I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 316 Opportunity (Part 1)

The battle at Tavitsky is crucial. Players fight fiercely here, while the Minisians, who have amassed a large army on the border, are not to be outdone and are also continuously deploying troops to fight against the players.

Strangely, as time went on, the other Minisian reinforcements that were supposed to be heading to Tavitsky to support the battlefield on this side of the battlefield failed to appear.

As a result, when Mia's barbarian supply train approached Tavitsky, it did not encounter any unexpected interception. It simply transported the urgently needed supplies into the area under cover of night and then quickly left.

Quick in and quick out, the process was incredibly smooth.

This made the players in the city wonder if the Minieses had gone mad.

However, this was because Tavitsky was not important to the Minisians, as news of the death of the old King Albert III had already spread.

Compared to the gains and losses of a city, the succession of the king is clearly more worthy of the attention of those important figures... Apart from the Seventh Legion of Minesia, but without reinforcements, they cannot drive the players out of the city.

The roar of cannons and muskets echoed through the city day and night, but the Minisians outside the city had collectively forgotten about it, including Lieutenant General Norton, who was stationed at the border fortress just over thirty kilometers away.

He deliberately ignored Tavitsky, simply because the lieutenant general had no desire to approach the city for fear of being attacked for his connection to the death of Albert III.

Politics is irrational; it lacks even reason, especially when the throne is at stake, everyone involved becomes hysterical.

More than supporting Tavitzky, Lieutenant General Norton was concerned about the endless stream of messengers coming to him... the eldest prince's messengers, the second princess's people, all offering Norton generous terms.

Their request for Lieutenant General Norton was simple...to support the eldest prince/second princess to ascend the throne of Minicia.

Lieutenant General Norton believed that these messengers were not just looking for him, but for all the generals in charge of the country.

……

Marquis Dirac Sisso walked briskly through the corridors of the royal palace, occasionally glancing up at the walls, admiring the familiar murals and decorations with a sense of awe.

Compared to before, the royal palace has not changed much; it is old and dilapidated, a stark contrast to the rapidly changing kingdom.

This "unchanging" quality, however, felt like a heavy stone, crashing into the calm lake of his heart, stirring not ripples of nostalgia, but a deepening sense of bewilderment.

The corridor was filled with a lingering, heavy air, a mixture of old wood, dust, and a faint musty smell. He remembered the smell, but it seemed to cling to the depths of his nostrils more intensely and stubbornly than he remembered.

The huge tapestries on the wall that he had looked up to in his childhood, depicting glorious battles and the favor of the gods, are now dull and lifeless. The gorgeous gold thread embroidery has lost its original color, and small holes eaten by insects can even be seen at the edges. The tapestries themselves seem to be unable to bear the weight of time, drooping slightly and showing a bit of desolation.

The wall lamp was still in the style of an old candlestick. The messenger wiped it spotless, but it still couldn't hide its old and outdated appearance.

The luxurious carpet underfoot, once so soft and thick it felt like walking on clouds, is now badly worn, revealing the dark, cold stone floor beneath in some places.

The tassels at the edges were tangled and broken, like the beard of a dying creature. Dirac's gaze swept over a marble statue standing in the niche... a magnificent and valiant ancestor of the kingdom.

However, at this moment, the base of the statue is covered with fine cracks, and a clear water stain meanders down from the statue's shoulder, leaving a glaring, rusty yellow tear stain on the white stone surface, as if even the stone is silently crying out for the erosion of time.

Judging solely from the current state of the kingdom, those unaware of the situation might perceive that the Kingdom of Bagnia is financially bankrupt and its rule is crumbling.

However, Marquis Dirac Sisso knew better than anyone else that the Kingdom of Bagnia was not declining, but rather was experiencing unprecedented prosperity.

He had just come from the most bustling trading district of the capital, where shops lined the streets and the glass windows of the supply and marketing cooperatives displayed brightly colored and luxurious silks and fabrics, hundreds of spices, and exquisite mechanical clocks crafted by local artisans.

Horse-drawn carriages streamed through the streets, carrying well-dressed citizens to the newly built industrial zone outside the city.

