Chapter 206

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 206
Chapter Title: Unstoppable Progress
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The nursing corps Ariadne had newly organized at the Rambouillet Almshouse was running with surprising efficiency.

Comprised mainly of young people in their late teens and early twenties, they learned much faster than expected and, above all, were brimming with motivation.

The first place she dispatched them was to a monastery on the outskirts where the plague had broken out.

It was easy to send them there, as it was a place under Cardinal de Mare’s influence, and it was also a place that needed to be dealt with quickly to preserve the Cardinal’s standing.

Moreover, its relative distance from surrounding residential areas made it a suitable first workplace. And the deployment was a resounding success.

“...I didn’t expect them to do this well.”

“Ahem! And who do you think taught them!”

Sancha, who had become the idol of the almshouse, boasted half-jokingly.

“But I really am proud.”

Sancha confessed shyly.

“To be honest, even I didn't have high expectations. The training period was short… you know how it was.”

Though she spoke circuitously, Sancha was, in fact, the most familiar with the defeatism within the Rambouillet Almshouse.

The sense of inferiority that they were already ruined, the despair that nothing would change no matter how hard they tried.

Although Sancha acted hopeful in front of the almshouse residents, she had naturally harbored the thought that lethargy might win again this time.

“But some of the kids are really following along quite well. They’re even better than some of the people from our household. There are a few who really stand out.”

It seemed Sancha had already formed her own inner circle.

“Really? Who’s been working so well?”

“Well, there’s a fourteen-year-old named Greta. And a thirteen-year-old boy named Monte. They’re both quick with their hands and full of enthusiasm.”

Ariadne listened carefully to the names.

If a child was promising, she intended not only to help them resettle outside the Rambouillet Almshouse but also to bring them into the de Mare household and raise them to be one of her own.

“Keep a close eye on them. Who knows, they might become your rivals.”

“Whaaat?!”

Sancha’s eyes widened in protest.

“I thought I was the only one for you, my lady! Was our bond only this deep?”

“Good work makes a good person. The winning side is our side.”

Ariadne teased Sancha with a soft smile.

“My lady!”

Even though it was a joke, Sancha had reason to be nervous, because the nursing corps from the Rambouillet Almshouse was truly excellent at their job.

So much so that word of the “Angels in White of Rambouillet Almshouse” began to spread throughout San Carlo.

Eventually, a request for assistance even came from a haughty grand mansion.

“…My lady. We’ve received a message from the Marquisate of Salvati.”

“Yes. I received one as well.”

Marquis Salvati had sent a dispatch request to Director Albani of the Rambouillet Almshouse and, at the same time, a separate letter through his wife, the Marchioness, requesting Ariadne’s support.

For the House of Salvati to request the aid of the Rambouillet Almshouse meant their position had become irreplaceable.

Deciding that the Marquisate of Salvati would be the next deployment site, Ariadne asked Sancha.

“Has the rumor that I’m behind this spread that much?”

“A rumor? My lady is all anyone on the streets talks about these days!”

Sancha looked at Ariadne.

“When were you at your most famous? Was it… during the Apostle of Acereto incident?”

Ariadne thought she might have been more famous when the scandal broke between Alfonso and Cesare, but not wanting to bring it up, she played along with Sancha.

“Probably?”

“I think you’ll surpass that soon. Do you know what people are calling you? ‘The Saintess of Rambouillet Almshouse.’”

“Hmm…”

It’s not like the Rambouillet Almshouse is mine, she thought. “Saintess” was also strange.

Ariadne had never once considered herself to be kind, holy, or devout.

“You don’t like the title?”

“…No. It’s what others call me. How can I decide that?”

“You give up quickly.”

“At least it’s not ‘Holy Mother.’”

Sancha quickly grasped Ariadne’s low expectations.

“Ah. That would be a bit much.”

* * *

While Ariadne’s reputation soared to a new level in San Carlo, Cesare’s stand in the Pisano domain was also a magnificent struggle.

“Since we burned the wheat fields to the ground last week, the Gallico bastards have been coming to poke around in even more distant areas.”

“The Gallico dogs have started to scatter into small units and roam around incessantly, Your Grace.”

“…Good.”

After Ariadne’s visit, Cesare had taken her advice and created small-scale strike forces.

