harleyscars Chapter 201 Marcus: I'm really going to be defeated by this kid!
Chapter 201 Marcus: I'm really going to be defeated by this kid!
Chapter 132 Marcus: I'm really going to be defeated by this kid!
Marcus's gaze swept over the other two legion commanders who had remained silent—the commanders of the Fourth Legion [Iron Totem] and the Seventh Legion [Fist of Valantis].
These two men were known for their perseverance and ability to maintain their positions.
"So, next we should catch these rats! So strengthen our defenses." Marcus pointed to the long area on the map that stretched from the banks of the Lorne River to the edge of the disputed territory.
"I need you to stand like an iron wall, guarding all the roads leading to our heartland and the remaining strongholds connecting to the disputed lands. I will crush them in Valantis, let them die!"
The two legion commanders exchanged a glance, both showing obvious signs of difficulty.
The legion commander of 【Iron Totem】, a burly man with shoulders as broad as a city wall, spoke in a gruff voice.
"Your Excellency, if I may be frank, this is—very difficult."
"The area is too large, from the banks of the Lorne River to the hills of the disputed lands, there are countless possible routes. If we disperse our forces like scattering beans to guard every path and every ford, then, as Scribe Gaius analyzed—" He glanced at the battle report, "—the enemy, with their astonishing mobility, can concentrate their main force in a specific area like a hammer crushing an egg, easily breaking through any of our weak and scattered outposts."
The legion commander of "Fist of Valantis" added.
"Unless we concentrate our forces to hold only a few of the most important main roads and large ferry crossings."
"But this means abandoning surveillance over large areas, allowing small enemy units to still infiltrate."
Marcus frowned deeply; he knew they were telling the truth. Just as he was weighing the pros and cons and making a decision—
"Report—!!!" A shrill, panicked voice came from outside the tent. Before even waiting for permission, a communications officer, pale as a sheet and soaked in sweat, scrambled in and almost collapsed to the ground.
"Lord Marcus! The Senate—an urgent dispatch from the Senate! And, and the latest—the very latest news from the front—" The communications officer stammered, clutching a wooden stick with blackened edges and another letter covered in mud.
"Calm down! Explain yourself!" Marcus stood up abruptly, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart.
The communications officer, breathing heavily, held the mud-stained letter—clearly having been delivered quickly through special channels—high in the air, his voice trembling with sobs and extreme fear.
"The Long Bridge! They—that Tiberius Mode! His White Legion! They've returned to the Long Bridge again!!!"
"What?!" Everyone inside the tent jumped up from their seats in shock.
The communications officer's words were like ice water poured over Marcus's head, making him want to cover his face.
"He—he walked alone onto the long bridge! And took the heads of us—the heads of several company officers we executed after our capture—"
"...it was just left in the middle of the bridge!"
"And—they even threw out hundreds of gold rings!"
His voice trembled particularly sharply on the gold ring, for in Valantis, gold rings were worn only by officers.
"It's not over yet—that charred, half-burnt battle flag of the Fourteenth Army, which he took from General Varo! He threw it onto the long bridge, letting the horses trample it!"
The tent was deathly silent, save for the chattering of the communications officer and the crackling of charcoal in the brazier.
"Then—then he shouted to our outpost across the bridge—the message was relayed back to the Senate at top speed—"
The communications officer almost fainted.
"I have not come here to trample this cowardly city once again. I have only come to tell you one fact: among you, only the general who fought us in this contested land is a true adversary!"
"If he were truly the king of Valantis, my head would already be hanging atop your walls!"
"What a pity! A general as mighty as a lion, soldiers as mighty as lions, yet led by a flock of sheep!"
After repeating the message, the communications officer collapsed to the ground, and the urgent letter from the Senate with its black border slipped from his hand.
Inside the large tent, time seemed to stand still.
Marcus Varo stood motionless. The color drained from his face, leaving it as pale as marble.
Tiberius Mode's extremely cruel move was not merely another resounding slap in the face to Valentis, nor was it simply flaunting cruelty and trampling on honor with the officer's head and gold ring.
This is a psychological tactic! He did it on purpose, to make the Senate suspicious and jealous of Marcus!
"So, the Senate's order is—" Marcus forced a smile.
"They can't possibly be asking me to go back and defend, can they?"
"Marcus must get back on defense! He must get back on defense!" A veteran stood on the stage and delivered a passionate speech.
