Inside the command tent, the two marquises were still locked in heated debate. However, in a rare display of tacit understanding, neither mentioned the Third Legion—a ragtag force composed of minor noble militias and mercenary adventurers. Its only real purpose was to rush in during chaotic battles and seize whatever opportunities arose.
Their final decision dictated that the First Infantry Legion would dispatch one battalion, the Second Infantry Legion three battalions, and the Cavalry Legion one battalion. The Fourth Infantry Legion, previously designated as the main siege force, would remain untouched. This newly formed army still required the baptism of fire to mature. The exact selection of battalions was left to the discretion of the marquises. The messenger had already been dispatched back to the Lion Legion headquarters to report to the prince.
Marquis Sandro made significant concessions this time, leaving Marquis Mamon indebted to him. To repay this favor, Mamon graciously allowed Sandro to choose the battalions from the Second Infantry Legion. Unlike Mamon, who, as the commander of the Eagle Legion, wielded immense influence both in the military and the kingdom, Sandro was merely in charge of the Cavalry Legion. However, as the deputy commander of the Eagle Legion, Sandro maintained his family's power by supporting various minor nobles as vassals.
Mamon was well aware that at least one battalion of the Second Infantry Legion owed its allegiance to Sandro. This gesture of goodwill was sure to be understood.
At dusk, Caesar and his unit finally caught sight of the sprawling military encampment stretched across the Arse Mountains just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Mounted on his warhorse, Caesar couldn't help but marvel at the scene. This was the mighty Second Infantry Legion, part of the renowned Eagle Legion—a sea of dark green tents forming an imposing sight, like a mighty eagle poised to strike with talons and beak.
Caesar had previously participated in large-scale legion campaigns, but back then, he was just a nameless soldier, fighting for survival without time to appreciate the grandeur of the moment. His only thought back then had been that with so many comrades by his side, his odds of survival had slightly increased.
Jelson, now a newly promoted squad leader, shared similar feelings. He eagerly sought out Chris, Dahl, and other squad leaders, asking questions about the legion headquarters and military protocols. Now a mid-level officer, Jelson understood the importance of familiarizing himself with his surroundings to progress further in his career. Unlike Caesar, who had mentors like York and Karl to guide him, Jelson had to rely on his own efforts.
Every time Soren looked at the vast sea of military tents, a surge of pride and ambition welled up in his chest. He often imagined himself as a general, commanding troops with unshakable confidence. Despite his limited time in the military, the baron's son felt completely at ease in this environment. As Baron Kyle had hoped, Soren was far better suited for military life than his decadent half-brothers or his second brother, who excelled in economics and management. The Kyle family had long maintained a strong martial tradition, which had allowed them to rise above other minor nobles during repeated wars between the two nations, nearly rivaling viscounts in power.
"Keep moving, lads! Let's make it in time for dinner!" bellowed Captain Monte, his voice ringing loud and clear across the ranks. The low-ranking knight even used a precious burst of fighting energy to amplify his voice.
Baron Kyle rode calmly at the front of the column on his purebred warhorse. His stoic expression gave little away about his thoughts.
"Hyah! Hyah!" From the distance, a cloud of dust heralded the arrival of a lone rider. Judging by the direction, he had come from the legion headquarters.
The soldier rode a sturdy brown pony—not a typical warhorse but a valuable breed nonetheless. These ponies, though smaller and less powerful, were prized for their endurance and resilience in both drought and wet conditions. They were a specialty of the Licia Alliance and frequently used in military communications.
Monte and several others stepped forward to block the rider's path, while Sir Will, standing to Kyle's right, calmly gripped the hilt of his sword. If danger arose, he was prepared to shield the baron.
Baron Kyle, however, broke his usual composed demeanor and smiled. Recognizing the soldier's Cavalry Legion insignia, Kyle dismissed any concerns. Unlike Marquis Mamon, who constantly had to balance competing interests within his legion, Marquis Sandro had forged the Cavalry Legion into an ironclad unit, free of dissent.
The soldier, despite feeling the faint killing intent from Monte and the others, remained unshaken. He dismounted, gave a respectful military salute to both his commander and the nobleman, and then retrieved a sealed order from his chest.
Kyle accepted the small parchment, barely larger than a palm. It bore the seals of the Eagle Legion, the Cavalry Legion, and Marquis Sandro's signature.
"Did the Marquis have anything else to convey?" Kyle asked after reading.
The soldier stepped closer and whispered a few words into the baron's ear. Kyle nodded, and the soldier remounted his pony and rode back toward the Arse Mountains encampment. Before leaving, Kyle's steward discreetly handed the soldier a heavy pouch of coins—a gesture of gratitude that few other officers would have extended.
Kyle turned to Monte and Soren, issuing quiet instructions. With twenty of his personal guards, Kyle galloped towards the Arse Mountains to confer directly with Marquis Sandro.
Monte redirected the main force toward the Bering Mountains, with Soren leading a cavalry squad. Will, now acting as deputy commander of the cavalry unit, took temporary charge.
The soldiers, though puzzled by the sudden change in orders, complied without question. Caesar, equally curious, approached Soren.
"My lord…" Caesar began, but Soren waved him off.
"I'm not entirely sure either, but it seems we're heading for the Bering Mountains. We might even push into the depths of Mophy Forest."
"Are we planning to bypass Bimor City and encircle it from the rear?" Caesar asked, displaying his growing understanding of military strategy.
"Who knows?" Soren replied with a carefree whistle. "At least we'll have some game to hunt in the Bering Mountains."
Caesar didn't share Soren's enthusiasm. He had little interest in wild game. What he truly desired was to reach the legion headquarters and spend his savings on valuable potions from the logistics department. York had told him many stories about the rare and powerful items available there.
"Perhaps we'll encounter demonic beasts," Soren added, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
Caesar's curiosity was piqued. He'd never seen a demonic beast, let alone fought one. Their blood, meat, and hides were said to be invaluable.
"The Bering Mountains may border Mophy Forest, but it's not uncommon for demonic beasts to wander out. It's been too long since I last tasted demonic beast meat," Soren said casually.
Caesar remained silent, lost in thought. For now, all he could do was follow orders and see what lay ahead.