Six legions. 60'000 men. The Kingdom had 250'000 men, but although they had the advantage in numbers, the reverse was true in terms of troop quality.
“We may need to consider that this may not end in a simple skirmish.”
In the past, with the Empire’s 40'000 men against the Kingdom’s 200'000, the Empire would launch an attack, the Kingdom would weather it and then the war would end. The Empire’s objective was to slowly exhaust the Kingdom and waste their stocks of food, so just forcing the Kingdom to take the field would accomplish one of their objectives.
If they were planning on doing the same thing, there would be no need to mobilize 60'000 men. That meant they had another motive for doing this, Raeven thought.
“It seems increasing the levy was the right decision to make.”
However, the increased costs of fielding more soldiers were also a headache.
In the past, the wars had been fought during the harvest season of autumn. This war would be fought in winter, and the additional expenses for things like firewood, warm clothing and so on were beginning to add up.
This war was financed by the Royal faction. If the Royal faction’s power had not increased, it would have been hard to solicit donations, and the King’s own power would have sharply declined.
“Indeed it was, Marquis Raeven. The Empire has mobilized more troops now, under the fabricated cause of helping that magic caster king. They’ll claim that they’ll lose face if they don’t put on a good show in aiding an ally.”
“I believe that is very likely. In truth, given that we’ve received no communication from this Ainz Ooal Gown, I suspect that this incident may have been masterminded by the Empire and this Ainz Ooal Gown is only a bystander who was drawn into this. He might not even be participating in this of his own free will.”
To Gazef, if that was the truth it would be a blessing. That way they would not need to make an enemy of that mighty magic caster. However, that might be too optimistic.
Gazef opened his hitherto tightly shut mouth.
“May I speak?”
“Granted.”
With the King’s permission, Gazef began unburdening himself of his doubts.
“I disagree, much as I do with that document from the Slaine Theocracy. I do not think this declaration of war is a mere fabrication.”
Displeasure was clearly evident on the nobles’ faces.
E-Rantel and its surroundings was the meeting point of three nations. Every time the Kingdom and the Empire went to war, the Theocracy would make its opinion known.
“To begin with,” they said, “E-Rantel and its surroundings originally belonged to the Slaine Theocracy. The Kingdom has taken control of it unlawfully and they are obliged to return it to its rightful owners. It is deeply regretful that such improperly appropriated territory should become the object of a power struggle,” and so on.
To the two countries, it seemed as though the Theocracy would intervene in their war, but to date they had never mobilized their troops. Their dispute was only a verbal one.
This time, however, the tone of their official statements had changed.
“The Theocracy has no records of his reign, but if Ainz Ooal Gown has indeed controlled E-Rantel and its surroundings in the past, the Theocracy will acknowledge that fact and his sovereignty.”
That was what their communique had said.
To the nobles of the Kingdom, that declaration was nothing less than a bad joke, like a court jester coming out of nowhere and speaking wild nonsense. However, there were those who understood the true meaning behind the document.
The Slaine Theocracy was saying, “We have no intention of antagonizing Ainz Ooal Gown” on a national level.
That implied that the Slaine Theocracy, the strongest nation in the region, was not willing to make an enemy of a single magic caster.
But that was understandable, Gazef thought.
“He easily wiped out one of the Six Scriptures… and although he said he didn’t kill them, the Slaine Theocracy felt that making an enemy of a person with his level of power was a bad idea. If Ainz Ooal Gown was pulled into this war by the Empire, they wouldn’t need to roll over like this.”
“Hmph. So what if they have one more magic caster? Aren’t we the ones with 250'000 people?”
Count Lindon laughed in the face of Gazef’s caution, the mockery evident in his voice.
Gazef fought the urge to furrow his brows. Although he understood the shocking power of a great magic caster, at the same time, he also understood where Lindon was coming from.
If he knew nothing else, he would have thought the same way too.
For example, there was the famed magic caster of the Empire, Fluder Paradyne. His name was known in distant countries. He was rumored to be able to use magic of the 5th or 6th tier, but to be honest, nobody knew how powerful he really was.
That was because he had never taken part in the Empire’s wars, nor had he used his magic to rout the armies of the Kingdom.
While the 6th tier of magic was impressive, exactly how impressive it was remained to be seen.
Gazef felt that way as someone who had survived countless battles as the Kingdom’s Warrior-Captain.
The nobles were not magic casters, but had only been told about magic as part of their education.
Many of the Kingdom’s nobles thought little of Fluder, thinking of him as nothing more than a posterboy for the Empire’s propaganda. The nobles who had little contact with magic-users like adventurers were even more likely to think that way.
Count Lindon was one of them. To him, magic casters were little more than street performers. Of course, the priests he turned to when he was sick or injured were a different matter.
“…I don’t think that’s quite right. They can be quite hard to deal with if they use ‘Flight’ spells and attack with area-effect magic. It’ll still be troublesome even if they just attack from a distance. Of course, professional magic casters won’t do things which don’t benefit them. Still, the Empire’s alliance with Ainz Ooal Gown is just too strange. They wouldn’t go this far if he was a simple magic caster, so we had better stay on our guard.”
Those severe words were spoken by Margrave Urovana, whose head of white hair and wrinkled face conveyed the stern dignity of a senior individual. As the oldest of the six Great Nobles, he was a clear contrast with the young Count Lindon. Every word and gesture of his made the Count nod in reluctant agreement. However, the one opposing him was Marquis Bowlrob.
“Hmph! Who’s this Ainz Ooal Gown? Like Lindon said, what can one man do? If he flies, we’ll shoot him down with bows. The same if he attacks from far away. What can one magic caster do?
Those stories of magic casters who change the battlefield by themselves are just that, stories!”
“…I beg your pardon, but isn’t it possible that some of the stories which bards sing of heroes might be true?”
“I believe that the Warrior-Captain-dono is not in possession of all the facts. The bards exaggerate the facts to fuel interest. After exaggerating the facts, the stories are well-removed from reality. This is only made worse as bards spin tales gleaned from other bards, given that oral traditions are prone to distortion.”