Steel, gunpowder, and spellcasters

Chapter 212 Monsoon
For several days, the camp first migrated southwest, and then turned north.

The Harts used a lunar calendar, and their method of dating differed from that of other republics.

Winters had to estimate the date himself; he remembered that the supply train departed from Shuangqiao Camp on January 12.

Traveling westward, crossing the border river and traversing uninhabited areas, they arrived at the Styx Camp on January 30th.

That night, snowflakes fell from the sky.

Before that, he was just a garrison officer who was temporarily conscripted, leading a small team of militiamen to do some hard work of transporting supplies within the territory of Palatul.

From then on, his world was like a chariot being dragged by a mad horse, hurtling headlong towards a precipice.

After many twists and turns, the supply train arrived at the Bianli camp on February 24. Twelve days later, Bianli fell.

The following day, he embarked on the retreat as the vanguard, and saw the Styx again on March 29.

He recalled each day and roughly determined that he woke up in Erlun's tent on April 16.

Seven more days have passed, and that is April 23rd.

"Have I been away from home for so long?" Winters felt as if he had been in a different world.

In April, Hailan must be very hot.

The men and women on the street had long since changed into beautiful, light clothes, with only the elderly still wrapped in winter clothes.

The docks were filled with shirtless dockworkers, and merchant ships of all sizes gathered in the bay, waiting for the monsoon to arrive as scheduled.

The Feast of the Ascension of Christ is coming soon, which is Hailan's most important holiday.

On that day, everyone would dress up in their finest clothes and follow the "Golden Ship of the Consul" to Saint Nicolás Island.

They were greeted by priests who presented them with holy water, salt, and olive branches.

The prayer remains unchanged: "O Lord! Bless us, bless all those who live at sea, and let the sea be forever calm and peaceful."

What followed was a grand celebration and parade.

The Feast of the Ascension of Christ is important because it marks the beginning of the new year's seafaring season.

After a brief period of revelry, the Blue Ocean people will sail towards the boundless sea. They may return with wealth, or they may simply vanish.

Winters' thoughts had drifted to the seashore.

He stammered, "Erlun?"

"Hmm?" Erlun was doing embroidery.

"spring is coming."

“Yes, it’s getting warmer every day, and the wind is starting to blow west.” Erlun smiled and raised his head, his willow-leaf eyes curving: “The old man said it’s time to take all the livestock to the highlands.”

"Find me a small knife."

"Okay." Erlun's hands moved swiftly with the needles. "What kind of needle do you want?"

“The most ordinary kind will do.” Winters propped himself up to sit up. “Please also bring me some branches.”

He now knows that for unmarried Hart women, a sword is an important "token of love".

When the man gives betrothal gifts, the woman reciprocates with a sword, so one cannot casually take a premarital woman's sword.

Erlun soon brought Winters a small knife, about the size of a palm.

The knife has excellent steel, and the blade and handle are forged as one piece; there is no guard, and the handle is wrapped with leather rope; the overall style is simple and unadorned, making it a reliable tool for the lives of herders, and Winters is very satisfied.

Carpenters use specialized carving tools, but Winters did not intend to carve flowers on the statue.

He picked up a branch, slowly peeled off the bark, cut it off, and sharpened it.

In this way, he gradually loosened up the stiff muscles in his arms.

"Are you sharpening wooden sticks?" Erlun asked, somewhat puzzled. "Are you knitting a sweater?"

"It's just to stretch your arms."

Erlun coaxed Winters, "If you shave wood inside the tent, the shavings will get on the blanket. Shall I help you outside? You can sit for a while and get some sun."

Winters was unwilling to leave the tent or show his face in the camp, but he would not refuse Erlun.

"it is good."

Winters' leg injury has subsided, but it will be a long time before the brace is removed.

Erlun helped him to the outside of the tent, brought over a wooden box, and had him sit at the tent entrance; he also brought a blanket and covered his legs with it.

Another day of trekking, and today we're camping in a sparse coniferous forest.

The setting sun filtered through the branches and leaves, casting dappled light.

The little lion walked over carrying a deer leg and joked, "Just looking at your neck and below, I'd think you were an old man by the fireplace."

Winters silently whittled the wood.

