Chapter 103: Ridiculous Intelligence Warfare
Charlotte met Jarrod Garcia, whose left hand and neck had just been re-bandaged after receiving medication.
"How did you end up in such a miserable state?" Charlotte asked with surprise.
Jarrod kicked over a box beside his foot. A man with a small mustache, bound tightly and unconscious, rolled out. Jarrod pointed at the man and said with a wry smile, "Miss Charlotte, the fellow you wanted turned out to be a bit trickier than I estimated. I carelessly fell into his trap."
The man in the box was none other than the scholar of sorcery Charlotte had met once before – Ferguson. Although the plate of moldy refreshments had left too deep an impression on Charlotte, both Simon Capriati and Cliff Chapman held this Mr. Ferguson in high regard. Urgently needing talent, Charlotte had no choice but to have Jarrod "invite" him to her domain.
However, Jarrod's invitation was certainly not as civil and polite as Charlotte's initial visit…
"I knocked him out with a club while he was urinating in an alley, stuffed him in the box, and shipped him out of Platinum City," Jarrod Garcia stated.
Charlotte couldn't help but take a step back, lightly covering her nose with her fingers, as if she could still smell the stench of urine on Ferguson.
"Since you knocked him out with one blow, how did you get injured?" Charlotte became even more puzzled. "I inquired with Mr. Cliff; isn't this Ferguson just a one-winged swordsman?"
"Don't be fooled by him being just a one-winged swordsman; he possesses a rather peculiar martial art..." Jarrod took out a gray object and handed it to Charlotte.
Charlotte curiously took the object and examined it closely. Only then did she realize it was a gray, lusterless thread, thin and long, yet exceptionally tough.
According to Jarrod, Ferguson had sewn this thread into a glove. During combat, he would rip the glove in half, turning the thread into a remarkably sharp weapon. Combined with a close-quarters grappling martial art rarely seen in the Oran Empire, which Ferguson employed, this thread was extremely dangerous.
Some distance away from Platinum City, Jarrod had intended to let Ferguson out of the box for some air. However, as soon as Ferguson was out, he attacked Jarrod. Caught off guard, Jarrod was engaged at close range. If it weren't for his extensive experience in life-and-death situations, making the split-second decision to sacrifice his left hand, he likely would have had his throat slit directly by Ferguson's thread.
"Tsk, so he's a master hiding in plain sight," Charlotte walked over and kicked Ferguson twice.
Ferguson showed no reaction, seemingly genuinely unconscious. However, Charlotte knew this was merely an act. Just moments ago, when Jarrod recounted knocking Ferguson out while he was urinating, the Miracle Brooch pinned to Charlotte's chest clearly detected Ferguson's sudden surge of anger. An unconscious person shouldn't have such emotional fluctuations.
"Stop pretending to be asleep. I know you're awake, Mr. Ferguson," Charlotte chuckled.
Hearing Charlotte's words, Ferguson knew he couldn't feign unconsciousness any longer. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but Jarrod, likely venting his frustration from the sneak attack, had tied the ropes exceptionally tight. Ferguson wriggled on the ground like a worm a couple of times but still couldn't manage to sit up.
"Welcome to my domain, Mr. Ferguson," Charlotte performed an elegant curtsy.
Ferguson lay prone on the ground, his buttocks raised, face contorted, and spoke with difficulty, "Is this how you treat your guests, Your Excellency Viscountess?"
"After all, I personally visited to invite you to my domain as a guest previously, and you refused. Now, although you have graced my domain with your presence, I am unsure of your intentions. Overly enthusiastic hospitality might make you uncomfortable, so I had to be somewhat negligent," Charlotte said with a smile.
What intentions could I possibly have? Isn't it obvious?!
Being clubbed unconscious while urinating, then stuffed into a box and transported thousands of miles away – who wouldn't harbor unpleasant thoughts under such circumstances?
Ferguson internally cursed Charlotte's shamelessness, but he also understood that the current situation was not in his favor. Arguing with Charlotte while lying on the ground served no purpose other than making himself look more pathetic.
"Your Excellency Charlotte," Ferguson took a deep breath and said, "You have kidnapped me and brought me here from thousands of miles away; surely there must be something you require my assistance with? This is not the proper etiquette for requesting someone's help. Please release me first. Whatever the matter is, as long as it is within my capabilities, we can discuss it."
