Leslie, Tanzan town, Viscount Andrew, the tall and thin Viscount Andrew walked up to the city wall and looked towards the direction of the quay area at the viewing point of the city wall.

The newly built pier tower stands on the banks of the Baishui River. The beautiful spire reflects a dreamy brilliance in the sun. Under the tower, thousands of sails sail by the Baishui River. Boats of all sizes are like busy ants. The entire river is full of busy scenes.

Such busy and lively scenes started last year.

A cool breeze blew, and the throat that became sensitive due to excessive consumption of potions suddenly became uncomfortable. Viscount Andrew Leslie couldn't help but let out a few violent coughs. The butler standing beside him immediately stepped forward and draped his warm long-haired coat on his master.

The newly recruited housekeeper who has been recruiting for less than a year is a little worried: "Sir Viscount, you should go back and rest."

"Blowing the cold wind helps calm down," Andrew said casually, his eyes retracted from the dock and swept across the newly built warehouse, mill and Xicheng District. He suddenly sighed, "It's so fast."

The housekeeper didn't hear clearly: "What?"

The newly recruited housekeeper is reliable in his work and his brain is relatively flexible, but after all, the time is still short. Viscount Andrew sighed slightly in this regard, then shook his head and threw some unpleasant memories out of his mind: "Nothing. Is the messenger still waiting in the castle?"

"Yes," the butler nodded, "Earl of Hosman is waiting for your reply."

Viscount Andrew was silent for a moment and suddenly asked, "You said, who will win this war?"

"...Gaowen? Duke Cecil's situation is not good," the housekeeper hesitated for a moment and whispered. He knew that his master was very close to Duke Gauwen, but loyalty asked him to express his true thoughts at this time. "Even if he is a legend, he only has a few thousand people, but Earl Hosman has organized an army of tens of thousands..."

Viscount Andrew did not comment: "A 'army' of tens of thousands of people..."

With the mobilization ability of this era and the desolate and decadent situation in the southern border itself, it is indeed a great number to call for tens of thousands of troops. After all, the largest aristocrat here is only the earl, and the number of private soldiers that can be maintained is ultimately limited.

After thinking for a few seconds, Viscount Andrew looked at his butler: "It seems that according to your wishes, I should respond to the call of Earl Hosman as soon as possible, so as to stand on the side of the winner as soon as possible."

The butler lowered his head deeply: "My advice is insignificant. I am just a butler and I do not have enough ability to understand your career."

Andrew felt a little bored. He curled his lips at the angle that the butler could not see, and then looked at the catapults on the city wall facing the Baishui River. A century ago, the ancestors of the Leslie family relied on this section of the city wall facing the river to resist the robbers and fugitive soldiers attacked from the water. That was when Ansu's civil strife had just ended, and the southern border was far from being as safe as it is today. Now a hundred years have passed, and the catapults on the city wall have been replaced several times due to decay and fragility, but they have not come in handy for a long time.

Another cold wind blew, and the wind on the city wall always seemed to stimulate people's lungs. The viscount wrapped his clothes and coughed softly: "Let's go back, the messenger of Count Hosman has been waiting for a long time."

The housekeeper immediately followed: "Yes."

"In addition, I will find some copies of the 'newspapers' that Cecil was issued, as well as information about the "Aristocratic Reform Act" and "Land Distribution Act" they implemented, so I will find some...I need to know about it."

An army is gathering in the northern region.

In addition to the 20,000 troops assigned to Earl Pebo, the 50,000 people, as the main force, had been mobilized for more than ten days and gathered, and most of them were in place. The continuous camps and flags were spread on the plains southwest of the Carroll region, and it was as lively as an unprecedented huge market.

Here are dozens of troops from the field nobles from all over the southern border. From the baron to the earl, all the glorious and orthodox bloodlines gathered together. Each noble brought fewer than a hundred soldiers, and at most thousands of them, and they set up camps according to their size. They first allocated large areas according to the height of the nobles they were loyal to, and then distributed them in the area in the order of the gathering point, which eventually formed a staggered, extremely chaotic, and diverse garrisons.

Dozens of different flags fluttered over this huge camp. Between the camps, there were complicated roads like a maze. They wore various robes and armor, holding various flags, and with various accents, running around in this maze-like camp, shouting loudly about orders that only their own people could understand (or not understand). The chaos that broke out due to the wrong orders happened sometimes, but they would soon be rushed out to stop them by the knights.

The equipment worn by the soldiers in the camp was as chaotic as their camp, and it was even a lively exhibition. From the simplest half-body leather armor to the most exquisite full-body steel armor, they all gathered in this same place. The methods they used to identify their identities were completely different. Some rely on burqas with emblems on their bodies, some tied cloth strips of different colors on their heads, some rely on signs on shields, and some simply had no marks, relying on soldiers from the same village to remember each other's faces. This made people worry that if someone would follow the wrong team on the day of disbanding and returning, causing them to run to other territories. In fact, this worry is completely possible, and even happened.