"Are you making skewers for grilling meat?" the little lion asked curiously.

He stared at the knife in Winters' hand and blinked.

Winters nodded and continued whittling the wood.

“You should say less.” Erlun came out of the tent, took a thin wool knitted blanket and draped it over Winters’ shoulders, then took the deer leg from the little lion: “Let Herstas bask in the sun in peace.”

"Okay, okay, okay." The little lion smacked his lips.

He squatted down beside Winters, watching the white wood core being sharpened bit by bit with a knife, and asked, "The spoils are back. Do you still want your armor?"

Winters shook his head.

When we found you, you had a bag of maps in your arms. Do you still want those?

Winters put down the wooden stick, thought for a moment, and said, "That belongs to an elder of mine. Please return it to me."

"No problem," the little lion agreed without hesitation.

The two fell silent again, with only the sound of a knife whittling wood audible.

The little lion simply sat down on the ground, looked into the distance, and said casually, "My brother is back too. We haven't joined forces yet. I'll bring him to see you then."

Winters remained noncommittal.

"You should rest now." The little lion stood up. "I'm leaving."

These days, the little lion often comes to Winters to chat.

Winters became increasingly silent, even less lively than when he had just awakened, only speaking when he was with Erlun.

After leaving his sister and Winters, the little lion did not return to his tent. He led out his horse and, with his guards, rode eastward.

He climbed over the hillside, ran along the stream, and arrived at another campsite a few kilometers away.

The camp where Winters and Erlun were located was very small and not the true "old camp" of the Chihe tribe. It was mostly inhabited by the elderly, women and children who were survivors of Bianli, as well as a small number of wounded.

The camp the lion cub arrived at was only inhabited by adult men, and sentries in armor and carrying swords could be seen everywhere.

There were also a small number of elite guards who carried bows and quivers, and were called "quiver guards".

People on the road greeted the little lion, either calling him "Little Lion" or respectfully addressing him as "Kitchen Master".

Besides the Chihe tribe members, there were nearly a thousand men tied together with ropes and chains behind the camp.

These men weren't wearing Hart's robes, but rather Plato's uniforms stained with blood!
They were prisoners of war...and slaves.

The surrounding Hed people threw food at them like pigs. The prisoners scrambled for it frantically, even fighting amongst themselves.

Just as a middle-aged prisoner grabbed a wheat cake covered in mud and dry grass, it was snatched away by a thin prisoner.

Ignoring the punches and kicks thrown at him by the others, the frail prisoner desperately stuffed the wheat cakes into his mouth.

On the other side, someone screamed, "My hand!"

Others, not caring whether it was a finger or a pancake, took a bite and swallowed it, blood and all.

The onlookers in the Hed laughed and threw out more bread cakes.

Were the prisoners ashamed?

shame.

But they were so hungry, so desperate.

For more than ten days, they trekked day after day, receiving very little food each day, being fed like pigs.

If you don't rob, you'll starve.

That feeling of hunger constantly questioned them: What is dignity worth? What is shame?
The number of officers captured by the Harts was small, and they were all held in solitary confinement.

Not only officers, but also sergeants have been separated from the prisoners.

Having lost their leader and been deliberately tormented, their will has completely collapsed.

An enticing aroma wafted into the prisoners' nostrils, causing everyone to stop what they were doing.

The Hed people brought out a fragrant roasted lamb for them.

The prisoners lunged at the roasted lamb, only to be pulled down by the iron chains and ropes binding their hands and feet, and forced back by the gleaming spears.

The Hed people then introduced several more disheveled Paratus.

A burly man with blue feathers walked over, followed by a thin translator.

The skinny translator timidly translated: "The leader of the Firefly said that these slaves wanted to escape and should be punished."

The interpreter was also a prisoner, but because he could speak two languages, his situation was much better than others.

Qing Lingyu coldly rebuked, and the thin interpreter shouted it again.

Qing Lingyu was still not satisfied, and the skinny interpreter cried and shouted it out again.

With a wave of his hand, Qing Lingyu had the quiver soldier beside him bring out a brazier.

They used red-hot iron spikes to pierce the collarbones of escaped prisoners, like putting a nose ring on a cow, and then threaded the iron rings through the collarbones.

