Chapter 419 You Should Be Called Bishop Mizam

The tapping of the cane on the saddle made a slight echo, and Mizam nodded slightly to Arman, unable to hide the joy and approval in his expression.

"I must offer my congratulations to you. After this battle, I think His Royal Highness will trust you more because of your outstanding contribution."

Baroness Marika successfully intercepted the Savior Army's high-speed marching troops, and her side successfully defeated the Savior Army's right wing.

Although the enemy only had two squadrons left, still struggling to hold on with the aid of horse-drawn carriages, defeat was only a matter of time.

Mizam had thought it would be a fierce battle, but now it seemed the tide had turned.

The other side really couldn't stand it anymore and decided to leave their position and fight them quickly, which ended up exposing a huge flaw on the right wing.

The Salvation Army originally had about 10,000 people, and one-third of them were killed in one go, and the camp was also lost.

At least what Mizam could confirm was that since they had not appeared at this time, it meant that they had the complete upper hand.

"It's my duty, Father Mizam." Alman, who exuded a strong smell of blood, showed his big white teeth. "It was my soldiers who won the victory with their courage and blood. God bless me, I just pointed the way."

"Sir Arman, Prince Condé often said that the greater the ability, the greater the responsibility. I wonder if the position of a duke or a border marquis would be more in line with your ability?"

"Hahahaha, Father Mizam, you are joking." Arman licked his lips knowingly. "With your ability, the position of a county bishop is too small. How could I have a chance to get it before that?"

"Hey, this is something that only the Holy Lord can decide. How can I have any say in it?" Even Mizam, who usually does not show his emotions, couldn't help but curl up the corners of his mouth. He took out a piece of paper and handed it to Arman.

"This is?"

"I have written my victory letter. Please take a look and confirm it. Then I will send it out."

Alman received the letter and glanced at it quickly. He could only say that Mizam was too comprehensive. Even the work of carving the text was done quite well.

"Impeccable." Arman handed the letter back.

The two of them divided the results of the battle tacitly in just half a minute, and then turned their attention back to the battlefield.

After all, a big victory, a small victory, and a tragic victory are all the same in Mizam's letter, but they are very different when it comes to the follow-up work afterwards.

"How is the war going now?" Considering that he was a novice, Mizam was reluctant but still handed over the specific command of the battle to Alman.

"The right wing of the Salvation Army collapsed, leaving only some civilians and two squadrons. These two squadrons are really good. They can retreat in an orderly manner after such a fight. If we can persuade them to surrender..."

"No." Mizam flatly refused, "They are the Savior Army. The prince will not allow it."

"Okay." Arman smacked his lips. After all, Mizam represented Prince Condé and the church, and he couldn't afford to offend him.

"What should we do next?" Mizam waved his hand. "The Savior Army is probably blocked by Marika's troops. They won't be able to arrive for a while. Is it too late for us to change the formation now?"

"It's too late. I tried, and it takes them at least half an hour to change their formation. Is that a joke?
After our oblique attack, our formation has changed from a straight line to an arc. Don’t get entangled with these fleeing soldiers. Send two large square formations of infantry to suppress them, and the main force will stay alone…”

Arman suddenly stopped talking, turned his head, listened attentively, and his expression gradually became serious: "You said Marika has entangled the Salvation Army?"

"correct."

"When was the last time you and Marika informed each other of their locations?"

Mizam said nothing, and Arman's eyes immediately turned to Count Comar.

Count Koma's teeth chattered. "We didn't agree. According to common sense, she should have informed Reverend Mizam or you about the situation."

"I didn't receive any notification." Arman shook his head.

Mizam realized something was wrong: "We heard continuous gunshots..."

Arman ignored the etiquette and grabbed Mizam's hand and asked, "The frequency of the gunfire is wrong. They were firing at intervals. Why is it so chaotic? And it's getting closer and farther. When did the gunfire change? Do you remember?"

“After we walked out, it kept ringing, but when we passed by, we saw them fighting with our own eyes.”

Count Coma seemed to remember something: "But after a few loud noises, the frequency of the gunfire decreased. It should be that time."

