December 27, 1795.
This year’s winter was suffocatingly warm.
The entire world was also chaotically suffocating.
As the war on the Rodinia Continent grew fiercer, the flas of war gradually spread to other continents.
The natives of the South Continent picked up spears and bows to attack neighboring tribes, with a clear goal of capturing them as slaves to sell to those large countries in need of population.
Selling off people of the sa roots but from different tribes caused them no guilt.
They didn’t consider the neighboring tribes as kin.
As long as they could trade slaves for wealth and advanced weapons, why not.
The unfortunate slaves crossed the ocean, received by various countries in Rodinia, and were placed in sweatshops to work day and night until death.
For hundreds of years, this phenonon persisted, but since Rodinia’s major powers wanted to save face, it was officially banned.
However, as the war beca increasingly brutal, so countries not only used slaves as forced labor but even sent them to the front lines as cannon fodder.
This war completely tore off the fig leaf of the Rodinia Countries boasting a civilized world.
Roland watched this scene coldly, his heart as icy as a polar glacier.
He couldn’t stop it and was too indifferent to care; perhaps this was the inevitability of history, it happened in past eras, in another world, and now it was just repeating.
Feeling annoyed by the snow-like flying intelligence reports, Roland inexplicably felt sowhat fed up.
He suddenly realized that he had beco sowhat distant from these mundane conflicts.
Since mid-December, he and Sif, along with others, went to White Mountain for the final preparations.
He had a premonition that Sofia wouldn’t refuse this place for their final battle.
After all, it was a snowy mountain; why would the Empress of the Frosty Winter refuse to fight on a snowy mountain?
White Mountain wasn’t far from Val City; Christine, who was responsible for maintaining the last defense line in Val City, sent soone daily at full speed to deliver the intelligence reports to Roland, today was no exception.
Roland, standing at the Peak of White Mountain, saw the intelligence officer climbing swiftly up the snowy path, was it Raikkonen?
Roland’s heart tightened, realizing that today’s intelligence would be particularly significant.
The brutal war was both a calamity and an opportunity; so couldn’t survive it, while others thrived.
Raikkonen was one of the outstanding erging talents from this war.
He was now a Lieutenant General in the army and a Hereditary Baron, yet he wasn’t even twenty years old.
The only ones who could compare to his rapid rise were Dailong, Jes, Tom, and Jerry, trusted aides personally promoted by Roland.
Of course, if you included Christine, none could compare.
Christine now held the position of Grand Marshal of both Sussex and Jin Yuan, controlling military power single-handedly, with ultimate say in military matters.
She was also a Count in both Jin Yuan and Sussex.
Though she didn’t value secular power much, Roland gave her the respect she deserved.
Her exceptional military talent and cold, ruthless nature made her a feared figure in the army.
Many complained about her to Roland, even key figures like Wald and Alben repeatedly reminded Roland not to give all the military power to Christine alone.
If she made a mistake, everything would be over.
Don’t put all your eggs in one basket is an investnt principle, their well-aning reminders and complaints were valid, but Roland had no choice.
Distrust Christine? Of course, but then who would command the coalition of over a million troops?
Everyone knew that commanding more than ten thousand troops in a local conflict was the limit for most generals; being able to command tens of thousands in a campaign-level military action warranted the title of a competent general.
Commanding hundreds of thousands in a war made one a legendary general of the era.
In the coalition, only Christine had such capability.
In contrast, the Holy Alliance had three of such legendary generals.
Vladimir Empire’s Suvorov, Prudon Kingdom’s Von Karma, and Tirol Kingdom’s Mattson.
Fortunately, during a previous battle, Christine launched a surprise attack amid chaos, causing the elderly Marshal Suvorov to fall from a rapidly running horse, eventually dying from severe injuries; otherwise, the coalition’s disadvantage would be greater.
Suvorov’s death also caused subtle changes.
The organizer of the Holy Alliance was the Vladimir Empire, the strongest power, so it was only logical for them to appoint the coalition’s Commander in Chief, and the other two countries had no objections, especially since Suvorov was a widely respected legendary marshal.
However, Suvorov was dead.
The Prudon and Tirol Kingdoms began to have other thoughts.
Legendary marshals aren’t cabbages grown in fields that can be sown in spring and harvested in fall.
Since Suvorov’s passing, the Holy Alliance hadn’t appointed a new commander, slowing their offensive significantly.
Seeing Raikkonen’s hurried deanor, a foreboding sensation rose in Roland’s heart.
His anxiety didn’t last long; Raikkonen quickly reached him.
Standing at attention, saluting, he handed over the sealed intelligence pouch, without a single extra word.
The current him was a far cry from the forr tabloid reporter of The Sun.
Watching Roland’s solemn expression, Raikkonen stood very honestly to the side, quietly waiting.
Just three months ago, his father had co all the way from the Imperial Capital to the front lines to see him grow rapidly; while delighted, his father also felt so worry.
He even jokingly wondered what if he hadn’t introduced Raikkonen to Roland back then.
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