The prisoners' screams were horrifying, and the air was filled with the smell of burnt meat.

"The Firefly Chief said that anyone who tries to escape again won't be so lucky and will be killed on the spot." The skinny interpreter shouted hoarsely, "The Firefly Chief also said that the wasteland is so vast that no matter where you run, you will be caught and brought back."

The prisoners lowered their heads, and several stared at the interpreter with eyes full of hatred and anger.

"The Firefly Leader will select the most capable among you. The capable will eat roasted meat, and the incapable will continue to scavenge for food from the ground." The thin interpreter's voice was hoarse: "Among you, who can forge iron? Who can..."

The little lion watched for a while, then silently walked towards the main tent.

Because there were no enemies around, the Chihe tribe's camp was no longer a structure of tents surrounding the herd of horses.

The horses were led outside the camp to forage, and the small tents of each squad of ten men wrapped the large tent in the very center.

On the way, the Azure Feathered Deer [Bo Han] called out to the little lion and walked side by side with him toward the main tent.

"Swift Eagle is dead," Mu Lu whispered, making a throat-slitting gesture.

“Alas, Swift Eagle is a capable man; his herds are always more prosperous than others.” The little lion said sadly, “But he deserves to die for plucking his feathers and running away in the face of battle.”

The stag sighed. After this battle, most of the white lion's "arrows" had been killed or wounded.

Such a dishonorable death as that of a swift eagle would also result in the stripping of all herds, subjects, and servants.

However, this also left many positions vacant, allowing the stag to be promoted from Haugkota [Centurion] to Arrow.

[Note: In Hetzi, "arrow" represents a leader of the Blue Feather rank, further divided into "close-range arrows" and "long-range arrows." They were both military and civil officials.]
As the little lion and the stag entered the tent, a quiver-wielder came out carrying a bloodstained blue feather.

It must be the helmet of the Swifthawk, because the Hed people consider decapitation a taboo. Unless there is a deep-seated blood feud, even the death penalty would not involve beheading.

Inside the large tent, everyone sat around the campfire, and the Qinglingyu members were having a heated debate.

"The Palatul people are severely weakened; this is the perfect opportunity for them to march east and raid the enemy's strongholds!"

"The Gray Eyes and the Fast Eaters are each gathering their warbands, preparing for their raids this fall. We should also raise our banners, or those small tribes that rely on us will be lured away!"

"Damn it! We haven't had any grain harvested in thirty years! We're the ones who shed blood, but we're not even allowed to eat meat?"

Due to Palatine's blockade, the Great Wilderness is lacking in everything.

Having defeated their nemesis, everyone was eager to seize a piece of Palatine's treasure.

It should be noted that the last time the various tribes raided for grain was during the reign of Queye Khan, thirty years ago. An entire generation of Khad people had never seen what Paratu looked like.

"What the hell! You bunch of bastards!" Tie Feng jumped up and cursed, "The fire is already at our eyebrows, and you're still thinking about raiding? The most important thing right now is to maintain the alliance with the Teldun tribe! Let's save ourselves first!"

The group of Qinglingyu immediately fell silent.

Tie Feng looked at the white lion and said in a deep voice, "The Teldun tribe has suffered heavy losses, and our losses are even greater than theirs. We should stick together to protect ourselves. Gray Eyes and the Fast Eater said they were going to raid for grain, but who knows if they're here to wipe us out?"

“In my opinion, the man warming himself by the fire isn’t up to any good either.” The little lion sat down by the campfire, his brow furrowed. “Didn’t he also intend to take advantage of the situation and devour us? The three major tribes are all cut from the same cloth. They’re all as greedy and wicked as wolves.”

Tie Feng spread his hands, utterly helpless, and said, "Who made the three major tribes direct descendants of Hongyun Khan? Who made them [descendants of the Jurchens]? [Successors]? Only they can be the Great Khan, and they think about becoming Khan all the time."

Do you think I don't understand what the person warming themselves by the fire is thinking? But with a lion biting their throat and a wolf biting their hand, should we fight the wolf instead of the lion? We just need to be careful.

