A fragile treaty was temporarily signed, and then a large map of Bretonnia was spread out on the wooden table in the abandoned villa.
The necromancer Kemmler extended his filthy hand, which was shriveled and bony like a dried-up branch. His fingers were long, with long nails filled with grime, which made Matthew Bard feel rather disgusted.
Conversely, Kemmler also found Matthew Bard's powdered face, meticulously groomed edges, and ceremonious actions laughable. To the necromancer, the only truths in the world were magic and power, the ultimate goals of pursuit. Everything else was an illusion.
To gain power, Kemmler did not mind pledging himself to Chaos; it was merely a means to acquire strength.
The allies, each with their own agenda, finally stood before the map, observing the current situation.
The situation for the vampires was quite dire. Mousilon was like an isolated island in a vast ocean. Since the time of the previous king, the Bretonnians had created an entire cordon sanitaire around Mousilon, composed of castles and walls. Although this quarantine line might not completely trap Mousilon's undead army within the cursed land, it was sufficient to make Matthew Bard's forces expend significant effort to break through and promptly alert the entire knightly kingdom of their movements.
Therefore, Matthew Bard could not easily mobilize Mousilon's undead army. The primary force in the initial phase would still rely on Kemmler's ancient tomb army.
"If possible, I would really like to advance westward and directly attack Bastogne," the necromancer said, pointing to Bastogne Castle, located not far west of the Blackstone stronghold. Here, Duke Berchmond and his Red Dragon family resided in the tall stone mountains.
"Attacking Bastogne now is not a wise choice," Matthew Bard shook his head. "The Duchy of Bastogne is a very special place. It is the birthplace of the Bretonnian kingdom, with the most Grail pilgrims and crusading knights. The fake family crests related to Arthur can confuse even a true heraldry master. Over the years, the southern part of Bretonnia has continued to prosper and thrive, especially under Count Ryan-Machado's fixed tax reform, which many dukes have imitated under the guise of the Lady of the Lake's mandate. Bastogne is currently undergoing a fervent tax reform. I dare say, if we attack now, both knights and serfs there will definitely rise up against us."
(Bastogne is the birthplace of the first Knight King Arthur and the most important pilgrimage site for the crusading knights. Therefore, this duchy has many forged Arthur family crests, with almost every lord claiming to have battle relics or experiences left by Arthur on their lands. This is similar to many restaurants in southern China claiming visits by Kangxi or Qianlong, making it hard to distinguish the real from the fake.)
"What's wrong with that? The more deaths, the more we can resurrect the dead and form new armies," Kemmler understood Matthew Bard's point but wanted to test him, so he feigned surprise. "This fits our plan."
Matthew Bard immediately realized Kemmler's test. As a former Bretonnian knight and Arkhan's protégé, Matthew Bard knew this country inside out. Without showing any emotion, he continued, "Yes, that's right. Once you have resurrected a sufficient number of undead, you will have to face Ryan, Francois, and the dwarf clan alliance, plus Duke Berchmond and his Red Dragon Knights Brotherhood. I think your ancient tomb army is not up to the task. I do not mean to belittle you, Lord Kemmler, but I must say we have better options."
The undead alliance had just been established, and Matthew Bard and Kemmler still needed each other. Matthew Bard knew he had to offer something substantial to gain Kemmler's trust.
"Better options? We could march south to attack Paravon or head north to Montfort," Kemmler said, his noisy staff muttering continuously as he paced behind Matthew Bard.
"This country has been severely depleted by the Chaos invasion earlier this year, especially in the northern part of the kingdom. Leonasse is not only mired in internal strife but also has severely regressed in productivity. The new Duke Aldereld is overwhelmed by serf rebellions. It is almost impossible for Connate and Le-Angoulême to pass through Arden Forest," Matthew Bard explained, his finger tracing the Grey Mountains. "So, we have two ideal targets for our attack."
"Montfort or Gisoreux," Kemmler whispered, his deep eyes following the Grey Mountains. "But if we attack like this, are you sure it won't attract aid from Bastogne?"
