Chapter 225 - 7: Welcome Outside the City
Chapter 225: Chapter 7: Welcome Outside the City
January third. At six in the morning, the Royal Capital had yet to awaken from the night.
Robson’s army finally arrived forty miles outside the Royal Capital. Bound by the laws of the kingdom, which stipulated that Extraordinary Corps must halt fifty miles out and conventional armies thirty miles out, foreign troops could not advance any further upon reaching their designated perimeter.
At this distance, the Royal Capital would have ample time to react if the arriving army intended to make any sudden moves.
Robson had to admit, ’His Majesty the King is a deeply suspicious man.’ They were already more than thirty miles out, yet he had deliberately placed Robson’s encampment right next to the kingdom’s Northern Guard Corps.
This was a clear sign of vigilance, even though Robson, by all accounts, had neither the intention nor the capability to rebel.
The army advanced in an orderly fashion. Just as they reached the forty-mile mark, a griffin suddenly descended from the sky, wearing cloth armor emblazoned with the royal crest.
This wasn’t to say the royal family was too poor to afford iron armor for the griffin. The main reason was to reduce the creature’s load, allowing for greater flight endurance.
After all, aside from serving in ceremonial processions, the most common role for Griffin Knights was that of a scout.
Scouting was a grueling job. The griffins often had to fly for more than ten hours at a time, sometimes for an entire day.
When scouting ahead of a large army on the move, a griffin’s stamina was drained even more severely.
After landing, the Griffin Knight quickly found Robson.
Robson pulled his reins tight, looking at the Griffin Knight with a puzzled expression.
The Griffin Knight stepped forward and gave Robson a military salute.
"Viscount Robertson, His Majesty the King and Bishop Wei Man are waiting in the camp ahead. Please have your soldiers dismount and proceed on foot," the Griffin Knight said.
’His Majesty the King?’ Robson was startled. He glanced at Valentino, who simply shook her head; she knew nothing of this either.
In the Human World, there was a peculiar rule: when approaching the King, all knights and cavalry had to dismount and proceed on foot as a sign of respect.
As the saying goes, behind every seemingly peculiar rule lies an even more peculiar story.
The last Emperor of the Atlantis Empire, for instance, was killed by his own Royal Guard because he was caught off guard.
That Emperor was merely a Tier One Mortal and was trampled to death by horse hooves. Ever since, dismounting and approaching a ruler on foot has been a gesture of respect and trust.
Of course, only the common soldiers were required to walk; the officers were exempt.
"No problem."
Robson hadn’t expected the King to grant him such an honor by coming more than thirty miles out to greet him. As a loyal subject, Robson certainly wasn’t going to cause trouble. That wouldn’t be a display of character; it would be a sign of a faulty brain.
This was just a minor interlude during the march.
....
Meanwhile, in the northwestern corner of the Royal Capital, far from the Royal City proper, stood a stretch of stone buildings and a small-scale fortified wall.
Though called a camp, it had effectively become a fortress-city guarding the Royal Capital.
It was jokingly known as the Frank Kingdom’s "Duqi Small Fortress," named after a similar fortress in the Atlantis Empire that, due to its diminutive size, had proven useless during the last southern invasion of the Beastmen.
Despite being nicknamed a "small" fortress, it had, through Louis III’s diligent efforts over the years, been expanded into a bastion capable of housing over ten thousand people. It was only small when compared to the Royal Capital.
Ever since Louis III had decided to back Robson to stir up conflict between Marquis Oscillate and Marshal Grantham, he had been making his moves.
This time, Louis III hadn’t invited too many people. At the very least, he hadn’t notified the lesser clans within the city, nor the numerous Free People and civil organizations. The invitees consisted almost entirely of royal family members and high nobility.
Of course, this was more than enough. A city-wide welcome was an honor that should be reserved for someone like Prince Noah; there were limits to the support he could show.
"Your Majesty, Viscount Robertson’s army has arrived..." said Sara, the commander of the Royal Guard Knight Order, from her position at his side.
Louis III nodded. Sara was a Golden Tier, able to hear the sky-shaking marching chants and stomping feet from miles away. But Louis III was not, and he heard nothing.
Gradually, the earth began to tremble. Soon, even Louis III could perceive the distant vibrations, and faint shouts reached his ears.
"ONE... TWO... THREE... FOUR..."
As the chanting grew louder, a cloud of dust billowed on the horizon.
Five knights led the vanguard.
Just as Louis III was wondering where the main army was, an endless sea of soldiers began to appear behind the five knights, their ranks stretching as far as the eye could see.
From their vantage point atop the tower, Louis III and the assembled nobles of the Frank Kingdom had the clearest view. The great army seemed to materialize out of nowhere, as if cresting an unseen hill.
Before anyone was quite ready, the sprawling legion revealed itself in its entirety.
"A well-trained army," Louis III remarked in admiration.
In an agrarian era, an army’s combat effectiveness was typically judged by the physical condition of its soldiers and the quality of their equipment.
To gauge an army’s fighting strength at a glance, without a clear view of their equipment, was no simple task. Generally, only a seasoned battlefield commander could make such an assessment.
But the three thousand men under Robson were clearly different.