These units were formed by dividing the 1,500 private soldiers conscripted from other northern territories and the 1,000 or so domain residents who had trickled back to the army after rumors spread that the new Duke of Pisano was paying wages in grain.

The troops were mainly spearmen. This type was chosen because they could be trained to a combat-ready level the fastest.

There was another significance to the spearmen. Aside from crossbowmen, they were nearly the only unit type that could counter heavy cavalry.

In this era, heavy cavalry were walking strategic weapons.

There was even a tale from the First Crusade of how Courtenay IV led a charge with 600 heavy cavalry and defeated 26,000 Moorish light infantry.

While the story was hard to believe verbatim, the very fact that it was passed down through oral tradition without being dismissed as absurd was an anecdote that demonstrated the power of heavy cavalry.

“Erase the village of Malinado and set it on fire. Dig a pit in front of it, set a trap, and then stack sacks of wheat.”

Cesare instructed, pointing to a spot on the map.

“The spearmen… will hide in the surrounding thickets, and we’ll send only a few decoys to lure the Gallico bastards in.”

“Understood!”

The strategy was to dig a trap and wait, since they couldn't win in a direct confrontation.

The pit dug by the Etruscan army was filled with sharpened wooden stakes.

Once they fell in while chasing what they mistook for remnants of the Etruscan forces, they wouldn’t be able to escape on their own. At that moment, the spearmen would appear and thrust their long spears down from above.

This was the new plan prepared by the resolved Duke of Pisano.

The light cavalry that the northern domains had scraped together were no match for Gallico’s heavy cavalry.

You don’t pit your superior horses against the enemy’s superior horses. Especially not when the quality of your own horses is inferior.

This, too, was a secret strategy imparted by the future Duchess of Pisano.

Instead, the light cavalry would serve as scouts, circling to the rear to seize Gallico’s food supplies coming down from the north.

“Let’s see how well this works.”

Cesare’s eyes gleamed as he looked down at the map. He was certain it would succeed.

* * *

“Clang!”

“Is this some kind of joke!”

Philip IV, filled with rage, slammed his pewter cup onto the marble table.

“Are you telling me to calmly accept that my army is getting routed in some Etruscan backwater village, after I sent three of the Gallico army’s most elite divisions, a total of over 16,000 men?!”

The messenger from the heavy cavalry could do nothing but bow deeply.

“Like a bunch of rats!”

Philip’s trembling fist crumpled the parchment into a ball.

His aura was so menacing that even Princess Auguste was too frightened to try and calm her brother.

He chewed over the contents of the parchment, which he had read at least three times.

It stated that the Etruscan army was blocking their food procurement, launching sporadic attacks, and using their knowledge of the terrain to lure the Gallico army into traps.

The food supplies sent from their home country were also being repeatedly intercepted.

Already, over 300 heavy cavalrymen had been captured or killed. The losses were immense.

“A king’s bastard, he is, and he acts just like his lowly birth would suggest!”

But condemning the ungentlemanly strategy of striking from behind would change nothing. Philip gritted his teeth.

“Fine, let the little shits come at me like that. You think I have no way to deal with this?”

His eyes flashing, he summoned a servant.

“You there!”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

“Relay this to the Commander of the Montpellier Heavy Knights. Tell him to stop playing along with this ridiculous clown show at the border, reform his ranks, and advance into the Etruscan interior!”

The ministers who understood the implication gasped. Tension instantly filled the great hall.

All-out war.

Advancing past the border region and into the mainland would give this the character of a full-scale war between the two kingdoms.

While no one dared to stop him, Princess Auguste reminded Philip IV of one fact in a very soft voice.

“Brother.”

Philip glared at Auguste with narrowed eyes.

“I have heard that the plague is rampant in the Kingdom of Etruscan. I am slightly concerned that if we advance into the interior, our army might catch some dreadful disease.”

She had set aside all sensitive issues, such as whether a declaration of war was required by international courtesy, and expressed the most moderate form of opposition.

But even that was enough to make the muscles in Philip’s face twitch with fury.

All the ministers in the great hall, including Auguste, bowed their heads in fear.

Will he explode? Or will he not?

Fortunately, the King, after trembling violently, regained his composure and issued his command not in a shout, but in a calm voice.