"Not if we move quickly enough," Matthew Bard said, pointing to the border between Gisoreux, Montfort, and Bastogne. A smirk appeared on his lips. "Historically, the relations between these three duchies have been poor. Montfort and Gisoreux both covet Bastogne's vast plains, and although there haven't been large-scale battles, skirmishes between barons and counts are constant. As long as we act quickly, the knights' pride and arrogance will prevent them from aiding each other in time."
"Good," Kemmler said, satisfied with Matthew Bard's plan. The necromancer lifted his head, meeting Matthew Bard's gaze.
He saw a black knight filled with hatred and resentment. Kemmler liked this kind of ally.
In Matthew Bard's eyes, he saw a necromancer full of intense hatred and greedy desire.
"So... your decision?" Matthew Bard gestured for Kemmler to decide.
"I agree with your plan to go north first, then south. We will launch a preemptive strike and catch Bretonnia off guard," Kemmler laughed, his dry, shriveled laughter echoing throughout the abandoned villa. The necromancer took a few steps, then quickly turned back, pointing at Matthew Bard behind him. "You have given me good advice, the protégé of the Lich King."
"Then we shall prepare to attack Gisoreux..." Matthew Bard started to say.
"Gisoreux? No, we are not attacking Gisoreux!" Kemmler harshly interrupted Matthew Bard. "My ancient tomb army will not attack there for now."
"???" Matthew Bard frowned. He had provided two locations, and Montfort was not a good target. That duchy had little farmland, relying on livestock, tolls, and mines in the Grey Mountains. Consequently, almost every lord in Montfort had built strong castles along the Grey Mountains to monitor roads and control pastures. "Can you tell me the reason?"
"The reason is... I am the one who decides where to attack!" Kemmler walked up to Matthew Bard, the wrinkled face under his wizard hat staring intently at the somewhat displeased Duke of Mousilon. "Learn your role, protégé of Arkhan. Your task is to assist me, not order me."
"...Of course. Since you have decided, so be it," Matthew Bard's expression was uncertain, but he finally nodded in agreement. "I and my army will support you wherever you decide to attack with all our strength."
"You better," Kemmler said, staring at the Duke of Mousilon for a moment. Satisfied that he had no ulterior motives, Kemmler looked away. "Good. Now let's go back and prepare for war. My ancient tomb army will bring devastation to this world, starting with Montfort."
"In that case, I will take my leave, Lord Kemmler. When you are ready, I will lead my army from Mousilon to support you," Matthew Bard bowed politely.
"Yes." Kemmler gripped his noisy skull staff tightly, and the crow at the tip cawed a few times. Powerful necromantic magic enveloped him, dissipating in a cloud of deathly, putrid mist.
"So arrogant and rude," a vampire lord behind Matthew Bard said angrily. "A necromancer without a title, wandering the Grey Mountains like a dog for years, is still so arrogant. I think we must teach him a lesson, my duke."
"There will be a lesson, but not now," Matthew Bard remained calm. After multiple failures, the young man had grown quickly. His blue eyes gleamed with a strange smile. "For now, Kemmler and I are still allies. We need each other. We are currently brothers, comrades, even if we are allies with ulterior motives. I and he must unite, cooperate to fight against the knights. Our relationship is mutually beneficial; dividing would harm us both."
"Your will is my command, my duke," said the vampire lord named Hal-Harris. If Ryan were here, he would immediately recognize him as Gabriel Newell's contact in Mousilon. After Arkhan left, the vampires in Mousilon pledged allegiance to Matthew Bard.
Vampires are fickle. Matthew Bard was unsure of their loyalty, but it was certainly not much.
After some thought, Matthew Bard continued, "Since Kemmler has decided to attack Montfort, we should cooperate fully. Prepare to gather the troops."
"Cooperate fully? My duke? Kemmler will be our future rival with his arrogance!" the vampire lord protested, his voice sharp. "We should guard against him, at least prevent him from easily achieving victory."
