Duke Fernandez, while reorganizing his forces around Birch Fortress, quietly set up observation posts and built reserve supply depots along the way.

Nearby villages and towns were systematically raided, and the local population was forced to submit to his rule.

He had brought several nobles from the former Saint Miro Province, who were eager to redeem themselves and worked tirelessly to prove their loyalty.

After half a month of preparation, once Birch Fortress was fully monitored, he finally began to advance toward Plan City with a slow-moving army.

Meanwhile, he personally headed towards the Augusta region with the aid of seasoned officers.

By conquering this area, he could gain at least another 200,000 subjects and exploit them for manpower—more cannon fodder to add to the war effort.

As for the losses, after the battle, those who survived could be restructured into more troops, and the Church would replenish the population. What was there to worry about?

Compared to the common folk, Duke Fernandez exemplified all the traits of a noble—chief among them, a complete disregard for human life.

Born into the royal bloodline, he had never learned to pity the lower classes.

He didn’t even bother to feign compassion. In his eyes, the common people were mere tools, stepping stones to support his grand ambitions.

For the nobility, the world was small, and only a select few were worthy of being regarded as humans.

This was the world of the aristocracy.

When the first town came into view, Duke Fernandez's officers quickly rounded up over two thousand peasants from nearby villages.

Under the watchful eyes of the army, these so-called "criminals" were forced to climb the town’s walls.

Crying, pleading, and begging for mercy, they were met with no compassion.

The army showed no mercy, and a bloody massacre ensued.

Retreating meant certain death. Only by pushing forward could they have a slim chance of survival.

Duke Fernandez stood atop a specially designed war chariot, shielded from the distant arrows of the Lock Kingdom by a wooden board.

He watched calmly as the bodies of the peasants piled up to form a road.

More serfs, incited by the priests' speeches, cried out "Glory to God" and surged toward the walls in waves.

The Holy Cross Kingdom’s noble officers understood military tactics, but the untrained serfs were a different matter.

Their lack of coordination hindered their progress; too often, the rush would cause unnecessary congestion, slowing down the attack.

At other times, their lack of numbers wasted precious opportunities.

However, the serfs were numerous, and after half a day, they had managed to force their way into the town.

After a thorough inspection by the officers, Duke Fernandez arrived in the nameless town.

Under the direction of his commanders, the army set up in the town’s center, sending out smaller squads to eliminate any remaining resistance.

As per his instructions, the strategy was simple: steady and cautious, never overextending. After all, with the Holy Cross Kingdom’s numerical advantage, they only needed to outnumber the enemy. When facing an equal force, they could simply dig in and wait for reinforcements. Given enough time, they were certain to drive the Lock Kingdom forces out.

"Damn it, these lunatics, these beasts, I swear I'll hang every last one of them."

Simon was enraged when he heard of the Holy Cross Kingdom’s atrocities.

Although he was a knight, his origins as a common free man made him far more empathetic than Duke Fernandez, whose cold cruelty disgusted Simon.

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Furious, he could hardly contain his desire for vengeance.

"Calm yourself. We’ll teach Fernandez a lesson first," Derek replied, his voice steady despite his own fury. The war had started on his land.

"Everyone, follow orders strictly. No victories, only defeats."

"How many heavy cavalry can we deploy?"

"Remember the sacrifices, we’ll make the Holy Cross Kingdom pay for them."

"Let the anger on the battlefield match our rage."

Derek calmly devised the plan. He had already seen through Duke Fernandez's army—it was a raw, inexperienced force.

And when it came to dealing with such green troops, there were plenty of ways to make use of their weaknesses.

Steady and cautious?

That depended on how well you could control the army. As the saying goes, "The general in command can disregard orders from above."

On the battlefield, it was the frontline officers who called the shots.

Any orders reaching Fernandez would be delayed, and though he had experienced generals advising him, he lacked competent officers at the lower levels.

It wouldn’t take long for his strategies to falter, forcing him to abandon his multi-pronged attacks.

Then, they would wait for the right moment.

The terrain and the people were on their side; they just needed to wait for the right timing.

A Holy Cross army bearing the banner of a baron was slowly advancing. Several triangular flags were mixed in with the main forces, indicating a mix of nobles.

The army numbered around five or six hundred, which was enough for some independent operations.

If they were attacked, they could hold their ground for a while.

The implementation of Duke Fernandez’s strategy was clear and decisive—at least for now.

But with a keen eye, one could spot that the triangular flags hadn’t been trimmed, indicating that these were troops led by court nobles—those without a fief.

It was well-known that a noble without land was not truly a noble.

These men were desperate for achievement, eager to build a name for themselves.

Soon enough, the opportunity presented itself.

Ahead lay a village, and both sides clashed in what seemed like a skirmish between amateurs.

The village’s militia, though somewhat trained and equipped with weapons, was vastly outnumbered by the Holy Cross forces.

The more inexperienced militia was quickly overwhelmed, with many fleeing in panic.

The Holy Cross officers hesitated for only a moment before deciding to pursue the fleeing enemies.

Every head counted as a victory, and these Lock Kingdom soldiers, though not trained for long, were no mere fodder. The intelligence had been correct—most had been trained for no more than six months to a year.

And with friendly forces nearby, there was little risk in chasing them down.

Such skirmishes became increasingly common.

These hastily recruited militia, trained for just a month or two, were scattered and deployed all over.

Their quality was acceptable, and it didn’t raise any suspicion in the Holy Cross Kingdom.

The Holy Cross forces believed they were facing a legitimate Lock Kingdom army, fueling their desire to chase down these fleeing soldiers.

And the numbers of retreating soldiers were small, meaning the risk remained low.

Every time the Holy Cross troops considered backing off, the fleeing soldiers lured them into continuing the chase.

In some cases, they even encountered friendly forces mid-pursuit, causing their scattered army to regroup.

The greater their numbers, the bolder they became, and the less fear they showed.

Derek watched from the shadows, observing as four or five waves of Holy Cross forces were drawn into this trap.

Once enough forces had been gathered, he gave the order to unleash the heavy cavalry.

"The numbers are sufficient now; any more, and we’ll risk overextending. Plus, the enemy is catching on."

The Holy Cross command wasn’t inept; they would soon order their forces to split up to complete their missions.

But compared to capturing a few heads, they were more eager to clear the obstacles quickly.

A piecemeal approach was no longer viable—the tactic could only work for so long.

It was time to strike big and reap the rewards.