Chapter 257: Reason for Not Coming

Vittorino Denis was the Viscount of Hornspire and a Silver Knight.

Last month at the noble assembly held at Wushan Castle, he not only attended in person but also declared he would lead his elite troops to campaign against the Poltar bandits.

Ronin had not expected the man to be absent, so he sent someone to inquire—and learned the reason:

It was said a massive sea beast, a seven- to eight-meter-long swordshark, had suddenly breached into Denis Harbor, ravaging merchant vessels over recent weeks and claiming dozens of lives.

To resolve the harbor crisis swiftly, Viscount Denis had embarked with his elite knights aboard a warship to slay the creature—only to have its razor-sharp fin pierce the hull, causing the vessel to slowly sink.

Had the swordshark not grown overconfident and leapt onto the sinking deck, where Vittorino and his men unleashed a furious barrage that finally killed it, the outcome might have been far worse.

Though they won the battle, Vittorino and his elite knights were all wounded—especially the viscount himself, whose thigh had been torn clean by the beast’s fang, leaving him bedridden in the castle.

Clearly, he could not join this war against the Poltar bandits.

Nor could the elite knights who had suffered grave injuries alongside him in that sea battle.

To defeat a fifth-rank sea beast like the swordshark—just hearing of it sent chills down the spine.

Yet to Ronin, there was likely far more fiction than truth. He even suspected the swordshark had never existed in Denis Harbor at all—that this was merely Vittorino’s excuse to avoid combat.

He sighed. The viscount’s absence meant two high-tier combatants were suddenly lost to their side.

But what could he do?

Could Ronin ride a dragon all the way to Hornspire just to verify whether Vittorino was truly confined to his bed?

Even if he did, and found the viscount hopping about as healthy as ever, he had no authority to command him to the battlefield.

Ronin was merely the battlefield commander; off the field, he was no more than another viscount of Wushan Castle, equal to Vittorino.

Besides, Hornspire was far more prosperous than present-day Wubei.

Still, though Vittorino and his elite knights could not join this war, to demonstrate Hornspire’s loyalty to Wushan Castle, he had dispatched a force of three hundred men—arriving on schedule in Stonehold.

Ronin did not yet know their true combat strength, but their numbers were unquestionable—the largest contingent among all noble reinforcements.

Compared to Vittorino, other nobles were anything but generous.

Setting aside the bankrupt Baron Conner, who brought only three men, the rest of the barons and knight-advancers brought at most thirty or fifty—most barely managed a dozen or two.

Ronin, mounted on his Cloudstrider, stood atop a high ridge, gazing at the haphazard, scattered camps of the nobles outside Stonehold City, and frowned.

Could such a ragtag alliance even fight?

A swift horse galloped up. Rognar dismounted and approached Ronin to report.

“My lord, I’ve inquired under your authority as commander. The leader of the Hornspire contingent is Mahamet Leuf, a knighthood-granted knight of Viscount Vittorino—Bronze-rank.”

“He has two mid-rank knights, five low-rank knights, and the rest are infantry and archers—all commoners. No cavalry.”

A Bronze Knight was decent enough, but the rest? Barely passable.

“Rognar,” Ronin asked, “why do you think Viscount Vittorino refuses to join this war?”

Ronin had his suspicions, but he wanted to hear an outsider’s perspective.

Rognar hesitated, then slowly voiced his thoughts: “He believes there’s nothing to gain here—the more he invests, the more he loses.”

“Elaborate. Why does he think there’s ‘nothing to gain’?”

Rognar gave a wry smile. “This likely has to do with your father, Count Viggins.”

Then he laid out his full reasoning.

In short: whether Viscount Vittorino or Marwen or Germain—anyone with even half a clue—knew that Count Viggins held a share in the Red Mountain iron mine.

If Wushan Castle reclaimed Red Mountain Town, it would never again entrust its management to Corien.

And given Viggins’ nature, he would almost certainly claim the Red Mountain iron mine—or even the entire town—for himself.

At this, Ronin couldn’t help but sigh.

Vittorino and the others were no fools—they’d read Viggins’ intentions perfectly.

The only difference? Viggins didn’t want the town’s management rights—he was too lazy to run it himself—and planned to hand it to Ronin.

Under these circumstances, the valuable spoils available to the noble reinforcements became severely limited.

In the end, some nobles might only plunder battlefield loot.

As for intangibles—gaining military experience, enhancing reputation, expanding influence—they were hollow rewards. For minor nobles, gold was far more tangible.

If the lion’s share wouldn’t fall to them, and the scraps were negligible, why risk their elite?

Better to draft peasant conscripts, slap a few knights on top, answer the call, and earn a little applause.

As for why Marwen and Germain weren’t so cautious? The reasons were obvious.

Marwen’s second son, Rognar, served under Ronin—who commanded this war. As a father, Marwen naturally wanted to show support for his son.

As for Germain? His children’s lives had been saved by Ronin, and at the banquet, Ronin had eliminated Raisen, Germain’s hidden enemy. Out of gratitude, Germain would naturally send more men.

“So in the end, the core of this war will be the three knightly orders of Wushan Castle, combined with the forces of Wubei, Pasture City, and Lake Town—roughly a dozen small knightly detachments.”

“A dozen knightly detachments are more than enough, my lord,” Rognar said. “The enemy likely fields no more than one knightly order. We hold the advantage.”

“Perhaps.”

Ronin waved his hand. “You’ll need to notify the commanders of these forces. Since they’ve all arrived in Stonehold, from tomorrow onward, they’ll march together. After we enter Stonehold City and meet with Toru, Corien, Philip, and the others, we’ll convene a council.”

“Your will is my command, my lord!”

Ronin had entrusted this liaison task to Rognar precisely because he knew so many people—unlike Macken, Ridal, or Joffrey, who were provincial and inexperienced. That was Rognar’s advantage.

Ronin returned to his tent and summoned Ridal, Macken, and Elron.

This war would force Wubei’s elite forces to reveal themselves at last.

But for the iron mine of Red Mountain—it was worth it.

(End of chapter)