I'm not a Witcher anymore.

Chapter 179 Departure, to Troski

This suffocating silence was finally broken by a sudden burst of laughter that seemed capable of shaking the dust from the rafters.

"ha!"

Hannash sat up abruptly. This acting lord of Rathai was clearly a straightforward man. After a brief moment of shock, he burst into a rough and hearty laugh, as if he had heard a joke that suited his taste perfectly.

"Great! What a wonderful 'gentle push'!"

Hannah laughed heartily, wiping his beard haphazardly with his large hand. His tiger-like eyes gleamed with undisguised admiration and pleasure. "Though that sounds creepy, like someone's watching you in the dark—it works! That's enough!"

He looked at Siegfried, who sat at the head of the table, his voice booming like a broken bellows: "This is the way to deal with a scoundrel like Sigismund, and his inhuman Cuman bandits! Chivalry, frontal charge—it's all bullshit in front of those beasts! Let them scare themselves to death in the dark, let them kill themselves—that's the best fate for those scum! They deserve it!"

Lord Davis, seated on the other side of the long table, looked past the still slightly trembling tabletop and finally settled on Sieg's young face, which was unusually calm.

Davis looked at the coat of arms of the Duchy of Görlitz on Sieg's chest, and recalled the nonchalant tone with which Sieg described the "bloodless" victory, and a storm raged in his heart.

He slowly took a deep breath.

"Your Highness, I am old."

He sighed.

"These old bones may no longer be able to wield a heavy sword or draw a powerful bow. But my eyes are not blind; I can still distinguish between hypocritical tyranny and true hope."

"Bohemia is bleeding. Sigismund's greed is like an unquenchable wildfire, devouring our homes and our people. We need a banner, a banner that can give hope to all those who are still resisting, a banner that will inspire them to die for it."

Davis's gaze was intense, and every word he uttered was like a nail driven into a wooden board: "And you are that flag."

He ignored the shocked looks from those around him, rose from his seat, knelt on one knee, and bowed deeply: "Although Talmu Fort is just a small border town, in order to drive out those greedy invaders, for the freedom of this land—"

"Your Highness, I, Davis of Talmuburg, offer you my sword, my castle, and the last drops of blood in this decaying body! Until this sacred war of reconquest ends, the drawbridge of Talmuburg will forever be lowered for you, and our spears will be pointed only at you!"

As Davis delivered his resounding vow, the atmosphere in the entire Lord's Hall instantly reached its peak.

Hannah, sitting opposite him, was stunned.

He stared wide-eyed at his old friend, who was usually so steady and even somewhat conservative, who had made such a resolute statement.

But then, a surge of heat rushed to the head of this Lord of Lathai.

He was a rough man who didn't understand all the intricacies of politics, but he was a stickler for reason—if even that old man Davis was willing to risk his life for him, then he couldn't be wrong!

Moreover, the young man sitting in the main seat truly possessed abilities that earned his complete respect.

"Damn, well said!"

Hannah slapped his thigh and stood up abruptly, the movement so forceful that it knocked over the chair behind him.

The burly man strode over to Davis and knelt down on one knee as well.

"Ha! To hell with all that formalities! I, Hannah, am a roughneck; I can't handle all that fancy courtly talk!"

He yelled at the top of his lungs, his voice booming throughout the hall, his square face radiating arrogance and smugness.

"But my eyes can tell the difference between a 'wolf' and a terrified 'dog'! Your Highness, your actions that night were more potent than the strongest liquor! Since that old man Davis dared to risk his life, how could I, Latai, be a coward?"

He turned his head, his gaze sweeping fiercely across the room before finally settling on Zieg, his eyes filled with fanaticism and unwavering trust: "Even if it means going to hell to collect taxes from Satan, at your command, my sword, Hannah's sword, and those bastards of Rattay who can only sleep amidst piles of corpses, will all be yours! We'll fight to the bitter end, even if it means bleeding those Hungarian bastards dry!"

With the two lords taking the lead, the rest of the group acted without hesitation.

Accompanied by a dull yet rhythmic metallic scraping sound, it was as if some silent command had spread throughout the hall.

Captain Robard, who had been standing behind Davis, a silent and resolute old knight as steadfast as the walls of Talmu Fortress, knelt down on one knee with a solemn expression.

His movements were so precise, as if he were performing a sacred investiture ceremony, that he bowed his head to Sieg.

Following closely behind was Sir Barnard of Rattay.

For a soldier who reveres strength, bowing to the strong is not a disgrace, but an honor.

The sound of him kneeling on one knee was louder than anyone else's, as if it were about to shatter the stone slabs on the ground, thus expressing his silent yet profound loyalty.

The usually nonchalant young master Hans Capone no longer had that carefree, mocking expression on his face.

He glanced at his uncle Hannah, who was kneeling upright beside him, then looked up at the man sitting upright in the high-backed chair.

The young duke seemed born to be worshipped by thousands.

In that instant, the light in Hans's eyes became extremely complex—there was a hint of resentment towards the achievements of his peers, but more so, a deep-seated shock and admiration.

He took a deep breath, abandoned his spoiled brat attitude, and knelt down on one knee with elegance and solemnity.

Finally, there's Radji.

Although he had already sworn allegiance to Zieg, he still knelt on one knee, just like everyone else.

For a moment, in the entire Lord's Hall of Skarlitz, apart from Sieg sitting in the main seat, no one else was standing.

Sunlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating the bowed heads and gleaming armor, freezing the scene into an epic oil painting.

"Please rise, everyone."