"Sectus, why?" an elder raised his hand and voiced his question.
"Why?" Sextus repeated the question, then chuckled softly.
"Because, if I'm not mistaken, that kid is backed by the main force of the Three Daughters Kingdom!"
"Impossible!" A veteran of the Tiger Party couldn't help but stand up and refute.
"The main force of the Three Kingdoms' army has been decimated by General Marcus! They lack the funds to rearm such a small army, yet they have crossed the ocean to come to our Valantis!"
"How is it impossible?" Sextus exclaimed passionately, waving the map in his hand.
"Yes, I admit that General Marcus has achieved remarkable results in the disputed territory. He has successfully made the army of the Three Daughters Kingdom avoid him like the plague, and several successful annihilation battles have turned their war potential into a joke."
He gestured to his assistant to unfold a huge map of Essos, his finger jabbing heavily onto the long coastline of Valantis.
"But if—I mean if—that ghost-like Tiberius Maud and his uncle Jules's White Legion were not rootless drifters, not simply adventurers or bandits—"
"Or is it the vanguard of an army of tens of thousands?"
"Impossible!" A veteran of the Elephant Party couldn't help but stand up. "How could they send tens of thousands of people into our heartland?!"
"Please open your eyes and look at reality!" Sextus poked at the map with his finger.
"Look at our own situation! Where is our navy? Do we still have control of the sea?"
"No! Our sailors are rioting, the docks are blockaded, and our warships are either sunk or trapped in port! Our control of the sea has never been so weak!"
"In this situation, wouldn't the Kingdom of the Three Daughters, especially the powerful naval forces of Rhys and Tyros, with Rhys's spice fleet and Tyros's privateers, be fully capable of deploying an army to one of our weakly defended, or even undefended, ports or remote beaches?!"
"They have no one left, my friend!" one of the elders couldn't help but retort.
"Several major battles have depleted their soldiers. Replenishing them with well-trained troops is no easy task! Well-trained soldiers don't grow like wheat in a field; they require training, weapons, and a sufficiently mad ruler willing to gamble the future of a city-state's eligible men for a highly risky strategic counter-offensive!"
"But they have money!" Sextus shouted angrily.
"Estsoth has no shortage of desperate outlaws willing to risk their lives for money! Mercenaries, pirates, bankrupt knights of Westeros, Dothraki warriors—as long as gold coins are clinking, they can walk from Mount Doom in Valyria to the Jade Sea Gate!"
"And don't forget Braavos! That damned Iron Bank never refuses a loan with interest! Especially since we've already heard that the Milian ambassador is frequently visiting the Braavos Iron Bank! What does that mean?"
"They're taking out loans, trying to rearm! Hiring mercenaries they can recruit!"
He made the most shocking guess.
"Think about it again, everyone! Is an army capable of defeating two of our legions in a direct field battle, and even capturing a legionary flag, really only a few thousand men?"
"No! I suspect that was just a vanguard, a decoy! The real main force has likely already secretly assembled, numbering well over ten thousand! Otherwise, they couldn't have defeated the [Twilight Raiders] and [Summer Storm]! They even captured our regimental flag!"
"What's even more deadly is—" He looked at the elders present and uttered the most terrifying guess.
"Their objective isn't border skirmishes or simply defeating a legion; they're besieging a stronghold to ambush reinforcements! And that 'stronghold' is very likely our great city of Valantis itself!"
These remarks caused even greater turmoil and fear. Some veterans who had previously been neutral or supported the front lines also showed signs of wavering.
"If, as you say, the enemy intends to besiege the capital, then why do you still advocate recalling General Marcus? Wouldn't that play right into the enemy's hands, allowing them to leisurely set up an encirclement?" A more sober elder stood up, his hands gripping Toga's robe tightly, leaving deep finger marks on it.
"Good question. I acknowledge the risk of a 'siege and attack' tactic."
"However, please consider this: our sailors are mutiniing, the civilians on the outskirts of the city are restless due to war taxes and rumors of looting, and the garrisons in various places, except for a small force guarding the capital, have all gone on expeditions with General Marcus."
"How much reliable strength do we, the great Valantis, still possess, capable of withstanding an elite enemy force that may number over ten thousand?"
He paused for a moment, his gaze sweeping over the crowd.
