When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

#347 - Niedsal's own decision

The land around Hurricane Fortress was still thick with the heavy smell of smoke.

Even after the fire had been extinguished, wisps of green smoke still occasionally rose from the dark reddish-brown skeletal remains of the wood.

Thirty-nine wizards hung neatly from the flagpoles around the camp, blood and pus dripping and congealing from their swollen toes.

Last night's wizard rebellion had all but dissipated after Nidsal arrived, following a single javelin charge.

Apart from a handful of five or six wizards who managed to escape, all the wizard slaves were either captured or executed.

However, Nidsal, sitting on the throne of Hurricane Fortress, showed little joy.

His face was grim as he silently stroked the back feathers of the sand sculpture.

The sand sculpture stood on the table, fiercely glaring at the nobles gathered around the long black wooden table.

Most of the nobles and bishops were impeccably dressed, wearing well-tailored silk robes and round, tasseled hats, sitting at the table and yawning loudly.

It had been almost thirty minutes since Nidsal had summoned them, and many restless nobles were shifting in their seats.

Yet none of them dared to speak, after all, it was their negligence that had led to last night's events.

Finally, in the deathly silence, hurried footsteps echoed from outside the door, and Zeraken strode steadily into the hall.

"Your Excellency, our military grain stores in Hurricane Fortress have suffered losses exceeding seventy percent," Zeraken glanced imperceptibly at the nobles present. "The wizards did not burn them accidentally, but deliberately. Large quantities of grain have been reduced to ashes."

"What are your thoughts?" Nidsal asked, looking at the nobles present, the hidden anger in his voice audible to everyone.

Domenico coughed. "Those damned wizards, they deserve to die."

"Yes, yes, they deserve to die."

"More should be hanged as a warning to others."

The other nobles chimed in.

"I'm asking what you think," Nidsal said coldly. "If it hadn't been for my sand-sculpture warhawk spotting the situation in the camp last night, and me riding back twenty miles through the night, those wizards would probably have all escaped."

Old Grandmother Alco stood up, trembling and whispering, "It was my fault. Your Excellency, this old thing was muddle-headed and hosted this banquet. Punish this useless old thing."

"Old Grandmother, you can't say that..."

"You wanted to reward us. Who knew the guards left behind would be so useless? And they call themselves the elite troops of Copper Fortress."

Sitting and watching Old Grandmother's performance, Nidsal's irritation only intensified.

Finally, an old knight coughed. "Your Excellency, what's done is done, it's no one's fault. Let's think about how to recover the losses."

"Do you have a solution?"

"Hurricane Fortress is easy to defend but difficult to attack, blocking the key road to Copper Fortress, but it's not a transportation hub. Supplying military grain is really difficult," the old knight spread a map flat on the table. "Why not move forward to Dubdewei..."

"Hahahaha..."

Nidsal first chuckled in his throat, then from his mouth and tongue, he laughed maniacally:

"I understand, if I don't attack, you'll burn the grain, forcing me to either hand over command or move the army forward?"

He was certain that the Golden River Township nobles were behind the arson, otherwise, there was no way to explain where the awakening potions came from.

He even understood why these nobles did this.

Since the Battle of Moncrus, a witch named Jeanne had been advancing rapidly with her army, building a simple fortress every seven days.

At the same time, they would advance step by step outward from the fortresses, dividing fields and land among the local farmers.

In particular, the properties of monasteries and churches were sold off by the Salvation Army, allowing many poor farmers and ordinary citizens to make a leap in class.

As 'The Promised Heavenly Island' toured everywhere, the mentality of the villagers also changed.

Especially after they discovered that the knights didn't dare to fart after being defeated, and just watched their property being divided, some inexplicable emotions arose.

The mountain above their heads was removed, and the air felt so much easier to breathe.

Under the impetus of some Cushites, the terms 'Holy Maiden' and 'Holy Grandson' began to appear rapidly in the daily lives of the Golden River Township commoners.

In recent days, without Jeanne's intervention, the stewards and managers left on the plains had automatically defected to the Salvation Army.

In some areas, the villagers had tied up the stewards and managers and burned them before the Salvation Army even arrived.

There was even a scene of villagers and managers scrambling to surrender, because whoever surrendered first benefited.