"What do you mean by that?" Qing Lingyu immediately became angry and shouted, "Tie Feng! Why are you always trying to curry favor with the Fire-Kissed Ones? Who said only the three major tribes can be Khans? Why can't the White Lion be one? I think you want to join the Teldun tribe and use our Chihe tribe as a gift!"

"Bullshit!" Tie Feng roared in fury, pointing at the other man's nose and spitting as he questioned, "If I had bad intentions, would I have brought troops to help you? Ten years ago, the Chihe tribe was wiped out like dust. Who helped Bai Shi gather his followers? And who lent troops to Bai Shi? Fine! You think I'm being offensive? I'll take the Eagle Forest branch and set up a camp right now!"

After saying that, Tie Feng turned to leave, but Little Lion quickly stopped his uncle.

Qing Lingyu, facing him, was rendered speechless by the barrage of questions and hung her head in frustration.

“Uncle,” the silent white lion finally spoke, his light brown eyes like deep pools. He said gently, “I have never doubted you. Please don’t be angry.”

Tie Feng shook off the little lion and sat back down by the campfire, fuming. He said to the white lion earnestly, "More than a hundred years ago, Hongyun Khan and the tribes swore an oath by sacrificing nine kinds of livestock and drinking blood, agreeing that only the descendants of the Jurchens could be called Khan. Although times have changed, this oath still exists in the hearts of the people."

"Don't rush to declare yourself Khan, and don't even think about it. The other tribes won't accept that! If one day the Chihe tribe unifies the grasslands, and you want to be the Great Khan or the Chanyu, I won't utter a sound."

"Hahahaha." The white lion laughed loudly, his laughter bitter: "How could I have such thoughts? When I was a child, I only wanted my mother, younger brother, and younger sister to have enough to eat; when my mother, younger brother, and younger sister were gone, and all the friends I had gathered were killed, I only wanted revenge; later, more and more people followed me, and I only wanted them to live peacefully. If the one who warms himself by the fire can do that, I'd gladly lead his horse!"

The blue feathers around the campfire were also stirred by sorrowful memories, and everyone's face was filled with grief.

Unlike other clans and tribes that are bound by blood ties, the Houchihe tribe members came from various clans. Due to the dispersal of their tribes and the loss of their families, they gradually gathered under the command of the White Lion.

[Note: The Later Red River Tribe is distinct from the Former Red River Tribe, which was mainly composed of White Lion blood relatives and was wiped out by Alpard's army]
For thirty years, the Parat people have been relentlessly attacking various tribes, whose living space has been squeezed, leading to infighting among them. Countless tribes have been crushed in the turmoil, and which Hed person has not lost loved ones?

The little lion suddenly jumped up and shouted, "Brother! How could you say such a thing? What is a fire-warmer? Does he even deserve to be called one?"

“That’s right, he doesn’t deserve it!” White Lion slammed his fist into his knee, his tone resolute. “He’s too greedy and too ruthless; he only sees us as servants. I’m not willing to hand over the Red River tribe to him!”

"I don't want to either!" the Azure Feathers shouted in response. "Me too! If the three major tribes want to attack us, let them come! We'll kill them!"

Tie Feng sat silently in place, looking very tired.

"First, we must maintain our alliance with the Teldun tribe, and it is fine to be nominally their vassal. However, we will not migrate to their pastures, much less join forces with them. We must make an agreement with the Fire-Keeper that if the Eastern Sea and Suz tribes want to attack us, he does not need to come to our aid, but only to raid the enemy's old camp."

"Woo!" The Azure Feathers thumped their chests and shouted in unison, a way of expressing their approval.

"Uncle," White Lion looked at Tie Feng, "we would like to ask you to go and visit the fire-warmers."

Tie Feng paused slightly, then composed himself and said in a deep voice, "Don't worry. In my opinion, even without an agreement with him, the Fire-Keeping Men will still raid the other two old camps. We bleed, they eat the meat. The Fire-Keeping Men are more than happy to do this."

