Chapter 97: The Mercenary King and the Madwoman 4

Witnessing Münster’s castle being overwhelmed in an instant, smug smiles formed on Mansfelt and Christiane’s lips as they observed the unfolding scene.

“As expected, they crumble without offering any meaningful resistance.”

“Of course. No matter their numbers, it was impossible for such hastily assembled rabble to oppose us. Their struggle amounted to naught but futile thrashing.”

Not only were the mages overwhelmingly outnumbered, but the combat experience between the two sides was worlds apart.

Neither had the defenders devised any particularly resourceful strategies – relying solely on their modest wall fortifications for a situational advantage.

From the outset, there was no prospect of Mansfelt’s defeat. Hence, as one who avoided unnecessary peril, he had pursued this engagement without hesitation.

Moreover, the potential Imperial reinforcement variable need not concern them at present, as Maxim had already revealed.

Observing the castle’s gradual destruction amid billowing flames, the pair savored their assured victory. Then Mansfelt broached a different topic:

“So then, what are your intentions hereafter? Münster may have fallen, but resistance will only intensify going forward. We cannot simply continue pillaging indefinitely.”

Though they had amassed tremendous wealth plundering the Palatinate domains, and would gain further riches from Münster and its environs, their army was not invincible. The territories available for plunder within the Holy Empire’s vast realms were finite.

The regions they could directly threaten remained ambivalent middle-grounds, cautiously avoiding firm allegiance to either the Heretical Alliance or Imperial causes.

However, as Mansfelt’s menace escalated, these areas would inevitably gravitate toward one side or the other – steadily diminishing their potential hunting grounds.

Yet Mansfelt also recognized they could not occupy any single location.

A raging fire loses potency when deprived of fuel to consume, eventually sputtering out.

Were they to settle anywhere, the surrounding lords would undoubtedly unite external powers – whether the Heretical Alliance or Imperial armies – to eliminate this undeniable threat.

Aware of Mansfelt’s concerns, Christiane revealed the solution she had already devised:

“Have no worries on that account – I have given it ample thought.”

“Oh? And what did you have in mind?”

As before, Christiane offered prudent counsel – prompting Mansfelt’s anticipation as he inquired further. With an ominous smile, she explained:

“Doubtless, our recent deeds will turn most forces within the Holy Empire against us. Yet simultaneously, there are those who now seek an alliance with our cause precisely due to this situation.”

“What do you…! Surely you don’t mean…”

Mansfelt’s eyes widened as he grasped her implication.

Observing his reaction, Christiane’s sinister grin deepened as she elaborated:

“If we lack allies within the Empire, we need but look beyond its borders. To the neighboring realms bordering the Empire, we appear a wild steed rampaging unchecked through its domains. If properly tamed, they will surely perceive great value in unleashing us to further their ambitions within these vast territories.”

“I see… A compelling notion. So then, which patron did you have in mind? The neighboring Kingdom of Frantzis? Or perhaps the nearby Lorund region?”

“Heheh, while those powers may prove useful, we have an even better prospective benefactor in mind. One to whom the Holy Empire has already extended an enticing opportunity – they merely await the chance to seize it.”

Referring to an entity she had been cultivating for some time – one sharing ambitions rivaling their own – Christiane was convinced they could facilitate their next move.

She was about to reveal this individual’s identity to Mansfelt when…

“Kawoooosh!”

“!?”

“What…what was that?”

A sudden, deafening explosion rent the air – shattering the pair’s casual observation as startled bewilderment consumed their features.

Certainly, the din of cannon fire and magic clashes were commonplace on any battlefield.

Yet this eruption did not originate from the Münster castle they had been observing.

The blast had sounded from their flank.

Amidst the dense shrubbery and trees…

At this very moment, forces Mansfelt and Christiane had never anticipated began emerging.

“Th-That couldn’t be…”

“General Spinola! And General Tilly too! But how…how are they here?”

Unexpectedly ambushed from an unanticipated quarter, the Imperial armies appeared – their wearied expressions betraying the arduous passage through the impeding woodlands.

Yet Mansfelt keenly recognized the dire peril this development heralded.

Though on the cusp of breaching Münster’s defenses, his troops were currently arrayed for the final assault – their main force hotly engaged within the castle itself.

Already outnumbered by the Imperial armies, this dispersal of Mansfelt’s strength proved catastrophic, filling him with shock and dread.

Even Christiane, for once, could not muster her usual mocking smile.

“Damn it! Immediately signal our main force’s withdrawal! Sound the horns – order our troops inside Münster to rejoin us at once!”

“U-Understood, Lord Mansfelt!”

“You men, follow me! We cannot allow the enemy to disrupt our formations!”

Though normally avoiding full confrontations against superior foes, Mansfelt found himself utterly cornered.

Not only were they within the enemy’s striking range, preventing retreat, but the bulk of his troops were scattered inside and around Münster – retreat was simply impossible.

His only recourse was to somehow stall the Imperial armies with everything he had until his main force could regroup.

“Damn…I shall join the fray as well! Soldiers, follow me!”

“Yes, milady!”

Heeding Christiane’s order, her guards hastened after her.

Thus, Mansfelt and Christiane’s personal retinues charged forth to meet the surging Imperial tide crashing into their ranks.

“Die, Imperial curs!”

Channeling his magical might into his blade, Mansfelt unleashed a torrent of ebon lightning toward the advancing infantry.

The obsidian bolt instantly struck down scores of soldiers with harrowing lethality.

“! Uu…uaaah…”

Unable to even voice their death throes, dozens collapsed lifelessly where they stood – slain in a single brutal strike.

The brazen charge faltered momentarily against Mansfelt’s devastating sorcery.

Seizing the opening, he and his men counterattacked the stunned enemy forces.

“Stop them! We are Mansfelt’s invincible mercenary band!”

Bellowing those defiant words, Mansfelt and his elite guards scythed through the battlefield.

Yet in that moment, an unbidden thought consumed Mansfelt’s mind – the visage of a certain individual he could not dispel:

‘To think I would be so grievously blindsided… This is why one must never blindly trust others. That wench Maxim, the archbishop… To dare betray me in such a manner? Even if I perish this day, I shall show you the depths of hell first!’