The next morning, outside Fran City's massive northern gate, the originally open square was packed so tightly that not even a drop of water could pass through. Voices roared everywhere, and the scene was utterly chaotic.
Most of the noble youths from various families, preparing to head to their respective territories, were mounted on lavishly decorated horses. Yet they were all yawning nonstop, clearly unaccustomed to getting up so early.
Lorenzo Visconti and Jasper Waters were among them, complaining to each other about the Northern Territory's cold and the misery of rising early.
The most eye-catching sight, however, was Cyril von Eichberg's enormous and luxurious carriage.
The young master of the Eichberg family had not shown his face at all. According to his tearful-looking servant, Young Master Cyril had once again partied at some tavern until dawn the previous night. He was impossible to wake at the moment, so several strong servants had wrapped him in a blanket and carried him into the carriage. He was currently snoring like thunder inside.
As for the servants, guards, and slaves brought by the nobles, the sight was even more appalling.
The groups from the different families were mixed together, with no formation whatsoever.
The soldiers gathered in groups of three or five, chatting and bragging, their armor worn crookedly.
The slaves had been casually driven off to one side, crouching like livestock with dull, lifeless eyes.
The carriages and oxcarts carrying luggage and supplies were parked haphazardly. Arguments and shoving had even broken out over the better spots.
The din of noise, curses, and livestock cries blended into one cacophony. This looked nothing like an army about to head to the front lines and begin its campaign of development. It was plainly just a noisy, chaotic rural market.
Karl's transport convoy and his troops had been deliberately assigned by the Count to the very rear of the enormous procession.
That had been the Count's intention. He hoped Karl could follow at the back to "hold the line" and provide support along the way.
After all, given the marching speed and discipline of Karl's troops, if they had been placed at the front, they would have left this rabble far behind within a few hours. Karl could only accept the arrangement helplessly.
Just then, Roland suddenly pointed toward the city and exclaimed, "My lord! Look! The Count really did assign ninety cavalrymen!"
Karl followed his voice and looked over. Inside the city gate, Count Rochefort was riding toward them in person.
He was still wearing his imposing governor's uniform, his expression calm and composed.
Following behind him was the dashing Charlotte. Today, she had changed into a gleaming cavalry breastplate, while her long golden hair was tied behind her head, making her look capable and spirited.
Behind her were exactly ninety elite cavalrymen. Their helmets and armor gleamed, their ranks were orderly, and they radiated a murderous air.
The appearance of this force instantly made the rabble outside the city look even more wretched.
Charlotte's gaze swept across the crowd and quickly found Karl at the rear of the procession.
She smugly raised her chin at him, her azure eyes filled with the boastful message, See? I did it!
Karl felt greatly reassured, and gratitude surged through him as well.
He removed his hat and gave a solemn bow in the direction of Charlotte and the Count.
No matter how brilliant yesterday's tactical analysis had been, everything depended on the Count actually being willing to give him these ninety elite cavalrymen.
The Count arrived at the front of the clamorous procession. Looking at the chaotic scene before him, he drew his brows tightly together, his disgust plain on his face.
He took a deep breath and filled his voice with force. It rolled over all the noise like thunder:
"Silence!"
His powerful presence and authority instantly stunned the entire crowd. The din quickly subsided, and everyone instinctively turned to look at the Count.
The Count swept his cold gaze over the crowd and announced several orders in an extremely concise, unquestionable tone.
He roughly divided the marching order, though it would probably fall apart again soon; emphasized basic discipline; and appointed Charlotte Rochefort as the temporary commander of this march, granting her the authority to handle all emergencies.
Finally, he said in a deep voice, "...The Northern Territory is not a place for you to indulge yourselves. Conduct yourselves accordingly. Open the gate!"
The heavy city gate was slowly pushed open, revealing the vast wilderness beyond.
At the command, the chaos that had just been suppressed erupted once more.
The various family groups scrambled to be the first out of the city, as though getting ahead by one step would somehow grant them a huge advantage.
Carriages, oxcarts, soldiers, and slaves were crammed together, refusing to yield to one another. Curses and shouts urging them onward rang out, and the gate passage was immediately blocked so tightly that not even a drop of water could pass through.
Fortunately, the Count had anticipated this. His guards and the cavalry under Charlotte immediately moved forward, striking without ceremony with their sword scabbards and driving people back with their horses' hooves. They forcibly separated the disorderly crowd and barely maintained order, allowing the procession to leave the city slowly and chaotically, one group after another, like toothpaste being squeezed from a tube.
Karl and his troops were at the very back, quietly watching the farce unfold before them.
Only after every other group had squeezed through did he lead his orderly troops through the gate as the final group.
As he passed the Count, Karl once again gave him a solemn military salute from horseback. Everything was conveyed without words.
The Count looked at him and merely nodded slightly without saying anything, though his eyes seemed to hold a little more complicated anticipation.
As soon as they left the city gate and reached relatively open ground, Charlotte tugged on her reins and rode over to Karl's side.
Her face wore the smug satisfaction of someone who had completed a mission, along with an expression that seemed to say, "Hurry up and praise me." Lowering her voice, she said to Karl, "Well? I said I'd do it, didn't I? Ninety people, every one of them the best cavalrymen under my father! You can rest easy now, right?"
Looking at her proud, triumphant appearance, as though she had just won a battle, Karl could not help laughing.
He said sincerely, "Thank you so much, Charlotte. Without you, I really wouldn't have known what to do. You helped me tremendously this time."
After receiving Karl's affirmation, the smile on Charlotte's face grew even brighter. She waved her hand boldly. "It's nothing! Come on, let's see whether your 'premonition' is actually accurate!"
Before you continue