Chapter 110: The Day War Descended (Part 1)

Southern Foothills of the Nofkamen Mountains, Armansh Plain

Time passed unknowingly, and the tender green on the leaves gradually faded, replaced by a deep, intoxicating green. Like the skirts of a graceful dancer, the foliage swayed freely in the warm summer breeze.

With the arrival of summer, the temperature in the northern regions of the empire gradually began to rise.

Logically speaking, summer should be the most livable season in the northern frontier of the empire. The pleasant breeze brushed against the face, refreshing yet warm, carrying the fragrance of flowers and the dampness of the soil. It made people feel invigorated and mentally clear.

Looking up, one could see the towering, majestic Nofkamen Mountains; looking down, a golden field of crops stretched far and wide. The heavy, ripened wheat bowed under its own weight, and alongside the green pastures and brown dirt roads, the scenery resembled a magnificent oil painting.

However, beneath this peaceful facade, the looming shadow of war over the empire's northern frontier grew increasingly heavy.

Even though this year had seen favorable weather and a bountiful harvest, the grain produced by the Odin Empire was still far from enough to sustain the rapidly growing population in recent years.

The Armansh Plain alone accounted for seventy percent of the Odin Empire's total grain production, yet it could only support less than sixty percent of the empire's population!

All signs pointed to a terrifying famine looming over the entire Odin Empire, one that would be catastrophic.

To shift the growing internal conflicts caused by the food shortage, the Odin Empire's most urgent priority became clear.

Thus…

On April 27, Year 537 of the New Calendar, the youngest monarch in the history of the Odin Empire, Arleo O'Sullivan, suddenly dismissed Marshal Portia Mariano from all his duties and appointed himself as the supreme military commander of the Odin Empire.

On May 6, Year 537, Arleo O'Sullivan finally issued an order: over ten thousand imperial guards stationed north of the Nofkamen Mountains were to cross the mountains and establish camp on the Armansh Plain.

This maneuver raised the total number of Odin troops stationed on the Armansh Plain to a staggering forty thousand!!!

In an instant, the already tense northern frontier of the empire was thrown into a state of sheer panic at the impending war.

The Norman Empire had, indeed, constructed fourteen fortresses across the plains bordering the Odin Empire.

However…

Each of these fortresses housed only between one to two thousand soldiers, with the largest and northernmost fortress, Winterhold Fortress, barely accommodating three thousand troops at most.

Even if all the forces within these fortresses were combined, they would total just over twenty thousand!

In contrast, the Odin Empire had already amassed forty thousand soldiers on the Armansh Plain alone!

And this did not even count the Odin civilians who, once war broke out, could immediately take up arms and join the battle.

In other words, at this very moment, the Odin Empire, with its near total mobilization of its population, already possessed the ability to breach Winterhold Fortress.

Forty thousand versus three thousand…

If war erupted now, the outcome was already clear.

Norman Empire, Imperial Capital, Saint Lawrence

The Regency Council was located on the southern side of the imperial palace. This structure, supported by ninety nine light gray marble columns, was one of the most striking buildings in the entire city, second only to the palace itself.

At this very moment, in a second floor chamber of the Regency Council, an elderly man with a white beard was seething with rage, his fury boiling over.

"Clang!"

A silver plated goblet was hurled forcefully onto the crimson velvet carpet. Though the thick fabric muffled the impact, a dull thud still echoed through the room.

The elderly man with the white beard was Yelsen Parys, one of the five grand regents of the empire, also known as the Duke of Dorin.

Ever since the situation in the northern frontier had grown increasingly dire, he had rushed to Saint Lawrence, insisting on supervising the dispatch of reinforcements from various regions of the empire to the northern front.

"Bastards! They're all a bunch of damn bastards! A journey that should take only seven days, and they drag it out for half a month!"

The white bearded duke was livid!

But… if one were to dig deeper into the matter, the reason behind his anger would become clear.

His Dorin Duchy, which bordered the Beast Forest, was only two days away from the northern frontier.

In other words, if the Norman Empire's northern defenses collapsed, the Dorin Duchy would be the first to suffer the invasion!

The Norman Empire's military mobilization over the past few days had consisted of two parts:

Imperial Soldiers: These were directly mobilized by the Emperor and stationed across the fourteen northern fortresses. Noble Private Armies: These were mobilized by the Regency Council, with noble lords across the empire ordered to dispatch part of their forces to the northern front.

Ever since the threat of an Odin invasion loomed over the northern frontier, the Regency Council had issued an urgent call for reinforcements from various noble territories.

Most of the noble lords complied, dispatching their forces to aid the defense.

However… these private armies were absurdly slow in their movements.

Although they donned gleaming armor, rode towering warhorses, and carried colorful banners, looking majestic and imposing, their actual march speed was slower than a turtle's crawl!

A seven day journey was stretched to half a month, and those forces that needed a month to arrive outright stopped along the way, indulging in feasting and leisure.

Most of these deliberately slow moving noble forces came from the southern regions of the empire.

Their reasoning?

"Let the north fight their own war. What does it have to do with us in the south?"

After all, the southern nobles had never directly faced the brutal oppression of the Odin Empire.

To them, the northern private armies and imperial soldiers were more than enough to handle the battle. There was no need to hurry and join the fray.

Moreover, some nobles, like Bruno, outright refused to send troops at all!

"The loudest child gets the milk."

After Bruno's letter was delivered to the Regency Council, it barely lingered for a few seconds on a certain councilor's desk before being tossed into the trash bin.

However, the letter did inform the Regency Council of Idar's so called "unrest."

Additionally, word had already reached Saint Lawrence that the Church had exempted Idar from the tithe tax further solidifying the belief among noble lords that Idar was in dire straits.

"Poor Idar! So pitiful that even the Church in faraway Bethlehem has taken notice of its suffering!"