Chapter 430: Logging In

When the news that Barcelona had been taken reached Toledo, Zhu Yong was in the palace study reading Castile's land register.

Thick bundles of parchment recorded the nation's land ownership in dense detail.

Nobles held seventy percent, the clergy twenty percent, and the commoners ten percent.

With that distribution, it would be no wonder the commoners starved.

"Prince, a letter from Prince Yan," Wang Gui entered from the doorway, holding a folded military report.

Zhu Yong took it and unfolded it.

Zhu Di's handwriting, like the man himself, was clean and crisp, without any mess.

"Second Prince, Barcelona has been taken; defending troops three thousand, captured two thousand, killed four hundred, the rest fled. Twelve merchant ships at the harbor were sunk, the remaining vessels surrendered, and we seized wool, olive oil, and several chests of Gold and Silver.

The church has been cleared; Gold and Silver vessels are being melted, the Bible, crosses and books have been burned, the church will be rebuilt as a school, and the clergy have been escorted to the camp outside the city for further handling.

Tomorrow I will lead the army westward, straight to Lerida. The Aragonese eastern front is empty, a perfect opportunity. Brother Di bows."

Zhu Yong finished reading and placed the letter on the desk.

Barcelona is in our hands.

The eastern gate of Aragon has been breached; Alfonso V either withdraws troops to reinforce or fights Zhu Shuang hard on the western front.

A withdrawal to reinforce hits the mark.

Third Brother pursues from behind, Fifth Brother blocks from the front, a pincer attack; the Aragonese cannot escape.

A hard fight will also do.

Third Brother has ten thousand men; the Aragonese are not so easy to devour.

When they get entangled, Fifth Brother attacks from the east, also a pincer.

"Wang Gui, reply to Prince Yan, just say I know, let him follow the plan, no need to report again before Zaragoza is taken."

Wang Gui answered with a sound and turned away.

Zhu Yong leaned back in his chair, eyes closed.

That kid Zhu Di never makes anyone worry about war.

In recent years, those restless tribes of the Western Regions have always been dealt with by him thoroughly.

Now Barcelona is in his hands, and Aragon's rear route is cut off.

Even if Alfonso V wants to flee, there is nowhere to run.

Barcelona, the next morning.

Before dawn, the camp outside the city was already bustling.

Ten thousand Longxiang Army were fully equipped, their iron armor glinting cold in the morning light.

Flintlock Guns were polished bright, bayonets attached, flashing cold in the morning mist.

Zhu Di stood in the center of the camp, a map of Aragon spread before him.

From Barcelona to Zaragoza, three hundred li…

Passing through Lerida, a few small towns of Tarragona.

These small towns have few troops and cannot stop the Longxiang Army.

The real hard battle is at Zaragoza, Aragon's capital and largest city.

"Prince, the troops are ready," Vice General came over.

Zhu Di folded the map and mounted his horse.

"Depart…"

Ten thousand troops left the camp, marching along the official road westward.

Barcelona's civilians stood by the road, watching the iron‑armored force pass.

No one dared to speak, no one dared to look up.

Yet some daring ones peeked out through the cracks of windows.

Their eyes held fear, curiosity, and an indescribable something.

An old woman stood at the alley entrance, cradling a child.

The child held a piece of bread, gnawing it with crumbs all over his face.

The old woman watched the iron‑armored soldiers, her lips trembling, muttering something unknown.

Zhu Di walked past her, his steps never stopping.

After about two hours' walk, a small town appeared ahead.

The city was small, its walls low, looking aged and dilapidated; some sections had collapsed and were haphazardly patched with stone and wood.

At the gate stood a few soldiers in leather armor, spears in hand; seeing the iron‑black tide ahead, their faces turned pale.

"Prince, ahead is Lerida," Vice General rode up.

Zhu Di halted his horse, squinted and watched for a while.

Sparse soldiers dotted the wall, archers nocked arrows, but their hands trembled.

The city gate was tightly shut, the suspension bridge hung high.

"Fire."

Several line‑of‑sight cannons were pushed to the front line.

"Boom…"

Shells struck the wall, bricks and stones shattered, smoke rose to the sky.

One volley created a breach in the wall.

Two volleys widened the breach enough for three or four people to walk side by side.

Three volleys cleared the defending troops from the wall.

"Landing..."

Zhu Di rode at the forefront, charging through the breach.

The city's garrison had long fled without a trace, leaving only a few frail old men, women and children, shivering in their houses.

Zhu Di halted his horse in the city center and glanced at the small town.

The Street was narrow, the houses dilapidated, trash and excrement littered the ground, and a foul stench pervaded the air.

Just like Barcelona, dirty.

"Send word: rest for half an hour, then continue westward."

"Understood."

The Longxiang Army took a brief respite in the city.

The soldiers gnawed Dry Rations, drank water, and no one spoke.

Zhu Di sat on a Stone and spread out the map.

Lerida had been captured; Tarragona lay ahead.

Tarragona was slightly larger than Lerida, with more defenders, but it could not stop the Longxiang Army.

The real hard battle was at Zaragoza.

He folded the map and stood up.

"Depart..."

The army continued westward.

At the same time, Toledo City.

Zhu Yong stood on the palace tower, gazing at the eastern sky.

Zhu Shuang was on the eastern front, Zhu Di in Barcelona, Zhu Gang in Porto.

The four brothers were stationed in four locations, each fighting his own battle.

Yet their goal was the same.

"Prince, the estates of those Castilian nobles have been inventoried," Wang Gui said, walking up from the stairwell, a list in hand.

Zhu Yong took it and gave it a quick glance.

Land, property, Gold and Silver, livestock, all listed clearly.

Those nobles had hidden more items in their homes than the treasury held.

"Distribute the land to landless peasants, convert the property into schools and hospitals, melt the Gold and Silver to cast silver ingots, give the livestock to the people, and send the nobles to mine."

Wang Gui gave a response, then asked, "Prince, what about those priests? The ones seized from the churches, locked in the camp, muttering about God every day."

"Send them to Australia, let them keep company with the natives."

Wang Gui's mouth twitched; he wanted to laugh but held it in, then turned and went down.

Zhu Yong turned around, looking at Toledo City.

The Street was much cleaner than a month ago.

The Longxiang Army's soldiers cleaned daily, hauling trash outside the city, clearing excrement, and even washing everything with lime water.

Though still not up to Yingtian Prefecture, at least they could breathe.

A few soldiers were distributing rations at the street corner, the townsfolk lined up, receiving one by one.

No one fought, no one caused trouble; order was orderly.

A young woman holding a child took a loaf of bread, walked to the roadside, squatted, broke off a piece and shoved it into the child's mouth.

The child, famished, devoured it ravenously.

The woman looked up, saw Zhu Yong standing on the tower, froze for a moment, then bowed deeply.

Zhu Yong watched the scene, a faint smile tugging his mouth.

These people were also human, only their lives were too harsh.

Two hundred li west of Barcelona, Tarragona.

Zhu Di halted his horse, looking at the city ahead.

Tarragona was slightly larger than Lerida, its walls a bit higher, but not much better.

Hundreds of soldiers stood on the walls; archers drew bows and nocked arrows, artillerymen held torches, yet their hands shook.

"Fire the cannons..."

After several rounds of bombardment, a huge breach collapsed in the wall.