"Secondly, the Healthy Eaters and the Gray-Eyed are not of one mind. This is an opportunity to make them check and balance each other. Words, if used wisely, can be more powerful than a thousand soldiers. I have already asked the High Shaman to go to the Eastern Sea and the Suz tribes to explain the advantages and disadvantages to them. Although our strength has been weakened, whoever we help will win, and whoever we fight will lose. I am willing to reaffirm the oath of the Red Cloud Khan, that we will only recognize the descendants of the Jin people as Khans." The White Lion spread his hands: "I am willing to swear again that I will never call myself Khan in this life, otherwise I am willing to die under a thousand arrows."

The Qinglingyu looked at each other in confusion, but one of them broke the silence and said happily, "The Great Shaman is on our side, so what are we afraid of?"

"Third, I do not plan to convene a war group to advance eastward and raid for supplies this autumn."

The tent fell silent, and the group sighed with regret: "Shouldn't we at least send some people? It's such a waste to have such a good opportunity and not take advantage of it."

“Not only will we not go, but we will also persuade the three major tribes not to go.” White Lion pondered, “Palatu is a boiling pot internally, relying on its continuous victories to relieve pressure. They have suffered a great loss this time and are likely to be in turmoil. If we rashly send troops there, it will only unite them again.”

When it came to strategic matters, everyone had boundless trust in the White Lion. Despite some regret, they still shouted in unison, "Woo!"

"Fourth, we need to find a way to unite the surrounding small and medium-sized tribes. Although the three major tribes are powerful, they are no less capable than the three major tribes in uniting the small and medium-sized tribes. The leaders of the Dog Soldiers Tribe and the Blackwater Tribe are willing to persuade the tribes on our behalf."

"Woo!"

"There's one last thing," the white lion said with a smile. "As usual, let's divide the spoils."

"Woo!!!" Cheers burst through the tent and soared into the sky.

For the Hed people, war—or rather, plunder, which is the same word in Hed—is all about the spoils of war.

The second most severe punishment after the death penalty was the deprivation of spoils of war.

What were the spoils of war that the Hed people referred to?

Everything. A carriage? Good stuff!

A tent? That's great!

Iron tools? Good stuff!
Armor and weapons? Perfect!
Everything the Paratul discarded was good to the Hed.

But only three things could actually be recorded in the accounts: people, horses, and armor.

The war songs of the Hart tribes would not sing of how much gold, silver, and cloth they plundered, but they would certainly record how many people, horses, and armor they captured.

After the Battle of the Styx ended, the allied forces of various tribes basically disbanded.

White Lion didn't want to cross the river to pursue them, and the others who wanted to weren't able to organize it. Even if White Lion wanted to, he lacked the resources to do so.

The Heds failed to capture any mules or horses, as they were all taken away by Sackler.

There was a considerable amount of armor, with over ten thousand sets of plate armor and lamellar armor.

The plate armor belonged to the Paratul army, while the lamellar armor was captured by the Paratul army from the Hed tribes.

There are also many cold and hot weapons, such as firearms and swords, and so on.

For the Hart tribes, who were still in the era of cold weapons, the fighting power of armored soldiers and unarmored soldiers was incomparable.

Therefore, armor is a treasure; a single suit of armor can be passed down through generations, from one tribe to another. Plate armor is the most precious of all treasures.

As agreed beforehand, the lamellar armor from each tribe was returned—each piece of armor was marked, and the Palatine plate armor was divided according to the amount of labor contributed.

Together, the Chihe tribe obtained nearly three thousand sets of armor, but they also shed the most blood.

Although the various factions were envious, they weren't so adamant that they would turn on each other the next.

Besides armor and weapons, there were also slaves.

While the Paratites' destruction of the bridge temporarily halted the pursuers, it also left those who hadn't had time to cross the river on the west bank.

The various tribes captured more than 2,600 prisoners, most of whom were auxiliary soldiers and were wounded.

Based on past market prices, Palatine slaves were very valuable because the Heds had had few opportunities to capture Palatine slaves in the past thirty years.

The tribes of Hart captured Palatine slaves and, in addition to daily chores, mainly made them farm.

That's right, there is arable land in the wasteland, and the Hed people also need crops to supplement their food supply.

To prevent Paratu slaves from escaping, tribal leaders would even arrange for Paratu slaves to marry Hed slave girls.

Slaves with skills such as blacksmithing, stonemasonry, and carpentry would be more valuable.

