No wonder Marmen was so angry. There would be no harm if there was no comparison. Falcon used to have only two infantry and one cavalry division, totaling 15,000 men, all of whom were the best of the best. But that was during times of peace. As one of Faustian's national defense corps, 15,000 men were more than enough. However, during times of war, 15,000 men were too few. Not to mention, there were also cases of attrition. So, Marmen had no choice but to listen to the king's orders and allow the private nobles, mercenaries, and adventurers to join the corps.
The Eagle Army had gone through 4 years of war, and their formations had been broken up and reorganized, then reorganized and broken up again. After countless battles, the purest army now was only the 1st Army, 4th Army, and a portion of the 2nd Army. The trump card among them was 1st Division. 4th Division was mostly made up of new recruits. Its combat power was slightly lower than 2nd Division, which was made up of nobles, mercenaries, and remnants of 1st Division. However, it was much stronger than 3rd Division, which was made up of adventurers and the private armies of small and medium nobles.
At this moment, Marmen was angry at 3rd Division. This bloated 3rd Division, which took nearly one-third of Falcon's resources and pay and had less than half of 1st Division's combat power, was like a malignant tumor growing under the armpit of Falcon, which was supposed to spread its wings and soar in the sky. However, their requests were rejected by the king several times. The margrave, who had been in the officialdom for many years, had long realized that the small and medium nobles were just tentacles attached to the larger nobles. Unless the foundation of the kingdom was shaken, it would be impossible to get rid of them completely.
It was less than five days before the agreed rendezvous time. Under such circumstances, only a few squads from 4th Division had arrived. They simply did not take military orders seriously. It seemed that he would have to deal with these guys again. In his anger, the margrave did not realize that he had also scolded himself. He was also a noble.
Of course, in the eyes of Marmen, a veteran margrave family, those small and medium-sized nobles were not considered nobles. They were just a group of nouveau riche who relied on the hard work of their ancestors. In less than three generations, these nobles would decline, and other emerging nobles would grow up, eliminating them and replacing them. Only a large family like theirs, a count or above, could be considered a true noble.
Compared to the good-for-nothing 3rd Division, 2nd Division was much more pleasing to the eyes of Marmen. For example, 1st Division was a direct descendant and could be said to be the eldest son of Marmen, the hope of the future, and also his greatest asset and pride. 4th Division was the youngest son, still very young but obedient. It needed the marquis to take good care of it and train it. It had great potential. 2nd Division was the stepson, so it was not as close to him as the first two divisions, but he still had to take care of it. On the other hand, 3rd Division was a bunch of trash in the eyes of the marquis, so it was best not to see it. The straightforward Marmen defined the four infantry regiments under his command in this way. As for the cavalry? Well, this regiment was the marquis's sweetheart, although it was currently controlled by his old partner and rival, De Sandro.
After dismissing the herald, Marmen rubbed his eyebrows with his thumb. The battle was getting easier, but the marquis felt even more tired. He had to deal with the wrangling between the various forces in the aristocratic circle for their own interests, and the trivial matters of the regiments under his command. Not to mention the 3rd Division which the marquis hated the most. Marmen could not help but wonder if he should take a break after the battle.
"One more year!" The marquis murmured. The war had to end in one year. This was the consensus reached by the Faustian higher-ups in recent months. If the war with Shalor could not be ended by then, Faustian would send a special envoy to the suzerain, Aomar, and ask for their participation in mediation. Faustian was only a small kingdom with a population of two million. After four years of war, the war room and the finance minister jointly calculated that Faustian had lost more than 100,000 people, most of whom were young and strong. If the war continued, the foundation of the country's strength would be shaken.
Of course, Shalor's losses were greater. After all, they were fighting on Shalor's own territory. Marmen dared to assert that Shalor's losses were at least half of Faustian's. Not to mention, Shalor's population and overall strength were slightly inferior to Faustian's. At this time, it was a matter of who could hold on first. Marmen believed that Faustian was definitely not the first country that could not hold on.
"When we take down Bimore, it's up to the cavalry..." The marquis's eyes were deep and he was thinking about the future. In his eyes, Bimore seemed to have already been taken down.
"What? You want me to send the cavalry to the hinterland of the Bering Mountains? Soldier, you're not joking, are you? " In the tent, a tall middle-aged man shouted at the soldier dressed like a messenger who was half-kneeling on the ground in front of him. "How can the cavalry enter the Bering Mountains? And they have to enter the dense forest! Did I hear wrongly? "The middle-aged man's tone was stern.
The messenger did not show any timidity because of the middle-aged man's stern voice. Instead, he said in a tone that was neither servile nor overbearing, "This is the prince's order."
