The nursing corps at the Rambouillet Center, newly organized by Ariadne, worked surprisingly well.
These people, mostly in their late teens and early twenties, learned much faster than expected and, above all, were very motivated.
The first place she deployed the Rambouillet relief team was a monastery on the outskirts where the Black Death had broken out.
It was easy to dispatch someone because it was a place under Cardinal de Mare's influence, and it was also a place that had to be quickly resolved in order to preserve Cardinal de Mare's position.
In addition, it was suitable as a first job site because it was located at a certain distance from the surrounding residential areas. And the investment was a great success.
“...I didn’t know you could do this well.”
“Ahem! Who taught you that!”
Sancha, who became the idol of the relief center, half-jokingly laughed.
“But I feel really proud.”
Sancha confessed shyly.
“Actually, even I didn’t have high expectations. The training period was short and... That’s what happened.”
Although she beat around the bush, the defeatism within the Rambouillet Relief Center was something that Sancha was most familiar with.
They already have a sense of defeat, a sense of despair that nothing will change no matter how hard they try.
Although Sancha pretended to be hopeful in front of the people at the relief center, she naturally thought that this time too, apathy might win.
“But some kids really follow along quite well. They’re even better than the rest of our family. Some kids stand out.”
It seemed like Sancha had already created her own inner circle.
“Really? Who does that job so well?”
“Well, I have a friend named Greta who’s fourteen, and a thirteen-year-old boy named Monte. They’re both quick-witted and full of energy.”
Ariadne listened to the names.
If he was a good child, she would not only help resettle him outside of the Rambouillet Relief Home, but she would also bring him into the de Marais family and raise him as her own.
“Watch carefully. You never know who your competitor might be.”
“Yes?!”
Sancha protested with her eyes wide open.
“Isn’t I the only person you have, Miss? Is that all our affection ends here?”
“A person who is good at his job is good. The winning side is our side.”
Ariadne laughed bashfully and teased Sancha.
"Miss!"
Even though it was a joke, it was understandable that Sancha would be nervous, because the nursing unit from the Rambouillet Relief Center did a really good job.
So much so that word of mouth began to spread in San Carlo about the white angels of the Rambouillet relief camp.
Eventually, requests for support came even from snobbish mansions.
“...Miss. I have received a call from Marquis Salvati.”
“Yeah. I got it too.”
At the same time that the Marquis de Salvati sent a request for dispatch to the Albany office of the Rambouillet Relief Center, he also sent a separate letter to Ariadne through his wife, the Marchioness, requesting her support.
If the Marquis de Salvati is asking for the support of the Rambouillet Relief Center, it means that their position is irreplaceable.
The next destination was decided to be the Marquis of Salvati, and Ariadne asked Sancha.
“I guess there were a lot of rumors going around that I was behind this?”
“Is it just a rumor? These days, all they talk about on the street is you!”
Sancha looked at Ariadne.
“When was the time when you were most famous, Miss? That, the incident with the Apostle of Asereto?”
Ariadne agreed with Sancha's words, thinking that it might have been more famous when the scandal broke out between Alfonso and Cesare, but she had no desire to bring up the subject.
"Maybe?"
“I think you’ll get over it soon. Do you know what people call you? ‘The Saint of the Rambouillet Relief Center.’”
“Ugh...”
The Rambouillet Relief Center isn't exactly Ariadne's. The 'Saint' was also strange.
Because Ariadne never once thought of herself as good, holy, or faithful.
“Do you not like the title?”
“...No. Other people give me the name, so how can I decide?”
“You give up quickly.”
“Where is it other than the Virgin Mary?”
Sancha was quick to grasp Ariadne's low expectations.
“Ah. That’s a bit.”
***
While Ariadne's fame was rising to a whole new level in San Carlo, Cesare's holding on to the Pisano estate was also putting up a great fight.
“Since burning down the wheat fields last week, the Gallico men have been coming in from further and further afield to disturb the land.”
“The Gallicos have started to spread out into small units and run rampant, Your Highness.”
“...Yes.”
After Ariadne's visit, Cesare took her advice and created a small striking force.
