Rodri's advance towards Westmeath could be described as sluggish, and John wasn't planning to move hastily either.
The winter cold hadn't dissipated yet, and marching at this time would come at a significant cost. John wasn't as reckless as Rodri; he didn't want his elite soldiers to get injured because of the cold.
This was also a way to utilize Winter's tactics, slightly grinding down Rodri's army.
Moreover, Dublin was closer to Westmeath than Westmeath was to Rodri's position, so John wasn't in a rush. He had plenty of time to train his troops.
Another matter was the summoning of the Norman knights.
One of the greatest assets left behind by King Richard in Limerick was a batch of knights that could be summoned at any time. Although some had been lost during the previous rebellion, there were still over a hundred Norman knights available in Limerick.
John tasked Dublin's officials with notifying these knights while he waited quietly in Dublin, anticipating the storm to come.
The term "storm" was indeed apt.
After the High King's banner was raised, Irish warriors from all directions flocked in. Rodri's personal guard was like the eye of the storm, attracting warriors from all over.
Outlandish rumors and gossip flew to Dublin like snowflakes, such as the High King having an army of fifty thousand men.
These rumors were what troubled John the most. Rumors spread like wildfire, but debunking them was an arduous task. John could ensure he wasn't affected by such rumors, but his soldiers couldn't. These uneducated peasants loved absurd stories, the more outrageous, the better.
But the soldiers' morale remained unaffected.
As a commander, John understood the impact of morale on the army. If John directly tried to stop the spread of those rumors, the soldiers might become even more uncomfortable.
Therefore, John chose to fight fire with fire—by spreading his own rumors.
For example, rumors of a mysterious and powerful force under John's command, or that John had long plotted and Rodri was walking into a trap step by step.
In this game of rumor warfare, John used his cunning to ensure the morale of his troops remained intact.
However, after just a few days, John had to set out with his army.
According to intelligence, High King Rodri's army was already close to Westmeath. On John's side, troops from various regions had already assembled and were ready to depart.
When John gathered all the troops together, he was surprised to find such a large army under his command.
There were five hundred and thirty-three knights from Limerick, Lancashire, and Gloucestershire combined. These knights were skilled warriors with high morale and exceptional combat capabilities. While their squires might appear slightly inferior in equipment, their morale and combat effectiveness were top-notch.
John had gathered a sizable force under his command. Five hundred and seventy infantrymen from England formed the backbone of his infantry. Most were from wealthy farming and merchant families, able to afford some equipment and occasionally participate in military training.
In addition to these soldiers, there were three hundred archers from England. These archers were the predecessors of the famed English longbowmen who would later dominate Europe, though their equipment had not yet evolved to that stage. They came from hunting or wealthy farming backgrounds, adept in the use of bows and arrows, and their lightweight gear enabled swift movement.
Their protection was entrusted to the infantrymen and the peasant foot soldiers who followed them. John gave them a more suitable title, calling them "auxiliary infantry." These soldiers, from peasant farming backgrounds, were of lower quality and almost entirely inexperienced in battle. However, without them, John would not have been able to fill out his ranks.
The square formation of Irishmen that John personally trained stood out prominently among the chaotic soldiers. Flemish mercenaries stood to their left, while Breton mercenaries joined the square formation.
The remaining troops included local recruits and volunteers, totaling over three hundred people. Among them were Norwegians, Irish, and English, but John didn't expect much from them.
John's force was substantial, with very few irregulars apart from the auxiliary infantry and volunteers. Almost all were professional soldiers.
The cold Irish wind whistled, and banners of various knights fluttered in the pale sky, the colorful surcoats representing families from various regions.
The only difference was the royal bodyguards and the square formation troops, all adorned with the insignia of the Plantagenets.
John stood on a high platform in the square, looking at these loyal warriors, his heart surging.
"Gentlemen—"
Accompanied by John's voice, a priest with the army raised a huge cross, standing beside John, as if to proclaim that John was the chosen one.
"I know it's winter, a season unsuitable for war. But the evil army of High King Rodri is approaching, and we cannot sit idly by."
"If we don't defeat them at Westmeath, they will bring the flames of war to Meath, to Dublin, to your very homes. They will drive us into the sea, leave us with nothing, and we'll crawl back to England in shame. But if we defeat them at Westmeath, we will gain the wealth of central Ireland!"
"We can cleanse this land of Irish heretics and let God's glory shine once more upon this island!"
"We can send the native lords packing and make ourselves the masters of this land!"
"We can plunder their wealth, seize their wives and daughters, and revel in the glory and endless celebrations of victory!"
With such a simple and direct speech, all the soldiers below were fired up. Under John's leadership, this war became like a crusade, where faith, wealth, and desire were all satisfied, leaving almost no reason not to move forward.
The soldiers were restless, the crowd surged up and down, just like their hearts, itching for a fight with High King Rodri.
"So now—"
John drew his longsword from his waist, raising it high towards the sky. The sunlight gleamed off the blade, reflecting a dazzling light.
"God is blessing us, wealth and glory await us, onward to the west!"
"Long live Plantagenet!"
Little Roches was the first to shout, banging his sword against his shield. The royal bodyguards and knights roared along with him, their thunderous cries filling John with satisfaction.
The soldiers' loyalty was the source of power. John looked at the cheering soldiers and felt a surge of pride in his heart.
"Long live Plantagenet!"
"Long live Plantagenet!"
The chants echoed through the entire city, as if the earth itself were trembling. After a brief celebration, the massive army began to march out of Dublin, heading westward.