On the first of June, the Border Knights marched and set up camp all day.

The flags of the Banner Captain, the Knight Commander, the division, the Grand Master, as well as those of the Pope, nobles, and various family crests...

Among the expanse of canvas tents, these colorful flags fluttered in the wind.

Near the foot of Dusk Bell Mountain, part of the Red Iron Mountain Range, was truly unfortunate.

Groups of peasant soldiers swung axes, chopping down all the trees on the mountain for flagpoles, tent supports, and fuel.

Outside the range of the spring cannons, on Crow Feather Hill, the nearest and most suitable hill, seventeen Knight Commanders and the three leaders met once again.

The three leaders sat in front of the stump of a century-old oak tree, on which was placed a map drawn by their scouts.

The Knight Commanders formed a semicircle, craning their necks to look at the map.

Banner Captains came to report one after another, compiling intelligence information.

"The east side is all marshy wetlands, with only a narrow clearing, practically offering a target for the spring cannons."

The Grand Master stroked his chin, meaning the defenseless eastern fortress outskirts could not launch an attack.

This means they couldn't use a multiple-front assault tactic to wear down the morale of the castle's defenders with superior numbers.

The northern battlefield was not wide to begin with, and those disgusting fortifications, even if attacked, would only allow a few thousand to engage at a time.

"The estimated garrison inside the castle is three thousand men, with about two thousand outside the castle, flying the banner of the Imperial Guard. The Battle Commander is the cousin of that Demon Monk Horn, named Dass."

"Could it be the Demon Monk himself?" the Priest-in-Charge suddenly looked up.

"Probably not, Horn is either in the ry Court Barracks or at the Damp Dock right now," Knight Commander Cosme shook his head, "Our battlefield here is nowhere near as important as Hotam County, so why would he come here?"

Two thousand Border Knights being forced into inaction by five thousand Holy Alliance troops? The Grand Master pinched his brow.

"Besides the soldiers under the castle, there are at least a thousand in the Dusk Bell Mountain nearby," remarked a young Knight Commander, picking at a pustule on his chin, "We captured two prisoners and interrogated them; they were garrisoned at the various outposts before.

These people were once mountain folk from the Thousand River Valley Region, skilled in archery and mountain warfare. We are all mounted fighters, and without horses, we can't outrun them in the mountains."

The Grand Master's hand stopped pinching his brow, but the veins on his forehead throbbed violently.

This meant that besides being unable to use the mountain path to reach the defenseless southern fortress outskirts, some forces had to be diverted to deal with the harassment from the mountain folk.

Otherwise, they would need to deploy a large number of troops into the mountains to search every step of the way, gradually clearing out the mountain folk's strongholds.

But that would be too time-consuming, attacking Ladan Castle could take nearly two months.

The Grand Master wasn't worried about King Jiji, dragging it out would bankrupt him, and he could just run back home.

His main distrust was toward the Shattered Stone and Thorn Garden nobles.

The Shattered Stone nobles were already hit by floods, with hardly any surplus grain left in their noble houses, still mainly supported by the Church.

These unholy destitute nobles might start clamoring after supplying military provisions for two or three weeks.

The Thorn Garden nobles had a lukewarm relationship with the Border Knight Order, and they still had to supply their lord's army.

The grain transport route from Ladan Castle to Thorn Garden was so long, losses would be extremely severe.

If due to a lack of supplies, they were routed by the Holy Alliance infantry within Ladan Castle, that would be a disgrace.

Furthermore, the Grand Master also worried, if time drags on too long, will it turn into another Battle of Malenpo?

The Count Dretta who presided over the Battle of Malenpo is mentioned in history—not in a good way.

Emmerick did not want to follow in his footsteps.

After analyzing the situation, not only was Wacław red with embarrassment, Cosme was frowning, even the always composed Grand Master Emmerick couldn't help but curse:

"The opposing general is truly despicable. If he is a man, he should settle the score on the battlefield. These petty tricks, shameless!"

The Knight Commanders all chimed in, cursing in agreement.

This group of high-ranking Knight Order officials cursed for a full five or six minutes before gradually quieting down.

Cursing only provides emotional value, it doesn't solve any problems; ultimately, they had to consider how to respond.

The first question was whether to fight or retreat.

In the past, the Grand Master would lean towards retreating despite the shame.

But now, he knew this was absolutely impossible; no one would agree.

They'd come all the way from Bear Chomping Castle, putting in so much effort!

Even if the Grand Master proposed a retreat now, the Border Knights below would definitely not agree.

