Chapter 439: It Does Have Some Order

The seventh day since Paris fell.

The fog over the Seine has not yet cleared; the river surface is grayish, and occasionally a few small boats pierce the mist, their helmsmen bowing their heads, unwilling to look at the armored soldiers on the banks.

Zhu Yong stood on the highest tower of the palace, with a freshly drawn full map of France spread before him.

On the parchment, ink lines marked the locations of cities, the courses of rivers, and the distribution of mountain ranges, from Paris northward to the Calais Strait, eastward to Burgundy, southward to Provence, densely packed.

"Prince, the scout has returned," Wang Gui said as he came up from the stairwell, his complexion not looking good.

Zhu Yong turned and took the military report he handed over.

The report was written in great detail; the handwriting was sloppy but the content clear.

Duke of Burgundy Thus Character: Wuweizhe Yuehan had gathered about twenty thousand troops in the north, advancing toward Paris.

Duke of Brittany John V sent fifteen thousand men from the west, already having crossed the Vire River.

In the south, Provence and Auvergne each mustered about ten thousand people, moving northward.

There were also the English.

Henry V finally moved, ten thousand English longbowmen plus five thousand heavy cavalry, already gathered at Portsmouth, apparently to cross the sea for reinforcement.

"In total, over fifty thousand," Zhu Yong set the report down, his expression calm.

Wang Gui stood beside him, silent.

These over fifty thousand, plus the French remnants already in disarray, could easily total seventy to eighty thousand.

But in his eyes, seventy to eighty thousand was no different from seventy to eighty thousand ants.

"What about General Feng's side?" Zhu Yong asked.

"General Feng is in Calais; he says the English fleet hasn't arrived yet, and he is reinforcing the city defenses."

Zhu Yong nodded.

Feng Sheng's departure to Calais was arranged by him three days earlier.

Calais is the largest port in northern France and the English's last foothold on the continent.

Capturing Calais would cut off the English's retreat.

"What about the cousin?"

"General Li is in Rouen, gathering the French remnants fleeing Paris; he has already collected over three thousand, those willing to surrender are incorporated as auxiliary troops, those unwilling are sent to mine."

Zhu Yong asked no further, turning to look out the window.

The fog over the Seine had thinned, revealing the houses and streets on the opposite bank.

This largest European city had been under Great Ming's administration for seven days.

Most of the street trash had been cleared, much of the waste removed, and the streets scrubbed several times with lime water; the stench finally lessened a bit.

But it still smelled.

"Prince, regarding the Burgundians…" Wang Gui began, then stopped.

"Speak…"

"The Duke of Burgundy sent someone, saying he wishes to see you."

Zhu Yong's mouth twitched slightly.

Burgundy, the largest duchy in eastern France, nominally a vassal of France but effectively very independent.

In recent years Burgundy and the French royal house have fought openly and covertly, each eager to swallow the other.

Now that France is finished, the Burgundians are shrewd, knowing to test the waters.

"Bring him up."

In a moment, Wang Gui brought a middle‑aged man in a splendid brocade robe up to the tower.

The man was in his early forties, sporting neatly trimmed beard, dressed in a purple velvet robe with gold‑trimmed collar, and a jeweled short sword hanging at his waist.

He walked to Zhu Yong, bowed deeply, and spoke at length in Latin.

Wang Gui translated, "Prince, he says he is the envoy of Duke of Burgundy Thus Character: Wuweizhe Yuehan, named Philippe de Artua, and has come to negotiate."

Zhu Yong looked at him and said lightly, "Negotiation? About what?"

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

"Prince, he says Burgundy is willing to ally with Great Ming to jointly counter the remaining French forces, and in return Burgundy hopes to obtain a portion of eastern France's territory,"

Zhu Yong took the parchment and glanced over it.

An alliance, looting a fire and still sounding so pleasant.

The remaining French forces are just those small bands of scattered troops still resisting, aren't they?

The Duke of Burgundy wants to borrow Great Ming's sword to eliminate his neighbor and, in the process, grab some territory.

"Tell him, the alliance is possible, but there is a condition."

The envoy's eyes lit up.

"If Burgundy submits to Great Ming, his whole family will relocate to Yingtian; I, the king, will have Imperial Father grant him an official post; all his wealth here must be turned over; upon returning to Yingtian, Imperial Father will bestow upon him wealth and honor…"

Wang Gui translated it.

The envoy's complexion changed.

He opened his mouth, as if to say something, then swallowed it back.

After hesitating 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 duke."

"Fine, go back and tell Thus Character: Wuweizhe Yuehan, give me an answer within ten days; after ten days, Great Ming's army will march into Burgundy.

At that point, it will no longer be a matter of submission," Zhu Yong said, looking at him.

The envoy's face turned even paler.

He bowed repeatedly and hurried away with his party.

Zhu Yong looked at his back, turned and walked back to the window.

These Europeans are two‑faced; they say one thing to the face and another behind it, cannot be trusted.

Ten days is enough for them to do many things.

It is also enough for Great Ming's army to be fully prepared.

"Prince, the Burgundians will not submit," Wang Gui stood beside him.

"I know… they are dragging time, waiting for the English, to send the order, to gather the whole army… three days later, we will advance north," Zhu Yong turned and said.

"Advance north…"

"Advance north, if the Burgundians do not come, we will go find them."

Wang Gui answered with a sound, turned and left.

Zhu Yong stood on the tower, gazing at the northern sky.

There lay the direction of Burgundy, the richest region in northeastern France, also the gathering point of the allied European forces.

Thus Character: Wuweizhe Yuehan, John V of Brittany, Louis II of Provence, and Henry V of England.

These people gathered together, intending to fight a battle with Great Ming.

Then we will fight…

After the fight, Europe will become obedient.

Three days later, outside the North Gate of Paris.

Eighty thousand troops were fully equipped, iron armor like a forest, Flintlock Guns swished toward the sky.

War Flags flapped, warhorses whinnied.

Zhu Yong rode his horse to the front of the formation.

Behind him followed Zhu Di, Li Wenzhong, and Zhu Qiong Jiong carrying a Wolf Fang Club.

Feng Sheng was in Calais, Zhu Gang in Porto, Zhu Shuang in Aragon.

The brothers were scattered in several places, each fighting his own battle.

"Set out…"

The army slowly set out, marching along the official road leading to the Northern Region.

Parisians stood by the roadside, watching the iron‑armored army pass before them.

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

But some the bold peered out through the window cracks, their eyes filled with fear and curiosity.

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

The child held a piece of bread, crumbs covering his face.

The old woman stared at those iron soldiers, her lips trembling, muttering something incomprehensible.

Zhu Yong passed her without stopping.

After three days, a broad plain appeared ahead.

It was called Bo Wei, the largest plain in northern France, and the place the Burgundians chose to gather.

The scout rode back, dismounted, and knelt on one knee.

"Prince, fifty Li ahead we have discovered the Burgundian main force, about twenty thousand, advancing southward; the Bretons' fifteen thousand are to the west, less than Thirty Li from the Burgundians."

"To the south there are another ten thousand, the allied forces of Provence and Auvergne."

Zhu Yong halted his horse, took out a map, and spread it on the saddle.

Three columns of troops, fifty thousand men, would advance in concert, aiming to decide the battle with Great Ming on the Bo Wei plain.

"There is some order to it…" Zhu Di rode up, glanced at the map.