I, the prince in distress, send money

Chapter 136 Shocking Intelligence (I)

The morning mist swirled with a biting whistle as Lin Ruoyu's military boots rolled over the frosted gravel. He watched his troops emerge from the mist... Three hundred pairs of standard leather boots pounded the ground in perfect unison, as if an invisible steam engine were controlling these flesh and blood bodies in unison.

The Ω symbol embroidered on the shoulders of the soldiers' dark green coats rose and fell as they ran. It was the emblem of the Ultramarines Chapter, but now it looked like three hundred mocking grins.

“Watch out for the queue!”

Captain "Madman" waved his copper-plated saber and scolded the soldiers who were looking around in the team, reminding them that they were a beat slower and had disrupted the team's orderly pace.

"Instructor, remember his name. Next time, give him three lashes with the cane!"

The duck-voiced shouting startled all the militiamen in the queue and made them take it seriously.

This player who likes to play military games always likes to show off his line queue aesthetics, to the point of being demanding.

But because of this, he was collectively voted by other players in the internal meeting of the regiment to become the chief instructor of the regiment's new recruits, with the rank of captain, second only to the regiment leader Lin Ruoyu.

Lin Ruoyu's index finger unconsciously rubbed the third copper button of his coat, thinking about the tasks and requirements he received from Prince Chris last night.

Three hundred NPC soldiers is not the upper limit. The prince is very optimistic about the style of the Ultramarines and plans to allocate the remaining seven hundred militiamen to the Ultramarines.

This is a good thing, as it can increase the number and strength of the regiment, but it is also a bad thing.

The number of militiamen is limited, with a total of only more than 1,300. The Extreme Warriors account for 1,000 of them. The rest of the players who are eager to get the army for free and become officers will naturally be dissatisfied.

As an NPC, Prince Chris doesn't care about this, but will the Ultramarines lose their popularity if they offend hundreds of players?
Lin Ruoyu was thinking about this problem.

The result of thinking is very obvious... If they are offended, then they are offended. The Ultramarines are not a group with players as the main force. On the contrary, although players are the core of the group, there is not a need for too many players in the group. The real grassroots combat power is still the soldiers.

If you offend passers-by players, then you offend them. Lin Ruoyu will not want to recruit them into the team.

In some battlefields that require cooperation from other players, Lin Ruoyu can also cooperate with the Mountain Tiger Regiment. He actually has a good relationship with Xiaodao Zhabing, and some things can be discussed.

Thinking of this, Lin Ruoyu suddenly understood.

Compared to a thousand militiamen, the opinions of other players are nothing.

These soldiers do not need to be paid by the regiment at all, and they also bring their own weapons and equipment, and have been trained in formations. They only need the Ultramarines to give them emergency tactical training, and they can be transformed from militia into regular line infantry.

The only requirement Chris had after assigning these soldiers to the Ultramarines was that the regiment should use these soldiers with caution and take fewer risks. Unless necessary, they should not take risky actions that would result in huge casualties.

Fight with caution? Lin Ruoyu didn't think this was a problem.

At this moment, a horse came galloping from a distance, stood up in front of the team, and then the messenger on the horse jumped off and walked quickly to Lin Ruoyu.

"Major Lin Ruoyu, Prince Chris has ordered you to lead your team north in one hour to greet the vice-national-level envoys..."

……

One hundred kilometers south of the Bolas Fortress, in a huge military camp that accommodates nearly 10,000 people, in one of the most magnificent tents, Lieutenant General Dalek, who commands the 3rd Infantry Regiment of the Bagniya Republic, is looking down at the intelligence sent back by spies on the front line.

The above describes what the spy saw and heard.

The crystal wine glass on the desk suddenly flew up, fell down, and shattered on the cashmere carpet. The fragments were embedded in the fine cashmere and were difficult to see.

Lieutenant General Dalek slammed the intelligence onto the oak table, its gold-studded cufflinks clattering against the surface. "War beasts? Biographies of all personnel, flintlock rifles? Ample supplies, no shortage of food and drink? That Chris is so rich, he's the illegitimate son of the Emperor of Bohemia!? Otherwise, where would he get all those goodies?"

The intelligence officer kneeling on the ground had cold sweat oozing from his neck. Seventeen notched silver coins were scattered in front of him... These exquisite currencies, which could be exchanged for two cows in Bagnia, were now being used as evidence to support the spy's crazy talk.

The silver dollar is so exquisite that you can tell at a glance that it is not a work of art that can be forged by a silversmith in an ordinary workshop.

"Sir, our informant even exchanged thirty steel needles at the supply and marketing cooperative..."

The intelligence officer quickly raised the glass tube in his hand, which was as thick as his thumb. Hundreds of cold needles flashing with cold light were arranged like a honeycomb inside the tube wall.

"Ten times finer than any needle the Oncandra Blacksmiths Guild could forge."

The lieutenant general grabbed the glass tube and looked at it in the light of the kerosene lamp, his pupils suddenly contracting.

The flame of the lamp cast a strange grating on the tent through the needle tube. The perfectly spaced metal lines reminded him of the gallows knot used to execute deserters last month.

"Did you really get it from that place called the Supply and Marketing Cooperative under Prince Chris's command?"

Dalek swung his hand and pressed the steel needle against the table. The sharp tip of the needle penetrated the three layers of cowhide felt on the table and was halfway embedded in the thick table top.

The adjutant silently picked up the torn pages of intelligence and pieced together even more horrifying content.

Prince Chris also has an elite infantry of about three to four thousand men. Each of them is equipped with the best mirrored breastplate and has a flintlock rifle. They are strong, with well-defined muscles and high morale. During morning exercises, the team is in good order and their steps are firm and powerful.

The intelligence was so incredible that the intelligence officer himself wondered if the spy who collected it had written it while drunk.

Otherwise, why would the paper be filled with nonsense?

"Exquisite silver coins, extremely comfortable, but only cost three silver dollars?"

The lieutenant general's boots suddenly felt strangely soft. He jumped back two steps as if he had been electrocuted, staring at the boots presented by the spy... The ankles were wrapped in incredibly tanned leather, and the lining was made of some kind of mechanically woven mesh fabric, sticking to the skin like a poisonous spider's nest.

"Sir, the pitch of these silver coins..."

Before the intelligence officer could finish his words, the Dalek suddenly leaped up. He grabbed the entire bag of silver and threw it at the adjutant. With a clang, the eight coins scratched consistent indentations on the adjutant's breastplate. This discovery frightened him even more than the military report itself.

Even the teeth of currency have become murderous weapons.

"you tell me!"

The lieutenant general tore off the scarlet ribbon, breathing heavily, and the scratches on the edge of the silver dollar oozed fine beads of blood on his thumb.

"Can the untouchables in Prince Chris's territory buy bread with this kind of money?"

The crude silver coins covered with teeth marks in the Republic's treasury flashed before his eyes. Even the forks used in the royal dinners were hand-polished by blacksmith apprentices. It was normal for forks produced in the same batch to be of different lengths.

Lieutenant General Dalek stirred up a storm, his reason and emotions were fighting each other, making his heart pound and his emotions out of control.

　PS: Thank you for your suggestions. Regarding the update issue, brothers, don’t look at the number of updated chapters, you also have to look at the number of words in the chapters. Sometimes I update one chapter, which is equivalent to two or three chapters. It’s not that I don’t separate them, but it’s better to read them continuously.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)