However, the season is not right now. The Hed people captured Paratul slaves to make them farm, but the planting season has already passed.

Too many prisoners were captured at once, and the value of Palatine slaves was rapidly depreciating.

The various tribes under Hart simply did not distinguish between artisans and laborers, but distributed resources directly based on the number of people.

The Red River tribe still had over a thousand sheepskin bags, so the White Lion arranged for men to act as boatmen on the River Styx, collecting prisoners as payment for the journey—and some tribes, not yet satisfied with their catch, wanted to cross the river to pursue them.

The tribal leaders were all very shrewd; after all, the best of Plato's army was almost entirely on the east bank.

The cost of killing a person is a suit of plate armor—the Paratists simply don't have the strength to take the body and armor with them.

This is why, in the chase across the 100-kilometer no-man's-land, the Hede people fought in tribal units, rather than as a "coalition" as before.

Other tribes may not need prisoners, but the Chihe tribe, which has lost many members, urgently needs to replenish its labor force.

Therefore, the Red River region had about a thousand prisoners, and they needed to take these slaves back with them, trying their best not to let them die on the way.

All of the above refers to the allocation at the allied level. Within the tribes, there is another way of allocating resources.

Many leaders did not share the spoils of war with their followers, especially when the spoils consisted mainly of military supplies.

However, the spoils of war from the Red River tribe will be distributed among everyone as much as possible, regardless of the amount.

Each member received their share, and the families of the deceased also received compensation.

This could result in a slave having multiple owners, one of whom could redeem the slave according to the established custom of the Chihe tribe.

If we can't afford to buy one, then everyone will share one slave.

The Red River army's will was far stronger than that of other troops, partly because White Lion was fair and willing to share the spoils of war with everyone.

[Note: The concept of spoils is not limited to war; prey caught in a hunt is also considered spoils. The distribution of spoils was an important part of Hart society.]
The Qinglingyu were excitedly counting the details on their fingers.

"What do you want, little lion?" Tie Feng asked.

"Me?" The little lion smiled. "I only need one Veneta."

……

The Venetians, as described by the little lion, are currently building a pulley system.

Winters had no other tools; he only had a small knife.

The tribal healer said he needed to move his knee and ankle joints, gradually increasing the intensity, so as not to develop chronic problems.

Erlun then assisted Winters with his "rehabilitation" every day.

However, given Winters' height and weight, Erlun had a hard time even just helping him up.

Moreover, she also had to take care of Winters' daily life, and Winters really couldn't bear to see her working so hard.

Winters wants to make a set of pulleys, suspended by a bracket, so that he can move his knees and ankles on his own.

It can also exercise his upper body muscles.

He has things to do and can't lie here.

……

At the same time, in the Fortress of Kings.

In the afterglow of the sun, Alpard led two guards into the city on horseback.

More than a week has passed since the remnants of the expeditionary force returned to Palatine, and they are currently stationed at the Palatine army's supply depot, which is also where Winters departed—the Twin Bridges Camp.

Even though they had returned to their homeland, the situation was even more dire than it had been in the wilderness.

The expeditionary force was not disbanded; not only the regular army but also the auxiliary troops were not disbanded.

Furthermore, Alpad also took over the garrison at Twin Bridges and conscripted militia.

His demands were simple: "First, resolve the issue of compensation for the expeditionary force."

Before the war, Army Headquarters and regular officers and soldiers agreed that all rewards would be distributed in the form of land.

The expeditionary force brought back countless ears of the barbarians of Hart, who had fought valiantly and deserved their due reward.

"Second, mobilize the troops and prepare for war. We haven't lost this battle yet, and the Palatine people will fight back."

Arpad knew all too well that the tribes of Hed were like a pack of wolves surrounding a lion.

Now that the lion's intimidating power has weakened and its claws have been broken, the wolves have begun to stir.

For the past thirty years, the Parat people have been able to maintain prosperity and development along their borders. Not through defense, but through offense.

The two legions' standing armies, scattered along the long border, were like salt being poured into a lake.

If the barbarians are in an offensive position, they can launch surprise attacks from various locations, grab a loot, and run.

The Paratul people will face the strategic predicament of the Ancient Muro Empire, with war breaking out in various border regions and the standing army exhausted from fighting.