"Now, we must place even greater trust in General Marcus Varo's abilities. Yes, we have entrusted him with almost the very essence of the nation's army. Precisely because of this, when the capital faces a real and imminent threat, shouldn't we withdraw our strongest fist to protect the heart of the nation?"
"Since he can achieve consecutive great victories in contested territory, he should be able to handle a much smaller army with ease!"
"Recalling General Marcus is not to deny his achievements, nor is it to strip him of his military power! He has proven his ability through his diligence, loyalty, and talent!"
"But we can't fight anymore! Tiberius and his men are a terrifying steel blade; they're now pressed against our backs, rendering us immobile!"
"His recall is based on the most prudent and responsible considerations! We must concentrate our efforts on ensuring the safety of the heartland, ensuring the safety of the Lorne River and the capital, before we can talk about anything else."
"But in our report—" one of the elders weakly suggested, wanting to cite more specific intelligence from the front lines.
"Report?!" Sextus scoffed, interrupting him.
"Do you still believe those reports that come from local areas, from the front lines, and have been passed through layers of bureaucracy, possibly to the point of being unrecognizable?"
"Look at what we've received so far? The Westeros coalition? The Commander-in-Chief of the Kingsguard? The main force of the Iron Islands pirates? The Dothraki Super Khalasar? The Restoration Targaryen army?"
"Wow, these names are all so absurd! So terrifying!"
"And what happened? The one who completely outmaneuvered us was just some unknown mercenary and his makeshift team!"
"The intelligence provided to us by the local authorities is no longer reliable! All we can trust now are our worst-case scenario plans and our most decisive decisions!"
The campfire crackled as it roasted a wild goat that had somehow been acquired, its fat dripping and sizzling in the fire.
The exhausted soldiers sat in twos and threes, silently chewing their food, checking their weapons, or simply dozing off against their backpacks.
"So without a doubt, the enemy must have thought that, having lost control of the sea, the Kingdom of the Three Daughters would send a large army to land on their vast coastline! After all, how could they possibly annihilate a legion if it wasn't a large army?" Vito recounted Tiberius's "plan" to everyone with great enthusiasm.
"Regardless of whether the Senate harbors any doubts, suspicions, or potential attempts to contain Marcus, simply to prevent the capital from being completely wiped out, they will definitely, absolutely will, try every means to bring Marcus back with the main force, instead of waiting for us on the main road!"
"Besides, with all our previous disguises—the Westeros Expedition, the Dothraki raiders, the Ironborn plundering fleets—ha, could they trust the local reports? Impossible! They must think now that the local reports are just fooling around too!"
Servita's eyes lit up when he heard this, and he slapped his thigh hard.
"Damn! Captain, your brain works even better than Warwick, the most cunning captain in our Iron Islands! He can only fool merchant ships and port tax collectors at most, but this captain has fooled an entire empire's high-ranking officials! Truly a chosen captain favored by the Drowned God!"
Tiberius was taking small bites of a slightly charred lamb rib when he heard this and almost choked. He then glared at Vito in annoyance, looked at Sevita, and pouted.
"Come on, Vito, stop exaggerating. You're making me sound like some kind of cunning strategist who can predict the future." Tiberius wiped his mouth with the back of his greasy hand, his face showing a helpless expression that said, "You guys are exaggerating," and "I'm just an ordinary boy."
"And you, Sevita, don't listen to his nonsense."
"Back then, I had you guys come up with all those fancy disguises—Westeroan nobles, Dothraki, Targaryen descendants—where was the deep thinking behind it all? I only had one thought at the time: to bluff and muddy the waters!"
He explained by counting on his fingers, as if he were lecturing a group of roughnecks who couldn't understand the complex plan.
"Think about it, we may be outnumbered but fast, but we can't let people immediately see that we only have a few guns and a few horses, can we?"
"In that case, let's disguise ourselves as this today and that tomorrow, leaving contradictory traces wherever we go. This will confuse the local garrisons and spies, making their reports to the Senate of Valantis a jumbled mess. Wouldn't that give their superiors a headache?"
"When you have a headache, your judgment slows down, and you hesitate in making decisions. Doesn't that mean we can find more loopholes, seize more—uh, I mean, requisition more—and travel further afield?"
He shrugged: "What do you mean by 'misleading the Senate' and 'destroying trust in intelligence'?"
"Back then, how would I know what the Senate President looked like? I didn't even know which way he opened the door—oh, and I still don't know now. So I certainly didn't expect to paralyze the decision-making body of an empire with a few tattered flags and a few lies."
