"This is the best offer our Count Sanboli has provided, you should consider it carefully..."
The voice of the noble envoy was shut behind the door, while André and Valent Taylor walked side by side on the path lined with tents.
They were both deep in thought, not saying a word.
After more than an hour of discussion, both sides essentially understood each other’s positions and demands.
As the main force of the Saint Sun’s Army, Valent Taylor had long anticipated the nobles’ so-called "negotiation".
Since the Gun Rider Brigade wreaked havoc, the nobles and the Saint Sun’s Army had reached a tacit understanding.
Many who escaped the Gun Rider Brigade joined the Rebel Army, with hardly any obstruction from the nobles.
Among these new recruits, there were quite a few artisans and townsfolk.
In the past, such talents were rare, yet now even they fled towns to join the Rebel Army.
The reason was simple, the Gun Rider Brigade finally spread from rural areas to towns.
After recruiting so local ruffians and scoundrels, they started imposing a warti taxation on the local townsfolk, averaging 1 to 3 gold pounds per household.
This series of actions naturally boosted the morale of the Gun Rider Brigade, while public resentnt grew heavier.
Not only the commoners, but even so nobles clashed with the Gun Rider Brigade, though most conflicts were diated by Lakunio and Banifus.
The noble lords of Hotam County could not swallow their pride, outwardly they dared not defy, so they covertly opened the door wide for the Saint Sun’s Army.
However, initiating insider deals, for them, was a first-ti occurrence.
In the tents on both sides, newly recruited warriors sharpened rusty short swords and daily sticks on whetstones.
Children in patched-up clothes ran back and forth with wooden swords, while won balanced clay pots on their heads, chatting as they walked.
The smoke from cooking and the aroma of bread filled the air, Valent Taylor paused to gaze at the distant sunset.
"If we don’t agree, the other rebel armies will." seeing him stop, André spoke, "You know, they didn’t rise to destroy the nobles, they rose to beco nobles themselves."
"I know." Valent Taylor replied sullenly but did not continue speaking.
The conditions offered by Count Sanboli were undeniably favorable.
He promised not to obstruct the activities of the Saint Sun’s Army, allowed smuggling but forbade attacks on Knight Manor.
For captured mbers of the Saint Sun’s Army, both sides could make exchanges, with nobles providing ransom if they had no captives.
During winter, they would provide so clothing and grain.
The count even generously suggested sending a naless team to help train their army.
Contrary to the envoy’s expectations, they refused this crucial military aid, these farrs of the Saint Sun’s Army instead hoped to receive weapons and armor.
Armor was naturally impossible to provide, but Hotam County’s count had plenty of spears and short swords in stock.
The envoy, of course, agreed to this readily, but most of the negotiation was handled by André, with Valent Taylor mainly asking one thing, "the conditions".
They had two conditions: firstly, farrs returning to their hos should not be obstructed, which was negotiable.
The second was asking the Saint Sun’s Army to change their allegiance, shifting from Saint Sun to Moliat.
It’s hard not to think of Moliat’s 500,000 dinars arriving in addition to this condition.
André clearly saw that after long-term failures and changes in the war situation, these nobles were at the end of their tolerance.
The actions of the Gun Rider Brigade had finally put pressure on them, prompting those staunch church faction mbers to climb the fence.
Their current behavior was all about currying favor with Moliat, hoping for preferential treatnt upon surrender.
Among the Thousand River Valley Church’s two enemies, the nobles made their choice—they preferred Moliat over Demon Horn.
The forr, while harsh, at least preserved fundantal status and the opportunity to rise again.
The latter seed rciful but was even more ruthless than Moliat in thods.
However, Moliat treated noble and commoner alike, while the demon targeted only nobles.
"Of course, we are only temporarily united, later we can welco the Salvation Army, dissolve the Saint Sun’s Army and join the Salvation Army, then the previous agreent could naturally be voided." André continued to persuade.
Though he was the acting vice pope, the one truly holding decision-making power was still Valent Taylor.
André had his followers, yet in front of Valent Taylor with the Saint Sun and reputation backing, he was outmatched.
"I know." Valent Taylor remained flat in his answer.
André suddenly stopped, grabbing his arm, his face uncharacteristically stern and serious: "You can’t avoid it, you need to give a definitive answer."
Not looking back, Valent Taylor replied after a pause, "I don’t trust these nobles anymore, never will..."
Valent Taylor was born into a steward family, his family had been stewards for generations.
His father and brother once served as stewards, even allowed a seat at the table during the New Year Festival banquet.
After his brother died, he inherited the steward position, whether in land distribution, farr managent, or surplus grain trade, he was diligent and responsible.
Among the many Knight Manors in the vicinity, the manor he managed always had the best harvest.
He would have lived an ordinary life as a steward had he not learned from passing rchants about the Blue-Blood Orphans.
Then Valent Taylor finally understood what was sold in the secret ledger his deceased brother left behind.
"Those nobles stole my only son, my brother’s only son and daughter, exterminated my family line, then brewed the blood of my kin into wine, poured it into my cup, inviting to drink heartily.
When I drank, I never understood why they were so joyfully smiling..."
Pushing André’s hand away, Valent Taylor touched the candle stand scar on his palm: "I was grateful back then, swore on my knees never to betray.
I treated them as family, cared for the young lord as my own son.
Later, I intended to spare the child, but he tried to kill by stealth with a candle stand, he never saw as family, only a servant.
So, I pierced his throat with a candlestick and pushed him out from the castle’s third floor."
Valent Taylor had replayed that rainy night countless tis in his mind, able to recount it to André as if it happened to soone else.
Only now did André seem to see the shadow of the fierce fugitive Valent Taylor who slew a knight’s family.
Since killing the lord and fleeing at the end of last year, to accepting funding from igedi Comrce Association to return to Hotam County, it has been a whole year.
In the first half-year, they achieved little.
In the latter half-year, their numbers and strength swelled like a sponge soaking water.
Apart from the withdrawal of local forces and André’s sches, the greatest motivator was their battle successes.
The defeat and dissolution of four Gun Rider Brigade units gave almost everyone in despair a sliver of hope.
Under the banner of resisting nobles and church, all Hotam County’s rebels united together.
Firstly, there was a large number of low-ranking monks from the Juanist Faction organizing many Saint Sun Army mbers.
Secondly, refugees and artisans fleeing from various places, even second sons of knights.
Most amusingly, among them were three temple knights, and dozens of Night Guards, Ard Farrs, and Monks.
These staunch church supporters decided to stand against the church.
After changing sides, these rebels displayed a fervent betrayal, the most radical part.
If secretly colluding with nobles, or switching to Moliat’s banner, the army morale would certainly suffer a degree of confusion.
"Sorry, I can’t make this decision."
"You’re being stubborn, I don’t want you to abandon hatred." André’s plan was to feign surrender, to repent later, otherwise with the current surge in Saint Sun Army’s numbers, it wouldn’t be possible to pass this winter.
Normally good-natured, Valent Taylor firmly shook his head, "This isn’t a transaction, it’s a compromise."
"How about this." Seeing Valent Taylor’s obstinacy, André rubbed his aching head, "Let’s write to His Holiness the Pope and let him decide, what do you think?"
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