These units were formed by dividing 1,500 private soldiers from other territories who had been brought in from the northern region into several groups, and 1,000 or so local residents who had returned to their units one by one when rumors spread that the new Duke of Pisano would pay them in grain.
The unit type is mainly Spearman. It was chosen because it can be taught to a level where it can be deployed in actual combat the fastest.
There was another significance to spearmen. Spearmen were almost the only type of unit that could counter heavy cavalry, excluding crossbowmen.
The heavy cavalry of this era was a walking strategic weapon.
There was even a story handed down that during the First Crusade, Courtenay IV led 600 heavy cavalry into battle and defeated 26,000 Moorish light infantry.
It was a difficult story to hear straight out, but the fact that the story was passed down by word of mouth without being rejected as absurd was an anecdote that clearly demonstrated the power of heavy cavalry.
“Even if you go to Malina, you clear the village and set it on fire. Dig a pit in front of it to make a trap, and then pile up sacks of wheat.”
Cesare pointed to the map with his finger and gave instructions.
“The spearmen... are to hide in the surrounding bushes and send only a few hunters to lure the Gallico men.”
"All right!"
Since they couldn't win head-on, the strategy was to set a trap and wait.
The pits dug by the Etruscan army were filled with sharp wooden skewers.
Once you fall into the trap of chasing Etruscan raiders who mistake you for a remnant, you are unable to escape on your own, and then a spearman appears and slams his long spear down from the air.
This was the operation prepared by the Duke of Pisano, who was very determined.
The light cavalry sent by the northern territories, even with their souls gathered, were no match for the heavy cavalry of Gallico.
My top horse will not compete with another's top horse, especially when the quality of my horse is poor.
This was also a secret plan suggested by the future Duchess of Pisano.
The light cavalry was instead to patrol the rear as a scout and capture Gallico's food supplies coming down from the north.
“Let’s see how well it sells.”
Cesare looked down at the map, his eyes shining. He felt confident that everything would turn out well.
***
Boom!
“Does this make any sense!”
Philip IV was so angry that he smashed his tin cup on the marble table.
“You want me to just listen to the story that my army is being slaughtered in an Etruscan village while you’ve sent me three of the best divisions of the Gallico army, a total of 16,000 men?!”
The messenger from the heavy cavalry had nothing to say other than bowing deeply.
“You little rats!”
Philip's trembling hands crumpled the parchment into a ball.
The momentum was so fierce that even Princess Auguste was so frightened that she could not stop her brother.
He reviewed the contents of the parchment, which he had read at least three times.
The story was that the Etruscans were blocking their food supplies, raiding intermittently, and using geographic points to set traps to lure the Gallico army.
Food aid sent from the home country was also being repeatedly confiscated.
Already, over 300 cavalrymen had been captured or killed. The losses were severe.
“He is the King’s illegitimate child, but he is acting like someone of low birth!”
But nothing changed even if he tried to denounce the cowardly and ungentlemanly strategy of striking from behind. Philip gritted his teeth.
“Yeah, let’s say my stuff turns out like that. Do you think there’s no way out for me?”
He called his servant with his eyes wide open.
“Hey, listen!”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
“Tell the captain of the knightly regiment in Montpellier: Stop playing along to the rhythm of the foolish farce at the border, and gather your ranks and advance into the Etruscan interior!”
The courtiers who understood the implications held their breath. In an instant, tension filled the main hall.
All-out war.
If they were to advance across the border to the mainland, it would likely lead to an all-out war between the two kingdoms.
While no one dared to try to stop him, Princess Auguste reminded Philip IV of one fact in a very soft voice.
“Brother.”
Philip looked at Auguste with raised eyes.
“I have heard that the Black Death is raging in the Etruscan kingdom. I am a little worried that if we advance inland, our army may be infected with a terrible disease.”
It was the most moderate expression of opposition, leaving out all sensitive issues such as whether a declaration of war would be in line with international comity.
But that alone made Philip's facial muscles twitch with anger.
All the subjects in the palace, including Auguste, bowed their heads in fear.
Will it explode? Or won't it explode?
Fortunately, the King, who was trembling, regained his composure and gave orders in a calm voice rather than shouting.
