Chapter Seventeen, Ethel Fortress

Twelve Magic Crystal Stones turned to dust, and the mysterious compass in his mind only solidified slightly. Its specific function remained unknown.

Clearly, this bit of magic was far from satisfying the appetite of the big eater, pushing Hudson to the brink of collapse. If his physique hadn't slightly improved, he would have given up already.

Since his cheat system was unusable, Hudson had no choice but to continue proceeding with extreme caution. He set up camp and waited for the various factions within the alliance to gather before setting off again.

Looking at the dazzling array of banners, and then at the haphazardly arranged teams beneath them, Hudson didn't know how to comment.

He thought his own side was bad enough, but he hadn't expected to find even worse. Within the entire alliance, apart from two or three teams that were barely presentable, the rest were trash among trash.

After a silent comparison, Hudson realized that in terms of strength, his own ragtag bunch could actually rank in the top five within the temporary alliance.

This wasn't because of their combat strength, but mainly due to their sheer numbers. While conscripted under the same decree, different territories bore different military obligations.

When all were ragtag groups, naturally, the one with more people was stronger. Hudson, who had intended to slack off, never dreamed that his own side would become an "ace force" in the alliance.

This was awkward. With such a motley crew, whether they were going to quell the rebellion or provide cannon fodder for the rebels, no one could say for sure.

It could only be said that there were too many smart people in this world. Upon sensing something was amiss, they all chose to preserve their strength.

When a group of smart people gathered together, the result was the grand spectacle of "ragtag groups converging" that he was witnessing.

With slacking off becoming the norm, those who honestly mobilized became the outliers. Of course, "outlier" wasn't a derogatory term here; everyone "respected" those who had put their all into it.

When choosing allies, honest people were naturally better. Including Hudson, all the nobles tacitly began their flattery.

Their true thoughts didn't matter; in the upcoming war, they would be the "muscle" of the alliance.

Of course, Knight Chels, as the nominal leader, was also part of the muscle. However, he was individual muscle, while the others were collective muscle.

It was just that Chels was poor.

Vast amounts of wealth had been poured into the bottomless pit of magical research, naturally leaving no funds for military development. Even the guards meant to impress were conscripted serfs; the military strength of his territory was just himself.

Among all the nobles' private armies, Chels's troops were the worst. They were equipped with bamboo spears, and not a single piece of armor could be seen.

It would have been fine if the equipment was bad, but the soldiers themselves were a bunch of misfits. Their scattered formations made it clear they had never been trained.

Mortals feared comparison. Under the backdrop of his allies, Hudson suddenly found his own army to be an "elite force."

At least in terms of marching formations, the Coslo Family's contingent was the only one that maintained its formation. Unlike other nobles' private armies, they had to search for stragglers every time they set up camp.

With so many more teammates, their marching speed naturally decreased further and further. As the designated assembly time approached, no one seemed anxious.

Since no one was panicking, Hudson was reluctant to be the first to act. The law doesn't punish the masses, and this also applied to the Aslant Continent, especially since they were noble lords.

Under the current political system, nobles enjoyed exceptional preferential treatment. Count Pierce had the ability to punish an individual noble, but he absolutely wouldn't dare to punish a group of nobles simultaneously. If a commotion arose, it would definitely alert the kingdom.

Since ancient times, there had been irreconcilable conflicts between the central government and local lords. How to suppress powerful local nobles was a mandatory course for every king.

For the sake of kingdom stability and power balance, successive kings had never forgotten to sow discord in the regions. The most intolerable thing was a unified local front.

Under this grand principle, the relationship between powerful local nobles and smaller nobles naturally wouldn't be harmonious, nor would they dare to be too harmonious.

After thinking it through, Hudson suddenly understood the actions of his colleagues. A small commotion, seemingly nonsensical, was actually a manifestation of political wisdom.

Of course, it couldn't be said that everyone was that shrewd. Most people acted this way out of instinct and habit. Perhaps they didn't want to be late, but their low efficiency prevented them from making it on time.

The real directors of all this were likely the higher-ranking nobles. Generations of effort and generations of indulgence had led to the current situation.

If he were in their position, Hudson would do the same. Deliberately creating a situation where local control was not strict was the best way to eliminate the king's suspicion.

However, this situation had changed in recent decades. As time passed, the strength accumulated by local lords grew stronger, and the royal family's advantage was no longer obvious. Various probing actions and small movements had gradually increased.

Of course, these were all Hudson's conjectures. With limited information and insufficient understanding of the upper echelons of society, his conclusions might not be accurate.

Ethel Fortress, with the arrival of Count Pierce's army, had become the command center for the rebel-suppressing army and also the front line blocking the rebels' westward advance.

Leading from the front was a manifestation of chivalric spirit. Although Count Pierce did not personally lead the charge, he still personally oversaw the command on the front lines.

After days of defending the city, Count Pierce was also weary. Plans never changed faster than reality. He had initially thought the rebels were just a rabble and not worth worrying about, and wanted to profit from the chaos, which allowed the rebels to grow stronger.

He hadn't expected the Skull Society to pull off such a major move. First, they massacred all the nobles in Dadir City, and then the rebel army quickly swept through the countryside.

Before Count Pierce could react, the rebel army had swept through the territories of Wright and Whitton, with their forces pointing directly at Beda.

The territories of Wright and Whitton were one thing; most of them were fiefs of other nobles, affecting only a few unfortunate vassals. Count Pierce could afford the loss.

But Beda was different. It was already the core fief of his Dalton Family. If it fell into rebel hands, the losses would be immense.

As a last resort, Count Pierce had no choice but to issue a conscription order and personally lead his army to meet the enemy, defending at Ethel Fortress.

"Where are the reinforcements from the nobles, and how long will it take them to arrive?" Count Pierce asked with a frown.

It wasn't that the Dalton Family feared the rebels, but war ultimately involved casualties. The rebels currently outside the city were clearly not ordinary foes. If they engaged the enemy head-on, even if they won, the losses would inevitably be heavy.

In this world of the jungle, strength was fundamental. If the Dalton Family's strength was significantly weakened, who knew how many hungry wolves would pounce.

To minimize his own losses, even though he had the strength to defeat the rebels outside the city, Count Pierce chose to hold his ground and not sally forth.