Even from three or four miles away, though no one could make out the details of their equipment or the physique of individual soldiers, it was clear this was a formidable force. Even a child plucked from the streets would declare them an army ready for war.
Equipment and physical condition are details that require close observation; they are the micro-level components of an army.
But the macro-level elements—an army’s discipline, morale, and overall bearing—were things even a common person could discern at a glance.
Marching in perfect unison, their voices thundering as one—these things might seem simple. But for a force of thousands to maintain such formation across a vast plain was more than just intimidating; it was a testament to the army’s supreme obedience and discipline. These were the essential qualities of a true elite army.
"Quick, look! What is that?"
Someone suddenly cried out in surprise. Following the army was a parallel convoy of carts.
There was no shortage of Gold Tiers among the observers on the wall, and even from afar, they could tell the carts were heavily laden.
As the wagons drew closer, the Gold Tiers with the sharpest eyes could finally make out their contents.
Hide armor, stained with purple blood.
"Beastman Hide Armor! And that purple blood... it’s from the Purple-blooded Beastmen!"
"There’s so much! Are all the carts filled with it?"
"I think the battle report mentioned... over ten thousand enemies slain..."
The moment everyone realized what the carts contained, an uproar swept through the crowd.
The most astonished were the locals, many of whom had spent their entire lives in the Royal Capital. A great number of the younger generation had been born and raised within its walls, never having seen a real Beastman or witnessed true war.
Only now, as these blood-stained trophies of war appeared before them, did they have the stark realization that the conflict thousands of miles away was, in fact, deeply connected to their own lives.
As for the battle-hardened veterans in the crowd, while their reactions were more subdued, their inner shock was no less profound.
Take Count Sriphine, for example. He had fought Beastmen himself and knew the terrifying combat prowess of those purple-skinned monsters firsthand.
And yet, here was the personal hide armor of those same monsters, piled high on wagon after wagon.
Count Sriphine had seen his share of Beastmen corpses, but never had he witnessed such a massive, concentrated collection of their belongings.
The sight was profoundly, indescribably shocking.
"Your Majesty, Viscount Robertson is about to reach the gate."
Seeing Louis III staring intently, lost in thought, the Princess Consort at his side couldn’t help but offer a gentle reminder.
Louis III nodded.
"Gentlemen, let us go down and meet this valiant young commander from the Western Front!" Louis III announced to the nobles behind him.
.....
Robson and Valentino rode forward. Upon seeing the King and the host of kingdom nobles, they dismounted and approached to pay their respects.
"Your subjects, Robson and Valentino, greet Your Majesty."
Though everyone in the kingdom, from the highest to the lowest, enjoyed a bit of scheming behind the King’s back, on the surface, they were all paragons of unwavering loyalty—the truest of heroes!
These formalities were absolutely mandatory.
Louis III smiled warmly at the pair and extended his hands to help them rise.
"My two dear subjects, dispense with the formalities."
Only after Louis III had spoken did Robson and Valentino straighten up, their eyes falling upon the magnificently dressed nobles standing behind the King.
Robson had already received word from Prince Noah and Marquis Oscillate, so he knew he would have the King’s backing.
The favor owed by Prince Noah, combined with the support from Marquis Oscillate, would all be reflected in the coming two days of
"Come, let me make an introduction. This is the man just returned from the Western Front, a hero of the Frank Kingdom," Louis III announced enthusiastically to the assembled lords.
After Louis III spoke, the great nobles stepped forward one by one.
It wasn’t that Robson himself commanded enough prestige to have them scrambling to curry favor. Rather, the King was acting as the bridge, and most of the deference shown was for the sake of the go-between.
"William Gutierrez..."
"Portek Fister, a Knight..."
With Louis III’s introductions, Robson was thus acquainted with a host of powerful figures from Kyoto.
Of course, he had little to discuss with them. Their social circles were vastly different, and they were complete strangers to one another.
If they recognized anyone, it was Valentino. After all, Earl Fengman had been a major figure in the kingdom, serving as Minister of War while Marquis Oscillate was Foreign Minister.
This was the function of social circles. Without his marriage to Valentino, Robson’s only path to an audience with such marquises and counts would have been through Marshal Grantham.
And as for how well Marshal Grantham’s path was faring? One only needed to look at the current standing of the pro-military faction within the kingdom to guess the answer.
This was why it often took a Viscount Clan several generations of effort to successfully ascend to the ranks of the high nobility.
Fortunately, perhaps because Marquis Oscillate or Louis III had spoken to them beforehand, all these nobles treated Robson with considerable warmth.
Robson even received invitations from several great nobles to visit their estates. Most of these invitations came from the royal family and the southern aristocrats, including Marquis William—perhaps the only figure in the southern faction who could be considered an equal to Marquis Oscillate.
The situation in the Northern Three Provinces was murky and complex, but any discerning eye could see that Robson now held the backing of two great powers: the Royalists and the Southerners. As long as he didn’t do anything to court disaster, he was an absolutely prime investment.
Besides, even if Robson failed in his bid to expand his territory and was forced out of the game, he would still be one of the leaders of the Fengman Clan. It was a no-lose proposition, and everyone wanted a piece of the action.