Chapter 165 - 153: The Prince’s Conditions
Chapter 165: Chapter 153: The Prince’s Conditions
Robson never thought his string of victories would receive such an overwhelming response from all the officers and men on the Western Front.
He had only sent word that his army had arrived ten miles outside of Sirich City. He hadn’t expected that more than half of the city’s nobles would rush out to visit him under the cover of darkness.
Valentino’s presence was understandable, as personal feelings might be a factor. But Robson had hardly ever met the other nobles.
Not only had the nobles come, but they had even brought carts pulled by horses and donkeys, laden with meat and wine to feast the officers and men of Robson’s army.
Robson watched the jovial nobles in his command tent, then turned to Valentino with a puzzled, questioning gaze.
"I was the only one coming at first. I didn’t expect everyone to follow.
Perhaps everyone has been under too much pressure. You don’t understand yet... I couldn’t explain everything in my letters, but the current situation on the Western Front...
Your arrival might just be the best news we could have hoped for," Valentino said with a wry smile, clasping her hands behind her back as she watched the laughing Frankish Nobles inside the tent.
Robson looked at Valentino. It was clear she likely hadn’t slept in days. While going without rest for long periods has only a minor effect on an Extraordinary, it’s not nonexistent. Extraordinaries are still human, and humans get tired.
Robson’s victories over the past few days had not only lifted the spirits of the Sirich nobles, but had also brought a sense of peace to the ever-anxious Valentino.
After Earl Wei Man left, Valentino shouldered the responsibility for Sirich City’s defense. It was a level of pressure an ordinary person could not endure. To say she was terrified during those first few days might be an exaggeration, but an inner sense of panic was unavoidable.
Robson looked at Valentino. If no one were to mention it, who would guess that this was a young woman not yet twenty years old?
A year ago, she might have been just like the other young ladies of the southern nobility, discussing the latest fashions and accessories from the Haven Kingdom. Now, however, she was clad in armor weighing hundreds of pounds, and the Long Sword at her waist had claimed the lives of countless Beastmen.
Of course, this was merely Robson’s own speculation. In reality, as the heir to the Fengman Clan, Valentino’s studies in the Algeria Kingdom had been just as demanding.
Valentino was watching the laughing and talking nobles when she noticed Robson might be looking at her. She turned her head and gave him a confused look.
"It’s nothing," Robson said, shaking his head and patting Valentino’s shoulder.
"This will all pass," Robson said, comforting her. "The Beastmen have won countless battles, but the fact remains that our feet are still planted on this land."
Valentino turned her head away without replying. In the candlelight, the tips of her ears flushed red. In a conservative, traditional country, Robson had underestimated the impact of physical contact between a man and a woman.
Robson didn’t notice. Seeing that Valentino didn’t reply, he assumed his cheesy, dramatic speech had made her feel awkward.
Fortunately, Lord Robson was thick-skinned enough to move on from the matter in a heartbeat. Truly, when it came to being shameless, Lord Robson, General Dor, and Prince Noah were all in a class of their own.
In some, it’s called shamelessness. In others, it’s called vision.
Robson looked at the crowd celebrating inside the tent and clapped his hands. All eyes were drawn to him; he was, without a doubt, the undisputed hero of the day.
Just as he had in the past at Qimo Fortress, Robson raised his cup.
"It’s eleven at night, or perhaps it’s already past midnight.
That’s not important. Seeing as you all managed to rush here overnight, I take it you’ve already planned out your escape routes?" Robson quipped.
Everyone present shared a knowing smile.
This was something of a Frank Kingdom "Soviet" joke. Thirty years ago, when Louis II suffered a crushing defeat and retreated, one of his generals asked him, "His Majesty the King, with your... limited abilities, how did you dare to launch an attack?"
Louis II replied, "Because I had already planned my escape route. The art of war states that an enemy cannot defeat a well-prepared army. And since I was so thoroughly prepared, the Beastmen couldn’t possibly defeat me."
"I know you’ve all been hearing a lot of bad news lately. The Marquis made many efforts, but they all came to nothing...
But it doesn’t matter! For us Franks, defeat is always temporary! As long as the enemy exists, blood and sacrifice will forever be the lifeblood of the Frank people!
So long as the Beastmen stand, our fight will never end!"
Robson declared, raising his cup high.
"To the Franks, who never give up!"
"To the Count!"
Everyone quickly grabbed their cups and drank heartily.
Valentino observed the nobles, who were now completely transformed, then glanced at Robson. He stood slightly ahead of her, and the sight of his tall back gave her a sense of reassurance.
Valentino straightened her posture, clasping one hand behind her back. With the other, she picked up a cup, poured some wine, and swirled it a few times. The candlelight caught the wine, casting a mesmerizing, intoxicating shimmer. It was a way of drinking she had learned from the southern nobles; when it came to matters of enjoyment, they were indeed far more advanced than the Franks.
Valentino took a delicate sip.
...
The tent was too small, so Robson had the nobles move outside. He ordered a bonfire lit and even roused his resting soldiers. Time was short; even their celebration had to be hurried.
But not celebrating wasn’t an option, either. A proper chance to relax was necessary for the soldiers. Morale had risen after the retreat, but it still hadn’t reached what Robson considered a passing grade—80.