Tens of thousands of farmers were working excitedly on the King's Plain, preparing to gather in the capital after the sweltering summer and the crisp autumn, to celebrate the traditional harvest festival after the harvest... This is a centuries-old tradition of Bagnia and one of the kingdom's grandest celebrations.

When the last sheaf of wheat is harvested, when the branches of the orchards are laden with heavy fruit, and when the newly brewed wine in the cellars exudes an intoxicating aroma, the farmers of the entire kingdom will put on their finest clothes, wear crowns woven from straw and wildflowers, and march in a grand procession toward the capital.

They pushed wooden carts laden with grain, fruits, and cheese, driving their fat cattle and sheep, singing ancient folk songs all the way, praising the blessings of Mother Earth or the goddess of agriculture.

In the capital, the streets are also decorated anew, with golden ears of wheat and bright red ribbons intertwined to form arches, and the market is filled with stalls selling honey cakes, baked apples and spiced bread, with the sweet aroma of caramel and cinnamon filling the air.

In the center of the square, craftsmen built a huge "crown of harvest" out of straw and wood. It was three stories high and decorated with pumpkins, grapes and sheaves of wheat, symbolizing the abundance of the land.

At the climax of the festival, the king would personally attend the celebration and light the "Harvest Fire" under the watchful eyes of the people. The blazing flames rose from the top of the crown, illuminating the night sky and proclaiming that the winter's reserves were plentiful and that the hopes for the coming year remained strong. People danced around the bonfire and drank newly brewed beer until dawn before returning home in high spirits.

Dirac hoped that this year's harvest festival would take place, because if it did, it would mean that a new king would ascend the throne... This is also one of Bagnia's traditions, where the new king would choose the most festive day to celebrate with the people and share the joy.

However, to this day, the Marquis of Dirac, the most powerful nobleman in the kingdom, has not received any similar news.

Is there a problem with the kingdom's finances?
No.

He could roughly deduce the situation of the Kingdom's Ministry of Finance: new factories were springing up like mushrooms after rain, the unemployment rate had dropped to a historic low, farmers had land to cultivate, citizens had jobs, and merchants were working day and night to ship all kinds of cheap goods abroad for sale.

The king's advisors were busy all day developing various agricultural plans and arms procurement agreements. Dirac even knew that sugar and meat, which were previously only available to nobles, were beginning to appear on the tables of ordinary citizens in the capital.

But all this prosperity seems to have nothing to do with this royal palace.

It is like an isolated island forgotten by time, stubbornly remaining in its past glory, refusing to be washed away by the tides of the new era.

The peeling gold leaf, worn carpets, and outdated tapestries are less a symbol of poverty than a deliberate act of indifference... as if the kingdom's rulers had already devoted all their energy to a grander blueprint, and this ancient building, a symbol of royal power, had become an insignificant decoration.

Dirac tapped his fingertips lightly on the sword at his waist. The coolness of the metal calmed him down a little. He suddenly felt that he should advise Prince Chris on this matter and make him pay more attention to the face of the kingdom.

Ah, speaking of things that need persuasion, Dirac suddenly realized that there were actually many topics he needed to suggest to his prince, such as the new king's coronation, as well as the prince's spouse and offspring.

Compared to the aforementioned issues, the current war between the Kingdom of Bagnia and the Kingdom of Minicia in the border region is a trivial matter.

To be honest, Marquis Dirac was confused about the recent war objectives. He could understand attacking the border fortresses occupied by the Minieses; firstly, it was to reclaim territory and control the border, keeping the enemy out and preventing the Minieses from advancing unimpeded in the event of another war.

Secondly, it was for training. Of the ten newly formed corps, only a small number of soldiers and officers were veterans who had fought in battles. Most of them were raw recruits who were not given the opportunity to be deployed in rotation and tempered by low-intensity combat.

However, sending elite troops to bypass the Minesian border fortresses and attack a city with the same name as the province of Minesia was something Dirac simply couldn't understand.

What's the point of doing this?
Strategy or economics?
Dirac was puzzled, but he had come today by invitation, determined to ask the questions he had.

Dirac stopped in front of the prince's study. Two guards in light green uniforms saluted him, their armor making a soft metallic sound as it rubbed together.