"Wait, you mean, after a few loud bangs, the frequency of the gunshots decreased?"

"Correct."

"After it was lowered, you didn't send cavalry to investigate, but just walked over here?" Mizam asked blankly: "No, I sent knights to check, and they all said that the battle was still going on and it was in full swing."

"Which knight?"

"A few hedge knights, who are they?"

No one had ever seen Arman, who was always elegant and gentle, make such an expression.

His mouth was tightly pursed, and there seemed to be invisible snot under his nose. Arman kept wiping it with his fingers, and it was almost on fire from the friction.

The other hand was placed on the back of his head, scratching it hard as if he wanted to make it bleed.

There was a dizzying ringing in his ears, and Arman was already feeling a bit numb before he even engaged the lightning witch.

There is no way those mercenary knights would go deep into the battlefield. They value their lives very much, and it is common for them to make up false information when they are forced into a corner.

They are just wandering knights. They just run away when they haven't fought yet. There is no need to risk their lives.

The local knights of Lower River County should be asked to investigate. They can escape, but the knights cannot escape the manor, and they are the most willing to do dangerous tasks.

But Mizam chose to let the local knights of Xiarefu guard the camp and let the mercenary knights go to the most dangerous places to gather intelligence.

Why would one make such a low-level mistake?

Arman pulled his hair in annoyance.

Mizam's overly reliable image usually confused Armand, and he even forgot that he was a priest who had never independently commanded a war!
He should have thought of it earlier. Mizam was just a strategist. He was best at giving advice, but he couldn't lead an army independently.

He may be extremely clear about what fonts and sentences to use in documents, can talk eloquently about lofty strategies, and can create a battlefield that is absolutely suitable for strategic operations.

But he knew nothing about these most basic battlefield details!
Almen gritted his teeth and took a deep breath: "You guys, go in that direction immediately, and blow the horn when you meet the Saviors..."

Before Alman could finish his words, a sharp-eyed knight pointed at the black smoke and shouted, "Look, look over there."

The earth slope that was originally covered by black smoke was now gradually emerging from the smoke because the fire was extinguished.

There were more than a dozen dark figures standing upright on the hillside, with the red flag with a horse-headed man emblem representing the Alco family fluttering in the wind.

Seeing that the other side had discovered them, the dozen or so Kush knights immediately turned back and disappeared in the black smoke.

"Stop them!" Mizam, who vaguely knew that he had made a big mistake, had a ferocious look on his face. He sat up from his horse and shouted, pointing in that direction.

A team of knights immediately broke out from their camp and rushed towards the slope.

Before they had rushed out a few steps, they felt the air flow around them begin to fluctuate violently, the grass leaves made a rustling sound, and black smoke rolled up across the battlefield.

This sudden and unnatural wind swept in, and many people couldn't help but raise their hands to shield their faces to prevent the black smoke from being blown into their mouths and noses.

"Cough cough cough—" Coughing violently, Mizam put down his hands that were blocking the wind.

Although the black smoke on the battlefield has not yet dissipated, the black smoke within a hundred meters in front of the Savior Army and behind the Church Army has dissipated a lot.

"what--"

Dozens of flames rose up from behind him, and the wind blew the corners of Mizam's clothes. He stood there blankly, his soul seemed to be drained out of his body.

Ten infantry corps of the Salvation Army stood in an extremely neat array behind the twelve large infantry squares of the Church Army.

The spears were densely packed like a forest of steel, with the black barrels resting on the hard breastplate and shoulder armor.

Between the black smoke and the mountains in the distance, a row of war monks filled all vision.

The Hussars and the Norse Knights were not in the legion, and it was probably them who were fighting with the Lower Rifo Knights in the smoke at this moment.

Jeanne and Horn rode on Radish and Grape respectively and stood at the forefront of the army. Next to Jeanne's saddle was the head of Countess Marika, which was smashed by a gear leather cannon.

Horn's face was pale, his lips were cracked and colorless. He occasionally looked up, and occasionally looked down in confusion to fiddle with the electric gold pendant in his hand.

Arman's throat had never been so dry.

(End of this chapter)