Capítulo 150: Having a 'Wale' of a time.
Prince Wales chews his nail anxiously as he thumbs through the many reports he'd received, both from Tristain's spy network and his own people's observations. Clearly, Albion was fucked... They hadn't even come close to recovering from the previous civil war, yet they had a world war right on their doorstep.
And since Tristain, their closest ally, had neither the ability to transport troops, nor the troops to spare due to the tension between Henrietta and the nobility, there was no help that could be counted on.
Wales had hoped that Romalia could sort this all out, but their emissaries proved more ineffectual than a nun in a brothel. Albion couldn't even claim its previous air superiority due to most of the dragons being crippled or killed during the Reclamation of Londinium. Indeed, he had Ralf Kaliker to thank for that particular issue.
Most men of draftable age had already been depleted due to the previous war, so even if they wanted to there was no one to induct into the army. In the end, Wales had been forced to do something that, to him, was morally repugnant.
It turns out that the person who had controlled the minds of the peasants in Londinium during his capture had been the now diseased Baron Jargkon. Since the man had no applicable family remaining, Wales had sent his people to sift through his properties, eventually finding alchemical notes on a substance that would supposedly allow one to force suggestions onto non-magical people.
An extensive search later and they'd found mechanisms in the aqueducts that'd slowly drip the potion into the water supply. At first, Wales had been absolutely livid by this discovery, which was only worsened when he realised that he'd made an enemy out of the False-Familiar for a criminal like Baron Jargkon. But eventually, a few of his men had discussed making use of the potion to enhance their dwindled forces.
It'd taken hours of discussion, but soon enough, Wales was convinced by them. Agreeing that if they didn't make use of every advantage they possessed, Albion would be a thing of the past. As such, he'd commanded his men to begin using the potion to take control of monsters in their territory. Which it turns out, weren't lacking at all in number.
Since the civil war had caused so much death and destruction, monsters of all kinds had begun making themselves more prevalent. Ogres, Orcs, Goblins, Minotaurs, Trolls, and many more were applicable targets, and with a bit of fiddling of the potion formulae to make sure the hardier monsters were affected by it, he now had a rather large army comprised of only monsters.
There were problems, of course, the amount of food such an army required was nothing to scoff at, especially during the winter, they were also rather stupid and instinctual, many times killing their own allies when told to fight. This is the main reason he hadn't allowed any humans to be integrated into it.
Still, even with this monster army, Wales still didn't feel certain in their ability to defend Albion. The main issue was their lack of air-based troops. The enemy could only venture to the continent on airships, meaning they would be prepared to bombard any army below them. This would easily eliminate his army of monsters, so without any way to combat it, they'd be right back at square one.
To fix this, he'd had any available forces begin constructing siege engines such as ballistae, cannons and trebuchets, which should be enough when used by Air Mages to combat the enemy airships.
The only problem now was the fact that they'd be fighting a war on two fronts, the East where Germania would invade, and the West where Gallia would arrive from.
Wales shakes his head, knowing that winning this war, or even coming out alive was a long shot. After Romalia's failure in negotiating peace, he'd sent a request for them to provide military aid. He looks down at the Ring of Wind that had been handed down from his ancestors for generations. Brimir gave each of his sons a ring, and each one signified their rule of their respective kingdoms. To ruin the balance could be construed as a slight against Brimir himself... He didn't think such a method would work, but he'd try any and all avenues to keep Albion alive... He refused to be the King who led his country to destruction, even if he hadn't had his coronation yet.
If all else fails, perhaps he could try to use some underhanded means... After all, they were already using monsters, using assassins wouldn't be any worse. Perhaps this could even be a way to draw the False-Familiar back? Perhaps imprisoning every noble who had been involved with the catastrophe that was Cromwell's court would help? But even then, he doubted it. His rejection of his cousin, Tiffania, had definitely soured whatever relationship they might've been able to have.
He leans over and buries his face in his hands, "Father, what would you do in my place? I don't know what to do." he mutters, feeling the weight of not just his entire kingdom, but the legacy of all of his ancestors on his shoulders.
*Creeeak*
"Sire, I have word from General Julien." the messenger says, and Wales gestures for him to continue.
"*Ahem*, The army is desperately running low on supplies, some have even started resorting to butchering their horses to feed themselves. They also do not have enough warm clothes to endure the winter. General Julien thinks that a quarter of the army will have deserted by the time winter has ended, and another quarter would be crippled by frostbite and illness."
...
Wales lets out a sigh, "Pull the troops from the front lines, have the army rest in the capital for now. The enemy won't attack until winter has ended. So we have some leeway in which to deal with this. Ah, also, have Julien send out scouts to search for any wild dragons, if we can get them trained as mounts before the war begins then that'll add yet another layer to our defence."
The messenger nods, "At your leave, my lord."
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