"Your Highness, the army from this viscount is a bit haphazard. They didn't prepare mantiments in advance and are relying on taking what they need from the villages in their way to Beaudorf."
As the troops move on the fields, the movement in the office gets more hectic. Troops are sent in small detachments to either attack a provisions convoy or to rally the people in the countryside.
"What's its size?"
"Eight hundred men."
"Eight hundred? How did a viscount get that many?"
"They seem to be conscript levies. Morale doesn't seem very high, and they aren't well equipped."
Fuck those nobles.
An army like that we could crush easily ourselves. But I don't want to taint the soil with the blood of people who have been forced into this war against their will.
"How many actual fighters does he have?"
"Less than thirty."
"How's the state of the domain?"
"We weren't able to survey it, but we've seen thick smoke, so maybe there has been some burning of villages."