"I was just thinking that if it would delay them from figuring out our true numbers and whereabouts, even by half a day, and if they suspected us for a while longer, our chances of survival would be greater. Who knew—" He pursed his lips, seemingly speechless at the "unexpected" effect he had caused.
"Who knew they'd react like this—well, so cooperative?"
He gave a sly smile. "Ahem, as for the second Long Bridge, the Fourteenth Legion's Twilight Raiders are, after all, their pride and joy, one of their core main forces, and the most expensive kind of heavily armored infantry."
"If it were you, Vito, would you believe that a few thousand rabble like us, these 'scattered soldiers,' could wipe out an entire legion on the front lines and even capture their standard?"
He picked up a branch and poked at the campfire, sending sparks flying.
"Yes, they don't even believe it themselves. So they'd rather be suspicious and scare themselves, wondering if the main force of the Three Daughters Kingdom has already secretly landed, and we're just bait laid out in the open."
"Besides, when we swaggered onto the long bridge to deliver the gift the second time," I brought a few people with me, swaggering around like that.
"They were terrified by our previous achievements and our deception. Seeing me acting so arrogantly alone, they naturally assumed that—there was a massive army lurking in the shadows behind me!"
Vito snorted, but his eyes clearly said, "You'd be a fool to believe that." "Anyway, the result was that those old men were so scared that they retreated into their shells, giving us a chance to catch our breath."
"Boy, no matter what you were thinking back then, this is the result! Now all of Essos is saying you're a master of deception," and the gentry of the Valantis Senate are now reading their own army's battle reports like they're reading gibberish because of your tricks, suspicious and afraid to move. You can't deny this credit!"
Tiberius rolled his eyes, too lazy to argue with this old fox, and muttered to himself.
"Say what you will—all I want right now is to find a safe place to exchange our spoils for real land and castles, and then get a good night's sleep, without having to worry about being chased by cavalry or blocked on the road by their main force, and then being hanged at the gates of Black Wall—oh, that would be a quick and painless end."
Jules listened silently, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly, but he didn't say anything. He simply picked up the wine bag and took a sip.
He also knew that Tiberius couldn't possibly be so "prophetic." More than Tiberius's plans, he was curious about what exactly happened when the lightning struck.
There were some signs when Jon Starr was killed: the guy acted strangely after being hit by Tiberius's javelin, as if he were rolling on the ground and being struck by lightning.
And then what? That Varo, even under clear skies, was hit, and coincidentally, just as he was preparing for a desperate attack.
Later, after he earned the nickname "The Cold-Blooded One," the fear of death that his soldiers had for Tiberius was overwhelmed by their fear of Tiberius himself.
Yes, he admitted that his nephew's methods were indeed cruel: executing corrupt overseers with iron rods; killing all the mercenaries except for the noble young master after a bloody battle; and even daring to strangle prisoners with a riding crop.
However, this is not a reason for the soldiers to be afraid of him.
[Forget it, I'll just leave this kid with my brother Harlan when we get back to Westeros.] Jules thought to himself. [In this respect, he's the real expert!]
"Let's not talk about this anymore. Tomorrow, or at the latest the day after, we'll see the River of Controversy."
"Lisangluo, have you made contact with your father? Has the ship arrived yet?"
This is the most crucial part of his plan, and the part that relies most heavily on external assistance.
They could no longer seek out crossing points and force their way across as they had come. Even if the Valantis tightened their defenses, they would inevitably strengthen their surveillance of the disputed river.
They need someone to pick them up.
Lisangluo immediately sat up straight, patted his chest, and although the movement aggravated the bruises on his body, making him grimace, his tone was full of affirmation.
"Rest assured, Tiberius! The messenger I sent back carries my father's token and our agreed-upon code. Judging by the time, by tomorrow evening at the latest, our Rogal family's ship will be waiting at that secluded river bend we designated!"
"More than one ship, enough to safely transport all of us, and—most importantly, our luggage!" He emphasized "luggage," his eyes gleaming with the light of gold coins.
Tiberius nodded, gazing at the faint outline of the mountains in the darkness to the south.
That's the direction of the River of Controversy.
"Very good," he said softly.
"Let's give this luxury trip to Valantis a proper farewell. Let's pack up cleanly and leave no loose ends. Tomorrow, we're going home! Home!"
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