He noticed that even the guards' equipment was much newer than the decorations in the palace corridors... The gleaming breastplates were branded with a peculiar double-headed eagle emblem, and the flintlock pistols at their waists gleamed coldly, clearly the latest batches produced by the arsenal.

"How ironic," Dirac thought, "the walls of the palace are crumbling, yet even the guards' firearms are being upgraded."

He raised his hand and knocked on the door, and came Prince Chris's distinctive, slightly languid voice from inside.

"Come in."

Upon entering the study, Dirac was slightly taken aback by what he saw.

In stark contrast to the dilapidated state of the rest of the palace, this place felt like another world. Instead of ancient tapestries, the walls were adorned with massive maps depicting the locations of various militia units and supply lines within Baghnia.

The bookshelves were crammed with factory reports, steam engine blueprints, and copies of trade agreements for weapons and equipment. Even the air smelled of ink and tobacco, not musty.

As Dirac surveyed the study, Prince Chris was hunched over an oak table piled high with documents, a fountain pen in his hand, ink staining his fingertips.

"Your Highness."

Dirac saluted, his gaze sweeping over the open document on the table, "Supply List of the 10th Army Corps on the Tavitsky Front," covered with dense red annotations.

"Ah, Dirac."

The prince looked up, his eyes showing faint dark circles, clearly indicating that he hadn't had a proper rest in a long time.

"Perfect timing. Have you seen the artillery deployment progress report for your Hegland Legion? I need it..."

Please forgive my bluntness.

Dirac interrupted him, his voice sharper than expected.

"Instead of deploying artillery, shouldn't we discuss... your need for rest first?"

The room suddenly fell silent. Chris slowly put down his pen, the ink spreading a small shadow on the document, and a look of confusion appeared on his face.

Is there a problem with my rest?

"Your Highness, you are too tired. You are visibly exhausted. The revival and prosperity of the kingdom rest on your shoulders."

Dirac finally raised his voice, he changed his mind, and realized that Prince Chris's health was more important than his doubts and questions.

"If you fall, it will be a disaster that the kingdom cannot bear!"

Dirac's tone became more serious, his eyes filled with worry and urgency.

“You are the hope of the kingdom, the reliance of the people, and the core of the road to revival. You cannot overwork yourself like this, otherwise all the prosperity you have worked so hard to build will be destroyed.”

Prince Chris was silent for a moment. He rubbed his temples, unsure whether Marquis Dirac was serious or just trying to flatter him... He felt a little uncomfortable listening to him.

"Alright, alright... I have a reason for calling you here this time. How is the reorganization of your Hegland Legion going?"

"We have basically completed all the training and reorganization. On paper, we can utilize 80% of our combat strength. As long as the planned heavy weapons arrive, we can participate in the battle at any time."

"very good."

Chris nodded. The so-called Highland Legion was the private army of the Marquis Dirac. After the latter surrendered to Chris, this capable classical legion of about five thousand men was also included in Chris's reorganization.

They were re-equipped with new weapons, flintlock muskets, new breastplates and disc helmets, improved infantry supplies, new artillery, and new tactical training.

After all this was completed, the combat power of Dirac's Highland Legion increased many times over, and Chris was no longer afraid that the former would rebel or seek independence.

Because the proportion of firearms in the Highland Legion has risen to about 70%, if they make any unusual moves, Chris only needs to cut off the legion's supplies, and it won't be long before their weapons become useless sticks.

However, under Chris's deliberate influence, the city of Hygrand is transforming into a commercial city. Although commercial taxes are high, there is no heavy industry. Even the original blacksmith shops have gone bankrupt or become their distributors due to the dumping of low-priced iron products by players.

Therefore, Chris is now very confident in the Marquis Dirac's loyalty and is not worried that the latter might suddenly decide to pursue independence or confrontation.

"Order your Hegland Regiment to advance to the Tavitsky front. I need them to reach the Tavitsky theater before autumn."

Is the situation at the Tavitsky front really bad?

“No, Tavitsky is fine. In fact, the 10th Army captured the border fortress ten days ago and took back our territory.”

"What is the purpose of the Hegland Legion's mobilization?"

"In order to launch an attack on Minicia after autumn."

(End of this chapter)