After a day of rest following Ryan's strategic briefing, Karad and Tulas began organizing their forces. Ryan had designated the troops as the Bretonnian Northern Army, with Karad as commander, Tulas as his deputy, and Belial as both the political commissar and the head of the Ughol Regiment.
Noble dukes across Bretonnia promptly sent their finest, newly formed infantry regiments to join Ryan's campaign. These units, each numbering between 300 and 500 men, were composed of soldiers who had participated in major campaigns like the Eight Peaks and Albion. Clad in full armor and bristling with weaponry, these disciplined veterans created an awe-inspiring sight, exuding an air of deadly purpose that bolstered Karad's confidence.
Predictably, maintaining such a force was costly, but Ryan's treasury was deep, and the army's size manageable. Over time, Bretonnia's nobles had come to recognize that, although the kingdom's strength lay in its cavalry, a capable infantry force was equally essential. They were willing to share the expense.
The first to arrive were the Boars of Brionne—infamous among the ranks and despised by Duke Theodoric, who detested their unruly behavior and resented their disdain for his rule. Despite his dubious reputation, the duke had recently reclaimed a measure of respect by defeating the vampire pirate lord threatening his duchy. An uneasy truce was reached: the Boars agreed to participate in the war and recruit freely from among Brionne's freemen, provided they returned if the duchy faced grave danger.
Next came the Paladins of Parravon—infantry renowned for their mountain warfare and precision shooting, armed with rifles and hard-hitting crossbows. They were followed by Bordeleaux's Manann Guard, the Unicorn Guard of Quenelles, and Bastonne's Red Dragon Guard—all elite forces seasoned in numerous battles, prepared to face any challenge.
Once these regiments assembled, Karad turned his attention to the mass of questing knights sent from the southern duchies.
Bretonnian questing knights were generally characterized by three traits: boundless youthful zeal, a tendency to act impulsively without regard for orders, and a lack of skill in defensive warfare. They relied on a single powerful charge to carry them to victory, but if that charge failed, they risked a complete collapse of morale.
Having been recently prohibited from disrupting the autumn harvest, the questing knights had found themselves idle, leading to brawls, contests, and fervent quests for recognition. Frustrated, the nobles eagerly sent them to Karad, relieved to have them channeled into a productive cause.
Within days, over 5,000 questing knights and their squires arrived, eager to prove themselves. Though overwhelmed, Karad ultimately managed to select around 1,000 knights after a strict screening process and began the march northward along the canal.
In September, the season of harvest, Karad, Tulas, and Belial stood on the deck of their transport barge, watching the bustling activity along the Landuin Grand Canal. This recently completed marvel connected the kingdom's southern and northern reaches, providing an essential artery for goods and commerce. On either side of the canal lay lush farmland, with villages, towns, and castles dotting the landscape.
"This is only the first phase of construction," Tulas marveled. "It's a miracle—Lady's gift to Bretonnia!"
"Indeed," Karad agreed, admiring the bustling waters. "Thanks to the canal, transportation costs have fallen dramatically. The river now irrigates vast stretches of the kingdom, and dozens of towns and hundreds of villages have sprung up along its banks. It's the kingdom's lifeblood."
"A project of this scale requires unparalleled vision and determination," Tulas remarked. He gazed at the clear autumn sky, watching geese migrating southward. "I still don't know how His Majesty devised the concept of debt for the Eight Peaks and the canal bonds."
"Great men are often incomprehensible," Belial replied. Wearing his Bretonnian military uniform adorned with his Kislevan general's medal, he cut a peculiar yet imposing figure. Behind him stood a heavyset Kislev officer with an uneasy expression. "This is General Merezkov," Belial introduced. "I appointed him as deputy commander of the Ughol Regiment."
Karad extended a hand, which the Kislev officer timidly shook before retreating a step. "An honor, Lord Karad, Sir Tulas."
Belial allowed himself a sardonic smile. Merezkov's once-illustrious career had ended abruptly when the Cheka arrested him following the catastrophic Winter War, accusing him of collusion with Chaos. Imprisoned and brutally tortured, Merezkov lost a leg in captivity and was forced to bear the blame for the war's failure.
But Belial, needing a competent military mind, arranged for his release through bribes and favors. Merezkov, grateful and broken by his ordeal, now reported to Belial with absolute loyalty, tempered by hard-earned humility.
