Most of them were gripped by the fear of the coming battle, and they trained to distract themselves from the nagging worry that they would not be going home after this.
Even so, not all of them were practicing in earnest.
The wars with the Empire were a yearly occurrence. As a result, many people lacked the will to fight. There were those who laid down in unobtrusive niches along the stone steps, like puppets whose strings had been cut. There were those who vented their despair to those around them. There were those who sat down and hugged their knees and waited for the end.
As the conscripts got older, they were more likely to do this.
They had no fighting spirit at all and only wanted to return home.
This was the true face of the Royal Army. Yet, it could not be helped. To begin with, they had been rounded up by force. Then they were told that they would have to risk their lives in bloody battle for no gain to them. Even if they managed to return alive, they would return to a wasted harvest, and their lives would be very difficult, like a noose slowly strangling them.
This was no different from a drawn-out execution.
The wagons rode past the soldiers. Their beds were laden with vast quantities of foodstuffs.
Logically speaking, it would be difficult to house and feed 3 % of the Kingdom’s population within a single city. However, E-Rantel was the frontline of the wars with the Empire, and had been designed to accommodate the Kingdom’s military might.
As a result of the extensive preparations made to the city, it could take in 250'000 people with ease.
Their storehouses were massive, and were probably the largest buildings in the city.
The supplies within those storehouses were transported by shuttle.
The unmotivated people turned fearful eyes to those wagons. It was as though they had seen Death slowly creeping towards them.
Everyone knew what was going to happen next.
This was a large-scale transfer of rations.
That meant the war with the Empire was going to begin.
♦ ♦ ♦
The innermost sector of the E-Rantel’s triple walls.
In the center of the city was the mansion of the mayor of E-Rantel, Panasolei Guruze Dale Rettenmaier. Although it was a luxurious home worthy of the city’s leader, it still paled in comparison to the building beside it.
That building was the most impressive in the city ― the VIP villa. It was typically sealed up, and only the royal family or those close to them would be permitted to use it.
And now, within the villa, several men were gathered around King Ranpossa III and the Great Nobles.
Gazef stood silently at the side of the King, who sat upon a crude throne.
A large table dominated the center of the room, surrounded by nobles, who were studying the large map that had been rolled out upon it. Around the map were countless scattered documents, nominal rolls, reconnaissance reports, combat logs, monster appearance reports and the like. Although there were servants behind carrying water jugs, there was little water left.
It was testament to the intensity of the debates that had taken place here.
The truth was that fatigue was starting to appear on the distinguished, pedigreed faces of the Great Nobles. As one’s forces grew larger, there would be more logistics issues to be addressed, and more decisions that had to be made. While low-level issues could be handled by subordinates, they had to coordinate the matters of the nobles within their factions personally.
As nobles with their pride on the line, they could not even afford to show that the strain was getting to them, which made their job harder.
However, that was over now.
Marquis Raeven, who looked the least exhausted of everyone here, opened his mouth to speak.
In truth, it had become fairly common for him to take the initiative in addressing the nobles. He might have been slighted as a “bat,” but nobody doubted his intelligence. It was clear that having him speak, in a way that cut across factional lines, would be the fastest way to settle everyone down.
“Thank you all for your hard work. At last, we’ve finished our preparations within the time limit.
From now on we will begin discussing the strategy against the Empire for the upcoming war.”
Raeven’s gaze swept across everyone present, and he held up a parchment for all to see.
“This is a missive from the Empire that arrived several days ago. It states the proposed site of the battlefield.”
Because battlefields would invariably be littered with corpses, the land would be cursed, and it would become a spawning ground for the undead. Thus, as a species, humanity would designate specific locations for their wars. Once both sides agreed on the site, they could do battle as they wished without harming each others’ countries.
Of course, not all wars were fought like that. Or rather, it was rare for wars to be fought that way. It was only when the Kingdom and the Empire made war that this situation would come up, and for the past few years, they had fought on designated battlefields.
Even if they took new land, it would be more trouble than it was worth if it spawned undead, and there was no point in defending land from invaders if it ended up cursed and uninhabitable anyway.
Both sides shared the same point of view, hence the agreements.
For that reason, a sigh of relief came up from nowhere as Raeven announced the missive. The nobles must have thought this war would be the same as any other, given the familiar nature of the declaration.
“Then, the battlefield will be―”
“Isn’t it the same old place, Marquis Raeven? Where else could it be?”
“Indeed. As Marquis Bowlrob says, the battlefield is one we are all familiar with. The cursed land enveloped by mist, the northwestern region of the Kattse Plains.”
“Since it’s the same place, does that mean the Empire will be doing the same thing?”
Although the Empire claimed to be helping the magic caster Ainz Ooal Gown reclaim his rightful territory, most of the nobles felt that this was merely a casus belli for them to declare war like they always did.
If that was all, Gazef would have agreed, but Raeven shook his head.
“Unfortunately, Marquis Volumlash, that does not seem to be the case. According to my sources, the Empire has mobilized a great deal of military power for this engagement. I sent my formerly orichalcum-ranked adventurer team out to follow up on this, and while they aren’t sure of the exact figure, judging by the insignia and badges of the activated units, the Empire has fielded six full legions.”
“Six legions?!”
Dissent rippled through the gathered nobles.
The Empire had eight legions, but up to now they had only ever committed four to the field at any one time. But this time, they had brought out one and a half times that amount.
“Are they… serious?”
The question came from a noble with an uneasy expression on his face.