I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 398 Heresy
In less than half a day, the expeditionary force took control of the city, and the most important food supplies fell into the player's hands.

Because there was no malicious damage, there was more military rations inside than expected, enough to feed the expeditionary force for another half month. However, due to the large number of Miniese who surrendered or launched surprise attacks, the player's food consumption increased by half.

As a result, the food shortage period was shortened from two months back to one and a half months.

This is truly speechless.

The men of the Tia family were rescued, though only half of them remained. But there was nothing that could be done; no matter how fast the players were, they couldn't outrun the dungeon guards who had prepared for the worst.

Whether Elena is loyal or not is none of the players' business.

The two nobles who surrendered in White Rock City did a good job, so much so that after the city fell, the players basically did not make things difficult for the two men or the surrendered Miniese soldiers.

The expeditionary force stayed for a day, looting all the wealth of the officials and rich in White Rock City. After the poor players in the expeditionary force had completed their Robin Hood-style redistribution, they happily headed back.

As for the two nobles, they did not follow. Instead, they took a portion of their family's direct troops and left the expeditionary force to return to the Kingdom of Minicia.

This decision was made after the player and Elena held another meeting.

Bringing these two nobles back to the Kingdom of Bagnia would not have made much of a difference in terms of politics, military affairs, or the economy.

However, if they stayed in the Kingdom of Minicia and acted as spies, they could play a much greater role.

As for whether they will be suspected?
There's no need to worry about that, because apart from the two of them, no other nobles or Minisian soldiers escaped from White Rock City. As long as they give the same testimony, the two of them are the survivors of White Rock City.

White Rock City is not of great importance to the Kingdom of Minicia at present, and there are no important figures in it. Charles, who is currently overwhelmed with problems, has no time to deal with the issues here, and may not even meet with the two of them.

What if the other nobles discover something is wrong because the testimonies are not properly matched?
Serve cold.

Players aren't interested in this kind of thing. If the mole isn't dead, they'll find opportunities to contact and use him later. If he dies, they won't lose anything.

It's a business with no initial investment; there's no cost whatsoever, so how can there be any loss?
And so, the players' expeditionary force happily embarked on their journey home.

……

The flags of the Kingdom of Bagnia fluttered in the salty sea breeze inside the siege camp of Suvano.

Suvano, the port city of the Kingdom of Miniscia, was completely besieged by the Blue Banner Army led by Marquis Dirac and the Bagnian Defense Army.

Huge siege engines loomed behind the camp, the air thick with the smells of the sea, earth, and the smoke from the soldiers' camp, along with a sense of tension as a major battle loomed.

Marquis Dirac stood behind a long table covered with maps, his expression relaxed.

The siege had been going on for some time. The defenders inside the city put up a fierce resistance, but they were unable to put any pressure on our side. Although the Blue Flag Army was an auxiliary force, its morale was very high and it worked hard, which led to the progress being as smooth as expected.

If Prince Chris hadn't requested that his side merely provide cover and not engage in too strenuous fighting, which would have resulted in excessive casualties, Dirac would have already ordered his troops to formally attack the city, instead of simply besieging it.

Just then, the guards lifted the heavy curtain.

"Your Excellency, Prince Chris's messenger has arrived."

Dirac looked up, the tense lines on his face relaxing slightly when he saw the person approaching, revealing a rare smile. He walked around the table to greet him.

"Polka! You rascal, His Highness Chris has finally decided to send you out... I thought you were completely trapped in some brothel in Bagnia!"

Dirac's voice carried the familiarity and teasing of old friends reuniting as he strode forward and patted Polka's shoulder forcefully.

Polka stumbled from the impact, rubbing his shoulder with a wry smile.

“My lord, you are still so…powerful.”

Polka shrugged helplessly. He was dressed in a dark traveler's outfit that allowed him to move around easily, with an inconspicuous gray robe over it. His face showed signs of travel fatigue, but his eyes were still bright.

"I have no choice but to come as His Highness has ordered."

"Haha... Anyway, I'm really happy to see you again."

