Chapter 188

Chapter 188. Deciding the Strategy Before Battle

Two ‍​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​​​​‌​‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​​‌​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌​​‌‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​‌​‌‌​‌‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌‌​‌‍days later, on the vast Dragonbreath Plain, the Western Frontier allied army completed its final assembly.

The ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍central route main force led by Marquess Marcus Hohenzollern, and the northern route army under Marquess Kola, which had endured bitter fighting through the northern mountain regions, finally arrived in grand procession at the designated positions.

When ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍the banners representing the various noble houses—

Hohenzollern’s ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍black double-headed eagle, the Kola Family’s silver-white snow mountain, Winterbourne’s golden wheat ears, Claire’s black steed, and the many other noble crests—rose one after another across the wilderness outside Storm City,

it ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍was as though the entire strength of the Western Frontier had condensed into an invisible giant fist, aimed squarely at that lonely fortified city standing at the end of the plain.

Their ‍​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌​​​‌​​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​‌‌​‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​‌‌‌​‍total strength numbered nearly forty thousand men. The camps stretched for several miles, with men shouting and horses neighing in a truly magnificent sight.

Banners blotted out the sun, armor reflected cold light, and a vast morale born from the determination for revenge and confidence in victory hung almost tangibly over the camp.

The brilliant achievements of Eli, Armand, Claire, and the others on Dragonbreath Plain had already been announced and commended, greatly inspiring the entire army.

Most soldiers believed that this fallen Storm City was already in their grasp and could be taken at any moment.

.....

At that moment, inside the largest commander’s tent at the center of the allied army, many figures had gathered.

The four marquesses—Marcus Hohenzollern, Mellon Winterbourne, Karl Kola, and Frey Claire—were naturally the core of the tent.

Surrounding them were senior officers from every route army, powerful vassals, and Frontier Lords who had performed outstandingly during this campaign to recover the lost territories.

Eli was naturally among them. He even saw quite a few familiar faces, all Frontier Lords he had once met briefly in Thorne City.

It seemed that many people had earned the right to stand here through military merit in this war that had swept across the Western Frontier.

His gaze swept across the crowd and happened to meet a pair of gray eyes glaring fiercely at him. Their owner was Camilla Russell of the Eastern Frontier.

Eli’s expression remained calm, as if he had not seen that hostile gaze at all.

He moved his eyes away directly and focused his attention on the ongoing military council.

Marquess Marcus stood before a wooden frame upon which hung a huge map of Storm City and the surrounding terrain. His build was burly, and his voice was loud as he spoke.

“Gentlemen! Our army has successfully completed its assembly!

“Now, only the final piece of the puzzle remains before us—Storm City!”

His finger tapped heavily on the outline of the city specially marked on the map.

“How to complete this puzzle with the smallest cost and in the shortest time, and recover the place of glory belonging to our Western Frontier, is the matter we must settle today.

“If any of you have plans, speak.”

A murmur of discussion immediately rose inside the tent.

A noble standing behind Marquess Claire was the first to ask a question. He looked fairly young, but his eyes were sharp and intelligent.

“Marquess Marcus, do we have detailed internal structural plans of Storm City in our hands?

“Especially... are there any unknown passages? For example, sewers leading into the city, or ancient aqueducts?”

That question struck at the heart of the matter, and many people immediately pricked up their ears.

Marquess Marcus looked at the questioner, then shook his head, regret appearing on his face.

“Unfortunately, Count Wes and the core vassals who were stationed in Storm City at the time mostly died when the city fell. The detailed city defense blueprints were likely lost along with them.

“Of course,” he added, changing the direction of his words, “Sir Lucius is currently on his way to the front. Perhaps he has records or intelligence that we do not know about.”

At that moment, Marquess Kola, who had remained silent, spoke first. His voice carried his characteristic coldness and steadiness.

“Marcus, I do not recommend launching an immediate storming attack.”

His words instantly drew everyone’s attention. Marquess Marcus also looked at him and signaled for him to continue.

“Karl, what do you mean?”

Marquess Kola walked to the map and ran his finger across the mark of Storm City’s towering walls.

“Although Viscount Eli and Viscount Armand’s earlier battle successfully consumed part of Storm City’s strength, I believe everyone present understands this clearly.

“Storm City’s name as the unfallen fortress is no empty boast. The height and thickness of its walls far surpass those of ordinary cities.

“More importantly, we have rushed here over a long distance, and our stock of large siege equipment, such as siege ladders tall enough to reach the walls and heavy battering rams, is gravely insufficient after previous consumption.

“If we rashly launch a storming attack now, our soldiers may have to pay a sacrifice several times heavier than the defenders inside before they can even possibly reach the battlements.”

He looked around at everyone.

“I believe we only need to surround it firmly and cut off all supplies.

