Chapter 375: Preparations (Part 1)
There were seventeen and a half days left until the Lich King's arrival at Diya Valley. This was the time calculated from the display of the Elven magic map before it finally failed.
As the Lich King advanced, more and more creatures enveloped by this aura and turned into undead, as well as giant undead monsters summoned from beneath the earth, appeared. The undead legion around him grew ever larger, and the black aura he emitted grew ever stronger. Even through the remote sensing of the map, one could experience that terrifying and intimidating feeling. Finally, during the last display, that precious magical legacy left by the Ancient Elven Empire exploded.
Fortunately, no matter how the massive undead legion surrounding the Lich King expanded, its speed remained constant, and its path was equally clear. After emerging from the ruins of The Radiant Citadel, it headed straight south, in the direction of Diya Valley.
Traces of an ominous aura finally began to circulate in the royal capital as well. First came the news about what happened at The Radiant Citadel, and then the chain reaction that followed.
The land between The Radiant Citadel and The Shadowspire Peaks was not a flat, open wilderness. It passed through the territories of two nations. And now, these two nations had become a stretch of black, ruined dead land, with no signs of life. The news of The Radiant Citadel could be suppressed, and the teleportation arrays could be controlled, but the news of the annihilation of two entire nations was too great; it was impossible for an airtight wall to block it.
The news brought by merchants from the west was vague, but some people had already recognized the Paladin and Cardinal who had been frequently entering and leaving the Magic Academy recently, which was perfect corroborating evidence.
The Magic Academy had been semi-sealed off. Many mysterious figures traveled through the teleportation array every day, never leaving the Academy or speaking with others, but their every gesture and bearing revealed they were no ordinary people.
All sorts of rumors arose. There were stories about what exactly happened at The Radiant Citadel, and some even quietly speculated that all of this was merely a smokescreen, essentially a prelude to a rebellion. In reality, the Paladin Order and the Chancellor had indeed taken control of all affairs in the royal capital, while the emperor, who had originally been just a symbolic figure, had completely secluded himself in the imperial palace. If it weren't for the fact that these two had extremely high prestige, and the other dukes and ministers had no particular reaction, the royal capital would have long fallen into great chaos.
However, inside the Magic Academy, no one was paying attention to these things. Even the Chancellor and Commander Roland didn't care much. Compared to these rumors, what they had to face was ten times more headache-inducing.
What they were struggling with now was how, within these seventeen days, to gather all the troops they could concentrate, send them before the undead legion, then forcefully carve a path to deliver Ethan and Gru before the Lich King.
And now, the person with the biggest headache was Ethan. He had never thought he would one day have such a headache.
Although he never considered himself material to be a hero or a leader, he never imagined that being such a person could be so exhausting and overwhelming.
As promised, the Pope seemed to have truly handed everything over to him. He didn't know what Elder Lloyd had said to them after coming down. Neither the Pope and Lancelot, nor the two tower masters of the Tower of Fangs, made any further moves. They truly just tacitly accepted his status as the leader of the plan. All deployments, preparations, and plans were left entirely to his discretion.
On top of the War Ancient Tree, he was indeed resolute and imposing, disregarding life and death. But unfortunately, real-world problems are never like those in knightly novels, where one can just be heroic, ride alone into the enemy's heart, and solve everything with a flash of a blade. Only now could he be fully, absolutely certain that he was not cut out for handling such great matters. Even though the Pope and Lancelot did not deliberately make things difficult for him, and could even be said to be very helpful, and there were already enough people to help him with advisory, planning, statistical work, and so on, the daily statistics, data, analysis, and decisions were still overwhelming for him.
"The Duchy of Judah refuses to send troops. This is understandable, as it lost all its elite troops in the battle of Oufu. However, he has promised to provide logistical support for the troops of several neighboring nations. But his resources are limited. If he provides for Erathia, he cannot take care of the other, smaller duchies. So, who should receive this logistical support?"
"Erathia is dispatching an army of ten thousand of its most elite troops, led by the Kingdom's Knight Order. Their configuration, equipment, and combat power are impeccable. The combined forces of the other nations are roughly equivalent to theirs. Their departure times are as follows..." A cleric immediately reported the corresponding information, and the troop numbers and marching routes of each nation were immediately marked on the map.
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Within The Radiant Citadel, there were not just priests and mages; there were also quite a few specially trained military strategists.
"Erathia is the most powerful nation. Provide the support to the other duchies." Ethan thought for a moment and said.
"I think it would be better to give it to Erathia," Lancelot said in the tone an advisor should have.
"Why?"
"Erathia is contributing the most troops, almost going all out, which has exceeded our request. As an example to all nations, providing them with logistical support now can encourage other nations to send troops without worry," the Pope explained. Then he chuckled. "That woman Katherine is certainly pragmatic... I hope it's not just because of Inham."
"Furthermore, in terms of distance, Erathia is the farthest. Look here..." Lancelot tapped a marker on the map with his finger. The clerics responsible for military strategy had already marked out sufficient information, but Ethan couldn't quite understand it, and even if he could, it would be difficult for him to deduce the outcome. "If they have to handle their own logistical supplies, they might not be able to reach the battlefield within the designated time."
"Hmm, let's do it that way then," Ethan nodded. This was the sentence he had said the most these past few days.
The Pope and Lancelot stood beside him, explaining and advising like staff officers. They were absolutely the highest-level and most efficient staff officers in the world. Whether it was him or anyone else, they would have never dreamed of having such people plotting and planning for them. Unfortunately, Ethan still had a headache.