"I do indeed have a matter I wish to entrust to you," Charlotte nodded. "I want to adapt the Soqyan citizen-soldier faction. Both Mr. Simon Capriati and Mr. Cliff Chapman recommended you to me. They said you would definitely be capable of handling it."
Ferguson's eyes instantly lit up upon hearing this, and his tone became somewhat firmer. He twisted his shoulders with difficulty: "Adapting a mere citizen-soldier faction is something I can certainly do, but treating me like this makes it rather difficult for me..."
"One hundred thousand Fuso," Charlotte held up one finger. "As long as you complete this task, I can pay you one hundred thousand Fuso."
As Charlotte spoke these words, both Ferguson's and Jarrod Garcia's breathing hitched simultaneously.
One hundred thousand Fuso!
For the Mellerfield family, one hundred thousand Fuso might not be much, but it was a sum that most knights would struggle to accumulate in their entire lifetime.
"One... one hundred thousand..." Ferguson's voice trembled slightly, but he gritted his teeth and said, "One hundred thousand Fuso might be a bit low..."
Charlotte, however, completely ignored Ferguson's words and revealed another smile: "You have three months. If the results of your work fail to satisfy me after three months, then the bellies of the fish swimming in Lanwan Bay will be your final resting place."
The chilling killing intent in her words made Ferguson's hair stand on end.
Charlotte signaled Jarrod to untie Ferguson.
"You may rest for two days and begin your work the day after tomorrow. However, the resting time is also counted within the three months."
After finishing her words, Charlotte performed another curtsy and then turned to leave the room.
Walking out of the room, Charlotte looked down at the brooch on her chest and couldn't help but marvel at what a convenient miracle it was. Just now, the brooch had clearly "seen" the overwhelming joy Ferguson felt upon hearing about the hundred thousand Fuso. Without knowing about the brooch, it would likely be impossible for anyone to hide their true feelings from it.
Jarrod followed Charlotte out. Charlotte looked up and asked again, "After I left, what was the situation like in Platinum City?"
"Well..." Jarrod's expression suddenly became strange. "The situation in Platinum City... you might find it a bit hard to believe..."
Jarrod roughly recounted the developments in the battle for Platinum City after Charlotte's departure – the tribesmen besieging Platinum City, the south gate being opened from within, the elite tribesmen charging to the palace walls, Duke Fernandes Paste of Bonan leading a cavalry counterattack and dying in battle. When Jarrod left Platinum City, Dawid Boyan had already led the griffin knights in pursuit of Baxia, but no battle report had returned yet...
Charlotte listened, dumbfounded.
Fernandes actually died in battle?
The world had just begun to descend into chaos, and a Duke was already dead?
Who was the heir to the Duchy of Bonan again?
Fernandes visited the Green Plains Duchy once or twice a year, so Charlotte was somewhat familiar with the Duke and Duchess of Bonan, but she hadn't seen much of Fernandes's sons.
Charlotte vaguely remembered that Fernandes had about seven or eight sons, the eldest named Fraser Paste.
Was having so many sons a good thing? Not necessarily.
With Fernandes dying so suddenly, could his eldest son truly succeed him in time and control his brood of younger brothers?
Charlotte doubted it.
Besides the death of the Duke of Bonan, Charlotte was most interested in the group of Figurine Sorcerers who had killed the Duke and nearly breached the city walls.
The numerous scholars within Platinum City had already acknowledged that the Figurine Sorcerers, using ordinary earth, had created a brand new type of special ceramic possessing extraordinary properties. All things could become extraordinary; the theory of the Figurine Sorcerers was undoubtedly correct. However, out of deference to the Church and the Imperial Family, everyone tacitly avoided mentioning it publicly.
Charlotte had no such superfluous concerns.
"Extraordinary materials can actually be created and transformed from ordinary substances?"
Charlotte suddenly felt like an unexpected treasure vault had opened its doors to her.
Soqya Peninsula, Dolrcocha City-State.
Robin Mancini sat by the window in a tavern, sipping wine while listening to the loud conversations of the surrounding patrons.
This was Robin Mancini's daily routine recently.
Although the task Charlotte had given him was still intelligence gathering, the situation in Dolrcocha was different from Ambratu. Without a "capable assistant" like Harvey Sherwin, Robin Mancini could no longer easily access Dolrcocha's elders. Thus, the tavern became his primary location for gathering intelligence.
