The Villainess Is My Cute Daughter

The soldiers nodded and immediately formed orderly lines. They grabbed large plates instead of the standard wooden bowls the other armies used.

Adrian watched the first few guys step up. They piled massive mountains of white rice onto their plates, drowned it in a heavy scoop of curry, and then filled a small hand-sized bowl with the steaming bone broth.

Once the lines were moving smoothly, Adrian cleared his throat and fed a bit of mana into his vocal cords. His voice boomed across the entire camp, easily reaching the distant tents where the other nobles were sitting.

"Alright then! I brought too many soldiers here and now there is a shortage of food!"

He winked at his soldiers. A few of the smarter men in the front row smirked. Not everyone understood the hidden meaning behind his words right away but he knew the veterans would explain it to the rest of the meatheads later. The camaraderie between his men was insanely strong after going through Claire and Burke’s hellish training regimes.

"Just look at us," Adrian said loudly. "Eight thousand soldiers."

He let out a forced chuckle.

"I overestimated and made a really big mistake of not thinking about the logistics. I really wanted to prove the power of Oresfall to the Emperor, but there just isn’t enough food to go around out here."

He paused for dramatic effect.

"Due to this, it is a pity, but most of you must go back. Considering the looming threat we have from the Ironhold Kingdom, I think it will be better if you stay in Oresfall and defend the territory. That way Oresfall doesn’t fall into enemy hands and we can properly defend our Empire."

He made sure to stress the word our.

"I had to make a really hard decision about this," Adrian continued, projecting his voice even further. "I thought about this for the past few hours while I was cooking. If we fight the war with our eight thousand men, we will be taking away the chances for the other nobles to shine."

He gestured out toward the distant camps.

"What about the other soldiers? What about the other nobles? We can’t just eat everything ourselves. We need to think about them too. They have strong warriors and brave soldiers and even potential heroes among them. We need to give them an opportunity to grow and to show the Emperor that they have extreme potential as well."

He looked back down at his men.

"We already have what we want. Our territory is safe. Our families are safe. We are prosperous, aren’t we?"

Thousands of heads nodded in unison.

"Good. Now, our eight thousand man army is slightly smaller than every other army combined. Having this much power might create some unwanted jealousy. We are all human, and it is hard to control our feelings. So it is better if I do not hold this much power in my hands. Marquis Draven Voss is the commander of this front. It would be highly disrespectful for me to field an army bigger than his, which is four thousand men."

He tapped his chin, putting on a thoughtful look.

"Right now that I think about it, maybe leaving two thousand men is a bit too much, so having one thousand is much better. Baron Kaldwin brought twelve hundred and Count Frankenstein has eight hundred. I think it would be better if I sit somewhere in the middle between the two of them."

His soldiers didn’t miss a beat.

"Yes my lord!" they chanted.

"I want the strongest thousand of you to stay back," Adrian ordered. "The rest of you will march back home. That is why I’m giving you all of this pemmican. Take around ten to twenty blocks each. That should give you something to eat on the way without having to stop and cook. It’s more than you’ll need for the entire journey. I’ll bring out more crates so don’t worry about emptying these."

He walked over to the pots.

"Now then, let’s eat."

Adrian pulled a stack of clean plates from his storage ring. He handed one to Aria, then to Claire, Serena, Celeste, and Thorne. Once they had their plates, he grabbed one for himself. He piled on a massive mound of rice and curry, scooped up a bowl of hot soup, and finally sat down in the dirt to eat with his soldiers.

Inside the command tent where all of the nobles were gathered around a long wooden table, the atmosphere was suffocating.

Count Frankenstein, along with pretty much every other noble in the room, had a bright red face. They looked extremely embarrassed, and heavily insulted. Adrian’s magically amplified voice had carried perfectly through the canvas walls, and every single word had felt like a slap to the face.

Frankenstein slammed his fist down onto the table, making his plate of food rattle.

"How dare he look down on us?" he hissed.

The rest of the nobles muttered in agreement, their expressions sour.

Draven just sat at the head of the table and let out a heavy sigh.

’Of course they feel humiliated,’ Draven thought to himself as he watched the angry nobles.

Adrian had essentially just announced to the entire camp that if he didn’t send his army away and actively weaken himself, then none of these guys would even get a chance to shine. Obviously their egos were deeply bruised. In fact, even Draven’s own pride had taken a slight hit.

But he knew Adrian well enough by now to know that the man didn’t actually mean it as an insult. Adrian just didn’t want to fight this war. He was just looking for a convenient excuse to send his people back home.

Draven tapped his knuckles against the table.

The heavy thudding instantly drew everyone’s attention.

"Don’t misunderstand his words," Draven grumbled, his gaze sweeping across the table. "And let me give you all a warning right now. Do not anger him, and don’t even think about going against him. Just trust me on this."

He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, leaning forward in his chair.

"He isn’t wrong though," Draven said. "You guys might not know this, but his army is incredibly strong. He fought beside me against the monster waves up in my territory, and he had brought the weakest bunch of his men to help."

Draven paused, letting the silence hang in the air for a second.

"And they were already better than my own army."

The angry murmurs in the tent completely died out.

"Now," Draven continued, his voice deadpan. "I want you guys to imagine how strong his strongest thousand are going to be."

All of the hot headed emotions and bruised egos were instantly pushed to the back of their minds. The nobles shifted uncomfortably in their chairs, their minds rapidly running the meaning behind Draven’s words.

If Adrian’s worst soldiers outperformed the Northern Warlord’s veterans, then his elites were going to be absolute monsters.

Everyone at the table quietly came to the exact same conclusion.

Offending Adrian Sterling was basically asking for death.

"Besides that... he said he wanted to keep our army’s morale high so he wouldn’t really be participating in the war directly. Use this chance to rack up accomplishments instead of cursing him."

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