"No, this time we must fully support Kemmler. Even without benefits, we must help him," Matthew Bard rejected Harris's suggestion again, frowning. "Mousilon has become an isolated city. We must rely on the ancient tomb army to break the deadlock. Kemmler's every victory will divert the knights' and the Lady of the Lake's attention from Mousilon, which is exactly what we need. On this premise, we must fully support him... at least for now."
"Should we contact the Lich King?" Harris asked.
"No need," Matthew Bard ponder
ed. The Lich King Arkhan was currently in the Southlands and Border Princes searching for the Crown of Sorcery, while Manfred was leading a large undead army to attack the Skaven undercity, where Nagash's sword was located.
"Prepare the plan," Matthew Bard said, signaling his men to prepare to leave.
...
In the golden autumn season, the Old World, Bretonnia, the Earldom of Glamorgan.
Ryan was riding his pureblood elf warhorse, Grape, patrolling his territory. Apart from dwarves and knights, his army had temporarily disbanded, and the soldiers had gone home for the harvest. This year was another bountiful year, with golden grains filling the barns. Everyone wore smiles, and groups of children played and frolicked in the countryside.
The serfs transported grain using handcarts or carrying poles. First, the Lady's prophets collected the tithe, then Ryan's tax officials collected the fixed tax. After paying these two taxes, the remaining grain belonged to the serfs.
The carriage industry was booming in the territory. Some serfs had transformed into carriage drivers, plying their trade. Ryan even saw some serfs hiring others to help harvest their crops. Markets were gradually forming in the villages, with vendors transporting fruits, meat, and lamp oil, hawking their wares. Some Angrand clan dwarves joined them, selling dwarven tools and household items.
The number of windmills and waterwheels was increasing. In some places where Ryan's craftsmen had not yet built waterwheels, the serfs pooled their money to hire dwarves to build them first. Some serfs who had learned a skill chose to move into the cities, relying on their skills and craftsmanship to make a living, or opening shops, working for knights or merchants. Through their hard work or military achievements, they gradually earned wealth and higher social status.
A new class was emerging, collectively known as freemen. They represented the ambitious serfs seeking to change their fate, gradually becoming the adhesive filling the unbridgeable gap between serfs and nobles.
The Lady's oracle brought great hope to this emerging class. Every ambitious serf realized that to become a freeman or even a knight, they must earn military achievements. So, while preparing a full set of soldier's equipment and weapons for conscription, they would not return to the countryside for hard labor. Towns had no fields but were full of opportunities.
"What a prosperous rural scene. In recent years, the number of freemen has increased from a few hundred to several thousand," Ryan observed the bustling harvest scene and the smiles on the serfs' faces. He said to Sulia beside him, "There will be more in the future. This way, my army can gradually be freed from labor."
"Apothecaries, armorers, bow makers, brewers, scribes, carpenters, cartographers, jewel cutters, gunsmiths, herbalists, vendors, shipbuilders, blacksmiths, stonemasons, tailors, and weapon smiths. In your territory, I can see almost all the craftsmen types in the Old World," Sulia said, raising her chin and casting a flirtatious glance at Ryan. "Ryan~ you have done well, not wasting my trust~"
The lady knight covered her mouth and giggled softly, "How interesting~ It's really interesting. Now the dukes across the country are secretly learning from your reforms. You are injecting fresh blood and bringing new winds to this country. Well done."
"???" Ryan felt strange and tentatively asked, "Sulia? What's wrong? This isn't like you."
"Oh? Why isn't it like me? Am I not your beloved wife?" The lady knight giggled continuously. She rode her pureblood elf warhorse, Richthofen, closer to Ryan and whispered in his ear, "Or do you prefer me to be more serious?"
"You..." Ryan's face gradually darkened, "You're not Sulia!"
"Hehehe~ Caught me, this is your reward~" The lady knight playfully patted her cheek and lightly kissed Ryan on the face, "This is the down payment, more later when we get to my tower."
"What happened? What's going on?" Ryan keenly sensed a problem.
"Things have changed, my champion," "Sulia" said seriously, "Let's talk in my tower."
"Alright."
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