Soon, the officers of the nobles' Private Armies searched for their masters as usual, checking their residences in Odoche and the military camps, but they couldn't find a soul.
They arrived at John's command post, only to find him with a grim expression on his face. His gaze swept over them like a blade, and the coldness in his eyes made them shudder.
"Lord Count," an officer asked, mustering his courage, "do you know where our masters and their Knight's Squires have gone?"
John snorted coldly and spoke slowly, "Them? They've gone where they needed to go. Now, all that's here is you, me, and this battle."
The officers' hearts skipped a beat. They instantly understood most of the situation, but none dared to ask further. At a life-or-death moment like this, any sign of doubt or dissatisfaction could be a death sentence.
"From now on, your troops are under my direct and absolute command. If there is even the slightest delay in following an order..."