Whenever the Cushite knights tried to attack, they were either taken out by the Hussars or the Holy Musket Cavalry, and if they were slow, they would be caught by the Black Hat Legion.

Nidsal knew very well that the Golden River Township knights were no match for the Salvation Army.

Then the only savior was himself, who could easily deal with the mages.

But unfortunately, his original tactic was to lure the enemy deep, then cut off their supply lines, and finally encircle and annihilate them.

If those tribal youths in the desert had perfectly completed his task.

The people of Golden River Township were clearly following his instructions, but in the end, they executed the orders as they wanted to.

If the Ibe knights could complete their mission as ordered, these Salvation Army soldiers wouldn't even have a chance to build fortresses.

However, they kept attacking the 'hundred-household' manors and getting ganged up on by the Salvation Army.

The local nobles and bishops repeatedly urged him to attack, as if they had never heard him mention his subsequent plans.

The nobles lowered their heads, putting on a submissive and fearful look: "You're too funny, how dare we?"

"What wouldn't you dare?" On the verge of tearing off the mask, Nidsal couldn't care less. "Dare you swear that last night's burning of the granary had nothing to do with you? Swear before the Holy Lord."

A few flustered expressions flashed across the faces of the nobles and knights, which further convinced Nidsal of his judgment.

"Swear? This is not my fault!"

"Nidsal, you hesitate in the face of the rebels, I would like to ask you if you are fostering bandits to raise your own importance," the dissatisfied voice of the Golden River Township Archbishop came from the side.

If at first, he had to coax this titled knight, after all, he still had to rely on him to defeat the rebels.

But the bishop wanted him to defeat the rebels because he was afraid that the rebels would take away his manor and property.

Now the rebels were taking away his manor and property, but Nidsal didn't move, only constantly sending out cavalry to harass them.

Whether Nidsal did well or did badly, he could leave, but these nobles and bishops who were rooted here still had to rely on the land to eat.

"Heh!" Nidsal sneered at the Golden River Township Bishop. "Then I'll just go back to Copper Fortress, you can fight it yourselves."

"You!"

The Golden River Township Bishop, in his seventies, his face with faint age spots was flushed with anger.

"You want to defeat the rebels, and we also want to defeat the rebels." At this tense moment, Old Grandmother walked out amiably, as if coaxing a child. "We need to cooperate, but at least we have to show sincerity."

"Don't I have sincerity?" Nidsal's face looked like he was going to eat someone.

"What have you contributed so far?" Old Grandmother stepped forward. "Our manors, shops, and houses are losing value every second. You eat ours and drink ours, but you don't fight. Is this reasonable?"

His face froze, Nidsal waved his hand impatiently: "I have my own plans."

"But if you don't move, the nobles and knights will not be convinced. No one is willing to carry out your plans. What's the use of you planning here?"

Nidsal raised his head and looked directly at the old woman whom he had once regarded as a mascot.

"The empire is much more complex than the desert. You are a stranger to us, but your battle record is illustrious. That's why we invited you to preside over this battle, but to be honest, you have disappointed us..."

"I have disappointed you," Nidsal widened his eyes. "If you could fight like my tribal warriors to execute my orders, it wouldn't have come to this! You are the ones who have disappointed me!"

Under the murderous aura, the faces of several nobles next to him paled a little, but Old Grandmother still squinted her kind eyes:

"Your tribal warriors listen to you because they cannot achieve victory, and you bring victory when you arrive.

But what our imperial knights see is that they cannot achieve victory, and you still fail to bring victory when you arrive, so why should we listen to you?

It's been over a month since the start of the war, but have you captured or annihilated at least one of their squadrons?"

Nidsal's murderous aura suddenly became awkward.

Old Grandmother turned slightly, hobbling to the old knight who had taken out the map earlier, pointing to the map and saying:

"If you want to lead us, you have to win a victory, at least give the remaining knights confidence, otherwise they will all defect to the rebels."

The angry expression on Nidsal's face gradually subsided, turning into a thoughtful look.

He plopped down on the cushioned seat, silent for a full five minutes before speaking: "I agree to move forward, but I will decide where to move."

"Of course, do you have a location in mind? It would be convenient for us to prepare the summer grain in advance."

Nidsal pulled the map close to his chest, thought for a long time, and then pointed heavily at a location: "Here, Black Mountain Fortress."