The army had to continue to expand, but it was unable to generate enough profit.

That's right, the Paratul standing army is now profitable.

Relying on loans, mortgages, bonds, and a dazzling array of "financial instruments," Plato has made a profitable deal in every war he waged against the Hart tribes over the past thirty years.

When the army went to war, the land in the no-man's-land had already been divided, sold, and used as military funds to flow into the treasury of the Army Headquarters and the Grand Council.

Leaving aside the consequences of breaching the contract—just thinking about it gave Alpard a splitting headache.

The mere shift from a strategic offensive to a strategic defensive posture would turn Plato's standing army from a treasure trove into a bottomless pit.

In an open letter to the Grand Council, Arpad clearly stated: "To resolve the issue of compensation for the expeditionary force, I am willing to take off my uniform, bind my hands, and bear full responsibility for the failure of this campaign. As for General János's position as commander of the Grand Army, I recommend Brigadier General Seckler to succeed him; he is the only one who is ready for the next campaign."

Arpard believed he had done the right thing—he was simply not good at failing.

When faced with defeat, his first reaction is always, "I haven't lost, I'm going to fight back."

His opinion was also supported by the Palatine Army.

Army Headquarters dispatched General Adams to the Grand Council to explain Alpard's reasons to all members.

But in the eyes of the Grand Council, this was betrayal, coercion, and a "coup"—which wasn't wrong, because Arpad was indeed trying to force abdication.

He harbored resentment and, upon learning of the destruction of the pontoon bridge, immediately sent people to seek help.

The Grand Council only issued him five orders to withdraw troops.

Arpad was furious when he thought about it: "Fuck you! I'm being chased by these barbarians, how can I leave without a fight?"

In his view, if the Grand Council had acted as he had demanded—"mobilize quickly, respond quickly, ignore the Hart raiders, and send troops directly to the rescue"—he would never have ended up in this predicament.

Arpad had made up his mind: he would take the blame, and they could do whatever they wanted with him. But this battle wasn't over yet, and everything he had done was for Palatine!

How did the Great Council react?

In the eyes of the Royalist faction, Arpad Duyom was tantamount to treason.

The Kingsburg faction, mainly composed of citizens, has always advocated limiting the power of the military and following the example of the Republic of Venetta by bringing all military power under the control of parliament.

From the perspective of the Blue Blood faction members of parliament, although General Alpard's actions were somewhat abrupt, his starting point was good and his opinions were correct.

The Blue Blood faction can be traced back to the second phase of the War of Sovereignty—the civil war in the Duchy of Palatour—when noble officers who followed the old marshal integrated into the new republic.

Their base consisted of vast rural areas, local councils, and the "free man" class who received land based on military merit.

The term "free person" refers to a citizen who has the right to participate in parliamentary elections.

They must be male and possess sufficient wealth or merit, and generally play an important role in local life.

Currently, the number of "free men" in Paratú is less than 5% of the total number of adult males.

As the white lion observed, when things are going well, all internal conflicts can be resolved through victory.

However, once the momentum falters, the cracks become so obvious that they cannot be ignored.

The two factions of lawmakers argued incessantly, with one side firmly demanding that Arpad disband the army unconditionally, while the other side vehemently opposed it.

Several brawls broke out in the Grand Council, with Blue Blood Faction members with strong military backgrounds beating Kingsburg Faction members into fleeing in terror.

Finally, the two sides reluctantly reached a compromise.

The Grand Council decided to grant Arpad's requests: to provide relief to the remnants of the expeditionary force—although it was still unknown where the money would come from; and to appoint Sackler as commander of the Grand Army—only an agreement, the actual appointment order would be issued by Army Headquarters.

Arpad needs to disband the army and go to the Grand Council to report on his duties.

As he rode across the suspension bridge, Arpad was filled with emotion. He had crossed this bridge many times before, returning in triumph amidst cheers and flowers.

Back then, he was a hero, riding high on success, all smiles, dressed in fine clothes and riding a spirited horse through the streets.

This time, when he enters the Fortress of Kings, he will emerge as a criminal.

But he wouldn't become a criminal; he wore that uniform his whole life and was too lazy to take it off.