The middle-aged man was speechless. Of course, he recognized the greyish-white medal of Lion pinned on the messenger's chest. It couldn't be faked, and upon closer inspection, it was different from the ordinary Lion medal. There was a circle of beautiful patterns around the messenger's medal, which could only be worn by Kenzir's personal guards.
The middle-aged man pondered for a moment before finally speaking. "But we're about to break into Bimore City. The day the city is breached will be the day the military has agreed on for the cavalry regiments to surround Bimore City. I can't transfer the cavalry regiment away at this time," the middle-aged man said resolutely.
"I'm just conveying the prince's order. Whatever you do, My Lord, the prince will naturally deal with it afterward," said the messenger.
The middle-aged man was also in a dilemma at this time. Of course, he knew which was more important when there was a conflict between orders. If it weren't for the medal of the prince's personal guard, he would have driven the soldier out long ago.
"I need to discuss this with Margrave Marmen. Come with me," the middle-aged man finally said after thinking for a long time.
This middle-aged man was Margrave De Sandro, who commanded the most elite cavalry of Falcon and was also Cardoj's father-in-law. Unlike Marmen, who looked like a little old man, De Sandro was about the same age as Marmen, but he was more powerful. He was the most powerful man in Falcon on the surface, a Knecht at the peak.
Not long after, De Sandro arrived at Marmen's tent. After a brief explanation, Marmen fell silent. "Why?" Marmen asked. Although it was a soldier's duty to obey orders, Marmen, who was about to enjoy the fruits of victory, still couldn't figure out why Kenzir, who had always been wise and decisive, would give such a stupid order. Moreover, the order was only for the cavalry to go to the Bering Mountains. There was no specific mission to carry out.
"This is confidential. Margrave, you only need to carry out the order," said the herald.
"Shut up! Tell me, why? "Marmen roared furiously at the little herald who was old enough to be his grandson.
"Tell me, what's the reason? I believe Kenzir wouldn't give such an order. There must be a reason, "De Sandro also chimed in. De Sandro also chimed in. Although he and Marmen were old partners and rivals, at this juncture, De Sandro and Marmen had the same opinion.
Seeing that both of them were refusing the order, the messenger thought of the prince's exhortation before he left that the legions must send troops to rescue Princess Angelina. The messenger finally revealed the reason. "It's because of Princess Angelina..."
After listening to the messenger's narration, the two margraves figured out the whole story in an instant. "This Princess Kent is getting more and more out of hand!" Marmen, who was more impatient, directly cursed. Fortunately, there were only the two margraves and the messenger in the tent at this time. Otherwise, if word got out, there was no telling how much trouble it would cause.
"The problem now is how many troops should be sent to rescue her. In addition to the cavalry, how many infantrymen should be sent? It's impossible to rely on the cavalry alone to search the long border. Moreover, the Bering Mountains are affiliated with Morphey Forest, so it's not a safe place." De Sandro did not complain like Marmen. Instead, he calmly gave his opinion.
Marmen also stopped complaining and began to think seriously. He had watched Angelina grow up. It could be said that among the many margraves in the royal capital, Angelina could only sleep peacefully in his arms when she was a child. He had long regarded Angelina as his own granddaughter. Other than the king and Prince Kenzir, he was the most anxious person to receive the news that the princess might be in danger. Of course, he would not show it. He would prove himself with practical actions.
"Send three companies of the cavalry regiment and the 4th Division of the infantry regiment. They can be used as training." Marmen waved his hand and made the following decision.
Hearing Marmen's words, De Sandro resisted the urge to slam the table and said word by word, "Impossible! I'll send one company of cavalry at most. I don't agree to mobilize fourth division of infantry. This time, fourth division is the main force in the siege of Bimore. Which division do you plan to send to attack the city? First division? After the battle of Felmo Canyon, first division has yet to recover. I don't agree to mobilize it now! "De Sandro said angrily in one breath.
"Isn't there still second division?" Marmen said weakly. He and De Sandro were like two extremes of a magnet. If you were weak, he would be strong; if you were strong, he would be weak. Although Marmen usually had a fiery temper, De Sandro had the image of a good man. At this time, Marmen felt that he was in the wrong, but for the sake of his dear sweetheart, he could only pretend to be weak and hope that his old partner would agree with his opinion.
"You also know how big the implications of second division are. If anything happens, who will bear the responsibility?" De Sandro still disagreed and the two were still arguing.
As for our messengers, they had long been frightened by Marmen's arrogance. Half of the cavalry division? An entire infantry division? Lord Marquis, you sure talk big!
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