Chapter 472: Chapter 76 The Eldest Son Comes into His Own_2
“Yes.” The wounded soldier nodded like a pecking chick, “The old Saint ordered us to pack up and load the vehicles, yesterday.”
“Take me to Brother Reed.”
Beside the carriage, Winters found the old charlatan.
The old man had eaten well and slept well on the journey, even enjoying petting cats daily.
Compared to the emaciated alms-seeking monk when they first met, the old charlatan now seemed somewhat corpulent.
When they met, the old charlatan was holding a small bucket of red paint in his left hand and a brush in his right, busy doodling on the wagon’s sideboard.
Seeing Winters approaching, Brother Reed waved happily, “Lad, you’re back?”
“What are you doing?” Winters walked up to the old monk.
Only upon drawing near did Winters make out what the old charlatan was writing:
[Property of Jeska Squad of the Fifth Legion]
[Theft punishable by hanging, military justice will be executed]
Brother Reed said proudly, “I’m marking all the carriages. This way, there will be no disputes during the march, and if there is a quarrel, we have evidence.”
“Theft punishable by hanging? Military justice will be executed?”
“Good, isn’t it?” The old man’s face flushed with more pride, “Concise and powerful, beautifully balanced. Don’t think this slogan is short; I’ve pondered over it for days. One sentence is enough to deter the petty thieves.”
“What’s the use?” Winters sneered, “The rank-and-file soldiers can’t read.”
Brother Reed’s face flushed from pride to embarrassment, and he added a Saint’s coat of arms after [Theft punishable by hanging, military justice will be executed].
The old man huffed, “This should suffice, right? Church property, I’d like to see who dares to steal it!”
After speaking, Reed moved to the next carriage to continue painting slogans.
“I want to ask you a question.” Winters didn’t bother with small talk, “Please teach me, sir.”
“Pretending to be serious.” Brother Reed glanced at Winters, “Spit it out.”
Winters licked his lips and asked, “You’re preparing for a withdrawal, and you started three days ago, right?”
“About that.” Reed continued painting the coat of arms on the enclosure without looking back.
“On what grounds did you decide that we—no, that Paratu would be defeated?” Winters was relentless in pursuit.
The old man sighed, throwing the brush to the ground.
He turned around, looking into Winters’s eyes, “Kid, you’re mistaken. Although I know nothing about military affairs, I have never doubted your prowess in war. Nor have I ever doubted Paratu’s victories.”
“Then why did you prepare provisions and carriages in advance?”
“Because White Lion Yasin has already won. Paratu will win every battle in this war until they lose the war.”
“I…don’t understand…”
Brother Reed sighed again, walked over to a nearby stone bench, and gestured for Winters to follow.
Sitting on the stone bench, the old monk coughed and explained, “The victories in battles can hardly compensate for strategic failure. The moment the Paratu People stood firm under the city walls, White Lion Yasin had already won. Tell me, do you really think the Herders are willing to let the Paratu people slaughter them one by one?”
Winters was about to argue: there are many historical precedents for a strategy of gradual encroachment.
But then he realized: this didn’t mean the party being encroached upon lacked the will to resist. Moreover, Paratu’s actions could no longer be considered gradual encroachment; they were ripping flesh from the Herder tribes in large chunks.
“As one sympathizes with the deer, so one similarly grieves for the fox. Carts depend on one another just as the lips are cold when the teeth are gone.” Brother Reed asked Winters again, “Seeing neighboring tribes facing annihilation one after another, won’t the Herders be afraid? Won’t they harbor resentment? Won’t they worry about their own fate?”
Pointing towards the Great Wilderness, Reed said, “The young and strong lion considers everything on the plain its prey. But once it shows signs of weakness, it will not only be driven away by the lioness but even the hyenas on the plains will dare to provoke it. There’s no other reason but power.”
“Power? What do you mean…” Winters was confused.
“You lad, have spoiled my mood entirely,” the old man sighed heavily, “I’ll put it in words you can understand. In the past, the Herder tribes were ascending, and Paratu was on the decline; the Herders beat Paratu to a pulp. Thirty years ago, Ned Smith changed the tide with one battle, and Paratu began to climb while the Herder tribes started to fall, with Paratu beating the Herder tribes into a frenzied retreat.”
The old man coughed again, “When you’re on the rise, all conflicts, all mistakes, all problems can be concealed by victory. Once on the decline, they will all erupt. This is also why the Herders were defeated in just one battle yet were battered for thirty continuous years. It wasn’t because Paratu’s national power surged, but because the accumulated fractures within the Herder clans were ignited by a single defeat.”
“But… it was us who inflicted a crushing defeat on the Red River Tribe, wasn’t it?”
“I’ll ask you another question,” Brother Reed’s gaze sharpened, “If a god bleeds, is it still a god?”
If a god bleeds, is it still a god?
Winters pondered this sentence. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novel·fire.net
Not waiting for Winters to respond, the old monk continued, “Paratu is the lion, the Herder clans are the hyenas. A lion king cannot defeat a hundred hyenas but can chase and bite a hundred hyenas because the lion has ‘power.’
For thirty years, the Herder clans have been waiting for an opportunity, for a moment when Paratu shows signs of decline.
If Paratu could topple the Red River Tribe as if it was rotting wood, then the Tribe’s ‘allies’ would scatter like birds and beasts, and no one would come to their rescue.