The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

"First of all, at least one-third of these 400,000 li (approximately 20,000 kilometers) are logistics troops. 400,000 people need food, clothing, weapons, and arrows. It's impossible for the frontline soldiers to carry all that themselves."

Nilfgaard's supply lines span the entire continent; without hundreds of thousands of people maintaining this lifeline, the frontline troops would run out of food in three days.

The charcoal pencil moved north and drew several circles along the border between Temeria and Aden.

"Secondly, not all of the remaining combat troops can be deployed to the front lines. Nilfgaard's fundamental goal is to conquer Temeria Gaiaden. How vast is that area? Countless cities, military fortresses, and provincial capitals."

A city the size of Vizima or Cowburg would require at least several thousand people to maintain order.

Every occupied city, every fortress, and every major transportation route had to be guarded by troops. Just maintaining order in the occupied areas and suppressing rebellions would require at least half of the troops to be diverted.

"Emperor Nilfgaard in Vizima also needs garrison troops, so how many combat troops are left that can actually push to the front line of the Pontal River? Only about 60,000 to 70,000."

Ron looked up from the map. "Sixty or seventy thousand men trying to break through the Pontal River defenses?"

"We can't break through, that's the root of the stalemate." Erwin moved his charcoal pencil to the Pontal River and drew a thick line along the riverbank.

"Radovid's defenses on the north bank relied on the natural barrier of the river and the fortified cities of Oxburgh and Novigrad. At the same time, he did not hesitate to launch an attack on his allies during the funeral of King Hensett of Cordwin."

They annexed Cordwin in one fell swoop, forming an impregnable defensive line along the Pontal River. The number of defenders was no less than that of the Nilfgaardian front. If the Nilfgaardians wanted to cross the Pontal River, it wasn't that they couldn't, but that they dared not.

"Let's consider a hypothetical scenario: if the Nilfgaardians were to gamble everything and commit all 60,000 to 70,000 men from the front lines to a forced crossing, they might be able to cross the river."

Perhaps they could break through Redania's first line of defense, but at what cost? Sixty to seventy thousand men would cross the river to fight, and at least half of them would be lost.

And then what? Nilfgaard had just withdrawn troops from the rear to support the front lines when the occupied cities in the rear immediately caught fire. What were the resistance organizations in those cities waiting for?

This is the opportunity we've been waiting for. If things go wrong at the front, the rear will be engulfed in flames. If we can't advance and try to return to defend the front, the Redanian cavalry will immediately come after us. We'll be caught in a dilemma, which is Nilfgaard's death trap.

Ron pondered for a moment: "Hmm, that's why Emhyr doesn't dare to move."

"They dare not move, and they cannot move. Emhyr is now gambling that Radovide cannot outlast him. Radovide's side is not monolithic either; the financial pressure brought about by the crazy expansion of the army has already overwhelmed the people."

He needed Novigrad's wealth to alleviate the pressure; the Church of Eternal Flame in Novigrad was established thanks to him. However, the church's fanaticism was a double-edged sword, burning warlocks and ostracizing non-human races, and it was bound to explode sooner or later.

Moreover, Novigrad is nominally a free city with 30,000 residents, but the number of merchants and travelers coming and going is more than double that. These people are not exactly benevolent citizens.

Several banks, underground gangs, countless nobles, and city councilors—all people who speak with money. If they live under the constant shadow of the stake, they'll find a way to replace Radovid sooner or later.

Erwin put down his charcoal pencil, straightened up, and his voice was no longer as calm as it had been during his earlier deductions.

"But Ron, no matter who wins this gamble, Willen is destined to be crushed. We don't have much time left."

Ron looked at the map without saying a word. He rolled it up and put it into the leather tube on the table.

"Activate the Novigrad intelligence station as soon as possible."

Carradine Estate.

Ron sat in a chair in the courtyard, the familiar background noise of commands from the training ground still playing. The system panel unfolded in front of him, and the attribute interface hung before his eyes.