“The grain inside the city is limited, and military morale will inevitably collapse over time. After a while, Storm City will naturally fall without being attacked.

“This is the safest plan and the one with the smallest cost.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than someone immediately raised an objection.

Count Hanard rose, his tone urgent. “Marquess Kola, your plan is indeed safe, but please do not forget this.

“The enemy trapped inside the city needs supplies, but the daily consumption of our forty-thousand-strong army is likewise an astronomical figure!

“A prolonged siege will be an enormous test of our logistics.

“Furthermore, Sir Lucius’s order was for us to rendezvous at Storm City and resolve the war within one month!

“This ‘while’ you speak of—how long, exactly? Most of the allotted time has already passed. We cannot afford delay!”

Marquess Kola’s expression did not change, and he answered calmly.

“Our supplies are still more abundant than theirs, and we can endure longer than they can. The first to fail will certainly be them.

“Time is indeed urgent, but the lives of Western Frontier soldiers are far more precious than so-called deadlines and appearances.”

“Marquess Kola!” Count Ponchi also joined the argument. “Your compassion is admirable.

“But what this battle concerns is the glory of our Western Frontier as a whole! It is the battle that will wash away the shame of the occupation! Countless eyes throughout the kingdom are watching us!

“If we possess an absolute advantage in strength, yet only dare to surround the city without attacking and wait for the enemy to starve,

“how will those lords in the royal capital and the nobles of every frontier regard our Western Frontier? That would never be an honorable victory! I disagree!”

The atmosphere inside the tent became somewhat tense. The factions supporting a storming attack and those supporting a siege each clung to their own view.

Seeing that the argument was about to escalate, Marquess Mellon stepped forward with a genial smile. His warm voice seemed to carry a certain magic, easing the atmosphere in the tent.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen. Please remain calm. Let us not harm our harmony.”

First, he nodded toward Marquess Kola. “Marquess Kola cherishes the lives of the soldiers, and what he says is indeed reasonable.”

Then his words shifted. He looked toward Marquess Marcus and the others, and his face became slightly more serious.

“This battle concerns more than the glory and shame of the Western Frontier itself.

“Recently, I have been thinking about one question—time may be even more precious to us than we imagine.”

He paused.

“Gentlemen, do not forget that our Duke of the Western Frontier, Lord Federico, is currently in Orlandia, at the center of that whirlpool of power.

“If we are dragged into a prolonged siege here, then the nobles of the Royal Domain, or other people with hidden schemes,

“might they believe that the main strength of our Western Frontier is trapped beneath Storm City, and therefore think there is an opportunity to act against His Grace?

“If that truly happens, we will be pulled in two directions and forced into an extremely passive position!

“Therefore, this battle must be as Sir Lucius said—swiftly fought and swiftly ended!”

Marquess Mellon’s analysis made many nobles who had originally supported a siege frown and fall into thought.

Even Marquess Kola opened his mouth, but in the end, he could only sigh and say no more.

Since it concerned the duke’s safety, none of them could bear that risk.

“Hahaha!” Marquess Frey Claire laughed at just the right time, breaking the somewhat heavy atmosphere. He clapped his hands hard and spoke in a ringing voice.

“Gentlemen, perhaps we are all overestimating the morale and combat strength of those Federation remnants inside the city!

“Quite a few people here have fought them before. How did they feel?”

His words immediately stirred the atmosphere, resonating with many officers present and drawing laughter from the crowd.

“Lord Frey is right! I had not even had my fill of killing before the battle was over!”

“Those Federation brats look fierce, but in truth, they cannot withstand a single blow!”

“That is right! Before absolute strength, no wall, no matter how sturdy, can stop the determination of our Western Frontier warriors!”

The atmosphere inside the tent became heated and optimistic once more.

Seeing that the time had come, Marquess Marcus made the final decision. He slammed a heavy fist onto Storm City’s position on the map.

“Good! Then it is decided! All units will return at once and make final preparations for the siege tomorrow!

“At dawn the day after tomorrow, our army will launch the first formal attack on the city! Before that, I will follow tradition and send envoys into the city to persuade them to surrender! Who knows?”

A smile appeared on his face. “Perhaps once that Iman sees our army stretched out enough to blot out the sky, he will be frightened into opening the gates and surrendering directly! Then we can save ourselves some effort!”

“Hahaha!”

“Let him witness the strength of our Western Frontier!”

Marquess Marcus’s joke once again drew a burst of confident, heroic laughter from everyone inside the tent, as though victory were already firmly in their grasp.

However, amid this optimistic atmosphere, Eli’s brows furrowed slightly.

He looked at these officers and nobles, whose spirits were high and who seemed already to regard Storm City as something in their bag, and deep inside, an indescribable foreboding quietly grew.

He only hoped... that the coming battle would go as smoothly as everyone expected.

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