The cleric continued to report: "The Duchy of Klose is only willing to send two thousand troops. This is not the most elite Grand Duke's Guard as requested, but just ordinary soldiers drafted from the regular army."
Lancelot shook his head and said: "Such troops are not even qualified to be cannon fodder before that horde of undead. The number of undead they eliminate will certainly not be more than the number of undead they become after death. In the end, it will just be a waste of the priests' Purification."
"This isn't a case of being unable to send troops, but being unwilling. The Grand Duke's Guard has quite a few mages and priests. They would definitely be useful in battle. Right now, every bit of strength is precious; we must strive for it."
"Why is he unwilling to send troops?" Ethan asked, frowning.
"To preserve his strength," the Pope said lightly.
"To preserve his strength in a situation like this?" Ethan couldn't understand.
"The undead legion and the Lich King are too distant for these people. Without seeing it with their own eyes, it's no more convincing than the loss of a small piece of territory or the income of a few thousand gold coins. If The Radiant Citadel hadn't truly fallen and Oufu hadn't committed all its forces, these people might not have paid any attention. The Grand Duke has many enemies; otherwise, he wouldn't have spent so much effort building an elite guard. He's afraid someone will take the opportunity to deal with him... and his ambition has never been small. If the other nations exhaust their elite forces and suffer devastating losses while he still preserves his strength, the power of his duchy can undoubtedly expand."
"Then... what do you two think should be done now?" This was the second most frequent sentence Ethan had said these days.
"I think we should kill him first, then fabricate a charge to pin on him, and appoint a successor in Your Majesty's name. The Griffon Empire has long existed in name only; Your Majesty's appointment will be sufficient." After a moment's consideration, Lancelot said lightly.
"The Grand Duke's several brothers and nephews are also not lacking in ambition or ability. The Grand Duke's family has strong cohesion. At the very least, we cannot leave a force behind capable of hindering this operation," the Pope suddenly said.
"Hmm, then kill them all. I'll have to go personally. It won't take long to travel from Erathia by griffin," Lancelot nodded.
"Let's use mediation and negotiation to solve the problem." If he were to judge only by this attitude, Ethan would find it hard to believe they were a Paladin and a Pope, and not a bandit leader like Sylka. Moreover, no matter how fierce or murderous a bandit was, they wouldn't just decide to kill a grand duke on a whim.
"Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures. Do you think we still have time to play at diplomacy slowly?" the Pope asked with a somewhat mocking smile.
"But that doesn't mean we have to go and kill his entire family directly."
"Courtesy first, then force. If we put them on their guard, it will be difficult to make a move. The Grand Duke is not a coward. This thunderous method is also a statement, to let all other nations and duchies understand the severity of the situation, to understand that this is not the time for internal strife. And we will absolutely not allow internal strife."
Ethan thought for a moment, then shook his head: "Even so, this is too... At worst, we can do without those two thousand troops..."
"It doesn't matter. We already said that you are the supreme commander of this campaign. You just need to decide what to do," the Pope said coldly. "However, we have a responsibility to remind you that if we set this precedent, other nations will inevitably have reservations and ulterior motives. Whether they hold back their strength to guard against the Duchy of Klose or follow their example to try to fish in troubled waters, what we will lack is not just these two thousand guards."
"Are you sure that negotiation and persuasion won't be effective?" Ethan asked again. Even he felt his own question was a bit foolish.
"Certain. Because of the news of Magnus Pope's death," the Pope said, his voice still cold and detached. "The Grand Duke's ambition was only suppressed because of Magnus Pope's existence. Now, he's no longer needed." He paused, then added, "I heard they were very good friends when they were children."
The surrounding clerics' expressions were as usual; he was the same. In the eyes of the clerics and all believers, he was the new Pope, Adela, but in his own heart, he was not.
"No need. You can just decide on all the strategic arrangements yourselves. Just let me know after you've decided. In any case, it seems the result will be the same." Ethan finally let out a long sigh.
"Oh?" Both the Pope and Lancelot were a little surprised, although they had vaguely sensed this outcome for some time.
"Leaving it to us again? Weren't you fighting so desperately before to take the lead in your own destiny?" The Pope's expression and tone were somewhat mocking. "Aren't you afraid we'll secretly scheme against you?"
"I trust you. I trust that at this point, there's nothing left for you to scheme about. I'm just leaving the process to you. At least the outcome won't be you sending me to my death, but me fighting for my own chance to live."
"I see the same ending either way," the Pope said with a sharp smile.
"The ending you envision is not my ending. That's the difference." Ethan spread his hands and, surprisingly, even patted the Pope on the shoulder. "Then I'll leave these troublesome matters to you. Sorry for the trouble."
One thing is never just one thing. Every meaning it represents, every possibility it holds, extends into other, larger, and more numerous fields. This is politics.
Ethan knew, but he didn't understand. Knowing and understanding are two fundamentally different things. This was one thing Ethan did understand.
Politics is not as dirty as many people think. Broadly speaking, it is the highest-level means by which humans handle affairs, a manifestation of intellect, ability, and breadth of mind. The so-called concept of 'dirtiness' is, in fact, just a comforting hat of self-righteousness that people with insufficient intellect and ability, who don't understand their own shortcomings, place on their own heads. Ethan didn't know this before, nor did he understand it. He still doesn't know it well now, but he understands.
He truly is not a person who can do these things. He understands this point, and that is why he acts this way.
"Don't be sorry. I will do my best to deliver you to the blade of The Black Star," the Pope said, waving his hand coldly. "Now, get lost. My ability to think declines significantly when you're in my line of sight."