In some stories of bards, there is a story vividly depicted: a soldier named Tom, who may be a mountain man or a Consco, participated in a grand war, but when he returned from triumphant, he admitted the wrong face of the superior and followed other people's army to a place that was unknown far away from home. He married and had children in a foreign land, lived for eight years, and then followed the wrong team again in a new war, and returned to his hometown in a confused manner... This story is widely circulated in the southern border, and is even regarded by many knights as a symbol of "romantic battlefield life".

Carlov Hosman, wearing a golden-red Count cloak, rode his favorite maroon war horse and walked through the huge camp accompanied by several viscounts and barons. At the closest position was Viscount Carlour wearing a black coat.

Earl Karov Hosman had a relaxed and pleasant smile on his face. The amazing camp in front of him and the army of up to 50,000 in the camp were all established and gathered under the call of his supreme prestige. This grand scene proved that the Hosman family was still brilliant in his hands, and this was the best praise he could get as a member of the Hosman family.

"Look at it, this is a force of such a scale. I really don't know what our ancient hero would use to resist," Earl Hosman pointed at the front with a whip, and his tone couldn't help but rise. "To be honest, I almost regret it now. Maybe I don't need to summon so many people. Every flag here must be distributed fairly with a spoil."

"This is a testament to your generosity, my lord," said a baron with a smile, with a respectful and admiring tone, "You have not only stood up to protect Ansu's laws and traditions, but also generously cared for everyone in this land."

Others around agreed, and while the nobles were talking, some noise suddenly came from nearby.

Earl Hosman looked up and saw a group of soldiers wearing mail or half-armored soldiers fighting noisily by the camp tent, as if they were quarreling about competing for priority to get water. But not long after they fought, a knight in bright armor came out and knocked all the fighters to the ground in just a few seconds.

"Look, the dedicated knights maintain order, which is exactly the duty and significance of the nobles," Hosmann looked at the scene with satisfaction, and couldn't help but sigh, "I really can't imagine how chaotic it would be if there were no such power to maintain order... So I dare not imagine what our ancient hero wanted to do after depriving the knights of the privileges of the nobles and destroying the role of the nobles in maintaining order."

"I'm afraid only the gods know what he wants to do, but he must have experienced the consequences of his doing so," said Viscount Carroll, shook his head and sighed, "The insulted knights and mages destroyed his 'alche factory' and blew up his warehouse. He destroyed the order, and now the order has disappeared from his land, and can only be said to be self-revenge."

Viscount Carroll's face was filled with real regret and regret, of course he would feel regret, because since last winter, selling potions to the Holy Spirit Plain and levying high taxes from the Cecil merchants who entered the city were important sources of income. Now the alchemy factory led by Cecil has been destroyed and the supply of potions has dropped sharply. How can this not be regretful and regretful?

What annoyed Viscount Carol even more was that when he had to look for the original alchemist on the territory and wanted to use traditional alchemist potions to temporarily alleviate the shortage, he could not even find an alchemist...

If it weren't for this blow, Viscount Carroll, who was neutral, would not have completely joined Earl Hosman's camp so soon, and took out a large area of ​​plains on the edge of his territory for the army to station.

"I don't know what happened there," said one of the viscounts in the team suddenly. "That Andrew Leslie is very close to Cecil, and this time he did not respond to your call. Maybe he will ignore the letter you wrote to him."

"I wrote a letter to him to stay in the castle and not block the Earl of Pebo. This is the greatest courtesy and tolerance," Karov Hosman snorted softly. "It doesn't matter if he deliberately ignores it. Earl Pebo brought 20,000 people, and it will take not two days to defeat the small town of Tanzan. Even if the sick Leslie family went to Cecil to bring reinforcements, there would be no time to put out the fire in his castle... So as long as his mind has not been completely destroyed by the potions, he will know what to do."

Hearing this clear analysis, the followers around him agreed.

Earl Hosman raised his head and looked at the messenger running towards him in the distance.

He smiled: "We seem to have received a reply from the 'Ancient Heroes'."

When he saw that the messenger gave him a familiar paint cylinder, Earl Hosman couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. When he saw that the letter in the paint cylinder was the parchment scroll he had written himself, he looked confused and had a little more fooled anger.

This anger came to the peak when he completely unfolded the parchment and saw the word at the end of the letter, but it turned into a big laugh.

Someone next to him was puzzled by this: "My sir, are you refuting in the letter?"

Earl Hosman stopped laughing and snorted softly, and the parchment roll in his hand caught fire out of thin air and quickly burned to ashes: "No, it's a 'war'."
Chapter completed!