Due to the thriving mercenary industry, Dolrcocha's taverns were also very prosperous, especially the one Robin Mancini was currently in. Opposite the tavern was the square where elders delivered speeches and citizens held assemblies, and a bit further beyond was the Council of Elders. The citizens of Dolrcocha loved to hold forth and express political views in this tavern.
Robin Mancini only needed to hold a glass of wine and sit here to overhear a lot of useful information.
Sometimes, even those elders seeking to win hearts and votes would proactively enter this tavern, preaching to the citizens about the important things they had recently done, the key issues discussed in the Council of Elders, and how they themselves had spoken up for their constituents.
There were truly no secrets...
Robin Mancini recalled what Charlotte had told him before he came to Soqya: "These city-state people have absolutely no awareness of intelligence warfare. Your job is actually very simple."
It wasn't just very simple; it was ridiculously simple.
Although the Oran Empire also lacked a mature concept of intelligence warfare, the decisions made by the upper nobility were usually only selectively disclosed to the lower nobility or commoners, effectively forming a system of secrecy. How could it be like these city-state rulers, who, regardless of what they did or intended to do, seemed to have an irrepressible desire to shout it out loud?
Just as Robin Mancini was sipping his wine and inwardly complaining about his job, his peripheral vision caught a group of figures in exquisite robes emerging from the Council of Elders – they were the Dolrcocha elders who had just finished a meeting.
Robin's gaze quickly fell on two individuals among them because their robes differed from those of the Dolrcocha elders. Having sat in the tavern for so many days, Robin recognized almost every Dolrcocha elder, but these two faces were unfamiliar to him.
Before Robin could guess anything, the Dolrcocha elders stopped in the square, and then a Dolrcocha elder named Balotelli led the two strangers onto the speaking platform.
"Citizens, this is Elder Pishos of Little Sassinian, and this is Elder Sinner of Sudaman," Elder Balotelli introduced.
An elder from Little Sassinian?
Robin's interest was immediately piqued. He knew that Charlotte's next target for conquest was Little Sassinian.
"Today, Elder Pishos comes representing the Little Sassinian Council of Elders to discuss with us the matter of joining the North Soqya Frontline..."
Balotelli began a lengthy speech, the content of which was mostly self-praise. Back then, Elder Cleon of the Fidi city-state had run around for so long without successfully establishing this North Soqya Frontline, but now that the Dolrcocha Council of Elders was leading, it was immediately accomplished.
Although there was an element of boasting, what Balotelli said wasn't entirely wrong. When Cleon initially wanted to form the North Soqya Frontline, Little Sassinian was the city-state that most logically should have joined, as it was closest to the Lanwan Viscountcy. However, it did not join, and consequently, the remaining three city-states – Badan, Camela, and Koloro – also chose to remain observers. Now that Little Sassinian had chosen to join, the biggest obstacle to the formation of the North Soqya Frontline had disappeared, and persuading the remaining three city-states was not overly difficult.
Sitting by the window, Robin frowned deeper as he listened. This North Soqya Frontline clearly sounded like a military alliance. Why was Dolrcocha suddenly trying to form such an alliance? Was it a defensive or offensive alliance? And who was their intended target? Was it the Lanwan Viscountcy?
Elder Balotelli did not mention the answers to these questions.
"Nadal, do you know what this North Soqya Frontline is for?" Robin curiously asked the young man opposite him.
The young man named Nadal was a drinking buddy Robin had recently met and also a citizen of Dolrcocha.
Nadal was already a bit drunk at this point. He shook his head and said, "I don't know either. Go ask him yourself. Forget it, I'll go ask for you."
"Hey? Wait, wait a minute, isn't this a military secret..."
Robin didn't have time to stop him; Nadal was already walking towards the speaking platform.
"You've been talking for ages! What exactly is the North Soqya Frontline for!" Nadal pointed at Elder Balotelli and shouted loudly.
Elder Balotelli, interrupted by a drunkard, didn't get angry. Instead, he raised his finger, pointed north, and answered heroically, "The mission of the North Soqya Frontline is, of course, to retake the Ambratu city-state and drive the Oran people off the Soqya Peninsula!"
"Drive them out! Drive them out!"
Balotelli's answer elicited a wave of cheers.
Just ask directly!
Robin Mancini raised his wine glass and took a sip. He felt that the difficulty of his intelligence warfare could no longer be described as merely ridiculous.
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