Zieg's voice echoed softly in the quiet hall.

"Sit down, everyone. The wine is still warm, the battle isn't over yet, and we have a lot to discuss."

Lord Davis sat back down in his chair.

He looked at Zieg, his eyes full of expectation, and broke the silence first: "Your Highness, now that everyone is united, we all have a leader. So, what do you plan to do next? We will follow your orders."

Before Sieg could even speak, Hannah, who had just made his bold statement, preemptively spoke up.

The hot-tempered Lord of Lathai was clearly still caught up in that exhilarating emotion.

He took a large gulp of wine, wiped the stains from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand, and his eyes gleamed with a belligerent light: "What else can we do? Strike while the iron is hot, of course, and finish him off!"

Hannah's booming voice made the candlesticks on the table tremble slightly. He brandished his thick arm as if it were an invisible warhammer, slamming it down into the air: "Your Highness, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! That bastard Sigismund just suffered such a terrible defeat at Skarlitz—three thousand soldiers! They were terrified and fled in panic! Now they're nothing but a pack of toothless tigers, or even drowning wild dogs!"

He grew more and more excited as he spoke, leaning forward and staring intently at Zieg: "In my opinion, we don't need to wait at all! We should just bring out all the troops from Talmuburg and Latai, join forces with the lads from Skalitz, and while they're still establishing themselves and their morale is low, we should charge straight in and crush them! What's that called again—right, strike while the iron is hot!"

As soon as Hannah finished speaking, a hint of interest flashed in the eyes of Capone, Barnard, and Robard.

However, just as this frenzied emotion was about to spread, a calm, almost cold voice poured down on him.

"Lord Hannash, you are oversimplifying the war."

It was Radji who spoke.

This burger of Skarlitz was not blinded by his direct benefit from this great victory.

On the contrary, after that night of ecstasy, he calmed down sooner than anyone else.

"Do you really think that what we defeated in Skarlitz was Sigismund's entire arsenal?"

Hannah was taken aback: "Isn't that right? Three thousand fully armed infantrymen, plus cavalry—that's no small number."

"That's true, there are three thousand people, but not many of them are his core members."

Radji shook his head, his tone heavy as he analyzed, "Sigismund mainly brought Cuman mercenaries and soldiers from the Lords' Alliance. His true core—the heavily armed knights, the private armies of the Magyar nobles who have followed him for years—didn't even appear on the battlefield in Skalitz!"

Upon hearing this, everyone present changed their expressions.

"To secure his rear, Sigismund left the Hungarian nobles in Kutenberg to suppress the miners and in Prague to control the royal city. The losses he suffered in Skarlitz, though painful, were by no means crippling."

His gaze swept over the crowd, his voice low and serious: "On the other hand, although we won a siege at Skalitz, our forces are still stretched thin."

"If we act rashly now and launch an attack, leaving the fortified city walls to confront the still-powerful Hungarian army head-on in the open field—that would not be to reclaim lost territory, but to send ourselves to our deaths."

Faced with Radji's merciless cold water, Hannah opened his mouth as if to refute, but only a few muffled murmurs came out of his throat.

Although he was reckless, he was not stupid. The facts that Radji presented were like a cold wall, forcing his originally raging flames to temporarily subside.

"Courage is the backbone of a knight, while wisdom is his eyes."

Zieg's gaze first fell on Hannah's flushed face, his eyes carrying a gentle admiration.

May.

"Lord Hannash, your courage is like this strong liquor, fiery and scalding, enough to dispel all cowardice in the world. This is precisely what we lack most right now."

"If we lose this fighting spirit—the courage to draw our swords against dragons—what difference is there between us and those mine owners who only know how to hide in Kutenberg and count their silver mines?"

Upon hearing these words, Hannah's expression instantly softened. He straightened his chest, his previously depressed mood comfortably soothed by the affirmation.

Immediately afterwards, Zieg changed the subject, shifting his gaze to Radji, whose brows were furrowed.

"However, those who have only a spine but no eyes will eventually fall into the hunter's trap."

Zieg's voice contained not a trace of lecturing.

"Lord Radji's concerns are not out of cowardice, but rather a rare clarity of mind in this mad age."

"As he said, Sigismund may have lost a claw, but his fangs are still there. Those private armies of nobles from Hungary still hang like a dark cloud over Bohemia."

"War is not just a clash of swords, but also a game of patience."

"We need an army, more swords, more horses, and even more farmers."

Zieg turned around to face the people around the long table, his tone calm and steady.

"Before the next storm comes, we must turn ourselves into a piece of iron, a piece of iron so hard that even Sigismund would break a mouthful of teeth if he took a bite."

"But that doesn't mean we're just going to sit here and wait until our armor rusts."

"We need to understand one thing—Sigismund may be a fierce lion, but he is ultimately an outsider."

"If it weren't for those Bohemian nobles who sold their souls for profit, if it weren't for those traitors of the 'Lords' Alliance' guiding him like dogs, even the strongest lion would have lost its way in this unfamiliar forest and ultimately starved to death on our land."

"It was the Lords' Alliance that opened the country's gates, letting this greedy beast in, attempting to exchange the king's blood for their own scepter."

"Without the support of the Lords' Alliance, Sigismund is blind and crippled."

"So what we need to do is cut off this lion's legs."

"Otto von Polgár, a core member of the Lords' Alliance."

Zieg raised his head, his deep eyes as calm as a lake, but his words carried a decisive weight that could shake the entire Bohemia: "His stronghold is the closest to us, and the toughest thorn in the side in this region. We'll start by taking him down."