Arrogance on the Battlefield ( 273 )

The grand hall of the Klimbert Estate buzzed with boisterous laughter, clinking goblets, and the scent of roasted meats.

Klimbert raised his wine glass high, a smug grin on his face. "Hahaha! Those Armands will be crushed within the week!"

The gathered nobles—Counts, Viscounts, Marquis and Dukes—smirked and nodded in agreement.

"Their first line of defense is nothing against our 30,000 elite troops," the Duke said, swirling his wine with an arrogant gleam in his eyes. "Once we breach their walls, the rest will crumble."

"And if by some miracle they hold, we still have another 70,000 troops ready to march," the Viscount chuckled. "They won't last long."

A chorus of agreement echoed around the room, each noble imagining how they would carve up Armand lands once Garius was dead.

The Count leaned forward, greed flickering in his eyes. "I don't care about land. I just want their gold. Once we take their treasury, my part is done."