all mysterious.”

“Maybe they’re scared to death? A grand legion, scared of a few lunatics popping up at night?”

But this dismissive attitude didn’t last long.

Because sitting in the front row, Viscount Webster was scrutinizing each speaker with sharp eyes.

Those whispers immediately stopped.

In the ensuing silence, Count Fos’s eyelids twitched, stirring slightly as if waking from a dream.

He lifted his head, groggily scanning around, still somewhat asleep, but trying to appear attentive.

Louis looked at the second location on the map, recognizing it as the one mentioned in the third piece of intelligence earlier that morning.

He already had a vague plan forming in his mind.

Qingyu Ridge is like a natural mountain pass, easy to defend and hard to attack.

But Louis could use concealed mountain paths to bypass a frontal assault, staging a flank attack on the Snow Swearer’s base there, and ambushing any Snow Swearer units returning to defend.

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