Filed To Story: Queen of the Battlefield Her Return to Glory Novel Online Free
That evening, Oliver hosted a banquet at his manor, claiming it was also to discuss preparations for the battle. He invited Louis and Timothy, as well as the two military advisors, to join him.
The Southern Frontier Army now numbered little more than 200,000. There were several generals, but in truth, it was Louis and Timothy who had long held the reins. Today, they had even sent for Zachary Larkin. Zachary was busy overseeing repairs to the catapults and other siege equipment. Once the repairs were completed, he had to inspect them, so he didn’t attend the banquet.
“Whatever plans are discussed, just have General Quinton brief me later,” Zachary had said.
Louis and Timothy had their strategies to share. Ever since they received reports from scouts, they had been preparing for battle. Multiple plans had been drawn up, and today, they would finally be able to hash out the details.
When Louis and Timothy arrived at Redstone Manor with Ivor Ziegler and Alec Walker, they saw the household guards of the manor loading crates into the waiting carriages.
Recognizing Carl, Louis called out, “Leaving tomorrow?”
Carl greeted them with a smile. “Yes, General Quinton. We leave first thing in the morning. Marshal Prince will escort them for part of the way, so we’re getting everything packed tonight.’
“Marshal Prince will escort them for part of the way?” Louis frowned.
How could the marshal leave camp at such a time?
Carl shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s just a short journey-only a couple of hours.”
Then, with a sly smile, he added, “Marshal Prince said that women need to be pampered. She’s traveling far with such a young child. He said it’s only fitting to see her off personally to show his regard.”
Louis understood Oliver’s fondness for this woman, so it wasn’t surprising that he would send her off. Louis didn’t say anything further.
A lavish feast had been prepared in Redstone Manor, and Oliver himself came out to greet them. After exchanging formal greetings, Oliver invited them to take their seats.
They glanced at the laden table that held a wide assortment of fine dishes, their fragrances so rich they could almost hear their appetites stir.
Everyone knew Oliver was particular about food, but they hadn’t expected such extravagance. The spread was enough to feed 15 or more people, yet there were only five seated at the table.
Everyone couldn’t help but feel nostalgic. Whether they followed Hector or Rafael, there was always food during meetings. But most of the time, it was just a bowl of potato stew, and it was rare to have even one or two meat dishes.
Of course, there was no comparison to be made. Wartime fare and peacetime indulgence were worlds apart.
“This is too much. We can’t possibly eat all of this,” Timothy said with concern.
“Indeed, it’s more sumptuous than a festival feast,” Alec added.
Oliver laughed heartily, waving off their concerns. “Sounds like I’m treating you all poorly. It’s a little lavish, yes, but most of it is just snacks to go with the wine. You’ll see, once we start, you’ll wish there were more.”
“We’re here to discuss matters of war, not drink,” Louis interjected.
“Come now, just a little drink,” Oliver insisted, a wide grin on his face. “Let’s speak freely tonight. I know some of you have concerns. With the great battle looming, if there’s anything troubling you about me, feel free to speak up. If I have done something wrong, I will correct it. If there’s nothing wrong, I’ll commend you. We all need to be united, no divisions among us.”
The men exchanged glances before taking their seats.
Were there concerns? Of course, but they had tried voicing them before Oliver had never listened. It was likely that now the battle was nearing, Oliver was unsure and was trying to smooth things over with them.
However, at the subtle urging of the two military advisors, Louis and Timothy refrained from pointing out Oliver’s flaws.
Military generals were straightforward, and they said what was on their minds. However, military advisors knew how to approach matters with finesse. Everyone had known from the moment Oliver had arrived at Southern Frontier that he could not take criticism well.
Asking for input now was more about maintaining appearances. If they were to actually voice their true concerns, it would only lead to unpleasantness. Tonight, their main focus was preparing for the battle and crafting strategies.
Even if Oliver’s words were harsh at times, they had to swallow their frustrations for the greater good. “To the war effort!” Oliver ordered, signaling for more wine to be poured.
Wine-what man could resist it? Especially those stationed far from home. Wine had become a comfort, a way to stave off the loneliness that came with being away from family.
In the past, they had made do with rough, unrefined liquor. But tonight, there was something better to drink. Though they told themselves to drink sparingly, the rich, smooth taste encouraged them to indulge a bit more than they should.
Luckily, they had a good tolerance for alcohol. So, drinking a couple more cups wasn’t a problem, and their mind stayed clear.
With the mood lifted by the wine, Louis finally spoke. “According to the scouts, Sandoria’s army is moving at a steady pace. In three or five days, they’ll be here. When they arrive, we expect them to launch a direct assault on the city, so our first priority is to plan the defense.”
Oliver listened closely, nodding in agreement. The only point of contention arose when Louis mentioned that Sandoria’s matchlocks wouldn’t have much of an impact. Oliver was momentarily taken aback. “Matchlocks won’t have much of an impact? That doesn’t sound right.”
“What I meant was that when it comes to attacking a city, the matchlock’s advantages are limited,” Louis explained.
Timothy chimed in, “Matchlocks need to be reloaded after each shot, and the shooter has to aim again. In a siege, Sandoria’s forces are unlikely to use them.”
“So you’re planning to use archery to counter the matchlocks?” Oliver asked.
“Archery is essential,” Timothy replied.
Oliver nodded. Inwardly, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of relief that he was planning to escape. If he had to fight, he might very well lose his life here in Southern Frontier.
How had they won any battles in the past like this?
The two military advisors noticed the shift in Oliver’s expression, so Alec quickly interjected, “Have you seen the archery skills of the Elite Marksmanship Unit, Marshal Prince? Or the ballistaes we’ve improved? They’re quite ingenious.”
“I have seen them,” Oliver replied curtly. When he first arrived at Southern Frontier, he had gone to oversee their training sessions.
Timothy recalled the visit as well. But at that time, they had just selected a new batch of archers and had been working on their accuracy. They hadn’t even had the chance to use the new ballistaes either.
“We also have matchlocks,” Louis added. “But when it comes to a direct confrontation between armies, we won’t be relying on them. A sword is far more effective. Speed is the key.”
Matchlocks were more useful in close-quarter combat, where there was cover to hide behind. After firing a shot, one could reload while staying out of sight. However, in a face-to-face battle, before one could even raise the weapon, their head might already be taken off.
Louis added a few more points, but Oliver seemed disinterested.
Timothy recalled that Oliver favored matchlocks. So, when he saw Oliver’s reaction, he said, “I’ve heard that the Ministry of Defense is working on improving the matchlocks, and I believe they’ll be sending some to Southern Frontier soon.”
This was meant to be a morale booster for Oliver, who might feel at a disadvantage, with Sandoria using matchlocks while they wouldn’t.
But instead of cheering him up, the remark only solidified Oliver’s belief that his decision to flee had been the right one. The continuous shipment of weapons to Southern Frontier-even the matchlocks that had previously been underused-was proof of just how intense the impending conflict with Sandoria would be. Everyone was frustrated by Oliver’s reaction but did their best to suppress their emotions. At such a critical moment, it was wiser not to provoke him. As the marshal holding the military command emblem- and being so petty-offending him would only harm the greater cause.
Fortunately, after discussing various strategies for defense and counterattack, Oliver did approve of their plans, though he added only the most superficial input. His suggestions were shallow, uninspired, mere regurgitations from military textbooks, and entirely unsuited for the unique challenges posed by Sandoria. By the time the discussion carried on into the late hours, fatigue had set in for everyone. Oliver finally instructed the servants to bring in some soup to sustain them.
As everyone had eaten their fill, they politely declined the offer for more, but Oliver smiled warmly and insisted, “This soup you must try. It’s a mushroom soup made from mushrooms that my wife had someone sent from the capital. She made sure to have some brought for you all, but I forgot. Now that you’re all here, it seems only right to share it with you.”
Hearing Oliver mention his wife, their thoughts turned to Zoey. With Oliver’s concubine and son returning to the capital, no doubt rumors would swirl about Zoey’s reputation and how it might be affected. The servants brought in five bowls of soup. One was handed to Oliver, and the rest were distributed among the four men. The mushroom soup was paired with fresh meat and ham, simmered to perfection, and the aroma was intoxicating.
Alec examined the mushrooms carefully. It wasn’t that he distrusted Oliver, but certain mushrooms were poisonous, and one could never be too careful. He inspected the mushrooms closely, but they appeared safe to eat, so he relaxed and began drinking.