Chapter 65: Chapter 65: Commanding from the Rear

Just after Viscount Webster finished explaining the enemy stronghold’s distribution and risks.

The atmosphere in the tent fell into a brief silence, with everyone waiting for the next step in deployment proposals.

Viscount Webster spoke seriously and gravely:

“Based on current intelligence, the terrain around the Ice Tooth Ore is relatively flat. We can consider eliminating this stronghold first, and then use it as a starting point to advance and defeat them one by one. This is the most reliable approach.”

Several old-school nobles nodded, clearly agreeing with this steady and strategic deployment.

But before he could continue, a hoarse and slightly intoxicated voice suddenly interrupted him: “Old man, why are you so slow?”

Everyone abruptly looked towards the main seat.

Count Fors was seen holding onto the back of his chair, barely keeping himself upright, but his face was still heavily intoxicated.

He pointed towards the three red dots on the sand table: “Just attack them together! These three rat nests… clear them all at once! We gather five thousand troops—what’s there to fear?”

The nobles present looked at each other, unsure what to say, silent for a moment.

Count Fors’ military adviser coughed quietly and added: “What Fors means is that we can dispatch three troops to sweep all three places separately. If the progress is smooth, the war may end sooner.”

But clearly, this was an excuse to cover Fors’ drunken talk.

Viscount Webster’s brows furrowed: “You’re simplifying things. Troops are already limited; attacking separately equals cutting off reinforcements. Snow Swearers are accustomed to ambushes; each place is fraught with danger. How can you be so reckless?”

This statement completely ignited Count Fors’ drunken fire.

He slammed the table and stood up: “Am I the commander or are you? You’re a vassal, how dare you openly contradict your liege lord here?”

On ordinary days, he absolutely wouldn’t dare speak to Webster like this.

This Viscount had been his father’s right-hand man, the old minister of the Fors family.

Even though he now held the Earl title complete, with precedence in rank and law.

Nonetheless, when speaking of prestige, it’s not him who could command strategy in front of these noble officers.

It’s this elderly man with extraordinary power.

Fors knew very well.

However, today he was drunk, and the words spewed out under the influence of alcohol.

Webster’s face turned iron-green on the spot, as if slapped publicly in the face.

Yet, he didn’t immediately refute; he simply stood quietly, hands clasped behind his back with suppressed anger.

Because he was a vassal, and Fors was the liege lord.

Even though this liege lord was drunk and spouting nonsense, he couldn’t let him lose face completely in this setting.

The entire war room fell silent and the atmosphere was quite oppressive.

“Since you lack the guts, let me decide!”

Fors stood up, staggered a few steps to the sand table, and heavily tapped his finger on the three red points: “We will occupy these three enemy points simultaneously.”

“Choose a few from the Southern Pioneer Nobles and those war-loving nobles from Northern Territory. Let them do the vanguard. I will stay in Snow Eagle City to oversee command!

Deploying troops on three fronts will display our army’s might!”

When he spoke the words “oversee command,” his tone rose a few octaves, as if he truly placed himself in the position of strategizing and commanding from afar.

Silence filled the scene.

No one spoke, only a few awkward coughs and the soft crackling sound of candles burning by the sand table.

The nobility were no fools; who couldn’t tell that clearly they were being used as cannon fodder?

Initially, even several Southern Nobles who were nodding in agreement slightly changed their expressions.

Louis leaned back on his chair, coldly watching the drunken Fors, recalling today’s second piece of intelligence.

He had only one thought—dead men speak.

However, this turned out in his favor, as he was originally pondering what excuse to use to secure a chance to join the battle.

After all, it seemed abrupt for a young noble to rashly request to fight, risking drawing suspicion.

Now, Fors’ reckless troop assignment inadvertently offered him a perfect stepping-stone.

“Lord Fors, Lord Webster.” Louis suddenly raised his hand.

“If possible, I hope to lead my accompanying troops to the Qingyu Ridge area to scout terrain and probe enemy traces.

Qingyu Ridge has complex terrain and narrow roads, typical mountain valleys. In previous battles, I participated in similar terrain operations, with some experience, and understand how to set up vigilance lines and rapid retreat routes.

If we can determine enemy traces, and then decide whether to focus our forces for an advance, the odds of success would be more stable.”

The tent fell silent.

Many turned their heads to look at him, their eyes stunned.

They clearly didn’t expect this rising young noble to voluntarily step forward at such a moment, offering to delve deep behind enemy lines.

Doesn’t he realize this is a death sentence?!

“Huh?” Yorn sitting in the back subconsciously raised his hand: “I will go too! Wherever Baron Calvin goes, I go!”

Several nobles behind them lightly inhaled, whispering among themselves.

“These two are mad, aren’t they?”

“A place like Qingyu Ridge… isn’t it court death?”

“At this critical juncture, dare to volunteer for deployment—didn’t they see this was a trap?”

Under this situation, who couldn’t see the danger level of this mission?

This isn’t a vanguard; it’s expendable.

Yet Louis chose to volunteer.

Viscount Webster silently stared at Louis, his eyes obscure.

He tried to judge: What was this young man really up to, was he just impulsive, or did he have another agenda?

Was he planning to run?

Impossible unless he’s mad.

You can run as a monk but not as a temple, not to mention there’s the Governor’s Secret Envoy watching.

Fleeing would mean stripping of title, perhaps even execution.

Or was it youthful arrogance?

After killing Haskell, did he become overconfident, thinking himself invincible?

But anyway, even if he wants to die, it’s a good thing.

If sacrificing several hundred men could bring Fors to his senses, it’s worth it.

“Since that’s the case,” Webster spoke, his tone as calm as ever. “Let Baron Calvin and Baron Harvey lead troops to Qingyu Ridge. Remember: reconnaissance is the priority, do not act rashly.”

“Yes.” Louis bowed his head in agreement.

Then Webster casually pointed out a few Southern Pioneer Nobles without strong background.

He ordered them to lead team movements to feint reconnaissance at the other two strongholds.

Those appointed paled instantly, wanted to speak but hesitated to do so.

Everyone knew this wasn’t reconnaissance; it was walking into a minefield.

But no one dared defy orders, and some even secretly resented Louis, thinking if it weren’t for him volunteering, they wouldn’t have been named.

The meeting didn’t last much longer after that.

Viscount Webster briefly arranged several logistical supply matters, then announced adjournment.

The nobles got up one by one, their expressions varied, but none looked good.

After all, the command of the entire Fifth Legion was in the hands of a very unreliable count.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep