Chapter 165: Heroes of the Turbulent Era 4

In an expansive open field, numerous soldiers stood armed with pikes, muskets, and other weapons.

These troops, hardened by months of grueling training, answered to their commanding general – Mansfeld, whose resonant voice brimmed with characteristic rugged authority.

“Attention, all forces! On my first command, assume your stances. On the second, level your pikes forward. On the third, charge! Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

Striding amid the ranks while barking strict orders, Mansfeld’s men maintained an impeccable martial discipline.

Observing their transformed state, Mansfeld inwardly allowed himself a faint smile after their months of relentless drilling.

‘Indeed, they have become rather competent. Compared to when we first met, they can now hold their own.’

In the past, a joint Imperial offensive led by Generals Tilly and Spinola had decimated over half of Mansfeld’s mercenary forces.

Fortunately, he had minimized losses among his core mage troops, but the infantry had suffered near-annihilation – crippling for an army reliant on integrated combined arms.

Yet through the intervening years, Mansfeld had largely restored his strength.

‘Truly a fortuitous decision to come to this Märkish realm… As they say, fortune favors a well-matched partner – had it not been for Christian’s counsel, I might never have ventured to these northern lands.’

Recalling that pivotal juncture, the circumstances that had transformed his dire straits resurfaced vividly.

Reeling from defeat by Imperial forces, the displaced Mansfeld and Christian had lost even Christian’s home base of Hilbershtat, leaving them utterly destitute in the war’s aftermath.

As the mercenary commander, Mansfeld had been compelled to chart their course forward.

One option was petitioning employment from the Frantzian Kingdom – a formidable Holy Imperium rival harboring understandable misgivings about the rapidly unfolding internal turmoil.

Exploiting those concerns through deft negotiation could have yielded prospects.

However, Christian had vehemently objected to this notion, adamantly asserting that the Frantzians would never hire them.

“Why do you think so? From what I know, the Frantzian forces are rather undermanned compared to their national power.”

“Yes, that is certainly true. Yet they still have no reason to rely on such a gamble as hiring us. From their perspective, the risks outweigh any potential benefits.”

“A gamble?”

Perplexed by Christian’s unexpected remark, Mansfeld had sought clarification, to which she had calmly elaborated:

“Indeed. Forgive my bluntness, but considering our recent conduct, employing our mercenary band at this juncture would amount to a wager for any lord. We have rather thoroughly burned our bridges, you see.”

“Hmm…”

Though startled by her uncharacteristically sober assessment, Mansfeld could only nod in acknowledgment of the truth behind her “Mad Maiden” moniker.

“The individual who has recently seized power in Frantzian politics – Cardinal Richelieu – is no pushover. While the king himself is reputed as somewhat dim-witted, Richelieu swiftly united the previously fractious Frantzian realm with his exceptional acumen.”

“Richelieu, is it? That name does ring a bell – tales of Frantzia’s brilliant new chief minister. Dealing with a keen mind is indeed no simple feat.”

“Precisely. Such a man has no incentive to enter reckless pacts with us. Our credibility, I’m afraid, leaves much to be desired.”

“Hmm…”

Mansfeld could only nod, for in retrospect, their past transgressions had often overstepped ethical bounds.

Betraying employers, extorting funds from lords – even razing entire estates upon refusal. Only the present chaotic climate had allowed such brazen acts to avoid being branded common criminals.

Under such circumstances, the relatively stable Frantzian Kingdom was unlikely to take the risk of employing them.

Moreover, with the pro-Church Richelieu in power, they would undoubtedly prove averse to openly backing heretical factions.

As Mansfeld abandoned thoughts of Frantzia, Christian had calmly proposed an alternative:

“In my personal assessment, in times like these, our best prospects lie in aligning with an ambitious gambler willing to take considerable risks to achieve their aims. Perhaps someone in the northern Märkish regions.”

“The Märkish regions? Why there?”

Puzzled by the unexpected suggestion, Mansfeld had prompted Christian to outline the underlying political dynamics of the northern Kalmar Union.

She had spoken of the powerful King Gustaf Adolfus and the restive Duke Christopher IV, ever seeking opportunities to break from Gustaf’s dominion.

Particularly, Christopher’s ambitions exceeded his pragmatism – by skillfully appealing to those aspirations, they could potentially secure employment.

“I reiterate – to most lords, we are currently akin to a poisoned chalice. Unless compelled by urgent necessity, none would willingly partake of such risks. Yet for one like Christopher, dreaming of independence from his sovereign, the incentive to grasp our offer remains considerable.”

“Hmm… I see your point. Very well, let us proceed in that direction.”

Heeding Christian’s proposal, Mansfeld’s band had ventured northward.

The outcome, as she had foreseen – or perhaps exceeded her expectations – proved remarkably successful.

With Duke Christopher IV’s steadfast backing and generous support, Mansfeld could rebuild his strength, laying the foundations for a new ascendancy under this ambitious ruler’s patronage.

And now…

Bolstered by his newly reconstituted formidable forces, Mansfeld eagerly awaited his chance to settle old scores, emboldened by Christopher’s powerful backing.

‘Word has it the Holy Imperium suffers severely from this famine. Moreover, that fool Friedrich has handed us the perfect pretext by extending an invitation. Soon, the opportunity shall arise for Mansfeld’s name to once more strike terror across the Holy Imperium…’

He had not forgotten the humiliations inflicted by Tilly and Spinola.

Yet vengeance alone did not drive his zeal for this coming conflict.

In preparing for war, Mansfeld had struck a pact with Duke Christopher IV – should their invasion succeed in expanding Märkish domains beyond the Kalmar Union’s reach, he would be granted a lordship.

‘No matter my accomplishments, I cannot remain a wandering mercenary indefinitely… It is time I secured my future prospects. Especially now that I have found a suitable woman. Perhaps after this war, I shall retire to a quiet life…’