Karad quickly recognized Merezkov's sharp tactical mind and felt a pang of regret at the Kislev queen's short-sightedness. How different things are under Ryan's rule, he thought, where even talents like these can thrive rather than rot away in dungeons.
The journey took a week, and upon reaching Mousillon's Grismori River, Karad absorbed the Coldstream Guard and the Chiroux's Pride Regiment of Lyonnesse into the Northern Army.
Mousillon's engineers, led by the formidable Urbahn, outfitted the army with 24 artillery pieces, including eight solar rocket launchers, eight dwarf organ guns, five heavy cannons, and three specialized mortars. Urbahn had improved the mortars' accuracy and shrapnel effectiveness, reducing the risk of collateral damage.
Additionally, Urbahn provided the force with fifty long-barrelled Dwarven rune-rifles. When he saw his former cellmate, Merezkov, he burst into laughter, his eyes tearing up. "Belial, are you planning to relocate the entire Cheka prison to Bretonnia?"
Belial chuckled. "If I do, it'll be in stages. There's only so much I can handle at once." Urbahn, having found a place to freely practice his craft, was instrumental in transforming Mousillon's factory into a hub of production, innovation, and rapid development.
With their force now numbering 6,000, the Northern Army continued its journey northward.
As they passed through the northern reaches of Mousillon, former Lyonnesse territory, the army was stopped by a ragtag group of armed villagers.
At their head stood a burly man clad in an Empire cuirass, a crossbow and shield on his back, a sword at his hip, and an iron helmet atop his head. He called out, "Sir Grail Knight! Sir Grail Knight! Please, wait!"
Karad reined in his elven steed, signaling his men to halt. "Who are you? What's your business here?"
"We're freemen from Mousillon," the burly man replied, his face lighting up when he saw Karad's armor. "Are you the legendary Earl Karad, hero of a thousand battles, liberator of Mousillon, the warrior who vanquished the mad Duke Merrowyn?"
"Yes, that's me," Karad replied. "Do you need assistance, or do you have a report?"
The freemen cheered in response, and Karad noted that over a hundred villagers had gathered, all equipped with weapons. Belial frowned. "Lord Karad, time is of the essence. Perhaps we shouldn't delay."
"No harm in hearing them out," Karad replied, and Belial reluctantly held his tongue, recalling that his role was to support Karad, not control him.
"Lord Karad, are you marching off to war? Take us with you!" the leader of the freemen exclaimed eagerly. "We want to serve the kingdom, too! We missed the chance to join the Albion campaign, but we heard that some of our fellow freemen were knighted and even admitted into the Coldstream Guard!"
"Yes! Let us fight, Sir Grail Knight!" the others echoed. "We want to join the Coldstream Guard! And if we prove ourselves, we might even join the Old Guard someday!"
"We want to rise above! Lord Karad, please take us with you!"
Their fervor was unmistakable as they looked at Karad with eyes ablaze, waiting for him to give the command that would allow them to enlist.
Karad couldn't help but laugh at the irony of the situation. Before Ryan's reforms, peasants would have done anything to avoid conscription. Now, with pathways to wealth and social advancement available, even the commoners were eager to enlist. Ryan had given him authority to knight up to five soldiers for exceptional service during the campaign.
"I'm afraid we're not here to recruit," Karad announced, shaking his head. "Your duty to the kingdom is to see the harvest through. That alone is a great contribution."
"But we've already finished the harvest!" the freemen protested. "Every one of us here gathered because our crops matured early. When we heard an army was passing through, we rushed over. Let us fight!"
"No, no, we're here on a mission!" Karad insisted. "That's an order! Now, clear the road."
Grumbling in defeat, the freemen grudgingly stepped aside, though their leader couldn't resist a parting shot. "Some knight you are—won't even give us a chance to serve! We'll remember this, Karad!
When you're back, we'll demand a fight!"
Karad chuckled, muttering to himself, The kingdom's people have changed.
The Bretonnian Northern Army continued their march, their shining armor and banners heralding the kingdom's resolve. They marched toward an uncertain horizon, poised for the unknown perils that awaited them. Meanwhile, somewhere far to the north, the dark clouds of war gathered.
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