“That is for the Knight Commander to handle with discretion.”

It meant, *I’ll do as I please, so the subordinate can figure out how to avoid the plague.*

But no one in the Kingdom of Gallico could argue further with Philip’s words.

“As you command!”

* * *

And Philip IV’s decision elicited an immediate response from the Kingdom of Etruscan.

“You… you… insolent…!”

Leo III, upon hearing the report, trembled so violently he nearly fell from his throne.

“How dare he… How dare that little whelp Philip, who’s barely an adult…!”

The heavy cavalry of the Kingdom of Gallico was advancing south. Leo III trembled with rage at the ingratitude of his former grandnephew-in-law.

Although he hadn’t done much for his grandnephew, it was only proper for the young pup, being of a lower generation, to respect him. And yet, and yet, how dare he!

“Dispatch an envoy to Trevero at once!”

Trevero was where the Holy See was located. He intended to appeal to Pope Ludovico.

“Whom shall you appoint as envoy?”

Normally, this would have been a job for Count Marquez, who handled diplomacy, but he was currently too busy with the war response to be spared.

Marquis Valdesal, a potential candidate due to his friendship with Cardinal de Mare, was in the same situation.

“Hah… There is no one. I will appoint Count Rinaldi.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

The King’s secretary, Sir Delfianosa, answered promptly, but he had his doubts as to whether Pope Ludovico would side with Etruscan just because Count Rinaldi was sent.

After all, Philip of Gallico was the chief financier of the Crusades, the Pope’s greatest interest, while Leo of Etruscan was not.

“Issue a mobilization order throughout the kingdom! Tell the lords to send private soldiers to the capital according to the size of their domains: 10,000 from the duchies, 5,000 from the marquisates, and 3,000 from the counties!”

The effectiveness of this, too, was uncertain.

“I shall send the couriers at once.”

He couldn’t promise that the soldiers would come, but he could promise to send the couriers. Sir Delfianosa bowed his head deeply.

* * *

And Leo III’s series of actions came back to Cesare on the border like a butterfly effect.

“What did you say?”

“…Where should we have the soldiers stay?”

“No, before that. Did I hear you correctly?”

“It is a personal letter from His Majesty the King.”

Cesare didn’t particularly enjoy reading.

He preferred to receive reports orally whenever possible, but when he couldn’t believe what he heard, he had no choice but to read it with his own eyes.

“Are you telling me… to lead 7,000 soldiers and stop the Gallico knights?”

It was the moment that the position of ‘Commander-in-Chief of the Kingdom of Etruscan,’ which Rubina had so desperately wanted for him, was bestowed upon Cesare.

But Cesare himself, having been handed a poisoned chalice, just wanted to throw everything away and hide on some deserted beach.

“1,500 are the reinforcements previously sent from the north, 1,000 are the private soldiers of the Pisano domain, and the new 4,500 are troops sent from the capital.”

Leo III had dreamed big of conscripting 5,000 from each duchy, but it wasn’t so easy.

All he could scrape together from across the country was a mere 3,000.

The remaining 1,500 were from the Royal Guard sent by Leo III himself.

While they were no match for Gallico’s Montpellier Heavy Knights, they were the best-trained heavy cavalry in Etruscan.

“…His Majesty the King has been generous. That’s the worst part.”

For Leo III, 1,500 Royal Guardsmen was the equivalent of sending all available resources, after setting aside—albeit a generous number—the men needed for the capital’s defense.

Having supported Cesare with such a grand gesture, Leo III would undoubtedly demand tangible results.

“…But how am I supposed to make this work?”

The problem was that he needed something like 15,000 Royal Guardsmen, not 1,500, to have a fighting chance against Gallico’s 16,000 elite soldiers.

Cesare chewed his lip helplessly and asked the messenger. He could taste blood inside his mouth.

“Did His Majesty the King say anything else?”

Instructions on the formation, or where to set the battlefield. Cesare felt like he was grasping at straws.

But the messenger replied proudly.

“His Majesty only said, ‘Victory is certain!’ Oh.”

The messenger hastily added, as if he had forgotten something.

“There is one more thing. This is a message from Duchess Rubina.”

Cesare rubbed his temples, his head already starting to ache.

“I believe in you, my son!”