Warhammer: Should I also sit on the Golden Throne?

Chapter 95 Making tables is great! I love making tables!

Flammy stared at the lake, watching the pale mist dissipate little by little in the rising sunlight, and watching the bloated corpses of freemen drift ashore, crashing against the rocks with nauseating gurgling sounds.

His throat moved slightly up and down.

How many people drowned in the lake?

As the gladiators charged down the hillside, the terrified freemen scattered and jostled each other, trying to escape but finding themselves surrounded on three sides. In their panic, they could only jump into the icy lake.

If Flamme hadn't reacted quickly enough to cut off the worm's head and surrender to the gladiators, how many more free men would have died here?

Flammy clenched his fingers slightly.

Foolish worm, ridiculous worm, damned worm.

Flammy cursed the worm in his heart.

If he had full command authority, he certainly wouldn't have deployed such a foolish, long, single-file formation.

He would select reliable scouts to conduct thorough reconnaissance, send small groups of troops up the hillside, wait until the sun had dispelled the chilly fog before taking action, and wait until...

As he thought about it, Flami felt a wave of shame.

Even if he has complete command authority, so what?

Can he command the free people to act like those gladiators?

Flamme savored the gladiators' actions; a hundred men moving as one, perfectly synchronized—what exquisite command skills they possessed!

The free men were far inferior to the gladiators... and, ultimately, Flami knew he was nothing but a coward.

He knew perfectly well that Deepak's plan was so foolish, but he dared not refute Deepak, because he was so afraid of death that he would put on the most despicable and ridiculous posture just to live to the next minute.

Ultimately, free people are all like this: living only to live until tomorrow, like a pack of rotting wild dogs that pounce on any chance to live even a second longer, even if they will die the next second.

Just like now, Flammy killed Deepak and surrendered to the gladiators.

and then?

Will the gladiators spare their lives?

With so many free men, it was impossible to march through the mountains; they either let them go or killed them.

It's most likely the latter...

Even if they were to show mercy and let the free people go... Flammy would still be doomed.

He killed Deepak; the high-ranking riders won't let him get away with it, and he's doomed.

How ridiculous, Flami, struggling like a worm for so long, bowing and scraping for so long, doing so many despicable things, and in the end still you're headed for death.

In this respect, Flami admired the gladiators, who had the courage to face death, and even if they eventually died, they would die more nobly than him.

Damn it, not only do they have courage, but they also have tactics and teamwork... This is completely different from the enemy Flammy imagined.

If gladiators have lost their anger, blindness, and bloodlust, can they still be called gladiators?

It felt like Flamy first discovering that the crab sticks produced by the Coastal Union didn't contain any crab. If the crab sticks didn't contain crab, then what he was eating was just what was left over...

"Are you the commander?" a voice asked from behind Flami.

Flammy quickly stood up and looked behind him.

It was a giant far taller than Flami, every muscle of which seemed to have been sculpted by the hand of God. He was the embodiment of pure power, the manifestation of some primordial, magnificent concept, the very power that had descended upon the human world—Flammi had this thought almost at first glance.

He considered him a person far more noble than a high-ranking rider... "My lord," Flami addressed him.

"I'm not some adult," Angron said, looking down at Flami.

Flami paused for a moment, then realized that the person who had just called him was not Angron in front of him.

He noticed that Anglong was carrying a basket on his back.

Anglong turned around and unloaded the basket from his back. Flami saw the figure sitting inside the basket.

It was a man whose body was covered in burn marks and who was weak and limp. Some of his wounds were even emitting terrifying heat.

Despite being such a frail person, Flami felt as if struck by lightning, her throat tightening, unable to meet the man's piercing gaze.

He recognized the man, and remembered the molten gold giant that had ravaged Dicia...

Zhou Yun, who came back from the dead.

The high-ranking riders said he was badly injured and had no chance of survival; they mocked Angron for rescuing nothing more than a charred corpse.

But now, he's still alive...

"To rise from the dead..." Flammy couldn't help but say.

Hearing Flami's words, Zhou Yun simply smiled.

The laughter sent chills down Flami's spine, giving him goosebumps all over.

"You're the commander of the free people, aren't you?"

Zhou Yun rested his arms on the basket on his back, leaned forward slightly, looked at Flami, and asked again.

He looked really weak, but Flammy's intuition told him that the gladiator's leader was still extremely dangerous and could take his life with the flick of a finger.

"Sir, I am... but I am not a high-ranking rider, I..." Flami felt his throat go dry.

His throat tightened, and many words of pleading brewed in his mind, but he didn't utter a single one.

He felt as if the other person could see right through him.

"Can you make spreadsheets?" Zhou Yun asked.

"6

?

""

sheet?

Flammy paused for a moment.

We have to survive!

He quickly realized that he might be able to survive.

Because he really knows how to make tables.

Ms. Lasita always believed that military command was a rigorous matter, and she always required Flami to provide various forms, from forms about the soldiers' ages, family and financial status to various forms about military supplies. Under Lasita's training, Flami learned how to make all these forms.

At first, he complained that Lasita was too much trouble.

But at this moment, Flami was more grateful to Lasita than ever before.

Making tables is amazing; he loves making tables.

"I will! My lord! I will!"

Flammy saw Zhou Yun's eyes light up.