The Grand Master himself was holding in a lot of frustration.

Just like Horn relying on the Holy Path to consolidate the social consensus and ideology of the Thousand River Valley Holy Alliance, the ideology of the Border Knight Order is the shared honor of the Knight Order.

The Border Knights will do their utmost to uphold this "honor," or else the entire Order faces the risk of collapse.

"Since we're going to fight, what would you say is the best way to do it?" The Grand Master looked around.

The Knight Commanders bit their lips, scratched their heads, some looked up to the sky, others down at the ground.

"Speak up, weren't you talkative just now?"

However, the only response to the Grand Master was silence after silence.

In the end, it was still Knight Commander Cosme who couldn't stand it anymore: "Before, we should have rushed in regardless; we gave them too much time to prepare."

"Well, time doesn't reverse, just tell me how we should fight," the Grand Master tugged on Cosme's arm, "You are the Knight Commander, I'm listening to you."

"Since we can't retreat and the clever ways are all blocked, I'm afraid we have no choice but to attack head-on." After saying this, the Knight Commander looked up at the Knight Commanders.

The Knight Commanders being looked at turned their heads away, not daring to meet his gaze.

A frontal assault means casualties, casualties mean a reduced number of troops, reduced troops mean diminished power of speech.

But if they don't fight, they were unwilling as that would undermine their authority over the lower knights.

The Grand Master knew this long ago, and he sighed: "Draw lots then, let the Holy Father decide."

......

"How's the Border Knight Order responding?" Inside the castle's training ground, Horn donned cloth armor, practicing swordsmanship and breathing techniques with the instructor meticulously.

"They've sent quite a few scouts patrolling nearby, seemingly looking for weak points, while the rest have set up camps separately at Dusk Bell Pass and Crow Feather Hill." Liosmi respectfully replied from the sideline.

Stretching out his palm to halt the spar with the Holy Armor Forbidden Army, Horn took off his helmet: "Any news from André?"

"Before June 5th, the wooden walkway will surely be completed."

"Good." Horn didn't trust André's character but had great faith in his ability.

Horn's design for this battle was consistent, a war of positions, a war of attrition.

He knew Falan was planning to attack Windmill Land, and he knew the Norn people had their eyes on the gold and silver mines of Thorn Garden.

With the administrative ability and expenditure of the Leia Kingdom, supporting such a massive army is unsustainable, even with the Pope's Treasury.

Ginijis didn't want to drag things out, but Horn insisted on dragging things out with him.

It's not really about being a coward, but based on the comparison of enemy and our strength and the execution of strategic objectives.

Just like the current Battle of Ladan Castle.

Objectively speaking, the impact ability and mounted combat ability of the Border Knight Order were indeed stronger than the Holy Alliance, and they outnumbered Horn.

Numbers could sometimes be an overwhelming advantage, otherwise, why would Horn tirelessly expand his army?

Moreover, Horn wanted to minimize casualties, so a defensive counterattack was the best tactic.

"André's arrangements are set; we can't lag behind here, don't prepare a feast only for the guests not to show."

"I suspect they will attack boldly; without a thousand casualties, they won't retreat; there's no trophy yet!"

"Suspicions are not facts; we don't know if the Border Knights will attack, so we have to find a way to find out." At this, Horn instead fell into contemplation.

Liosmi looked at Horn thinking and didn't dare to interrupt. After waiting five or six minutes, he braced himself, speaking softly: "Your Majesty, the matter in Rapids City..."

Hearing Rapids City, Horn's expression also slightly changed. The current situation in Rapids City was another counterattack by the old forces against the Holy Alliance.

Such a tug-of-war would continue and occur many times; he was mentally prepared long ago.

As for the countermeasures...

"I've sent a letter, asking the Black Snake Bay Federation to dispatch military police and tax inspectors to stand by, no need to worry." Although not at ease at heart, Horn's face showed a smile, "André is politically sharp and responsive; credit him for a merit."

Only then did the hearts of several Corps Commanders and staff monks settle down.

Liosmi pounded his chest, waved, and was about to take leave, with Bether following behind Liosmi.

"Bether! Stay a moment."

"Your Majesty?"

"You said, the Border Knight Order values honor above all, right?"

"Yes... Ah." Halfway through the sentence, Bether felt the knight's honor warning him.

This Saint's Grandson, on the battlefield, never had any bottom lines!

Seeing the smile at the corner of the Saint's Grandson's mouth, Bether knew his ominous premonition was about to come true.