Karl dipped slightly. "Thank you, Count, for the timely warning. If not for your letter waking me up, I might truly have thrown caution to the wind and pursued Harald, seeking that seemingly tempting yet unpredictably perilous decisive battle."
He gave a bitter smile, a trace of self-reflection in it. "The string of victories has not only fired up the soldiers; even I myself, along with the officers around me, have developed a certain degree of underestimation of the enemy. That is absolutely not a good thing. It is necessary to let them calm down after victory, consolidate the gains, reflect on their shortcomings, and prepare for the next, more thorough offensive."
The Count nodded, satisfied with Karl's clear-headed understanding. However, he did not linger long on the matter of the "Northern Sauron." To him, after this battle, Sauron's downfall was already as certain as nails in a board; the only difference was whether it would come this autumn or next spring.
Harald might still be able to linger on for a while by relying on the northern cold and complex terrain, but the tide had already turned. What truly concerned him was the south.
"As for the north, proceed step by step. Harald is already a turtle in a jar; he cannot stir up any great waves." The Count set down his wine cup and leaned forward slightly. His gaze sharpened, and his voice dropped. "We need to use this rare strategic respite to seriously consider how we should position ourselves within the passes."
"Within the passes?" Karl's eyes narrowed. He knew perfectly well what the Count meant—the heartland of the Goldflower Kingdom, that power center which appeared tranquil on the surface while undercurrents surged beneath.
"Precisely." The Count's tone was decisive, with not the slightest trace of evasion.