Chapter 178: The Witch Behind the Mask 5

The Holy Imperium army’s encampment, housing a vast force of 50,000 troops, buzzed with activity – soldiers preparing for battle intermingled with merchants peddling their wares.

“Charcoal here! Prime quality for forging sturdy weapons. Buy a piece at a bargain price!”

“Rat patties for sale! A tasty snack to stave off hunger pangs!”

From assorted tools to snack fares, the merchants offered a diverse array of merchandise – transforming the military campsite into a veritable marketplace.

Disguised as merchants themselves, Baiken’s group discreetly gathered intelligence through casual interactions and conversations.

Feigning haggling while inquiring about local affairs, or ingratiating themselves with drinks to loosen tongues – they employed established reconnaissance protocols.

“Wallenstein, you mean? Not a name widely known, but from what I’ve witnessed, the man is destined for greatness. Why, the likes of me already follow in his wake.”

“I hear that when Wallenstein swings his blade, the very earth splits asunder. An archmage, so they claim – unfathomably powerful, without a doubt.”

“Formidable though he may be, his two subordinate generals arguably surpass even him – the holy knight Otto Kaiser and the archmage Hestia Flamer. I’ve yet to lay eyes upon them, but their might is reportedly extraordinary.”

“Tilly and Wallenstein, I’m told, maintain a rather strained rapport. Only recently, they feuded over command of their merged forces.”

While accounts from common soldiers often harbored embellishments necessitating judicious filtering, certain realities emerged clearly.

Wallenstein’s personal combat prowess ranked at the archmage tier as an absolute minimum. Moreover, his two subordinates were likewise formidable adversaries by no means to be underestimated.

‘Three archmages at the very least when including Tilly…’

‘Truly befitting the imperial forces… Even before arriving, I had suspected this would prove no simple clash.’

Baiken keenly understood the overwhelming might archmages wielded, having witnessed it firsthand at the White Mountain.

Monstrous beings beyond the comprehension of even superior mages like herself.

While her father Count Tuahn, a 7th-rank mage, could potentially hold his own against such foes, defeating one in direct combat remained an impossibility.

Yet despite this strategic disadvantage, Baiken harbored cautious optimism regarding Bohemia’s prospects in this conflict.

At first glance, the Emperor’s 50,000-strong host, bolstered by potent arcane assets, exuded an aura of irresistible might – enough to instill despair in any opponent.

However, closer examination revealed their situation far direr than outward appearances suggested.

‘Over half the soldiers appear malnourished, little more than skin and bones… Some even afflicted by sickness, coughing incessantly…’

Through treaties with the Dragonian Empire, Bohemia and the Heretical League had secured ample provisions despite the continent-wide famine.

Thus, Baiken and her comrades had scarcely registered any palpable crisis upon hearing the widespread crop failure reports plaguing other realms.

Only by venturing beyond Bohemia’s borders could she fully grasp the severity of this deprivation afflicting the imperial forces.

The destitute troops starved, while the merchants’ own circumstances appeared scarcely better.

Basic commodity prices exceeded Bohemian levels by three to fourfold, with foodstuffs so exorbitantly priced as to be virtually unobtainable even for those possessing funds.

The scarcity was so acute that even rat meat – typically a beggar’s last resort – remained unsold due to unavailability.

Wallenstein’s contingents seemed comparatively well-provisioned and their morale intact, exhibiting visible loyalty towards their commander.

Yet Tilly’s beleaguered forces presented a starkly contrasting plight – their condition so wretched, one could scarcely recognize them as the invasion force that had once menaced Bohemia.

Rumors also circulated of emerging disease outbreaks within the camp, compounded by the apparent discord between Tilly and Wallenstein as they vied for overall command despite their dire collective straits.

Beneath the imposing exterior lurked fissures and vulnerabilities great and small within the imperial ranks.

Meticulously cataloging these observed flaws, Baiken proceeded with heightened vigilance.

‘If I relay these findings to Santana, he may devise an effective stratagem. Of us siblings, his mind remains the keenest…’

Having garnered sufficient military intelligence, Baiken then adjusted her line of inquiry towards the paramount objective motivating her presence.

“A captured noblewoman, you say?… I’m afraid I haven’t heard any such rumor.”

“Prisoners from Bohemia? What era are you referring to? If it’s that ancient battle at the White Mountain, then spare me.”

Met largely with dismissive responses from the rank-and-file soldiers, Baiken had harbored scant expectations of gleaning substantive leads from such sources in the first place.

General atmospheric impressions and broad situational overviews, perhaps – but the clandestine abduction of a single noblewoman seemed unlikely to permeate common infantrymen’s awareness.

A resigned sense of disappointment tinged Baiken’s features as she began resigning herself to this avenue’s futility.

‘I suppose it was overly optimistic to expect news of my sister from this place… Especially considering over a year has elapsed since that fateful incident…’

Resolving to depart and convey her findings to Santana, Baiken’s intentions wavered as an unexpected utterance reached her ears:

“Damned Santana Andreas… If not for that wretched bastard, we would never have fallen to such depths…”

“…?”

Halted by that vehement cursing of her brother’s name, Baiken turned towards the voice’s source – two inebriated holy knights drowning their sorrows in liquor, their disarray evident.

Piqued by this unprovoked invocation of Santana’s name, Baiken instinctively pricked her ears to better discern their drunken ramblings.

“Give it a rest already. That business was years ago. This one always gets like this when she’s had a few too many.”

“Shut yer trap! You’ve no idea how foul my mood is right now! If not for Santana…hic…I’d be luxuriating in Milan instead of this shithole! Argh, damn that bastard! Next time I cross paths with Santana, I’ll slaughter that son of a bitch without hesitation!”

“Sigh Soon enough, His Majesty shall purge these heretical filth from our lands. Then we can eliminate Santana and his entire wretched brood, so be patient until that joyous day arrives.”

“No! I’ll kill him myself! That damnable Santana!…. My blade, right now…I’ll…hic!”

Though merely the inebriated ramblings of sots, their inflammatory words regarding Baiken’s family struck an acutely discordant chord within her being.

Already rendered hypersensitive following her sister’s disappearance, these brazen threats against her kin ignited a fury Baiken could scarcely contain.

‘Very well… On such missions, it’s not untoward to acquire a prisoner or two for interrogation…’

As the drunken knights’ tirades devolved into slurred mumblings preceding unconsciousness, their lofty rank as holy knights suggested a higher likelihood of possessing valuable intelligence.

Moreover, their chosen spot beside a concealing thicket proved conveniently isolated.

Rationalizing her personal indignation with pragmatic justifications, Baiken summoned her subordinates and prepared to initiate her detainment operation.