In theory, the Orlando Fortress housed a formidable force of 150,000 soldiers: 100,000 from Lania's reinforcements and 50,000 from the fortress's existing garrison. However, the reality was far less impressive. Only slightly more than half of that number was truly operational.
The 30,000 soldiers gathered from the northeastern provinces under Michael's command had been rigorously trained and were now elite troops. In contrast, the soldiers from the southern and central regions were far less capable. Despite the royal conscription order, able-bodied men had evaded the draft, leaving only the unfit and inexperienced to be sent.
Some foresighted nobles had selected competent soldiers, bolstering the military's strength, and many of these troops had undergone extensive training under Michael upon arriving at the fortress. Unfortunately, many others had not. The situation among the Elonian garrison troops was no better.
Many of the soldiers and knights stationed at the fortress had already perished in prior skirmishes with invaders. Thus, while the garrison was nominally 50,000 strong, the actual number was closer to 20,000. Michael's available forces now totaled approximately 120,000. Factoring out the unfit soldiers assigned to logistical roles like cooking and weapon maintenance, the number of deployable soldiers was reduced to 90,000.
Crown Prince Edward, his youthful face lit with curiosity, tilted his head upward to address Michael. At barely 160 cm tall, he had to crane his neck to meet the gaze of Michael, who towered over him at over 190 cm.
"Count Michael, I have a question. Please don't dismiss it as the musings of a simpleton," Edward said hesitantly.
Though Edward had sided with Crown Prince Randolph during the military meeting, Michael bore no ill will toward him. In fact, he often felt sympathy for the boy, having witnessed him being belittled by both Elise and Randolph on several occasions.
"You may ask me anything, Your Highness," Michael replied.
Edward's cheeks flushed as he mustered the courage to voice his query. His eyes sparkled with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.
"Why would the enemy choose to attack the fortress directly when there's such a vast plain? If it were me, I'd find a way around, even if it meant taking a longer route."
It was a question anyone unfamiliar with military strategy might ask. Michael considered how best to explain before responding methodically.
"Armies require supplies, Your Highness. Orlando Fortress is strategically located at the crossroads of major routes, and bypassing it would jeopardize their supply lines. Moreover, if they were to avoid the fortress, would we simply stand by? We'd pursue and harass them relentlessly, compromising their rear security. Do you understand?"
Edward nodded earnestly. This kind of military insight wasn't something he could have learned from ordinary tutors. Asking Count Demonic was equally unthinkable, given the hierarchical gap between them.
Though Edward had been educated in the martial arts to prepare for knighthood, he lacked the aptitude for it and had neglected his studies, leading to his current shortcomings. He had once asked Randolph a similar question, only to be met with a dismissive sneer.
Now, standing before Michael—a renowned commander who treated him kindly—Edward felt safe to ask even seemingly foolish questions.
"Thank you, Count Michael. May I come to you for advice from time to time?" Edward asked shyly.
Michael smiled. Though still young, Edward was Elonia's sole prince and future heir. Given the strained relationship with Randolph, cultivating a rapport with Edward could prove advantageous.
The political structure of Rubel Continent bore similarities to medieval Europe. While nobles and knights fought ostensibly for their nations, they primarily defended their own territories. It wasn't uncommon for individuals to hold titles granted by foreign kingdoms.
Though Michael's roots in Lania were firm, fostering connections in other nations was always prudent.
While Michael was deepening his bond with Edward, a message from Crown Prince Oswald of the Pamir Empire reached the chieftains of the Five Great Tribes. It conveyed grim news: the vanguard sent to scout the area and establish forward positions had been completely annihilated.
The chieftains' faces darkened upon hearing the report. If the vanguard had executed its mission properly, it should have returned by now. Though they had suspected something was amiss, confirmation of their total destruction was a bitter blow.
The vanguard hadn't consisted of elite forces, but it had still been a sizable contingent.
As the news spread, the tribal leaders gathered around Oswald, who was riding at the head of the column. To maintain their swift pace, they continued conversing on horseback.
"The fortress will know we're approaching now, thanks to the vanguard's failure," said Yandor, the chieftain of the Rock Bear Tribe, his voice heavy with frustration. Having already lost nearly 3,000 of his kin and seen his youngest son, Karato, taken prisoner, the news was particularly painful for him.
"Hah, as if they didn't already know we were coming," hissed Kisha, chieftain of the Red Snake Tribe and Yandor's long-standing rival. Oswald intervened to mediate.
"Even so, they likely didn't know how far we had advanced," Oswald remarked. "Interrogating the vanguard would have revealed much, so they now have detailed knowledge of our movements."
Phetan, the chieftain of the Wild Boar Tribe, bared his teeth in a savage grin. "Bah! Let them think what they will. We'll crush them in one fell swoop, as always. There's no need for strategy—just charge at them and scatter their wits before leading our elites to finish the job."
'And that's precisely why we haven't conquered the continent', Oswald thought, stifling his irritation. Such impulsive behavior needed to be curbed.
"Such recklessness won't do, Chieftain Phetan," Oswald said firmly. "We're invading Orlando Fortress, a critical military stronghold of Elonia. Michael is leading the defense, and he is not an opponent to be underestimated. This isn't the same as the Dolce Fortress we toppled before."
Phetan snorted but fell silent. Even he had to admit a certain fear of Michael and the two Class 1 magical beasts under his command.