Strength 10 | Agility 9 | Constitution 7 | Perception 6 | Charisma 4 | Intelligence 5

Behind each number on this page lies a battle, Agility 9.

In his first encounter with the werewolf, the thing easily struck his breastplate. Whispering Hill was the second time, and the werewolf didn't even touch him.

In a one-on-one fight, 9 points in Agility is enough, and with 10 points in Strength, Geralt's swordsmanship outpaces him.

The Witcher's Agility is at least 10, Strength is about 8, and his Constitution, after mutation, should also be above 10. Perception is negligible; he's not confident enough to compare himself to Cat's Eye's Witcher in that regard.

The Wolf School is known for its balance, the Cat School for its agility, and the Bear School for its strength. If one is a top-tier Witcher from the Bear School...

Strength might be able to rival his own, but so far, he has not encountered an opponent stronger than himself.

In the Nilfgaard ambush, he single-handedly crushed a squad of heavily armored infantry, relying on superior armor and overwhelming force. Battlefields are not arenas.

Spears and crossbows came from all directions. No matter how fast you were, nothing was as reliable as thick armor. Strength was the only true currency on the battlefield.

Ron looked at the +1 attribute point he gained after the upgrade on the system panel and, without hesitation, upgraded his strength from 10 to 11. He had to maintain his advantage in strength so that any enemy who dared to confront him head-on would have to face an unstoppable heavy blow.

Close the attribute panel and open the unit interface. A new unit tree appears on the interface - the Warlock unit, starting from the Apprentice and progressing upwards: Trainee Warlock, Senior Warlock, Specialized Warlock, Master, with the top level being the Level 6 Source Warlock.

Based on the few remaining memories of the story, Yennefer of Wengeburg counts as one, as do Philippa Ehrhardt and Triss Merigold, the leaders of the Sorcerer's Guild.

Only a very small number of people can reach this level, and they are not people I can recruit at this stage. Especially with Philippa's ambitious personality, she will most likely become hostile to me, as our fundamental goals conflict.

Kayla's interface flashed by, with the label "Master Warlock" displayed next to it.

This unit tree currently only has one member. Warlocks are not soldiers and cannot be recruited in batches. Those above level 3 will most likely only be able to join as partners. The data from the standing army is more reliable.

All of the following formations have been unlocked: spear volley, spearman square, column, three-line formation, shield formation, scattered formation, circular formation, and infantry-cavalry coordinated assault.

Miko, Pete, and more than a dozen other veterans have reached the level of 4 Imperial Senior Sergeant, while the rest of the regular army has generally reached the level of 3 Imperial Skilled Sergeant. This is already a standard professional army.

When the list of the old Raven's Den troops was pulled out, Ron's brows slowly furrowed. The troop types were in complete disarray. Redanian halberdiers, Temerian crossbowmen, and Skellige two-handed swordsmen were all 2-3 level sergeants, which were still considered normal.

The longship pirates, woodland bandits, raider cavalry, and Nilfgaardian scouts that followed were a bit out of line. My gaze stopped. Wait, Nilfgaardian scouts?

An official Nilfgaardian military unit, mixed in with the old raven's den remnants, was identified and marked as a real unit by the system, which can recognize officially recruited soldiers.

If it were a spy disguised as a civilian or merchant, it would be highly unlikely to be detected by the troop type label, but this guy is a professional soldier.

Ron called Erwin over and checked the names against the list in Erwin's hand, one by one, as the two of them went through the list.

Ron stopped his pen on the spy's name, made a mark after it, and looked up at Erwin.

"Transfer him to the Crossroads Hotel; that position requires stationing, and he'll see it as a normal job and won't be wary."

"Have someone keep an eye on him. I need to know his contact information, his intermediaries, who his superiors are, and whether he's backed by the Nilfgaardian army or the Merchant Guild."

Erwin quickly jotted down on his notepad, "If he tries to send messages out, we can follow the trail. But how did you know he's a spy?"

"I have my own methods," Ron said, closing the list. "First, let him think he's lying in wait, and then we'll close the net when he takes the bait."