The young King Geralt of Salsen, clad in dazzling chain mail and seated atop a majestic steed, glanced at the marching columns, his lips brimming with a smile.

Geralt was seven feet tall. His robust physique, rugged features, and commanding presence resembled that of a golden lion. Many were deceived by his rough exterior, overlooking his cunning mind.

However, within less than a year of his ascension to the throne, he had quelled dissent both within and outside the court. He was a man of ambition as well as matched ability.

He clearly saw through Baron Minhausen's pretense, whose real intention was simply to exchange his territorydom.

As The Salsen Kingdom expanded its territories, Baron Minhausen sought to profit through land exchange.

It should have been a win-win situation, yet he wanted more. He desired military honors that could deter the domestic nobles!

The Salsen Kingdom was far from peaceful. Several great dukes had intermarried through generations, their disloyalty was evident. He was too young, and these nobles hardly took him seriously, even if he was the king.

He longed for a victory.

When Baron Minhausen presented himself as an adversary, the king almost laughed aloud. He never underestimated his enemies and was thoroughly prepared before the war.

The Galaxia family of Baron Minhausen, once lords of the trading city of Lanza with substantial wealth, could muster nearly 100,000 gold coins even after a significant territory exchange. That was enough to hire thousands of well-trained mercenaries. Geralt prepared meticulously, securing military passage rights along the way, amassing elite troops and numerous supplies, readying for a campaign that was on par with battling counts or even dukes.

Baron Minhausen was an ideal opponent. He was a perfect drill for the king's forces in anticipation of future campaigns against domestic nobles. His war preparations were made with ample margin for error. Not just any noble, but even dukes could not withstand his army. He aimed to end the farce with Baron Minhausen's blood.

With over five hundred elite troops leading the charge, and hundreds of scouts dispersing for intelligence, the king personally led the massive force along the main road. With such overwhelming advantage, elaborate strategies were unnecessary. A direct advance would suffice.

In the face of absolute power, plots and schemes were mere clown acts. Moreover, he had reinforcements if needed. Such caution was to ensure a crushing victory.

He even deliberately slowed the march to give Baron Minhausen time to hire mercenaries. It would be overkill to smash an egg with a thunderous hammer. He sought glory, aiming to achieve a record of slaying and routing thousands, enough to deter the Salsen nobles.

As the confident king advanced with his army, a cavalryman raced towards them, kicking up dust.

"Your Majesty, that's a messenger from the vanguard. Surely he’s bringing good news."

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King Geralt, unlike his optimistic generals, frowned.

As a fifth-order Holy Light Warrior with excellent vision, he could see the messenger's expression from over half a mile away. The messenger's face showed no joy, but rather fear. This was not a good sign.

King Geralt's expression darkened as he raised his whip, ordering a halt. Swinging his whip, he spurred his horse forward to meet the messenger. Bad news must not spread indiscriminately. Only his guardiands followed.

Intercepting the messenger hundreds of meters away, he coldly inquired, "Who sent you? What happened?"

"Your Majesty, things didn’t go well..."

"Silence! I will be the judge of that! Just report!"

The messenger, startled by the king's icy tone, stammered out the news of the vanguard's dispersal.

Hearing the report, King Geralt's eyes widened.

"The enemy used routed our vanguard with only three of them, even killing the vanguard leader?"

"That’s true, your majesty."

"Lying about military intelligence is a capital offense!"

The messenger, shocked, felt his head separated from his body. The pain and dizzying loss of blood darkened his vision. In his last moments, he saw a headless body falling from the horse, twisting on the ground. That was his body.

He had traveled tens of miles without a drink, just to deliver accurate intelligence, only to be killed by the king?

With his last breath, he cursed the king, then darkness fell as his head hit the ground.

King Geralt, flicking blood off his sword, hummed and ordered Captain Booker:

"Take some men to gather the scattered soldiers immediately. Do not let them appear in front of the army."

Captain Booker understood; the vanguard had failed, contributing nothing more to the war. At least they shouldn't affect the main army's morale. It was cruel, but necessary.

Dismounting, he glanced at the messenger, murmuring, "Identify him, and after the war, give him a third-class military burial."

Leaving some guards to handle the scene, Geralt quickly returned to his army. He announced with a radiant smile.

"Warriors, the vanguard has achieved a glorious victory, and Captain Charles has cleared the way. We can proceed with confidence."

"I declare a three-day rest for the entire army to be in the best condition for the decisive battle!"

The soldiers naturally took his word for it, believing in victory as the king proclaimed. Soldiers are easily deceived, but the generals were not fools. They sensed the blood scent from the king's scabbard. Clearly, the messenger was executed. A messenger was killed only when he brought bad news.

Geralt, whipping his horse, headed towards a hill behind, with the generals quickly following.

They knew there was something wrong.

On a nearby hill, Geralt briefed his trusted generals, slightly embellishing the events.

"In general, the vanguard was defeated, and Charles died in battle."

Faced with this bad news, everyone was stunned. They had not expected a complete rout.

As the atmosphere tensed, a general stepped forward to smooth things over.

"Captain Charles was competent and cautious, unlikely to fall into a trap easily. Perhaps Baron Minhausen was desperate, hiring a large number of mercenaries to stop him. The king warned us before the war, and we didn't believe him. Truly, His Majesty is wise."

This reasoning seemed plausible to the others. At the war's start, they thought it a mere parade, but only Geralt foresaw the challenge. Baron Minhausen was wealthy, and wealth could buy soldiers. Victory would come at the cost of exhausting his wealth.

Facing the generals' flattery, Geralt remained expressionless. He stated:

"According to the messenger, the vanguard was defeated by three enemies."

The generals wanted to respond but were interrupted by Geralt. He raised his whip, pointing towards Baron Minhausen's territory, declaring, "Generals, although our advance is hindered, we must not be discouraged. Even if he spends his entire fortune, he can at most gather five to six thousand mercenaries."

"Nine thousand against five thousand! We have great advantage. But we must not underestimate the enemy this time!"

"We need accurate intelligence and timely tactical adjustments."

Geralt was not disheartened by the setback, his fighting spirit kindled, even a bit more.

He wondered what Baron Minhausen, basking in his victory, was doing now.

Celebrating, perhaps?