"Go and tally up the supplies you're carrying, and make a table for me," Zhou Yun said to Flammy.

"Sir! I have it! I have it ready-made!" Flammy immediately straightened up and said.

Although Deepak was the senior rider leading them this time, Flami still prepared a duplicate table out of habit for easy management and reference.

"If you need it, I can find it for you right now, it's in my horse's saddlebag!" His horse had just been confiscated by the gladiators, but he was sure he could find it if he looked.

A smile appeared on Zhou Yun's lips, and his gaze toward Flami carried an air of appreciation.

survived.

Flami relaxed instantly.

Flami, led by a gladiator named Yochuka, found his horse, took out a thick stack of forms, and brought them to Zhou Yun, who was sitting in a basket on his back.

Zhou Yun casually tossed the form into the air. Instead of landing, the form floated in mid-air, unfolding one by one in front of Zhou Yun.

Zhou Yun only glanced at each form, finishing all the forms in just a few seconds, to the point that Flammy doubted whether he was really looking at them.

Tell your soldiers that they are free to choose to leave or stay. Those who leave can take a day's worth of rations, but they must leave their weapons behind.

"These weapons listed in Forms B-11, B-12, and B-13—you ordered them to just throw them into the lake. We can't take them with us; it will only hinder the operation."

"And these weapons, I've marked them. Take them out and bring them to Onomamus, he'll know how to distribute them."

"besides...

""

Flammy was dumbfounded; he had actually read it all, and...

"Me, am I to command and allocate resources?" Flami asked, pointing to himself.

Zhou Yun gave him a strange look.

"What, you still want to go back to Diya?"

"Sure, I won't stop you. When you're being skinned alive by the high-ranking riders and slowly dying on the city wall, please tell Supra that I sincerely thank him for the supplies he brought."

Flamme choked, suddenly realizing that he had no choice but to follow the gladiators down this path to the bitter end.

He had no other choice...

"Also, the maximum number of free civilians to remain is one thousand. Each squad will consist of ten people, with a gladiator as the captain. Ten squads will be combined into a regiment, with a gladiator as the company commander. Each company will also have an adjutant, for a total of ten companies and one hundred squads. Reorganize according to this model."

"You should understand the importance of filling the ranks as much as possible, right? These are all your former subordinates. The closer we are to full strength, the more influence you will have in the team."

"A thousand people?" Flami quickly began mentally calculating how long the remaining supplies would last for a thousand free people and several hundred gladiators, after the departing free citizens took a day's worth of food...

He hesitated for a moment, thinking that he could only follow the gladiators to the bitter end, and that Zhou Yun was easier to talk to than the high-ranking riders, so he mustered up his courage a little.

"My lord, I am not sure how much food your gladiators are carrying, but according to my calculations, the current supplies are at most enough to feed a thousand people for twenty or thirty days. Moreover, bringing such a large amount of supplies into the mountains is also a problem, considering losses and possible unforeseen circumstances..."

'

"...If you're going to recruit a thousand free people, then we'll start experiencing famine within half a month of entering the mountains."

Zhou Yun looked at Flami, who smiled and shook his head.

"Who said we were going into the mountains?"

What will we eat when we go into the mountains?

"Our goal is to head south. We're going to the Coastal Alliance, and we're going to conquer those small city-states on the border between the Coastal Alliance and Daisia."

"Say these words to the free people, let them understand: if they return to Diya, they may be met with severe punishment, but if they follow us south, they may gain countless riches in the city-state, riches that once belonged to the high-ranking riders."

"Is it a matter of mustering the courage to make the high-ranking riders bleed, or simply returning to Diascia as a slave—those who go back will most likely be forced into the arena by the high-ranking riders."

Go and attack the city-states of the Coastal Alliance...

Flammy's eyes widened.

"My lord, but if we tell the free people this, won't the high-ranking riders know your target?" Flammy blurted out.

"Yes, that's what we need to let them know. Have the free people who are planning to go back tell Lord Supra that we thank him for his generous donation of supplies. We're going to attack the Coastal Alliance next, so he doesn't need to send any more."

"That arrangement should be fine." Guilliman sat down next to Zhou Yun and whispered to him, "Lord Supra will understand. Your attack on the Coastal Alliance is a good thing for him. He won't stop you anymore. The free people who were sent back can also be given some things to do, so he won't be able to spare any attention."

Zhou Yun nodded slightly. At this moment, they were in a safe room in the Marcus mansion.

A pale-faced Marcus Guilliman paced back and forth in front of the door. He had already informed Connor of what had happened, and Connor was on his way with the city guards.

Although Marcus was anxious, Zhou Yun and Robert Guilliman, who had personally experienced the assassination attempt, remained calm and kept talking in hushed tones.

Besides the arrangements for Nuseria, Guilliman and Zhou Yun also discussed some other things.

"I'm very curious about that power called psychic energy, and I hope you can teach me how to use it."

Robert Guilliman spoke to Zhou Yun in a serious tone.

At that very moment, the door to the safe house was pushed open.

"Robert!"

A hurried female voice suddenly rang out, the door was pushed open, and the woman rushed in, cupping Robert Guilliman's face in her hands.

"Are you injured? Does it hurt? Where did the assassin hurt you?"

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