The small bottle of poison was hidden in a secret pocket in his heart.

After finishing his report, before the guards arrested him, he would drink it all in front of all the members of parliament.

"Poisoned? That's too good for me," he thought.

He willingly took responsibility for the failure of this campaign—yes, not a war, but a campaign.

In Alpard's view, this was just one battle in a war; he had not lost, the war had not been lost, and Palatul had not lost either.

“Yasin, you child.” Arpad recalled the past and couldn’t help but shake his head and smile bitterly: “You really have learned a lot… But why didn’t you come to Palatul with me? Sigh, why didn’t I force him to stay in Palatul?”

He habitually reached for the wine jug, only to find nothing again.

“That kid… should be dead by now.” Alpard suddenly remembered the proud Veneta: “He was so young, I promised to let him go home, and I ended up killing him.”

He felt himself aging rapidly, and each breath he took was more exhausting than the last.

The stone-paved street was quiet; there wasn't a soul in sight.

Suddenly, a man rushed out of the alley, his clothes stained with blood, and grabbed Arpad's reins tightly: "Duyom! Go! Go quickly!"

The two guards were terrified and drew their swords with a "whoosh".

It was dark, but Alpad could still make out who the man in front of the horse was.

Because the man before him was his younger brother, the Grand Council Chairman—Alpad Kleinheisler.

"What happened to you?" Arpad immediately dismounted. "Why are you covered in blood!"

"Run! They're going to kill you! They're going to kill us!" Klein Heisler cried, pushing his brother toward the horse.

"boom!"

There was a gunshot.

Klein Heisler fell silent. His skull was smashed to pieces, red and white splattering all over Alpad. He slowly collapsed to the ground.

Arpad stood frozen in place as his brother's hand slipped from his grasp.

More shots rang out.

There were also footsteps and the sound of horses' hooves.

"Kill without mercy!"

"Don't go, Alpad!"

"Whether they live or die!"

Arpad roared furiously, drew his saber, and prepared to fight to the death.

Two guards blocked his way, forcing his warhorse to turn around, and then kicked it hard.

Arpad's warhorse carried him galloping toward the city gate.

His two guards charged at the approaching enemy.

The suspension bridge was slowly rising when Alpad stabbed the horse's ribs.

Just before the drawbridge became too steep to climb, Alpard's warhorse leaped off the bridge, flew across the moat, and landed heavily on the ground.

Immediately, the warhorse carrying Alpad disappeared into the night.

Sackler and Grove David, the leader of the Kingsburg faction, rushed to the city gate.

Grove was furious and slapped the goalkeeper hard across the face, roaring, "How could you let him get away!"

The unexpected happened: the sound of hooves grew closer and closer, and Arpad had returned.

He reined in his horse before the moat, and asked in grief and indignation, "Sackler! Are you even left?"

“I’m here,” Sackler replied expressionlessly.

"traitor!!!"

“No!” Sackler’s voice was cold and firm: “I am loyal only to the Republic!”

Arpad laughed in despair, took out a bottle of poison and smashed it, then rode away.

Meanwhile, Grove's special envoy was on his way to the Twin Bridges camp with the "Great Council Order".

The thunder roared across the fields, and the lightning illuminated the night as if it were daytime.

The monsoon has arrived.

[Regarding whether Arpad would be purged, the answer is finally here: Of course. Not only do readers know he will be purged, but he himself knows he will be purged.]
[And, strategically, the Battle of the Great Wilderness was similar to the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest, or the legendary annihilation of the Ninth Legion (the complete annihilation of the field forces in the British Isles, leading Rome to formally shift to strategic defense and construct Hadrian's Wall), and of course, the Battle of Sarhu… It was different from the westward expansion; the disparity in strength between the two sides was not as vast. The enemy was also much more formidable…]
Thank you to all the readers for reading, subscribing, recommending, voting, donating, and commenting. Thank you everyone.

Yesterday's debt is paid off today, but two chapters are still owed.

The locals of Palatine put their first name last, followed by their surname, just like us.

In formal writing, the format is reversed—to conform to the alliance's official document writing format.

Immigration still follows the rule of "first name first, surname last".

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(End of this chapter)