Proposal

By three in the afternoon, the fighting had largely ceased. Most of the France troops were busy scavenging for spoils, but Vitus remained atop a low hill, watching everything before him with indifference.

According to his plan, the infantry should have pinned the England forces while the cavalry flanked from the rear, which would have nearly annihilated the enemy. However, those reckless and impulsive cavalrymen had disrupted the operational plan, significantly diminishing the results.

At this moment, Arthur rode up to his side. "Fortunately, the enemy arrived in a hurry by ship and lacked cavalry and artillery; this was truly a hard-won victory. Goodbye, Mr. Doukas, I shall wait for you in Bordeaux to share a drink."

Vitus was incredulous. "Bordeaux? What are you planning to do?"

Arthur lifted his visor. "I made arrangements in advance to have a portion of our soldiers follow the retreating enemy into Bordeaux. Once they secure the city gates, I will lead the cavalry in a rapid assault; perhaps we can seize the city."

With that, Arthur led over two hundred cavalrymen northward, followed by a large number of Scotland light infantry. They held swords in their right hands and small round shields in their left, wearing the simplest pot helms. Their torsos lacked iron armor, protected instead by gambesons stitched from multiple layers of fabric, with thick tartan wool draped diagonally over their shoulders.

Unencumbered by heavy armor, the Scotland infantry moved quickly. They jogged after the cavalry and soon vanished from sight.

Vitus did not want to miss this opportunity and led the Tuna Mercenary Group back toward Bordeaux along the original path. By the time the moon hung high in the sky, he finally saw the silhouette of the city walls in the distance.

At this moment, the south gate of Bordeaux stood wide open, with hundreds of corpses scattered outside, and the city was filled with screams and the sounds of battle. Vitus reached the city center along the main thoroughfare and found the Scotland infantry busy hauling supplies.

Suddenly, a Scotland soldier with shoulder-length brown hair and indigo tattoos on his face blocked their path. He gestured for a long time, seemingly trying to say that the city center belonged to the Scotland army and that the Tuna Mercenary Group should find somewhere else.

"On what grounds? Do a bunch of Britain savages dare to say such things?"

The Greece mercenaries clamored, raising their weapons. Some impatient ones even turned their cannons, and a skirmish seemed imminent. Vitus hurriedly stopped them. "Go to the east city wharf; there should be plenty of good things there."

Vitus had guessed correctly. The England fleet had evacuated in a rush, leaving behind much grain, arrows, and weaponry at the wharf. Most interestingly, someone even found the siege cannons abandoned earlier that day in one of the warehouses.

With the heavy artillery recovered, Vitus was in high spirits. He took the ledger to count the items one by one, ordering his soldiers to move the supplies to adjacent warehouses for centralized guarding.

Halfway through the inventory, he stretched and walked out of the room, hearing the noise in the city suddenly increase; he guessed that other friendly forces had also entered the city.

"Marcus, Damien, hurry and block the streets with carriages and wooden planks. This territory belongs to me! If anyone tries to force their way in, open fire!"

After saying this, Vitus walked into the next warehouse, which was stacked with numerous wine barrels, while wooden shelves held many wheels of dried cheese and smoked meat.

"Hmm, what shall I eat?"

Having endured a full day of slaughter and travel, he was famished and began to prepare dinner. First, he used a small knife to scrape the hard rind off the cheese, spread honey on the surface, and placed it in a bread oven to bake over a low flame.

While waiting, Vitus sliced a piece of smoked meat into thin strips, fried them in olive oil, and opened a barrel of wine, pouring a large, full cup. By the time he finished, the cheese had turned a perfect golden-brown. He carried the food out of the warehouse and found the Greece mercenaries outside cooking as well.

The ordinary soldiers' cooking method was simple and crude; they set up iron pots in the open space and tossed in whatever ingredients they could find: river fish, smoked meat, cheese, onions, chickpeas, turnips... all stewed together in a chaotic mess.

Vitus couldn't be bothered to disturb them and sat alone on the jetty to enjoy the night view. The Garonne River flowed slowly under the moonlight, the shattered silver light on the surface trembling slightly with the ripples. After a long while, he let out a satisfied burp, had his subordinates help him remove his heavy plate armor, and found a quiet corner to sleep.

The next morning, Bordeaux, which had been rowdy all night, gradually calmed down. Arthur sent men to maintain order and dispatched a report of victory to Bourges. Vitus flipped through the register, pondering how to handle the spoils.

He found the quartermaster and sold the grain for two thousand Florin. The remaining supplies were difficult to handle; Vitus haggled with the commanders of various units and sold the yew bows and arrows at a discount—after all, the France troops were not used to such weapons and preferred to use Italy heavy crossbows. Left with no choice, he opened an open-air market at the wharf and began selling the goods to the civilians.

Resting until mid-May, Vitus and Piero traveled to Bourges once again.

Compared to the previous month, the court at Bourges was even more bustling, with nobles divided into factions and arguing with one another. Vitus could not understand French, so he guessed to himself:

"It must be about Bordeaux. The region is a premier wine-producing area in Europe and can provide high taxes every year. No matter who the Crown Prince enfeoffs it to, it will draw the dissatisfaction of other nobles."

The atmosphere in the hall grew increasingly restless, and the arguments escalated into a large-scale brawl. Vitus walked outside to breathe some fresh air while waiting for the Crown Prince's summons.

At ten in the morning, Piero was called into the inner hall by an attendant. A while later, he walked out with a gloomy face. "This is too insulting. Do they really think I can't do math?"

Vitus: "Didn't reach an agreement?"

Piero suppressed his anger and kicked the grass at his feet. "The Crown Prince proposed to enfeoff me with a barony in the Normandy region (northern France, currently controlled by England) on the condition that the Rotten Herring Mercenary Group serves him, with all expenses covered by me personally.

This is a joke. If the Crown Prince doesn't pay wages, I would have to use my personal savings to pay them, occasionally plunder nearby villages, and then take out loans from Italy bankers. I doubt I could last a year."

Next, Piero calculated the economics in detail:

The annual salary of an ordinary mercenary is 12 Florin, and veterans with certain skills can earn 15 or even 18 Florin. For a mercenary group of one thousand, the total annual expenditure is estimated at twenty-five thousand Florin.

The war between England and France is nowhere near an end; calculated over five years, the total cost would be one hundred twenty-five thousand Florin.

An ordinary France barony has about 5 to 10 villages and 2,000 to 5,000 subjects. After deducting management costs and tributes, the lord's annual income is about one thousand Florin.

In this light, even if Piero miraculously held out until the end of the war and the Crown Prince was willing to honor his promise, it would take him at least one hundred and twenty years to earn back the cost!

Vitus reminded him in a low voice, "If you die in battle, the matter of the title will be forgotten, and the Crown Prince will have lost nothing."

Piero sighed. "That is why I did not accept the title. I am leaving for Italy tomorrow; I never want to stay in this godforsaken place again."

After waiting a few more minutes, Vitus was granted entry into the inner hall. The Crown Prince offered him a higher price, willing to enfeoff him with a viscounty under England control, on the condition that he pledge allegiance to the House of Valois and cover the expenses of the Tuna Mercenary Group.

Just that?

Vitus ranted wildly in his heart: "I have no ties to France, so why should I pay out of my own pocket to fight? The Eastern Roman Empire has a pile of troubles waiting to be dealt with; I'm in no mood to play charity here."