Chapter 436 - 184: The Great Sweep
Chapter 436: Chapter 184: The Great Sweep
"My Lord, you summoned me?" Chief Moer asked.
"I remember you said there are Druids on the Beastman Grassland. Do you know which races they belong to?" Robson asked.
Finding Druids was arguably one of the most important objectives of Robson’s trip.
The entire Affleck Domain was currently suffering from a severe food crisis.
Although things seemed fine for now, that was only because the immigrants had not yet arrived, and the army still had the full support of three parties: the Fengman Clan, the Military Commission, and the Kingdom Government.
With nearly ten thousand Soldiers, the soldier-to-civilian ratio was one to two—an expense not just anyone could afford.
Robson had long coveted the Druids and their Magic, which could rapidly mature crops.
"Druids?"
Chief Moer scratched his head.
"Actually, if you’re really looking for them, you don’t have to look far. They’re right under your nose.
The Centaurs, in fact, have a Druid tradition," said Chief Moer.
"Centaurs?" Robson was taken aback.
’He’d never heard of Centaurs having Druid Magic.’
"The Centaur Clan also migrated from the northern Elf Empire. In truth, they can practice Druid Magic whenever they wish.
The Centaur Clan’s affinity with nature is much higher than ours," said Chief Moer.
"Are there any others? The Centaurs probably won’t work," Robson said, dismissing the idea.
Robson had no problem taking in the Mountain Rock Bear Race. After all, they had been separated from the Beastman Empire for many years, and even before that, they weren’t a particularly important race.
But the Centaur Clan was a different story. The political implications were far too serious. Everyone in the Frank Kingdom knew about the high-intensity wars between the Centaur Clan and humans.
He, Lord Robson, had no desire to be branded a collaborator with a hostile race—the most serious crime in the Frank Kingdom.
"There are quite a few others," said Chief Moer.
"But from what I recall, they’re all minor, lesser-known clans.
Given the environment in the Beastman Empire, and after all these years, I don’t know if they even exist anymore," Chief Moer added.
"Just make a list of them. I’ll take care of the rest later," Robson said.
’Minor clans are good. Minor clans are exactly what I need.’
’Getting involved with famous Beastmen clans, or even the Beastman Royal Family? That would be setting a trap for me, Lord Robson!’
"Yes, My Lord should pay close attention. I remember most of them are deeper in the Beastman Grassland, near the Tigerman Royal Court.
The interior of the Beastman Grassland is the territory of the Purple-blooded Beastmen. It’s more stable compared to the border regions," said Moer.
Robson nodded. Chief Moer listed several names, and Robson noted them all down.
...
After discussing the matter of the Druids with Chief Moer, Robson left the Central Army Camp to prepare for the upcoming battle.
At this moment, the entire human camp stirred into action.
Everyone had been rubbing their hands in anticipation for a while. To be the first to enter the Beastman Grassland from the eastern front—the very idea had a grand ring to it.
As for the Warriors under Robson’s command, they were even more restless.
For the noble lords, entering the Beastman Grassland was more of a symbolic gesture, but for the Soldiers, it meant tangible rewards!
Even the newly arrived Algerian Legion, influenced by the veterans, began to look forward to the war.
Most of them had never experienced the benefits of military merit, but they were beginning to understand what it could get them.
Under the influence of these various factors, the entire human camp sprang into motion.
...
As the human Soldiers began their advance into the Beastman Grassland, the entire Centaur Royal Court was thrown into alarm.
Although they had heard the human army was coming, they still clung to a sliver of hope when the humans halted at the edge of the grassland.
’What if the humans ran into internal problems, or their supply lines failed? Such things were known to happen during a march.’
However, as the Soldiers of the Frank Kingdom mobilized once again, that last sliver of hope was extinguished in every Centaur Tribe.
The main human force charged straight for the Centaur King City. Watching the ever-increasing number of human Soldiers from the city walls, Prince Saiseri’s scalp tingled with anxiety.
But his anxiety was useless. The Beastman Empire generally operated on a loose tribal system. The Royal Court, despite its name, was led by little more than a head chieftain, chosen by the others.
Prince Saiseri held no critical leverage over the other tribes.
The chieftains of the other tribes were no fools. The human army at the Royal City was clearly too strong for any one of them to handle. Charging in would bring no glory, only grief. Who wanted to be the sucker?
Naturally, most of the tribes began to drag their feet.
However, while some tribes were dragging their feet, there were also the dutiful ones who charged at full gallop toward Robson’s army.
...
"Father, the Royal City is just ahead...
Do we really have to make camp here?" Wei’an asked, his face grim.
Hearing his son’s complaint, the old Chieftain Damian coughed a few times, his expression stern.
"Of course we do. Are you suggesting we disobey the order of His Highness Prince?" Damian said.
"But... there are only three tribes here... The other clans haven’t responded to His Highness’s call at all.
If those humans turn around and attack us..." Wei’an continued to argue.
He had no idea what madness had seized his father, making him insist on charging straight into the enemy’s jaws at a time like this.
"Three tri—COUGH, COUGH! Damn it, what are those fools doing? How can they still be dawdling at such a critical moment for the Royal Court?"
Chieftain Damian was old and frail. He had made it this far almost entirely by relying on Potions from the Beast God.
That’s right, the Beast God did have normal Potions, but such things were usually held tightly in the hands of the Beastman Royal Family.
The abnormal Potions were mostly created when Priests used the wrong methods during their rituals. Whether this was intentional or accidental, however, was anyone’s guess.
"Sigh... Father, this isn’t several decades ago.
Haven’t you heard? Even the Gray Dwarves are about to rebel!" Wei’an said with a sigh.
Chieftain Damian had always been an excellent chieftain, managing his tribe with justice and decisiveness.
Unfortunately, Chieftain Damian was too old, a relic of a bygone era. The Beastman Empire in his mind was still the one from the time when Emperor Kemal shattered the Crystal Palace and led the grassland clans to conquer all before them.
He didn’t realize that both the Beastman Empire and Kemal were, in fact, growing old along with him.
Chieftain Damian didn’t reply. His aged heart left him with little strength.
"Wei’an, do you... hear something?" Chieftain Damian asked.