Under the dense fog fortress, the gargoyles turned into rubble and scattered all over the ground. The kobolds crawled out of the gully fortifications again and gathered the bodies of their dead companions.
Also under the fortress, the swordsmen and shieldmen of the noble army used the cover of the stone wall to peel off the armor of their fallen comrades, took away their weapons and equipment, and also retreated silently.
The blood is like embellishment, making the battlefield red.
The nobles realized that the demon archers under the 'Man-eating Demon' were very powerful, and soon discovered that their opponents did not have an advantage in the air. However, the exchange ratio between the two sides was really ugly.
Fifty-seven sword and shield wielders who had been trained for many years, plus a wizard apprentice, were exchanged for eight kobolds on the opposite side. This is really not a commendable result.
After losing the first battle, Farrell decided to retreat to the camp. Of course he hoped to win in one battle, but if he couldn't, he wouldn't be impatient and would just fight slowly.
Upon returning to the camp, Farrell immediately wrote a letter to Friedman Butcher, the chief commander of the Northland noble coalition and the patriarch of the Butcher family, who was stationed in the rear, describing the current battle situation in detail.
The letter reads:
"We are currently in a very embarrassing situation. There are no longer any untouchables who can be captured as hard labor in the border areas. They have all gone to Victor Hugo's territory.
Our farmland is uncultivated, but the enemy's farmland is not delayed. As long as Victor Hugo grits his teeth and survives this summer, the food harvested in the autumn will be enough to meet all needs.
Our food can survive this year, but it will definitely not survive next year. So we must attack this year, otherwise all the territories will collapse on their own.
We must force the cities in the North to devote more manpower and material resources to launch a decisive battle against Victor Hugo. Judging from the conditions of today's first battle, the enemy is fully prepared. This will definitely be a war with heavy casualties. But we have no choice.
"
Farrell wrote a long letter, detailing his worries and current situation. He hoped to persuade Friedman to personally lead the army forward and join the battle.
The letter was written, dripped with wax, and stamped with the family ring on his finger. When he asked his wizard to deliver the letter, Farrell sat in his tent, hating his own slow response.
Victor Hugo started building a fortress on the border last winter, and he actually completed it. Although the northern nobles also started building it, it was too late.
The Fog Fortress was repaired, and the war took place in the territory of the nobles. Cold Wind City can continue to engage in production and construction, and continue to train the army. Judging from the information sent back by various spies, Victor Hugo's methods of squeezing the people are better than those of the nobles.
And fierce.
But the poor ghosts in the North are still running towards Cold Wind City. Entering Cold Wind City is like entering paradise. They are willing to work for the "man-eating devil", planting farmland, building equipment, and enlisting in the army.
The reason is very simple. Without the exploitation of the nobles, Victor Hugo squeezed them even harder, and the living standards of the lower class people still improved significantly.
The amount of food they eat every day has greatly increased, not to mention the improvement in medical security and personal status. Last winter, the poor found that their chances of freezing to death were greatly reduced.
If things continue like this, Victor Hugo will really be able to defeat many enemies without fear of siege. If the nobles don't attack him this year, he will take the initiative to attack them next year.
"No wonder this guy is unwilling to make any compromises with the Northland nobles." Farrell closed his eyes slightly and sorted out the current situation in his mind, "With such a commanding ability, it is natural to expand externally. Who would be on an equal footing with others?"
The Cold Wind City side looks like they are defending, but in fact they are attacking. The Northland nobles look like they are attacking, but in fact they are desperately defending.
Farrell came with more than 2,000 troops from Shitan Town, fifty kilometers away. This is the maximum logistical limit that the wizards with the army can maintain. Only a thousand men can be safely defended in the dense fog fortress. .
Attack requires more troops. Farrell's more than 2,000 troops are not enough. At least 5,000 are needed to offset the opponent's defense and equipment advantages.
The letter was delivered to Stone Beach Fortress by the wizard's familiar, climbed into the fortress's newly built spire, passed through the complicated attics and corridors in the tower, went through multiple tests, and was finally placed on Friedman Butcher's desk.
The newly built fortress is not as lavish as the Lord's Palace of Banshee Castle, but the study room in the commander-in-chief's office is still luxurious. Under the illumination of the magic lamp, Friedman checked the magic imprint Farrell printed on the letter and opened it.
There was nothing to say in the letter, and it could only elicit sighs. But while Friedman was reading, the light in the study suddenly became distorted and dim, and a strange body with green scales emerged from the shadows.
The tall six-armed snake demon loomed. It swung its tail, spat out a snake message, stared at Friedman's head, and uttered a mocking voice, "Without external help, you nobles are doomed."
Friedman read the letter word for word and turned a deaf ear.
"There's no need to pretend to be calm. You can't hide it in front of me. I know the heaviness in your heart. You need an army of demons to serve you, and I can provide it for free."
Halfway through the letter, Friedman had already figured it out. He still didn't look up and refused coldly: "You want my soul. This is delusional.
If you want to avenge the hatred of your ancestors for imprisoning you, I won't give you a chance. All I need is that you obey orders and fight for me. You don't need to think too much about the rest."
The six-armed snake demon laughed wildly, and the laughter penetrated the thick walls and vibrated back and forth in the stone beach fortress, "Humans, you always overestimate yourself and underestimate us demons.
Do you really think your ancestor defeated me? For demons, time is just a long journey with no end in sight, and victory or defeat is just a game. If you perform well and make me happy, what if I reward you?"
The body of the snake demon changed with laughter. Her six arms merged into one, the green scales turned into smooth and bare skin, the snake tail turned into slender and powerful thighs, and the body shrank and became bumpy, with only the evil vertical slits remaining intact. Change.
The high-level demon hugged Friedman's thick body from behind, whispered into his ear: "I know you are greedy for pleasure, but you have no idea what true enjoyment is.
For example, the maid next to you is terrible, and her appearance, body, and skills are not worth mentioning.
Do you know about succubus? As long as you nod, I will not only give you a thousand brave and fearless demon cannon fodder, but also let you experience the most wonderful love in the world."
The hands of the snake demon roamed over Friedman's body, teasing his lust. The nobleman's face kept trembling, trying to resist the temptation of the demon's words.
He knew he had to refuse, but his willpower disappeared faster than he imagined. His consciousness was struggling and resisting, but his flushed face and heavy breathing showed his true thoughts.
"Go away..." Friedman roared loudly and pushed the snake demon behind him. He turned around and wanted to curse a few times, but saw the snake demon turned into a weak maid and fell to the ground, looking pitiful. looking at him.
Friedman liked this tune.
The next day..., a thousand lemure cannon fodders were projected from the abyss and joined Farrell's command.