Chapter 203: 203 Episode 202 Weathercock

"Time is not our friend when we cannot expect reinforcements. Even a blink of an eye can become a burden to us.

The voice of Saint Mattia echoed through the great tent. The generals of both the heraldic and Gazarian forces were listening to every word. There was a hint in their eyes that they were trying to figure out who Mattia was. This was especially evident among the Gazarian elves.

No, that's not surprising.

Even though Mattia had led the heralds in the past, that did not necessarily mean that he was a gifted battle commander. In addition, this time, the size of the army is different from the one that Mattia would have led in the past.

In the past, Mattia has probably led at most a thousand men. But now, the numbers are literally different.

Ten thousand troops is not a very good number for a city-state, but it is still not a small number. It is enough to call itself a force. Even the mighty Mattia would not have the experience to lead that many people in a battle for their lives. Mattia's voice sounded a little lower than usual.

Everyone looked at Mattia's behavior. They were trying to determine if she was really worthy of leading this many troops, or if she was just an ordinary fool who would let herself be dragged into a death trap.

And it's not just the saintly Mattia that he's looking at. It's the same for me.

I guess I've been unknowingly placed in a higher seat, closer to Mattia and Elddis. I've been getting stares that seem to stitch my skin to my cheeks and limbs for a while now.

To be honest, it's very uncomfortable. I didn't want to know that people's gazes had pressure even in such a place.

But it's also inevitable. After all, I had received the title of hero and the name of the coat of arms at that ceremony, and it was too heavy. Once a man is celebrated, the more he is expected to do for others, and the more enemies he is likely to make.

Some of the gazes that were directed at me were gazes that assessed me as a person, while others were gazes that contained something close to hostility. It's not like I've done anything wrong.

It's not like I did anything wrong.

In addition, what we need is not just a victory. What we need is not just a victory, but a crushing blow to end this war and break the jaws of the dragon.

That is the hardest and most troublesome thing about this war. The words sounded like a joke from the outside. I could hear the expressions around me harden.

The enemy had almost twice as much strength as we did, and morale was high as they sought to retake Galuamaria.

On the other hand, our morale may not be inferior to theirs, but the difference in the number of troops may be too much for some of them. And the quality of the troops is not as good as it should be. If they are not careful, those who were holding farming tools or nets yesterday may be holding spears today.

Of course, Mattia is aware of this. He understands all this, and yet he says that he must win a complete victory. The general also has his own thoughts, but I think he understands the true meaning. There was no one in particular who would interfere.

In any case, no one thinks that the heraldry can win if it comes to a head-on confrontation with the Garlist Kingdom or the Great Holy Church.

The difference in the number of troops is obvious and the quality of troops and equipment is beyond comparison. After all, as a force, it's a competition between a nation and a city, there's no way to talk about it.

That's why we need to put everything we have into this first battle. In this battle, we must forcibly chew up the advance troops of the Great Saints and teach them that the heraldry is not a force that can be crushed easily and without damage. If you can do that, you can reach out to the noble lords of the non-battle faction and there is a possibility that you can get through this cold season for the time being. In the first place, it is abnormal to attempt to conduct warfare during the cold season.

In short, it is a war that cannot be won, so let's buy as much time as we can. No, that's fine. It's a very backward-looking strategy.

"If there are 20,000 advance troops, the guards haven't come out yet. We'll have a few generals at most. No, that's still a good enough number.

At his side, Kalia's silver eyes flashed as she spoke. You say that so casually, but it must be true. At least I don't remember being in a battle where there were more than a few generals, even when I was a mercenary.

Mattia continues to speak in a resonant voice, but spreads out a large map on the war council table with both hands. Then, as if to remind those around him, he said.

There is the most important place in this battle. A city a few days' ride from here - Philos. This is the city that will determine the outcome of this war.

The words referring to the city of Philos are

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There are many words that refer to the city of Philos, but the most common name for it is weathervane.

The city of Philos is one of a group of cities located in the interstices of power, and the surrounding plains are likely to become the main battlefield in the war.

Therefore, this city has always been in a position where its position is questioned by those around it. Sometimes from the Garlist Kingdom, sometimes from the independent city-states. So, which side are you on?

As it turns out, Philos is a city that has managed to establish itself on the side of the powerful in its time, as the name "Weathercock" suggests. It has managed to become a self-governing city by becoming a worthy ally.

Therefore, the citizens of Philos have a much stronger sense of belonging to the city of Philos than to any other country.

Despite being given the disgraceful name of "weathercock," the citizens of Philos still seek to function as an autonomous city because of this spirit.

And on this day, too, Philos was being asked to watch the flow of the wind. It is as if this is the fate of the city of Philos.

...... Both the Daishonin and the heraldic sects have received a letter requesting their cooperation. What shall we do, Lord Philos?

In the city of Philos, the ruler of the city inherits the name of the city, Philos, from generation to generation. It's been a tradition for so long that I don't even know how long it's been in place.

Philos, the current ruler, slumps into his chair. He let out a deep, loud sigh that seemed to come from the bottom of his lungs. It was as if he was bemoaning everything in the world, wondering why this was happening to him.

"So, what does the Minka say?

Tilting his head, Philos narrowed his eyes. He has an air of detachment about him, as if he already knows what the clerk is going to say.

The clerk's voice trailed off for a moment. The clerk purses his lips for a moment, then slowly lets out his voice.

"Yes, sir. "Yes. As a self-governing city, Philos does not have to give in to one side or the other.

"You really like that word, don't you, Minka?

"You really like to say that, don't you, Minka?" he mutters, propping his chin on his elbow with his palm.

A weak local city like Philos can't possibly get autonomy on its own. The only reason we've been able to gain autonomy is because we've always been dominated by the strong and knelt at their feet.

Yes, the provincial city of Philos has always looked towards the strong. Yes, the local city of Philos has always looked in the direction of the powerful, reading the wind like a weathercock. And in return for its obedience to the strong, it has been granted autonomy. Therefore, it is closer to the idea of an autonomous city rather than an independent city.

The clerk was puzzled by his master's words, but spoke to him as if he were trying to figure out his feelings.

The clerk was puzzled by his master's words, but asked him to consider his feelings.

Considering the path that this city has taken so far, it is only natural. It's only natural considering the path the city has been on. That is how the city has survived until now.

Philos slumped his shoulders in thought and brushed a finger across his lips.

I don't know. I don't know. In a battle between a dragon and a lizard, it's almost as if I know which side I'm going to cling to.

I'm not sure," he said, taking a breath, his eyes narrowing.

But it's not pretty to cling to the feet of a dragon and then be crushed by it.

The eyes of Philos, the current ruler, shine distortedly. I'm not sure what to say, but the words themselves are not very strong, but his eyes are strangely full of confidence.

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