Dirac gestured to the chair next to him to sit down, then returned to the main seat, picked up the wine bottle on the table, and poured wine for himself and Polka.

"Sit down. Your Highness summoned you. Is there any new instruction from the front?"

“There are indeed special circumstances that have occurred.”

Polka nodded, his smile fading and his expression turning serious. He refused the wine the Marquis poured for him, instead taking the water glass offered by his personal guard and taking a large gulp to quench his thirst.

"His Highness sent me here, Your Excellency, because there is an emergency."

Polka got straight to the point.

"A priest of the Earth Mother Goddess reported to him..."

After hearing Polka's words, Dirac paused in his drinking, his eyes sharply fixed on the latter.

"Heretical? What heresy!?"

"Who knows."

Polka shrugged.

"In short, it's a problem, so His Highness sent me here with people from the churches of the Earth Mother Goddess and the Goddess of Agriculture."

Dirac picked up his glass, took a deep sip, and the spicy flavor spread through his stomach.

“Your Highness is making a fuss over nothing… I admit that people like you have some special abilities, but on the battlefield, Bagnia’s cannons are the only ones that matter.”

“My lord, I admit that cannons are indeed more useful than magic on the Greek continent.”

Polka leaned forward, his tone grave.

"But what if those 'heretics' didn't appear on the battlefield..."

"kindness?"

Dirac frowned; he understood what Polka meant…assassination.

Yes, if someone like Polka didn't appear on the battlefield, but instead chose to target the officers and soldiers of the defense force or the Blue Banner Army from outside the battlefield, they would be almost unable to resist.

"Won't using magic here consume life force?"

"Yes, that's true... but there's no rule from the god of magic that says the life force consumed when using magic is necessarily one's own, right?"

Polka recalled his experiences in the outside world and his knowledge of magic, his tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible worry.

“I don’t do such things because I’m unwilling to do them, and I haven’t learned how. But those heretics in the oracles might not have such concerns.” Dirac was silent for a moment, the candlelight in the tent flickering in his eyes.

After a while, he suddenly stood up, walked to the tent entrance, lifted the curtain, and sternly ordered the captain of his personal guards on duty outside:
"Order all battalions to strengthen nighttime patrols, especially those facing the coastline. Scout teams to expand their search areas, focusing on all coastal landing points, abandoned fishing villages, and suspicious vessels!"

At the same time, the rear guard was notified that the defense level of the supply camp was raised by one level! Any unidentified persons or unusual activity must be immediately alerted and reported; there must be no error in reporting!

"As you command, my lord!"

The captain of the guard received the order, quickly turned and left, his footsteps hurried and powerful.

Dirac lowered the curtain, walked back to the table, and his eyes regained the calm and resolute look of a battlefield commander.

"Thank you for your warning, Your Highness. And thank you for making this trip, Polka."

He looked at the magic advisor.

“I will adjust the deployment immediately. Where is His Highness's warrant that you brought? Where are the people from the Church of the Earth Mother and the Goddess of Agriculture?”

Polka took Chris's warrant from his leather bag and handed it to Dirac.

"The warrant is here. The church members are behind us. They're carrying a bunch of holy symbols, ritual objects, and herbs, so they'll be moving slowly. They probably won't reach the camp until tomorrow."

He paused and added.

"Once they arrive tomorrow, I will immediately have them search the military camp. These religious figures are more useful than hunting dogs; they can always find people who use magic."

When the crucial moment arrives, I will have them 'each do their job'... The people of the Earth Mother Goddess Church will watch the people of the Agriculture Goddess Church do the work."

He emphasized the phrase "each doing their own job," clearly indicating that he remembered Chris's instruction to "put the high priest of the Church of the Goddess of Agriculture on the table, and the overseer of the Church of the Earth Mother Goddess."

Dirac quickly glanced at the warrant, and after confirming that it was correct, he put it aside, a cold smile playing on his lips.

“Very good. Since they can deal with those ‘filthy’ things, I’m relieved… Besides that, do you need any other cooperation?”

"I won't hesitate to ask if I need it."

Polka nodded, then got up and walked out.

