Chapter 1439 - 1348: Fishing Each Other

Chapter 1439: Chapter 1348: Fishing Each Other

December 17, the mouth of Winter Valley.

Rows of tents stretch continuously, with rolling white smoke and mist rising into the sky, and looking into the distance nearby, there is a camp like this every few intervals.

On the Short Mountain Plain, you can still see lines of cuirassiers running.

As for between the mountains, villages, and woods, there are always hunters scouting for vampire assassins or high-level vampires.

At the center of the largest camp, a piece of land is cleared, with a circle drawn in white powder on it.

An airship is docked at the circle, unloading precious moon mercury, herbs, and other supplies, then transporting the important wounded away.

This is the last supply run before the battle.

Next to the airship is the infirmary camp, and that morning, Horn rode up fast, dismounted, and walked in.

He never thought that when he saw Jeska again, it would be on a hospital bed.

After six days of feigned pursuit, Horn had completed his scheduled objective.

It’s been three days since Serafe escaped the warm passages, and sixty thousand troops of the Holy Alliance Army have mostly exited the valley and are lingering at its entrance.

As for the sixty thousand troops led by Konyaz, they continued northward, stopping only after nearly 80 kilometers.

According to intelligence from the deep sea, they only stopped due to strong orders from Serafe.

If they kept going north, they would fully exit this muddy basin nestled between two mountains.

Strangely enough, this basin shares its name with the hills of the Little Muddy Trench Battle years ago, so the strategists call it the Great Muddy Trench Basin for distinction.

Now, Serafe has merged forces with Konyaz, but there’s no movement, and no insight into their next plan.

For Horn, these six days of pursuit completed the mission.

Driving Serafe onto this battlefield was meant to clip her wings while concealing his strategic objective.

But unexpectedly, another incident occurred—Jeska’s injury.

"Your Majesty!"

In the white tent, upon Horn’s arrival, Jeska, with blood-stained bandages around his chest, struggled to rise, seemingly wanting to salute but was pressed down by Horn.

"Dass, go get a cup of hot water."

"Eh, alright."

Pulling up a chair casually from the white tent, Horn sat down and spoke with a frown: "What’s this about?"

Leaning against the bedpost with one hand on the bed board, Jeska smiled bitterly: "Konyaz turned out to be tougher than I imagined, and the Royal Palace Army is more elite than expected this time."

The Western Battle Army led by Jeska was originally just meant to delay the returning Royal Palace Army.

However, accidents can always happen on the battlefield, even the Holy Alliance isn’t exempt.

Though there were strategists and guides directing, one regiment still got separated due to dense fog that day.

While this separation wouldn’t greatly impact the grand situation, Konyaz noticed it.

The response speed of the Royal Palace Army exceeded Jeska’s expectations.

They quickly reacted and launched attacks on the separated regiment.

Jeska was eventually forced to abandon better artillery positions to personally engage and resolve the entanglement.

While the final result wasn’t total annihilation, the losses were quite heavy.

That was the Royal Court’s most elite troops, after initial transformations, facing four times the enemy force.

If not for Jeska, the Western Battle Army might have been defeated.

"How serious is it?" Horn knew to expect such situations before issuing orders, but asked for specifics.

"Due to the cavalry regiment’s forced breakthrough, they’re basically incapacitated and unlikely to return to battle within a week; the remaining forces can be mixed into two complete regiments."

Horn rubbed his temples, realizing that the Western Battle Army’s contribution of twenty thousand men had shrunk to ten thousand.

As for the initially three to five thousand cavalry, they shrank to merely three to five hundred.

The essence of pre-battle calculations involves tallying enemy and allied forces.

Currently, after pursuing through Winter Valley, Serafe could likely bring only three to five thousand from the valley.

The clan army at the valley entrance numbers twenty thousand; sixty thousand are returning from the New Five Counties, and the first wave of selected elites mixed with the clan army numbers ten thousand—totaling ninety-five thousand.

For the Holy Alliance, three battle armies have sixty thousand, plus the remaining ten thousand from the Western Battle Army, totaling seventy thousand.

Both the Holy Alliance and the Royal Court field the elite of their elite.

Seventy thousand Holy Alliance troops versus ninety-five thousand Royal Court troops, in the tiny basin plain surrounded by mountains.

In terms of sheer numbers, the Holy Alliance is slightly disadvantaged.

Yet when combined with command efficiency, organization, and morale, strategists believe the forces are evenly matched, with the Holy Alliance holding a slight advantage.

Horn feels you can’t mechanically view this, as Serafe has many extraordinary abilities.

Not only Serafe herself, but additionally her blood titans and zombie hordes have significant combat power.

Of course, Horn has divine art and contingencies, barely edging out Serafe.

The slight advantage evens out, competing for his strategic goal.

Horn hopes to encircle and maybe capture Serafe, which means the Holy Alliance needs to duel the Royal Court while shackled.

The fiercest fighting will force Serafe near the front lines to cast spells, yet she could rapidly fly away if it allows escape.

If that happens, Horn might indeed find himself sitting on a brass throne.

Fortunately, the campaign hasn’t escalated, and there’s still time.

"This is a battle requiring Serafe’s cooperation," Horn remarked slowly, "Now I fear they may not dare come."

Should they not come, forcing delays means problems if Serafe realizes it and decides to flee.

Serafe seems to lure Horn into attacking, but essentially Horn lures Serafe into attacking.

They’re like two anglers on opposite banks, hooks intertwined—you slacken, I pull; you pull, I slacken.

With the battle looming, Horn ventilated with four chief battle commanders regarding the intricacies.

Jeska is aware of the final details, or he wouldn’t have performed such an illogical southward blockade.

After a pause, Jeska spoke: "We could set the stage and let Serafe perform the play."

"What do you mean?"

Jeska sat upright, reaching for a pipe but was glared back by a nurse, settling for a wry grin: "I know Your Majesty usually dismisses cunning plots, but now is the time to utilize them."

"I never scorn those useful plots, only those flashy and ineffective so-called schemes!"

"Actually, it’s an old trick from my mercenary days—I figure Serafe will fall for it." Lowering his voice, Jeska revealed the plan.

"Can this work? Feels like a strategy out of a knight’s novel," Dass stroked his scalp.

Horn pondered, his eyes increasingly bright: "I think it’s feasible. Serafe wants it, only missing an excuse, even if the excuse is obviously fake, so what?"

"What does Your Majesty mean?"

"Let’s do it!"