Derek gazed at the map, a new one he had personally surveyed and corrected.

The location of Augusta City was quite advantageous, sitting on a plain with a river flowing through the center, surrounded by fertile fields.

The only drawback was the difficulty of defense, especially since the city had not been fully constructed yet.

If they could wait a few more years, allowing the city to be completed and the surrounding castles to be fortified, Derek would be confident in defending it even against an army of 200,000.

But for now, there was still a long way to go.

"Adrian, take my flag and head to Birch Fortress. I'll give you 10,000 men. Keep them hidden at all costs, and even if the enemy sends 200,000 troops, you are not to reveal all your forces."

"Understood!" Adrian accepted the command without hesitation. He didn't know the full details of Derek's plan but would not question it. His job was to execute orders.

"Sheriff, your task is to get our people, the herd, the artisans, and... certain individuals, to take refuge in my lands in the northern provinces."

Sheriff tried to protest, but Derek silenced him with a sharp glare. There was an intimidating presence in Derek's eyes that Sheriff had never encountered before.

Without another word, he complied.

"Simon, this time you are the main force. Prepare plenty of flags and arrange the newly recruited militia in order. Make sure we’re ready for a full retreat and avoid getting caught."

"Yes," Simon responded, though still confused. "My lord, gathering everyone together like this—doesn’t that mean we have no intention to fight? We’ll retreat if necessary, but why split the forces?"

"Stop asking unnecessary questions. I have my plans," Derek replied, not bothering to explain further.

Though this world lacked examples of such strategies, Derek wasn’t about to underestimate its people.

Countless examples had shown him that the old foxes here were not lacking in intelligence—just in perspective.

After finalizing his arrangements, Derek received a messenger from Count Connor.

As expected, the main offensive from the Holy Cross Kingdom would be directed at Birch Fortress.

Duke Fernandez had split his forces into three directions—two to hold off enemy movements, and one for the main assault.

They would first take the Augusta territory and then consolidate their forces to strike with overwhelming numbers.

It was a slow but steady approach, which may not result in a quick victory but would minimize the chance of failure.

Such an enemy was the most disheartening to face.

Though their strategy seemed sound, it didn’t mean their command ability would be flawless.

On the battlefield, things rarely went as planned. Even with the desire for a measured, steady approach, commanders on the front lines might not follow suit.

The enemy wouldn’t make it that easy for them.

As intelligence continued to come in, the indecisive Marquis Hussein finally began to lean toward action.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

The southern nobles didn’t care much about the fate of St. Miler Province, but Hussein couldn’t afford to ignore it.

Neither the southern nobles’ promises nor the king’s demands could outweigh his need to protect it.

Yet, the Holy Cross Kingdom was ruthless—mobilizing 200,000 troops was a terrifying scale, even for him.

It was too late to betray Derek now; doing so might even backfire on himself.

In fact, it already had.

The southern nobles had long prepared their plans, and from the beginning, they had been scheming against Marquis Hussein.

"Damn Levitt, he was planning to trap me from the start."

The worst part was, Hussein couldn’t clear himself of suspicion.

Thus, he could only send a diplomatic letter to Derek, tactfully warning him about food supplies.

He also informed Derek of the grain transfer points under his control, hoping they might be of use.

When Derek received the letter, the latest news was that Duke Fernandez had already reached the frontlines.

"You see? These southern whores are indeed trying to starve us out," Derek said as he handed the letter from Marquis Hussein to his knights.

Although Augusta had anticipated this, it still angered him when it happened.

"They’re pushing it too far. Once we drive the Holy Cross Kingdom’s zealots back, we’ll take care of those southern bitches once and for all."

Derek didn’t get too angry, though. He had already been angry before.

"Reply to Hussein and thank him. Tell him that I’m confident we can hold off the Holy Cross Kingdom’s forces, but he should set up a grain depot here just in case something goes wrong. And... express my gratitude."

Derek placed the map on the table, his finger tracing the edges of the Augusta territory. From the contour lines on the map, this area was situated at a low point.

When Marquis Hussein received the reply, he had no reason to suspect anything.

It seemed perfectly reasonable to gather some grain near Augusta.

Derek was confident in his ability to hold off the Holy Cross forces, and Hussein was inclined to believe him.

Now, Hussein even found himself praying for Derek’s success—while still cursing the damned Levitt.

"Is this Birch Fortress?"

Duke Fernandez, though tired, couldn’t help but look upon the fortress with a sense of awe.

Even though he had prepared for the challenges ahead, the reality was overwhelming.

Setting up camp, dividing troops, even cooking meals, all were complex matters.

Without the help of his aides and officers, this massive army would have already collapsed under the strain.

As it was, over 10,000 soldiers had been lost along the way—whether through desertion, death, or disappearance.

Fortunately, the Holy Cross Kingdom didn’t lack in lowborns.

Many had run off, but even more had been captured and drafted into the army.

The army had lost many soldiers, but they had also gained many recruits, and when they arrived at Birch Fortress, their numbers had somehow exceeded the original count.

Those who didn’t know better might think the local population was enthusiastically supporting their westward expansion.

The journey had been grueling, but it had also served as a valuable experience.

Now, standing outside Birch Fortress, Duke Fernandez couldn’t help but marvel at how far they had come.

What was supposed to be a steady, sure victory no longer seemed so certain.

He no longer dared to assume that 200,000 troops would guarantee success.

"I heard Count Connor personally scouts the terrain before every battle?" The Duke suddenly turned to his officers.

"Yes, only by understanding the terrain can we better mobilize our forces and avoid basic mistakes."

Duke Fernandez had recruited men of solid training and practical expertise.

The art of war in this world had already developed some standard tactics.

"Let’s go, we’ll scout the terrain ourselves."

With that, the Duke, eager to see the situation firsthand, led the way.

The others quickly set up a proper reception for the troops and found a distant high ground from which to view the fortress.

From this vantage point, the reinforced walls of Birch Fortress were clearly visible, as well as the two-headed dragon flag fluttering in the wind—marking the presence of the northern viscount.