Chapter 424: Priest

On the fifth day after Toledo was taken, the morning sun drifted over the eastern mountain ridge, dyeing the whole mountain city a deep crimson.

Zhu Yong stood on the palace tower, with a freshly drawn map of the Iberian Peninsula spread out before him.

On the parchment, ink lines marked the locations of Portugal, Castile, Aragon, and Granada, with the mountains and rivers drawn clearly.

Wang Gui had taken three days with his men to coax the details out of a captured Spanish officer, and this map was far more detailed than the crude ones previously seized.

"Second Prince, there's new activity in Aragon…" Wang Gui came up from the stairwell, holding a freshly translated military report.

Zhu Yong took it and unfolded it.

King Alfonso V of Aragon had amassed over twenty thousand troops on the border; the vanguard cavalry had reached west of Zaragoza, less than a hundred li from the Castile frontier.

The report also mentioned that Alfonso V sent an envoy to France, seeking aid from Cha Li Liu Shi.

"France…" Zhu Yong's mouth twitched slightly.

Cha Li Liu Shi, the French king of this era, nicknamed the "Mad King," whose mind fluctuated, and whose court was dominated by a few great nobles.

France and England had been at war for nearly a hundred years, draining the nation's strength, leaving no capacity to concern itself with Spain.

"Second Prince, should we send someone to France to probe the situation?" Wang Gui asked.

"No hurry; first finish cleaning up Spain," Zhu Yong folded the report, slipped it into his sleeve, and turned to descend the tower.

In the palace main hall, Zhu Shuang was inventorying the last batch of supplies seized from a Castilian noble estate.

Dozens of wooden crates were stacked on the floor; opened, they contained silverware, candlesticks, tableware, and several boxes of gold items used by the Church.

"Second Prince, these nobles have hidden more than the royal treasury," Zhu Shuang kicked a nearby crate, which was packed full of silver coins that glimmered dimly in the candlelight.

Zhu Yong walked over and picked up a silver coin to examine it.

The obverse bore the portrait of the Castile king; the reverse a cross, crudely made with uneven edges.

Great Ming's silver yuan are far more refined than this.

"Melt them all and cast them into Great Ming silver ingots."

Zhu Shuang responded, calling the soldiers to carry the crate away.

Zhu Yong sat on a chair in the hall, his mind turning over the upcoming campaign.

Castile is secured, Portugal is stable, next we must deal with Aragon.

Alfonso V is massing troops on the border, looking to loot the chaos; then let him come.

Outside Toledo lies a plain called Ocania, its open terrain suited for artillery and Flintlock Guns.

Pull the main force there, exposing Toledo; if the Aragonese don't come, it shows they're cowardly, and if they do, we can finish them off right there.

"Second Prince, what are you thinking?" Zhu Di walked in from outside.

Zhu Yong voiced his plan.

Zhu Di, after listening, went to the map and tapped the spot of Ocania, saying, "I've been there; it's sixty li from Toledo, flat ground, no rivers to block, cavalry can charge freely, and artillery can be set up.

Aragon's cavalry are mostly light, thin‑armored, unable to stop our Flintlock Guns."

Zhu Yong nodded.

Flintlock Guns have been refined for over a decade; the Blueprint was obtained in Hongwu 6th year, the first generation finalized in Hongwu 9th year, and they have now undergone three iterations.

Their range increased from 150 steps to 200 steps, and reload speed rose from two shots per minute to three.

European firearms were still matchlocks, unusable in rain, slow to reload, short‑ranged, and not comparable.

"Send someone to Porto to deliver a message, and have Fourth Prince ready over there.

If Aragon truly attacks, we'll strike from east and west."

Zhu Di replied and turned away.

Zhu Yong stood up and walked to the palace gate.

Toledo's streets were a bit cleaner than a few days earlier; Longxiang Army soldiers patrolled, and occasionally a civilian would peek out of a house, glance and retreat.

A few soldiers were clearing a trash pile at the corner, shoveling rotting vegetable leaves and waste into a cart with iron spades.

An elderly woman crouched by the road, cradling a child who cried hungrily.

Zhu Yong approached and handed her a few pieces of Dry Rations from his own pouch.

The old woman looked up at him, her eyes filled with fear and bewilderment.

She trembled as she took the rations, muttering something.

Wang Gui came up from behind, "Second Prince, she says thank you."

Zhu Yong shook his head, said nothing, and turned toward the north of the city.

In the northern camp, several thousand captives were undergoing the daily mandatory bathing.

Over a dozen large wooden barrels were set on the open ground, filled with hot water steaming white vapor.

The captives were stripped of clothing and forced one by one into the barrels; Longxiang Army soldiers, weapons in hand, watched as the prisoners, each holding a brush dipped in soapwort water, scrubbed each other from head to toe.

Zhu Qiong Jiong stood nearby, holding a stick, supervising the captives as they lined up.

A twelve‑year‑old boy, sun‑tanned dark, his arms muscular, stood with a straight, upright posture.

"Father, we captured another group today, taken from that eastern castle—over a hundred people, soldiers, peasants, and a few priests," Zhu Qiong Jiong ran over.

Zhu Yong glanced at the captives queuing.

After bathing and changing into clean clothes, they looked much more presentable.

A few of the younger ones, after bathing, seemed more spirited, their backs straightened.

Those priests wore black robes, huddled at the end of the line, heads down, unwilling to meet anyone's gaze.

"Isolate the priests, interrogate them later."

Zhu Qiong Jiong replied and ran back to continue supervising.

Zhu Yong stood at the camp gate, watching the captives.

These people are still human, only their lives have been too harsh.

The king doesn't care, the nobles don't care, and the church doesn't care either.

When sick, you bear it yourself; when hungry, you endure; when you die, you just die.

Great Ming has arrived; at least it can let them have full meals, warm clothes, medicine when ill, and caretakers in old age.

"Prince, an envoy has arrived from Aragon," Wang Gui said, walking up from behind.

Zhu Yong turned around and said, "Bring him in."

In a short while, Wang Gui came over with a middle‑aged man dressed in an ornate long robe.

The man was in his early forties, sporting neatly trimmed beard and a purple velvet robe with gold‑trimmed collar. He walked to Zhu Yong, bowed deeply, and spoke a passage in Latin.

"Prince, he says he is the envoy of the King of Aragon, Alfonso V, named Pedro de Urrea, and he has come to negotiate," Wang Gui translated.

Zhu Yong looked at the envoy and said lightly, "Negotiation—what for?"

The envoy bowed again, pulled a parchment from his bosom, and handed it over with both hands.

"Prince, he says Aragon is willing to ally with Great Ming to jointly deal with the remaining forces of Castile.

In return, Aragon hopes to obtain a portion of Castile's eastern lands."

Zhu Yong took the parchment, glanced over it, and the corner of his mouth twitched upward.

An alliance, a plunder in the midst of fire, yet it sounds so pleasant.

"Tell him, Castile is Great Ming's; not an inch will be given. If Aragon wishes to ally, it must submit to Great Ming, the king's title revoked and replaced with a marquis of Great Ming.

The land belongs to Great Ming; the royal family may retain its property and receive an annual salary."

Wang Gui relayed the message, and the envoy's complexion changed.

He opened his mouth, seemed about to speak, then swallowed it back.

After hesitating for a moment, he said a few more words.

"Prince, he says the matter is too great for him to decide; he must return to report to the king."

"You may... return and give me an answer within ten days. After ten days, Great Ming's great army will march into Aragon. Then it will no longer be a matter of submission."

The envoy's face grew even paler.

He bowed repeatedly and hurried away with his party.