“It is up to the commander’s discretion.”
The story was that he would do whatever he wanted, so his subordinates had to cleverly avoid the Black Death.
But no one in the kingdom of Gallico could add more to Philip's story.
“Damn it!”
***
Philip IV's decision provoked an immediate reaction in the Etruscan kingdom.
“This, this...!”
When Leo III heard the report, he trembled so much that he almost fell from his throne.
“How dare you... How dare you, little Philip, who has not even dried blood on his head..!”
The heavy cavalry of the Kingdom of Gallico was advancing south. Leo III was horrified at the ingratitude of his former nephew.
He hadn't done anything special for his nephew, but it was right for the younger brother, to respect him. But, how dare he!
“Send an envoy to Trevero immediately!”
Trevero was where the headquarters of the Holy See was located. It was intended to appeal to Pope Louis.
“Who will you appoint as your envoy?”
If it were normal, Count Marquez, who was in charge of foreign affairs, would have gone to do it, but now he was so busy responding to the war that he couldn't get out.
The same was true of the Marquis Baldessar, who was worthy of consideration because of his friendship with Cardinal de Mare.
“Ha... There is no one. I will appoint Count Rinaldi.”
“Yes, Your Majesty!”
The King's secretary, Sir Delpiano, gave the answer as it should be, but he was doubtful whether Pope Louis would side with the Etruscans even if Count Rinaldi was sent.
In any case, it was Philip of Gallico who was the 'moneymaker' of the Crusades in which the Pope was most interested, and not Leo the Etruscan.
“Issue a mobilization order throughout the country! Tell the lords to send 10,000 soldiers to the capital for Dukes, 5,000 soldiers for Marquises, and 3,000 soldiers for Counts, depending on the size of their fiefdoms!”
Again, it was unknown how effective this would be.
“I will send the messenger immediately.”
He can't promise that the military will come, but he can promise that they will send a messenger. Sir Delpiano bowed deeply.
***
Leo III's series of actions returned to Cesare at the border like a butterfly effect.
"What?"
“...Where should we house the soldiers?”
“No, before that. Did I hear you correctly?”
“This is a personal letter from His Majesty the King.”
Cesare did not like reading very much.
Although he preferred to receive reports orally whenever possible, when he couldn't believe what he heard, Cesare had no choice but to read it with his eyes.
“You want me to lead 7,000 soldiers and stop the Knights of Gallico?”
It was the moment when the title of 'Commander-in-Chief of the Etruscan Kingdom', which Rubina had so longed for, was awarded to Cesare.
However, Cesare himself, who had accepted the poisoned chalice, wanted to throw everything away and hide in a secluded seaside.
“1,500 are the reinforcements sent from the north, 1,000 are private soldiers from the Pisano territory, and 4,500 are new soldiers sent from the capital.”
Leo III had a grand dream of conscripting 5,000 men from each duchy, but this was not easy.
He was only able to gather 3,000 people from all over the country.
The remaining 1,500 were the Metropolitan Guard sent by Leo III.
Although they were no match for Gallico's Montpellier Heavy Cavalry, they were the best-trained heavy cavalry in the Etruscans.
“...His Majesty the King has shown humanity. That is the worst thing.”
For Leo III, the 1,500th Guards Cavalry Regiment was all he had available—albeit a generous number—after deducting the number needed to defend the capital.
Leo III, who supported Cesare with such great determination, would definitely demand tangible results.
“...But whose nose are you putting this on?”
The problem was that it would take 15,000, not 1,500 knights, to stand a chance against Gallico's 16,000 elite soldiers.
Cesare asked the messenger, chewing his lips helplessly. He could taste blood in his mouth.
“Apart from this, is there anything else His Majesty the King has said?”
How should the formation be, and where should the battlefield be? Cesare felt like he wanted to grab onto even a shred of hope.
But the messenger answered confidently.
“His Majesty only said, ‘Victory!’ Ah.”
The messenger hastily added as if he had forgotten something.
“I have one more thing to tell you. This is a message from Duchess Rubina.”
Prince Cesare rubbed his temples, which were already aching.
“I believe, my son!”
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