……

At the same time, in a low-lying, shadowy spot less than twenty meters from the edge of the camp's wooden fence, a "thing" that was darker than the night and whose outline was constantly twisting was crawling.

It is not entirely invisible; rather, it is as if light is strangely deflected and absorbed around it, causing the gaze to instinctively dart away when it sweeps across, as if there is only deeper darkness there, or the brain simply ignores its existence.

At the "head" of this dark figure, two faint, murky points of light, as if sludge had settled, were staring intently at the brightly lit center of the camp.

There, it seemed, was still there an aura that it had instinctively felt repulsed and wary of.

Magician?
Isn't this an isolated, magical desert?

How can there still be such annoying spellcasters hanging around here?!
As the shadowy figure drew closer, even as it attempted to enter the military camp, the sound of clear hoofbeats broke the silence of the night.

A small patrol of Blue Flag Army cavalry trotted along the outer perimeter of the camp.

The patrolling knights wore light blue uniforms, their breastplates gleaming faintly in the darkness. The sabers at their waists swayed gently with the rise and fall of their horses. Their eyes warily scanned the dark areas outside the camp, especially the bushes and mounds that provided easy cover.

The captain seemed particularly serious. He reined in his horse and stopped just a dozen meters away from the dark figure, his gaze sweeping back and forth across the depression where the figure was.

At this moment, the moonlight sparingly cast a faint glow, just enough to illuminate a few clumps of swaying wild grass at the edge of the depression.

The shadowy figure remained motionless, as if it had merged into the soil itself, and the murky, eerie light was completely extinguished, not revealing a single trace.

The patrol captain frowned, his gaze lingering on the depression for several seconds.

He felt that something was... off there?

Is it too quiet? Or... too "empty"?

But upon closer inspection, there was nothing there except for blades of grass being blown by the wind.

There were no unusual sounds, no suspicious movements, and no signs of reflection or exposure.

"team leader?"

A soldier behind him asked in a low voice.

"What did you find?"

The captain stared for a moment longer, then shook his head, dispelling the inexplicable sense of unease in his heart.

"It's nothing, the sea breeze is probably too strong and it's making my eyes blurry... Let's continue patrolling."

The captain turned his horse around and led the team along the planned route. The sound of hooves gradually faded into the background, blending back into the sounds of the wind and the waves.

The "empty" space in the depression was not filled again until the patrol team had completely disappeared from sight and hearing.

The twisted black shadow slowly began to "wriggle," and the murky, eerie light shone again, carrying a cold, inhuman mockery.

It had just clearly "sensed" the gazes of those human soldiers sweeping over its location, but their senses and their perceptions were subtly distorted and shielded by an invisible force.

What they saw was only what their brains considered "reasonable"—a deserted depression.

The shadowy figure turned its attention back to the camp, especially to the brightly lit and bustling areas. It sensed a vibrant, thriving life force, like an alluring ray of warm light in a dark forest.

This aura stirred something dormant within it, causing it to emit a silent, greedy hum.

But a deeper command suppressed its instinctive desires. It "looked" toward the coast, its murky gaze seemingly able to penetrate kilometers, landing between the cold seawater and the jagged rocks.

There, more "filth" of the same origin is quietly landing and gathering in the darkness. They need time, they need to distract the camp's defenders, they need to create chaos... they need a hearty "appetizer" to replenish the energy consumed by their long journey across the stormy seas.

Its mission is not to attack, but to observe, to mark, and to select the most suitable "plate" and the most readily available "fuel" for the subsequent "feast".

This seemingly heavily guarded human camp is gradually revealing its fragile interior and deadly allure through its distorted perception.

The shadowy figure merged into the deeper shadows once more, like slippery oil seeping into the sand, and began to move silently along the perimeter of the camp. The murky, eerie light greedily scanned every watchtower, every gap in every tent, and every passing patrol of soldiers.

It is searching, searching for that "spark" that can ignite chaos instantly, searching for those "sources" with the most surging vitality, to guide the way for the coming, real "rotten swamp".

(End of this chapter)